12-26-2017, 08:56 PM
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
I trust you, Amet.
The statement would seem so simple, so innocent, if not for the longing that tugs at its edges. Eione's lilting words trail into silence as she presses a small, playful nip to the shallow dip of his flank and Amet quivers beneath the weight of the truth between them - the truth of their desire, of the secrets he will soon share with her. They move further into the vibrant forest and the gilded stallion cannot shake the way every single neuron fires when her muzzle brushes against his hip as they venture beneath twining branches and blooms that sway in Hyaline's gentle breeze.
Despite the darkness, Amet guides her deftly, a gold beacon skittering between tree trunks until finally they emerge onto the plateau. His amber eyes fall upon the expanse of the territory below them (the calm waters that glimmer in the moonlight, and then the sweeping boughs of his wisteria beyond that) before returning his heated gaze to the daughter of Offspring beside him, his heart clenched with hope that she will come to love Hyaline just as he does. Never mind his hopeful assumption that she will stay here, with him. That she is meant to be here with him.
The sabino Eione presses her frame to his and Amet returns the gesture, the feel of her warm body welcoming against the cool leather-plating of his own hide. He stays silent but does not move his gaze from her, unabashed in his desire to memorize each plane of her beautiful face, the curve of her shoulder or of her ample hip. When finally she breaks the silence between them once more, Amet gifts her with a playful lopsided grin and a gentle hum as her muzzle nestles against the crook of his neck and shoulder.
"I trust you," he whispers to her gruffly, finding that his heated desire for her has not quelled beneath the solemn sincerity of their conversation. He shifts, bumping his gilded hip closer to hers and allowing his gaze to linger in the depths of her seductively red eyes, feeling the desire bloom hot in his loins before he reins himself in and closes his own gold-flecked eyes with a shaky breath.
He thinks of the cold fear in his chest the night he had run from the Dunes, leaving Iset and Sakir to fend for themselves. He thinks of finding Iset within Beqanna months later, their angry yelling, his aching heart.
He remembers when they laid claim to the Lake with help from Nayl and Nerine. And then, later on, when they had named it Hyaline. He remembers the night of the attack, when the Lost Boys group had broken over the invisible border and brought death and destruction to their sanctuary (and then, when he had realized Iset's involvement, to his sanctuary).
He remembers fondly the gift of his dragon scales, the notion that their presence where his coat had once been meant that he was no longer the boy from the Dunes.
He remembers fondly Hyaline's rebirth, the gift of his nihilism, the souls who had banded together to make their home into a sanctuary once more. He remembers his heated conversation with Nayl and his detraction from their agreement, the separation of Hyaline and Nerine for the good of his people.
He remembers Offspring and his kind wisdom.
Sakir. Svedka. Ciri. Jah-Lilah. Circinae. Solace.
He remembers Hyaline and all of the times it has offered him sanctuary. Of all the times it has taught him important life lessons. His heart swells for the land that sprawls out before him because it is more than just a land. It is his heart. His own safe haven. His own escape from what had been a ruined childhood. He has proven to be more than what the Dunes had spit out, and Hyaline has helped him on the way to greatness.
When his thoughts return to the present, the young stallion's eyes are red-rimmed with emotion but his gaze does not shy from Eione's. He's hit again with the feeling that he has known her for more than this lifetime and it is comforting,warm... safe.
"Do you have a favorite part of Hyaline now?" Amet asks her with a gruff whisper, letting his muzzle curl around and lip with want at the tousled tresses of her mane.
@[Eione]