N I G H T W I S H
once upon a time, there was a boy...
Nightwish walks through the sea of blue flowers, letting them brush against him as the sea might meet the sky, with a hushed whisper as they stroked against his pelt. The bard is unnoticed in this land of lovers, his observant gaze drawing everything in, remembering for another story another day, his lips twisting into a sigh of a smile. For there was something poetic about love and spring, which longed to be written or sang in a song. Nostalgia tore at his memories as the sweet scents of nectar and sunshine reminded him of another time – a time where he had been a child at his grandmother’s knee, eyes wide as she spun a tale of season goddesses and their whims.
He watches the children who laugh and dance through the neat rows of petals, picking a few and weaving them into their manes. Girls blinked suggestibly at boys with bright eyes, their suitors selecting the most beautiful of blooms to profess their attractions. Mothers walked beside their daughters, fathers led their boys in rousing games of chase. And through it all, the noontime sun shone brightly upon them, warm and bright with the hope that only spring could bring.
A sigh of contentment escapes Nightwish’s lips as he stops for a bit on the outskirts of this place, wanting to take everything in, even as he draws out a journal and begins to write bits of observation in its weathered pages. He glances up from time to time, ears flicking to catch whispers of conversation around him, shivering as a playful breeze toys with his mane. And as he watches, he wonders what those who walked alone (not unlike himself) in this festival for lovers were dreaming of. Did they seek companionship? Beauty? Touch? Perhaps a combination?
The Pegasus captures his attention, with her gilded adornments which blink in the sun. He watches her quietly, thoughtfully, even as her gaze turns toward him and he catches the momentary surprise in her eyes. For a moment, the stallion simply nods in greeting, before curiosity gets the better of him and he edges closer, catching her whispered rhyme as she picks through the periwinkle blooms.
“Waiting for someone?” he asks with a soft smile, settling easily beside her in the blossoms with a brightness in his gaze, intrigued to hear what stories the mare had to share.
― @Juniper
He watches the children who laugh and dance through the neat rows of petals, picking a few and weaving them into their manes. Girls blinked suggestibly at boys with bright eyes, their suitors selecting the most beautiful of blooms to profess their attractions. Mothers walked beside their daughters, fathers led their boys in rousing games of chase. And through it all, the noontime sun shone brightly upon them, warm and bright with the hope that only spring could bring.
A sigh of contentment escapes Nightwish’s lips as he stops for a bit on the outskirts of this place, wanting to take everything in, even as he draws out a journal and begins to write bits of observation in its weathered pages. He glances up from time to time, ears flicking to catch whispers of conversation around him, shivering as a playful breeze toys with his mane. And as he watches, he wonders what those who walked alone (not unlike himself) in this festival for lovers were dreaming of. Did they seek companionship? Beauty? Touch? Perhaps a combination?
The Pegasus captures his attention, with her gilded adornments which blink in the sun. He watches her quietly, thoughtfully, even as her gaze turns toward him and he catches the momentary surprise in her eyes. For a moment, the stallion simply nods in greeting, before curiosity gets the better of him and he edges closer, catching her whispered rhyme as she picks through the periwinkle blooms.
“Waiting for someone?” he asks with a soft smile, settling easily beside her in the blossoms with a brightness in his gaze, intrigued to hear what stories the mare had to share.
― @
