The lost soul of Tiberios and Talulah
“Funny.” I tell her, but I’m not laughing. It’s easier to just acknowledge humor when I’m met with it rather than pretend I find enjoyment in it. Tyrna isn’t all shadows, it would seem; she’s graced with a patch of white here and there, some faint blue markings on her legs that I can’t identify but it piques my interest nonetheless. Everybody has a history and everyone has an agenda, but mine is simply to ingress deeper beneath the paltry shade in order to rub out this complication of an itch. “Tyrna, huh?” I muse, neck twisting so that I begin my routine there before pushing my dark body harder against the rough bark, edging forward while the sharp tingle is satisfied. Up and then down, slow circles that smooth out muscles I’ve forgotten about, a motion that has my upper lip quivering while a groan slips past my teeth.
I’m appeased and so is the itch - which is good because when I turn my molten amber eyes to where the she-horse waits it seems that she’s taken quite a keen interest in me by the way she’s staring. Waiting for my name, I think, but I feel awkward saying it. “Um, Terran.” I tell her, taking a few steps to the right so I can circle around the trunk and give her room to re-join me. Might as well, seems like this one isn’t deterred yet. “My mother had a thing for names starting with a ‘T’, I guess.” I explain, though I’m not sure why. Small talk has never been my suit.
“Any reason as to why you’re … you know, out here?”
It’s the best I can manage.
TERRAN