06-08-2018, 03:33 PM
the secret of our world is written in the stars
He awakens with the dawn, just as tendrils of the morning sun begin to spill out from behind the hidden expanse of snow-capped mountains, tenderly brushing against his cheeks with soft kisses of warm light. Bleary-eyed but with a breath of well-rest on his lips, his cerulean gaze peers out from behind honey-gold lids, blinking back the dreamworld he had been trying to create for himself.
His own dreams were no match for Kagerus’ world. Despite his willingness to recreate what she had shown him, the images that flash across his mind during sleep were not as vibrant or beautiful, and surely flying did not feel the same as it did on the dream beach he had dreamed up. There was no comparing anything to Kagerus’ lovely world, and part of him longs to return there. So he desperately tries each night, but awakes each morning realizing that he simply does not have the wonderful ability she welds.
With a soft snort and a yawn, the stallion pushes his head through the thickly-laden vines of his willow tree, emerging into the open summer air and feeling the warmth of the intense morning sun hit his back. He rolls his shoulders, stretching the tight muscles from sleep, before striding towards the stillness of the lake where mist already has begun to roll above the flat surface as the steady climbing heat begins to evaporate. The bold sunlight and white-cloud skies will not last long, for in just a short few hours would the clouds collect into a great thunderstorm, showering Hyaline in rain.
At the water’s edge, Svedka lowers his head to drink. His ivory mouth disturbs the water, ripples branching out from where he breaks the surface. Tiny minnows nibble at his whiskers for a moment before they realize he is not food and swim on. Near the middle of the lake, largemouth bass breach the surface to find breakfast of minnows and low flying insects, the slap of their scaled bodies mingling with the sound of the morning bird’s trilling song.
His own dreams were no match for Kagerus’ world. Despite his willingness to recreate what she had shown him, the images that flash across his mind during sleep were not as vibrant or beautiful, and surely flying did not feel the same as it did on the dream beach he had dreamed up. There was no comparing anything to Kagerus’ lovely world, and part of him longs to return there. So he desperately tries each night, but awakes each morning realizing that he simply does not have the wonderful ability she welds.
With a soft snort and a yawn, the stallion pushes his head through the thickly-laden vines of his willow tree, emerging into the open summer air and feeling the warmth of the intense morning sun hit his back. He rolls his shoulders, stretching the tight muscles from sleep, before striding towards the stillness of the lake where mist already has begun to roll above the flat surface as the steady climbing heat begins to evaporate. The bold sunlight and white-cloud skies will not last long, for in just a short few hours would the clouds collect into a great thunderstorm, showering Hyaline in rain.
At the water’s edge, Svedka lowers his head to drink. His ivory mouth disturbs the water, ripples branching out from where he breaks the surface. Tiny minnows nibble at his whiskers for a moment before they realize he is not food and swim on. Near the middle of the lake, largemouth bass breach the surface to find breakfast of minnows and low flying insects, the slap of their scaled bodies mingling with the sound of the morning bird’s trilling song.
(be my escape)
Svedka