“Don’t blame yourself.”
Fang finds himself blurting the words out before he can hold them back, a reflex that is directed as much to himself as it is to the dark mare. He certainly doesn’t regret his statement, but he is immediately embarrassed by the outburst, afraid he has countered her with too much force. He hadn’t meant to be defensive. “I mean…it’s important to feel, you know?” He attempts to correct himself, licking his lips and swallowing past the sudden constricting of his throat. “As painful as it can be, I’ve learned that it’s much better if you acknowledge what you’re feeling instead of trying to bury and forget about it. You don’t want to drown forever though. It’s a fine line, I suppose,” the stallion shrugs his shoulders self-consciously, not trying to mark himself as omniscient on the subject.
He has many flaws, and is still learning, but he would like to think that he has gained something from the challenges life has seen fit to bruise him with. Bruise, pummel, and beat. Perhaps not all knowledge is good knowledge (where is the carefree boy, whose smile was bright and laughter came easy?) but Fang is only trying to help, not lecture her.
Swallowing again, he exhales as his fiery eyes glance over the lively street. There is a flicker of a smirk that ghosts along his lips at her spirited retort, but not much more—the allusion of her words is lost on him, truly, and he is far too distracted to notice her hesitation. His gaze is drawn back to her vivid eyes when she reveals she has not been in Novus long either, leading a nomadic life now, which he can understand. Before he had found a home with Vasanta, Fang had largely been a migrant himself; even still, he prefers the freedom of the wilds to the hustle of city life.
Perhaps that is why he must steel himself before stepping forward, casting a crooked grin to Syn. “I haven’t explored the Markets yet—not properly at least. Shall we?” He keeps his leathery wings pressed close to his sides, the only sign of any tension while his ember gaze roams curiously over the counter of a vendor, admiring the intricate artworks. Suddenly his head rises, rounded ears erect. “There’s music nearby. Follow me,” his smile is more genuine now, a thrill of excitement he hasn’t felt in too long tingling down his spine. Using his larger frame to navigate through the crowds, he chases the melody of strumming instruments, glancing over his shoulder to check that Syn is following close behind.
All at once, the street opens into a square, and the pair finds themselves among those gathered around a circle of people dancing. He watches them, caught up in the beat of the music, appreciating their gaiety (night is here, but there are no Horrors to haunt them, no monsters to chase them into the shadows). The relief is exhilarating. “Do you enjoy dancing?” Fang asks his company, looking down to her with bright eyes.
tag; @Absynthe
“…”
Fang finds himself blurting the words out before he can hold them back, a reflex that is directed as much to himself as it is to the dark mare. He certainly doesn’t regret his statement, but he is immediately embarrassed by the outburst, afraid he has countered her with too much force. He hadn’t meant to be defensive. “I mean…it’s important to feel, you know?” He attempts to correct himself, licking his lips and swallowing past the sudden constricting of his throat. “As painful as it can be, I’ve learned that it’s much better if you acknowledge what you’re feeling instead of trying to bury and forget about it. You don’t want to drown forever though. It’s a fine line, I suppose,” the stallion shrugs his shoulders self-consciously, not trying to mark himself as omniscient on the subject.
He has many flaws, and is still learning, but he would like to think that he has gained something from the challenges life has seen fit to bruise him with. Bruise, pummel, and beat. Perhaps not all knowledge is good knowledge (where is the carefree boy, whose smile was bright and laughter came easy?) but Fang is only trying to help, not lecture her.
Swallowing again, he exhales as his fiery eyes glance over the lively street. There is a flicker of a smirk that ghosts along his lips at her spirited retort, but not much more—the allusion of her words is lost on him, truly, and he is far too distracted to notice her hesitation. His gaze is drawn back to her vivid eyes when she reveals she has not been in Novus long either, leading a nomadic life now, which he can understand. Before he had found a home with Vasanta, Fang had largely been a migrant himself; even still, he prefers the freedom of the wilds to the hustle of city life.
Perhaps that is why he must steel himself before stepping forward, casting a crooked grin to Syn. “I haven’t explored the Markets yet—not properly at least. Shall we?” He keeps his leathery wings pressed close to his sides, the only sign of any tension while his ember gaze roams curiously over the counter of a vendor, admiring the intricate artworks. Suddenly his head rises, rounded ears erect. “There’s music nearby. Follow me,” his smile is more genuine now, a thrill of excitement he hasn’t felt in too long tingling down his spine. Using his larger frame to navigate through the crowds, he chases the melody of strumming instruments, glancing over his shoulder to check that Syn is following close behind.
All at once, the street opens into a square, and the pair finds themselves among those gathered around a circle of people dancing. He watches them, caught up in the beat of the music, appreciating their gaiety (night is here, but there are no Horrors to haunt them, no monsters to chase them into the shadows). The relief is exhilarating. “Do you enjoy dancing?” Fang asks his company, looking down to her with bright eyes.
tag; @Absynthe
“…”
Livin’ like we’re renegades
fang
Lost boys like me
are free.
are free.
please tag Fang in all replies; magic and force are permitted
