[P] the coyote and the flower

[Ipomoea]

you be the wind
i'll be the wildflower

With Ramses’ confirmation he nods, a curt, sharp jerk of his head that feels too mechanical, like a machine that has not been properly oiled. To make up for it he smiles, and his eyes seem to be saying forgive me even when he can’t force his lips to say the words. There’s something like relief filling his chest, but whether it’s relief that Ramses agreed, or relief to be moving again -

- He isn’t sure.

But he doesn’t question it.

His wings flutter nervously at his ankles as he lingers, a heartbeat longer than he should have. “Great,” he says, feeling the need to fill the silence that’s already beginning to stretch between them.

And he’s about to smile again, to reassure Ramses or maybe just himself, when the red stallion suddenly turns. And whereas Po had looked back, Ramses does not.

Thoughts of the desert choke his throat with sand again, as he watches his brother leave. And Ipomoea has to force himself not to think of the other time he did not look back, that time in the desert when he had called, and called, and called, but no one had answered. He tries to not hold it against him.

But as his hooves echo against the floor, it’s hard to think of them as anything other than a woodpecker and a wolf, always longing, always waiting, always hungry.




@ramses
uhh yeah new thread soon?! didn't realize it's been so long

⚘