07-29-2019, 09:37 PM
“Taiga.” He tells her without hesitation, gesturing without thought to the distant forest. It is lost from sight beyond the rolling hills, but the pungent scent of the trees never really seems to leave his nose. It is like the stone dust of Loess had been when he’d called this place home, and like the sweet wildflowers of the Pampas where he’d been born. It is a reminder of where his parents are, of where his home is.
Pteron quashes the question that always rises, the lingering doubt that Taiga is truly his home. Where else could his home be? Surely it is there among the redwood trees, where the sky is hidden and his wings stay pressed against his sides more often than not. The young stallion would sometimes swear his bones themselves were growing heavier with the time spent on the ground.
“I don’t think I want to live there.” He adds abruptly, and it is clear from the expression on his startled face that he’d meant to keep that to himself. Well, he supposes, the cat’s out of the bag and Ori is far less likely to react negatively to this admission than he thinks his family will. “But I don’t think I know where I want to live either. I mean, Taiga is nice and all and I like Loess but like,” He trails off after the sudden chatter, both because he doesn’t really have anything to compare this sensation to, and also because Ori’s wing has suddenly disappeared.
Recalling their meeting with a delighted grin he reaches forward to where it had been. He knows that the wrist of her wings should be brushing against his curiously questing mouth, yet he tastes nothing but air.
“You’ve gotten better,” he says to the space where Oriash had been. Olive eyes trace the gust of wind that shakes the grass around them, and it doesn’t occur to him until after that the breeze too has been a figment of her magic. “Much better,” he amends when she reappears, grinning widely. “Is that even you?” He glances around himself, as though the Oriash in front of him might be the illusion and the real one still hidden from his sight by trickery.
@[Oriash]
Pteron quashes the question that always rises, the lingering doubt that Taiga is truly his home. Where else could his home be? Surely it is there among the redwood trees, where the sky is hidden and his wings stay pressed against his sides more often than not. The young stallion would sometimes swear his bones themselves were growing heavier with the time spent on the ground.
“I don’t think I want to live there.” He adds abruptly, and it is clear from the expression on his startled face that he’d meant to keep that to himself. Well, he supposes, the cat’s out of the bag and Ori is far less likely to react negatively to this admission than he thinks his family will. “But I don’t think I know where I want to live either. I mean, Taiga is nice and all and I like Loess but like,” He trails off after the sudden chatter, both because he doesn’t really have anything to compare this sensation to, and also because Ori’s wing has suddenly disappeared.
Recalling their meeting with a delighted grin he reaches forward to where it had been. He knows that the wrist of her wings should be brushing against his curiously questing mouth, yet he tastes nothing but air.
“You’ve gotten better,” he says to the space where Oriash had been. Olive eyes trace the gust of wind that shakes the grass around them, and it doesn’t occur to him until after that the breeze too has been a figment of her magic. “Much better,” he amends when she reappears, grinning widely. “Is that even you?” He glances around himself, as though the Oriash in front of him might be the illusion and the real one still hidden from his sight by trickery.
@[Oriash]