04-28-2018, 11:08 AM
the secret of our world is written in the stars
Svedka’s smile pulls charmingly at the paleness of his mouth, a deep rumble of a chuckle reverberating in his chest. “Those are two of my favorite pastimes,” he replies with a laugh, tossing his head with a quick movement, then reaching towards her to carefully touch his nose to hers - ivory meeting ivory - to reassure her that there was no need to feel sheepish before him. The stallion pulls his chin to his chest, his cerulean gaze glancing past her alabaster shoulder to look at the land beyond them. He doesn’t mind taking the lead, brushing past her casually knowing that it will only be a few moments before she falls into step at his side. Perhaps they would head out of the valley, where the terrain is more rocky and the air is thin, towards the grey mountains that shroud their quiet and protected home.
As they walk, he listens intently; incredibly fond of this new friend he has made, wistfully staring at her with a curiosity that is endearing and full of wonder as she describes the reverie of flight. He exhales deeply (not knowing he had been holding it in) and glances away from her for a moment to stare into the wind-scrubbed sky, wondering what the air tastes like in the thermals above them. Is it clear and clean, without a tinge of grass or flower? Perhaps it smells like the water droplets of dew on the plants in the morning, or of unadulterated sunshine? His chest tightens with the thoughts and with Ilma’s description, and though it is not jealousy he feels, there is an emotion he cannot exactly describe. It is the same feeling he gets when his soul longs for travel, for new sights and new relationships. There is no single word that can define it, but it is like a when an eagle is confined to a bird-cage, longing for the feeling of freedom and the wind beneath its wings, but confined and trapped.
Untouchable. At her word he swallows hard, his brow furrowing slightly, before finally lowering his gaze and offering Ilma a gentle smile. The black and red hawk feather behind his ear twirls in the summer’s warm breeze, tangled in the mess of white and blue of his mane that is still damp from his swim. His eyes lingers on Ilma’s feathers - flawless and soft - that flutter gently in the gentle breeze. “I would give anything for that feeling,” he muses quietly.
Quickly his eyes flicker back to her gaze, his brows rising. “You have a daughter? She’s in Hyaline?” Svedka shows no hesitating in his question, and he is curious to know if he has met the alabaster woman’s flesh and blood.
As they walk, he listens intently; incredibly fond of this new friend he has made, wistfully staring at her with a curiosity that is endearing and full of wonder as she describes the reverie of flight. He exhales deeply (not knowing he had been holding it in) and glances away from her for a moment to stare into the wind-scrubbed sky, wondering what the air tastes like in the thermals above them. Is it clear and clean, without a tinge of grass or flower? Perhaps it smells like the water droplets of dew on the plants in the morning, or of unadulterated sunshine? His chest tightens with the thoughts and with Ilma’s description, and though it is not jealousy he feels, there is an emotion he cannot exactly describe. It is the same feeling he gets when his soul longs for travel, for new sights and new relationships. There is no single word that can define it, but it is like a when an eagle is confined to a bird-cage, longing for the feeling of freedom and the wind beneath its wings, but confined and trapped.
Untouchable. At her word he swallows hard, his brow furrowing slightly, before finally lowering his gaze and offering Ilma a gentle smile. The black and red hawk feather behind his ear twirls in the summer’s warm breeze, tangled in the mess of white and blue of his mane that is still damp from his swim. His eyes lingers on Ilma’s feathers - flawless and soft - that flutter gently in the gentle breeze. “I would give anything for that feeling,” he muses quietly.
Quickly his eyes flicker back to her gaze, his brows rising. “You have a daughter? She’s in Hyaline?” Svedka shows no hesitating in his question, and he is curious to know if he has met the alabaster woman’s flesh and blood.
(be my escape)
Svedka
@[Ilma]