10-16-2017, 01:48 PM
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
He has been in high spirits since his private evening with Ciri, though the occasionaly uncertainty likes to nibble deep in his head whenever he thinks of the way Castile had tried to pretend he did not want to devour her with his eyes. Amet has done well to suppress the jealousy that threatens to curl in his stomach, instead spending his time doting on the smoky black mare as much as he can without presenting himself as overbearing or suffocating.
He has nearly slipped a few times, confessing the immensity of his feelings for the starry-eyed girl, but the young King needs to be sure that his affections are reciprocated in the same way. He only wishes that there was a simple way to tell.
He sighs quietly at the thought, amber eyes lost in the reflection of his lake as large, puffy clouds break up the blue blanket overhead. A breeze floats in from the south today and with it comes a vaguely familiar scent, one that intrigues the gilded stallion and draws him away from the crystalline water basin. He canters easily over the familiar ground of his sanctuary, the territory he has called home since the turn of his second birthday, and towards the southern border. He ventures this way occasionally, though has admittedly been lax in doing so, as he is content with the alliance that he had developed with Heda.
Amet's amber eyes find a trio at the border. He knows two of the three, settling himself comfortably next to Ciri with a gentle caress of his muzzle against her neck before turning his gaze back to Ivar and his roan companion. He grins pleasantly at the pair, though bites his tongue at Ivar's last statement to Ciri. Hyaline's King wants to jest, to reveal what the other dragon-scaled stallion had done the last time he had ventured into Hyaline, but drawing his starry-eyed girl's attention back to Castile is the last thing he wants to do.
"Ivar," he greets politely, any bad blood he may have felt for the tobiano forgotten years ago, "You smell of Loess. Have you moved away from Sylva?" the young stallion questions briefly before turning his amber gaze to the other stallion's companion. "Hello there. My name is Amet," he offers to her politely before bumping his hip against Ciri's and turning his gaze to her, "You're getting to be better at greeting our guests than I am."
Amet
@[Ciri] @[Ivar] @[Zhenga]