Pan wound his way through Delumine, a new adventure on his mind. His steps are light and sprightly, and characteristically, he hummed as he walked. Up ahead, the sun shone brightly through a hazy group of autumn clouds. Its rays reached toward the earth like outstretched fingers, brushing against the ground with subtle warmth and a golden hue. As he danced beneath the canopy of trees, sunlight bounced from silver and green scales, sending a prismatic flurry of light dancing ahead of him like fairy dust. He dodged and tried to catch the light flickers, fully knowing that they were just reflections, but pretending like they were small fires that he needed to extinguish.
The sound of a snapping twig had him turning with curiosity, and as he peered into the emerald shadows of the forest, he began to make out the form of a strange female. At first, he has to wonder if she’s really a horse at all, intrigued by the sight of her pale purple skin, the horn upon her head, and a thin brush-like tail. He watches her for a few moments, wondering if he should ask what kind of horse she was… but then he decides she must be a fairy. Giddy at the thought, he cannot help himself. Pan creeps closer to her, his green eyes wide with intrigue as he aches to know more about her story.
Hello? His voice is meek and gentle as he steps even closer to the mare, reaching to touch his small muzzle against her neck in a curious (albeit unasked-for) gesture. Where are your wings? The scaly colt stands awkwardly beside her, head cocked like a dog who just witnessed a slight of hand. For surely, a fairy would have wings… but perhaps she had lost them in some tragic accident.
Every elf and fairy sprite Hop as light as bird from brier
S
he took delight in the forest, always, for it was her home as much as the open road. She had been raised among the trees, found her second (true) family among the trees, and wherever she went, she was happy if she could only find the woods. The forest was part of the reason the lavender mare had chosen to stay in Delumine, apart from its overall beauty and the kind nature of its people (and its name, of course, but that she would never say). It is deep in her adoring thoughts for the forest that Mesnyi hears a rustling of leaves and a distant humming. She takes value in her silence and solitude, but only for so long, and slowly she makes her way towards the sound, twigs snapping beneath her hooves, gracelessly. In moments, a tiny pale colt appears before her, staring wordlessly. He was pretty, with alabaster hair and glittering green scales along his side and about his eyes. ”Hello?” Mesnyi smiles gently. Then he is in her space, muzzle brushing her skin. She does not flinch, only curling her swan neck to look down at him. ”Where are your wings?” She giggles.
"You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while."
tracker plotter
please tag the proper character for replies
It was strange, he’d never seen a creature as beautiful as Mesnyi. Even in his dreams, he’d never seen a mare with skin that seemed to glow in shades of purple like the morning sky. Surely she was a fairy, and yet she didn’t have wings… never had wings, he reminded himself. But, aren’t you a fairy? I’m not a fairy. But, I think I could fly once – at least I dreamed that I could. He quirks his head like a dog, in a confused manner. Offering her a lopsided grin, he circles her once, looking her over as if to try and determine exactly what she was. If she wasn’t a fairy, perhaps she was a princess or something…. Surely, she wasn’t just a regular horse like him.
Still, he knows it’s rude to stare. Sorry… I don’t mean to stare. You’re just so beautiful. What’s your name? The boy’s voice is tinged with appreciation – not the same sort of adoration that a suitor would put on his conquest, but more that of a child whispering to a Disneyland princess. He was simply in awe. I’m Pan, by the way… and this is Oliver. As if on queue, a furry brown head popped out of his satchel, chirruping to the mare with a pleasant sort of greeting. The two are a quirky pair, though well fitting for one another’s company.
All around them, the trees shivered with the autumn breeze. Birch leaves flashed silver in the sunlight, and a couple fell like snowflakes down to them. Pan stops to gather one or two, reaching into his satchel to draw forth a large tome, flipping through the pages and pressing the leaves between them. Looking up at the mare, he offers something of an explanation. I like to collect beautiful things, so I can look at them when it’s winter time and I can’t go outside. And, I’m collecting plants around Novus. Want to see? Flipping back through the tome, he pointed out a couple of crude plant drawings to the unicorn.
She’ll cause you, never no trouble and she’ll tell you no lies
M
esnyi’s smile widens at the scaled colt; he amuses her to no end and is found to be perfectly pleasant company. ”No, though I imagine it must be quite nice to be a fairy. I’ve never flown before. Can you tell me what it’s like?” She cranes her neck to follow him around one side, then turns to look at her other side when he comes around. She giggles (tinkling, fairy-like, perhaps), and says, ”My name is Mesnyi.” The lavender mare tilts her head at Oliver, smiling softly. ”It’s lovely to meet you, Pan and Oliver.” She offers a slight bow, ankles crossed, hair dipping to lay against the ground for the briefest moment.
Her gaze drifted up to follow the leaves trailing down from above, then as Pan catches a few and presses them in a rather large book. His explanation was not unlike anything she herself had felt or practiced, for Mesnyi, too, collected beautiful things (though Novus had offered her little in the way of opportunity thus far). Before she could answer, Pan was flipping through his tome, and so she simply craned her neck to look at what lay within. ”These are lovely, Pan. You draw quite well.” She paused a moment, considering the effect her lack of skill would cause, but thought little of Pan’s opinion beyond their pleasant interaction, and so said, ”I’ve never been able to draw. Music, yes, and other things, but you should consider yourself rather lucky.” Her expression was soft and kind, and belied no envy (for she had none), but tinged with seriousness she felt was typically unbecoming of her beauty.
"You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while."
tracker plotter
please tag the proper character for replies
Flying is pure freedom, he answers without hesitation, Like there’s nothing to hold you down and you can go anywhere your heart desires. You can swim in the clouds, or dive like a speeding arrow… and the wind will catch you every time. Of course, it was clear to see the boy didn’t have wings either, but perhaps in some world – once, with a bit of magic – he could fly. Those days were long behind him though, lost with Neverland to the shifting rift tide. Still, it was a lovely sort of dream, that Pan could imagine each and every time he closed his eyes. Thinking of it now, the boy offered her an easy smile.
As he presses the leaves into his book, the boy corrects her. Oh no… I didn’t draw these. I can’t draw well either… shifting the pages, he showed her a much less refined drawing, crude and roughly sketched with what looked like a spent piece of charcoal. Maybe mine will get better though… I’m told if you practice, you can do anything. If Pan was embarrassed, he didn’t show it – the boy simply flipped back to the previous pages and continued his explanation.
I lived in the Dawn Court before too… and I found this book in the library. It never occurred to him that he probably shouldn’t have taken it, but he didn’t really remember taking it in the first place. He had simply found it again upon stumbling across his treasure cave, picking up where he left off with finding the herbs within the tome’s pages. They would understand, when he had a collection built up for the use by healers across Novus. It was, after all, for a good cause.
What kind of music? Can you sing me something? She was one of several horses he’d met recently who mentioned music, and Pan found himself turning a bit green with jealousy – for though he would never let himself appear embarrassed, he knew that he could no more carry a tune than fly in this world. Still, it didn’t keep him from belting out his pirate songs at the top of his lungs. After all, where was the fun in going through life with hesitation and worry.
esnyi listened intently to his description; flying was something she was quite certain that she would never experience. She could do many things; sing, divine, dance, play several instruments, as well as a host of what she would prefer to frame as “social” arts. To drift on the wind like a feather was likely to never be on that list. ”That sounds wonderful,” she breathed.
”I can’t draw well either…” All she offered was an ”Oh,” not quite certain if it was a source of angst for the boy (if he even possessed such a thing) or inconsequential. ”Yes, you can learn most things from practice. Perhaps not flying, if you don’t have wings.” She followed along as he flipped through the book. Mesnyi hadn’t yet been to the library, but of the few she had encountered in the past, none of them had allowed you to remove their contents, nor did they allow the pressing of flowers and other such activities…but though she was a citizen of Dawn, she did not think this boy was doing anything terrible by cataloguing plants in a book.
”What kind of music? Can you sing me something?” The lavender mare wasn’t expecting to be asked for any kind of performance, but it wasn’t as though she held any kind of insecurities that would stop her. ”Of course,” she paused, ”Music is something that also gets better with practice. I wasn’t always very good at singing or playing instruments. It took a long time to learn. I’ll sing you something my family taught me on the road.” She hummed a single note for a moment, eyes closed, before beginning an upbeat tune, her voice lilting as a songbird’s:
”Once along the dancing dawn
Came birds in pairs of two,
A you and me and a me and you,
Fluttering two by two.
“Twice along the dancing dawn,
Came girls in pairs of two,
A you and me and a me and you,
Dancing two by two…”
The song had around ten stanzas, crafted (or stolen) by Benevolent for passing time along the road. She would stop of her own accord in another few stanzas if he did not interrupt.
"You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while."
tracker plotter
please tag the proper character for replies
![[Image: 26y3cfu.png]](https://i.imgur.com/26y3cfu.png)
