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It came in waves, this homesickness. That place that had held his soul from his beginning, and now was forever lost with melting clarity. As he gazed up into the heavens, he wondered why he had even made it this far. What forces had propelled him forward, and for what reasons? The boy couldn’t help the nauseating reel of being the last of his kind, barred from ever returning to the desert shores of the island. Once faithful, hopeful, blinded in his trust, he could no longer ignore the darkness of the world or its place in his soul. Attached and tethered in all the wrong places, wayward and set a drift to nowhere.
He blinked slowly up at the strange mare, unawares, until the sound of rushing hooves crashed against the snow. A wave of embarrassment shot through him, truly realizing his state – and its ‘weak’, pitiful language. Charcoal lips pressed together for a moment, reeling together the emotions sparking off faster than he could capture them. It came with mumbling words, and a weak voice that fought for confidence and calmness.
“A-ah, um, y-yes. I am… I am fine.”
The stranger’s eyes were not as piercing as the winter’s throw. He caught them nonetheless in their assessment, soft – it was strange to think she cared enough to ask. Was it genuine? Hard to say in such lands, but – he thought – he had to be careful regardless.
About to rally his body up, he paused just as he righted himself up. Darkened limbs set to propel his body upwards, when she made to kneel down beside him. He gave the floating object of her cup a perplexed expression. A sharp frown and worried brows – not yet accustomed to this simple magic bestowed to them all.
“How… how are you doing that? What… Cider…” He shook his head for a short moment, closing his eyes and opening them. The steaming cup was still there, floating in mid air and giving off the most peculiar scent. Of ripened apples, homely spices and… warmth that perhaps, would soothe more than just the frigid grip surrounding them.
The boy finally regarded his companion. Her natural smile, and kind eyes; it was almost whole-heartedly believable. Accepting kindness these days came with hidden costs however. A price, or consequence he wasn’t quite sure how to tread on. He was a foreigner after all… he should be more careful than he wanted to.
Pale, red marked wings shuffled in hesitation, while her bronze figure nestled into the snow. Wasn’t it cold? He thought, allowing his brows to knit in further confusion. The scent continued to waft past his nostrils regardless. And the roaring hunger that had once disappeared during mid-flight filled his gut with ravenous wanting.
“If it’s free,” he clarified, before gesturing his head towards the cup – to him: an apparatus of holding hot liquids. Such novelties did not exist in his past life.
The boy was child like, much like a faun striking out into an open field for the first time. Timid, cautious and suspicious of the one who had offered so freely. Awkward, though hardly realized as he finally tasted the brew. Drawing back and licking his lips, surprised.
“Huh. It’s not that bad.”
The pale body accrued some minor scrapes and bumps along his lower legs. Shallow wounds that must have scraped the rocks on his right shoulder, soaked into the snow that had landed on them. It wasn’t a rush of red that fell from him, merely pooled and attempted to solidify in the cool air. Sooner rather than later, he would feel the mild burns and their inconvenient presence.
In the meantime, he pressed his lips against the cup a second time. Privately delighting in its new taste.
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