01-19-2018, 09:05 PM
hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
Looking across the ocean towards the mainland, he is half dozing and half watching the shallow part of the ocean, the area where the tide pulls the water back enough from the shore as to allow easy crossing for those who have no other way to make the trip. It’s clear, spring bringing true summer weather back to their tropical islands. At least for a time – and then it’s not clear, the sky darkening over the ocean and over the sound of waves, the pounding sound of heavy rain. He looks up, eyes sharp, and contemplates the strange way the clouds hang low over the water.
Probably not a natural phenomenon, then; yes Beqanna is weird, but not that weird. This storm is probably caused by a someone, rather than a something. It is a short trip from tucked just inside the treeline to the expanse of shore, but he heads that direction to intercept the stranger, even as the rain suddenly ceases.
But – and he smiles despite himself – it’s not a stranger at all. And he already hears his name on the not-stranger’s lips.
“It grows on you,” he answers, an amused lilt coloring his usual drawl. “As much as any of these new territories can.” The equine equivalent of a shrug as he ruffles and resettles his wings, tilts his dished face to the side. An exhale, and a layer of ice begins to form under their hooves, the air cooling considerably around them from even that slight change. “Plus, I nearly carry the essence of the Tundra within myself, so I’ve decided it doesn’t matter where I settle in the new world. Ischia seemed…malleable.”
Probably not a natural phenomenon, then; yes Beqanna is weird, but not that weird. This storm is probably caused by a someone, rather than a something. It is a short trip from tucked just inside the treeline to the expanse of shore, but he heads that direction to intercept the stranger, even as the rain suddenly ceases.
But – and he smiles despite himself – it’s not a stranger at all. And he already hears his name on the not-stranger’s lips.
“It grows on you,” he answers, an amused lilt coloring his usual drawl. “As much as any of these new territories can.” The equine equivalent of a shrug as he ruffles and resettles his wings, tilts his dished face to the side. An exhale, and a layer of ice begins to form under their hooves, the air cooling considerably around them from even that slight change. “Plus, I nearly carry the essence of the Tundra within myself, so I’ve decided it doesn’t matter where I settle in the new world. Ischia seemed…malleable.”
hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
BRENNEN