05-13-2018, 07:38 AM
the secret of our world is written in the stars
“You don’t have to pretend, Ilma. Please don’t.”
You’re safe, now. Hesitantly, quivering in the bitter cold of winter (how is it that the air has become that much more freezing in a matter of moments?), afraid of startling her but more afraid of appearing unsympathetic, Svedka’s pale mouth gently brushes at her alabaster mane. The gesture is innocent as he grooms her steadily, as if the mundaneness of it would relinquish any of the woes circulating in her mind. She is frozen beside him, unwavering and unmoving against the warmth of his muscular shoulder, hoping that she knew she would never have to move from his side if she didn’t want to.
In his younger years, Svedka had never considered finding a place to call home. The only sturdy relationship he had was with his sister, thus coming and going at will wasn’t too much of a heartbreak for just one soul. Besides, Solace understood him (perhaps the only one that truly does, though he feels that is slowly changing) and there was no hatred harbored for his many disappearances. However, as the milk-and-honey stallion curls himself around Ilma, trying to protect her from whatever monster had gotten in, he quickly realizes that more than just Solace would be affected by a sudden disappearance. It may always be an internal struggle, a constant battle against his need for wandering and his need to protect them, but as she presses into the curve of his chest and finds comfort there, he knows what is more important.
“Everyone deserves their own slice of happiness, Ilma.” His voice is warm and tender against her neck, his muzzle moving to her withers as she steps further into his embrace, the smell of snow and sun on her feathers. “I would rather be called stupid and naive, than not have a dream to wish for.”
A silly boy, a foolish child.
“I think you’re brave for having a dream at all.”
A light snow begins to fall, accumulating on their backs in tiny wisps of white, tiny crystals clinging to their manes and eyelashes.
You’re safe, now. Hesitantly, quivering in the bitter cold of winter (how is it that the air has become that much more freezing in a matter of moments?), afraid of startling her but more afraid of appearing unsympathetic, Svedka’s pale mouth gently brushes at her alabaster mane. The gesture is innocent as he grooms her steadily, as if the mundaneness of it would relinquish any of the woes circulating in her mind. She is frozen beside him, unwavering and unmoving against the warmth of his muscular shoulder, hoping that she knew she would never have to move from his side if she didn’t want to.
In his younger years, Svedka had never considered finding a place to call home. The only sturdy relationship he had was with his sister, thus coming and going at will wasn’t too much of a heartbreak for just one soul. Besides, Solace understood him (perhaps the only one that truly does, though he feels that is slowly changing) and there was no hatred harbored for his many disappearances. However, as the milk-and-honey stallion curls himself around Ilma, trying to protect her from whatever monster had gotten in, he quickly realizes that more than just Solace would be affected by a sudden disappearance. It may always be an internal struggle, a constant battle against his need for wandering and his need to protect them, but as she presses into the curve of his chest and finds comfort there, he knows what is more important.
“Everyone deserves their own slice of happiness, Ilma.” His voice is warm and tender against her neck, his muzzle moving to her withers as she steps further into his embrace, the smell of snow and sun on her feathers. “I would rather be called stupid and naive, than not have a dream to wish for.”
A silly boy, a foolish child.
“I think you’re brave for having a dream at all.”
A light snow begins to fall, accumulating on their backs in tiny wisps of white, tiny crystals clinging to their manes and eyelashes.
(be my escape)
Svedka
@[Ilma]