Everclear
EVERCLEAR
The Meadow was once his home, before he had devoted his time to the kingdom lifestyle.
How many lifetimes ago had that been? How many years had he sheltered here, untethered and without direction?
He has grown too old to concern himself with such menial details now, though it might amuse him if he were to consider that far off version of himself. Things were simpler then, when his family had still been alive, when he hadn’t known the true burdens of the world. Back then, love seemed effortless and words meant very little in the grand scheme of things.
It wasn’t until he’d found purpose that he’d truly grown.
He has been like her before, the filly who wanders through the snowy grasses now. She is pale against the wintry backdrop and wears a natural blanket of frost across her back. She seems to fit perfectly with the scenery and the slow flurry of snowfall except for the glaring fact that she is alone. She is young and unattended and it makes the dappled stallion wonder about her.
Everclear has wandered here perhaps out of habit or out of curiosity, interested to see what has become of his old haunt throughout all the changes Beqanna has undergone. It seems the same, just emptier but still with its intriguing population. He watches Agnese with the same intrigue as any parent would; she reminds him somewhat of his Citadelle, small and alone in a world with so many endless possibilities.
So he approaches her, his dark legs slipping easily through the brownish grasses to bring him nearer to the filly. With a quiet nicker, he tosses his nose softly in an upward nod of greeting. “Why are you alone, young one?” he asks her gently, tilting his head. The question must seem odd, considering the fact that Everclear hardly looks a day over three years of age, but the depth of his brown eyes clearly reveals the many volumes of his life. His voice is kind, concerned, when he asks next: “Are you not afraid?”
How many lifetimes ago had that been? How many years had he sheltered here, untethered and without direction?
He has grown too old to concern himself with such menial details now, though it might amuse him if he were to consider that far off version of himself. Things were simpler then, when his family had still been alive, when he hadn’t known the true burdens of the world. Back then, love seemed effortless and words meant very little in the grand scheme of things.
It wasn’t until he’d found purpose that he’d truly grown.
He has been like her before, the filly who wanders through the snowy grasses now. She is pale against the wintry backdrop and wears a natural blanket of frost across her back. She seems to fit perfectly with the scenery and the slow flurry of snowfall except for the glaring fact that she is alone. She is young and unattended and it makes the dappled stallion wonder about her.
Everclear has wandered here perhaps out of habit or out of curiosity, interested to see what has become of his old haunt throughout all the changes Beqanna has undergone. It seems the same, just emptier but still with its intriguing population. He watches Agnese with the same intrigue as any parent would; she reminds him somewhat of his Citadelle, small and alone in a world with so many endless possibilities.
So he approaches her, his dark legs slipping easily through the brownish grasses to bring him nearer to the filly. With a quiet nicker, he tosses his nose softly in an upward nod of greeting. “Why are you alone, young one?” he asks her gently, tilting his head. The question must seem odd, considering the fact that Everclear hardly looks a day over three years of age, but the depth of his brown eyes clearly reveals the many volumes of his life. His voice is kind, concerned, when he asks next: “Are you not afraid?”
@Agnese