A I O N
The snow was just beginning to fall, bringing with it an immediate drop in temperature. It felt good, soothing even; soothing the aches and sores from sleeping on uneven ground with a single caress. Aion was used to the cold. In times like these, he even craved it.
It gave him something to fight against.
And that rejuvenated him, as though bringing him back to the living after a deep, deep slumber. The sting of a frosty wind biting into his cheek was akin to a slap bringing him back to his senses, refocusing him. Giving him a new pain to focus on, one of his body and not of his heart.
A soft cough coming from the side brought him back to the present, his musings on the winter weather forgotten. The artist was finished. Aion craned his head back to study the intricate pattens painted across his skin, sweeping across his back and down his withers to his right leg. He’d never had as good an eye for art as Eros; but the lines were straight and symmetrical, and they looked good to him. He thanked the painter, but didn’t smile; without caring to stop and see any of the other designs being inked onto the bodies of the partygoers, he left the painting area.
Equines breezed past him in twos and threes, their voices and laughter carrying high on the wind. But Aion walked alone, without a companion twined against him like the other couples. He didn’t stop to interact with the other guests, hardly gave any of them a glance. There was not a single person on this entire continent that he’d want to take the time for, and he was no longer in the business of pretending there was.
He came to a stop outside the confines of the party, the soft sounds of music coming dully to him on the wind. ’Why am I even still here?’ He had debated leaving; he’d left his note already, but Aion wasn’t interested in some of the other traditions the Terrastellan festival offered. Not even the stargazing going on in the fields had tempted him; he was afraid it would hurt too much, like it was a betrayal to go without his partner.
He crushed the snow with one dark hoof, slowly, deliberately, as if stalling for time. As little as he wanted to be here tonight, he didn’t exactly have anywhere else to be.
@open to anyone! <3
The snow was just beginning to fall, bringing with it an immediate drop in temperature. It felt good, soothing even; soothing the aches and sores from sleeping on uneven ground with a single caress. Aion was used to the cold. In times like these, he even craved it.
It gave him something to fight against.
And that rejuvenated him, as though bringing him back to the living after a deep, deep slumber. The sting of a frosty wind biting into his cheek was akin to a slap bringing him back to his senses, refocusing him. Giving him a new pain to focus on, one of his body and not of his heart.
A soft cough coming from the side brought him back to the present, his musings on the winter weather forgotten. The artist was finished. Aion craned his head back to study the intricate pattens painted across his skin, sweeping across his back and down his withers to his right leg. He’d never had as good an eye for art as Eros; but the lines were straight and symmetrical, and they looked good to him. He thanked the painter, but didn’t smile; without caring to stop and see any of the other designs being inked onto the bodies of the partygoers, he left the painting area.
Equines breezed past him in twos and threes, their voices and laughter carrying high on the wind. But Aion walked alone, without a companion twined against him like the other couples. He didn’t stop to interact with the other guests, hardly gave any of them a glance. There was not a single person on this entire continent that he’d want to take the time for, and he was no longer in the business of pretending there was.
He came to a stop outside the confines of the party, the soft sounds of music coming dully to him on the wind. ’Why am I even still here?’ He had debated leaving; he’d left his note already, but Aion wasn’t interested in some of the other traditions the Terrastellan festival offered. Not even the stargazing going on in the fields had tempted him; he was afraid it would hurt too much, like it was a betrayal to go without his partner.
He crushed the snow with one dark hoof, slowly, deliberately, as if stalling for time. As little as he wanted to be here tonight, he didn’t exactly have anywhere else to be.
@open to anyone! <3
rhiann art
