But I'm far more desperate than you think
I wonder what it's like to be the universe
Experiencing itself ironically
Her wing is extended towards him, an open invitation he is all too willing to take. It is as if gold has been dusted across every feather, so soft as the feathers brush across one cheek. Ipomoea hardly breathes, ruby-ringed nostrils quivering as delight and wonder stretched across his face. No matter how many pegasi he met, he doubted this feeling—a curious mixture of admiration and envy—would ever fade with time. He couldn’t help it, could hardly even contain it, so great was the joy he took in studying them, avian and equine alike.
The feathers pull away and his eyes follow for a brief second, watching their movement as they crest up as if to take flight, to follow the morning eagle—only for the yellow girl to dip into a curtest. And it is only now that Ipomoea looks at her—really looks at her, his gaze traveling now beyond her wings. He finds himself even more delighted by the way the cream and gold continue over her entire body, fading to pink and her muzzle and dirt at her points, by the feathers twisted and tangled into her wild-looking hair. And lastly by the curious strapping wrapped around her neck and containing what appears to be a dagger, and he wonders briefly if it is meant more for show or for defense, or maybe for something else entirely.
But he doesn’t dwell long on his thoughts before she speaks, her voice light and airy and reminding him that she is more than a creature to be studied. Po smiles in return, dipping his head low in his own sort of gentlemanly bow, matching himself to her. “You’re welcome,” he breathes, her modesty and sincerity catching him by surprise, but he takes it in stride.
His ankles seem to tremble, the wings beating at the ground as though determined to take flight, to take themselves higher for her to inspect—but of course, they remain grounded. “Little more than aesthetic,” he jokes, swallowing away the envy that rises into his throat. He doubted he would ever understand the attraction, the compliments his anklet feathers garnered—to him, they were nothing of particular importance, they simply were. But he had never stopped to consider that Florentine, and others like her, held the same views over their own, albeit much larger, wings.
“Ipomoea, Sage of the morning Court,” he replies, for a heartbeat-pause feeling entirely too formal compared to the rest of their meeting. “I welcome you to Delumine. What brings you north to Dawn? Is this your first time here? I do hope it pleases you,” questions bubble up from inside him, rushing unchecked into the air separating the mirrored equines. His excitement is palpable, thrumming inside of him and setting his spine a-tingling, body quivering as though he himself is made up of raw energy. "Do you care to see more of it?" he finishes simply, wild eyes bright and kind as he looks back to her, to this Florentine of Dusk.
@
thank you for being so patient!
I'll always have the underground
I'll build my road despite the cost
I'm not looking to be found
No, not at all
manip by rhiann
