[open] give me something to believe in; any

[Rhaegor]

I kept my hope just like i'd hoped to
then sang to the sea for feelings deep blue

Were the season any different, he still would not have come with any different intent; at least, he firmly believes that in his youth. Nearing his first full year of life, the little Hyalinian prince has reached his full height - fifteen point two hands - but is grievously lacking in the developed musculature department. The scrawniness of his shoulders are more cliffs than they are slopes, and it is to be hoped that he'll grow into his neck, or else he'd just never look quite right. But for the yearling that he is, he is gorgeous: crisp in the novelty of youth, the harsh angles of his boyish features forgiven for the fact that his life, for now, waxed simplicity.

His dappled golden figure stands out subtly against the grey-white of winter's flattened snow, but in this moment, he's glad to not be a flamboyant colour as many these days are. There's a lump in his throat (as if there's ever a time when there's not) and a hammering of his heart that leaves him dizzy, wondering if he made the right decision in coming here. But then he remembers his uncle Rodrik, and his grandpa Kavi, and his great grandpa, after whom he was named... When he remembers Rhaego, the vertigo ceases. His vision clears - and yes, his visions of the future clear, too.

Breathing more evenly now, the dark-winged pegasus sent his brown eyes out across the field, in search of one who seemed... forgiving and gentle in nature. Some of the current inhabitants were male, and the boy balked at the thought of approaching them; he'd had plenty of male involvement in his life despite being raised by two Queens, but he still denies himself the potential humiliation - and even danger - that came with approaching another of his gender. Could he explain himself, things would be very different; but as they stand, Rhae finds himself much more comfortable in the sweeter company of women.

Not that he expects all women to be sweet by any means. Mother's scar, Will's bad assery, and Mother's stubbornness are evidence enough to that fact! Still, when his ashy brown eyes alight on the little liver chestnut mustang situated in the center of the field, he couldn't help but feel called to the way her watchful eyes blinked a silent invitation. Perhaps she wouldn't mind a silent approacher then - before he could talk himself out of it (hah) he struck out, walking on the stilts of his legs until he finds himself just on the outside of her bubble.

God, how I wish I could speak.

Allowing his most friendly smile to spread his lips, the gangling prince took a calculated step forward, extending his neck and nose until it touches softly against the mare's. He does his best to hold her gaze, keeping his eyes wide and welcoming. After a gentle exchange of breath, Rhaegor steps back, again leaving a polite amount of space between them.

What now you idiot.

Wanting to act quickly before some herd stallion came and showed him his place, Rhaegor grapples onto the first idea that comes to him. Clearing his throat and looking pointedly at a patch of fresh snow that happens to be right in front of them, he emits a beam of light just powerful enough to melt said snow; and in a matter of seconds, a surprisingly decent rendition of mountains sat there for her viewership.

Looking at her and hoping she'll understand, the colt then looks pointedly north-west; that's where I'm from, he tries to say with his eyes when they once again find hers. From the mountains, from Hyaline.

Rhaegor