08-05-2019, 10:12 PM
Ahead of him, the dawn light has just crested over a ridge. The shadowed trail ahead of him is suddenly bathed in the day’s first and softest sunlight, and Pteron smiles to himself at this chance to watch the sun rise with the mountains to frame it so well. Yet his attention is quickly pulled from the vista and toward the pale figure that the sun has just revealed. At first Pteron has just noticed the long streaks of remaining shadow on the trail ahead, and had followed them with his olive gaze as the shadows grew wider and eventually culminated in a set of amethyst hooves.
He knows it is Aegean, even as his gaze still flicks upward, toward the eyes whose color reminds him of the crocus hearts back in Loess. The white horse was born the same spring as Pteron, and though Pteron knows that he has grown much in the time since their last meeting, he finds himself hoping that he has grown as well as Aegean has. There is a brief moment, just as his eyes take in the impressive spread of antlers that crown the stallion, that Pteron is uncertain whether he wants Aegean, or simply wants to be Aegean.
Neither emotion is especially concerning, and the young stallion processes them both with an easy smile.
“Yours is not a face I’d thought to find here,” Pteron replies, briefly eyeing the soaring peaks of Hyaline that are far from the low coast where they had met. “But I’m not disappointed.” There is a lively glimmer in his eye that suggests he is much more than not disappointed, and he recognizes much the same emotion in Aegean. The tobiano pegasus has remained rather still since first catching sight of the antlered stallion, but he turns his head at the gust of saltwind.
A familiar scene plays out in a familiar way, and Pteron’s olive eyes watch it curiously. He knows enough to have put together that Aegean is the sibling of the only other illusion-weaver he knows; the faint scent of the white stallion’s visit to Loess had stirred an unexpectedly sharp pang of regret in the dun stallion – Aegean had been so close and he had missed him. Their craft is similar, but the image of the Silver Cove is not exactly like anything Oriash has produced, and he briefly wonders if the two of them had played vision games like his own younger siblings.
“What are you doing here in Hyaline?” He asks. “Do you live here now? Or just visiting? I’ve heard the queen here is very...accommodating.” Pteron grins at that, amused by his own wit. The high peaks have been a haven for youth and beauty since their discovery; the recent shift toward more liberal behavior is not entirely shocking. It is intriguing though, and Pteron had been hopeful he might at least get a glimpse of the fabled golden queen.
@[Aegean]
He knows it is Aegean, even as his gaze still flicks upward, toward the eyes whose color reminds him of the crocus hearts back in Loess. The white horse was born the same spring as Pteron, and though Pteron knows that he has grown much in the time since their last meeting, he finds himself hoping that he has grown as well as Aegean has. There is a brief moment, just as his eyes take in the impressive spread of antlers that crown the stallion, that Pteron is uncertain whether he wants Aegean, or simply wants to be Aegean.
Neither emotion is especially concerning, and the young stallion processes them both with an easy smile.
“Yours is not a face I’d thought to find here,” Pteron replies, briefly eyeing the soaring peaks of Hyaline that are far from the low coast where they had met. “But I’m not disappointed.” There is a lively glimmer in his eye that suggests he is much more than not disappointed, and he recognizes much the same emotion in Aegean. The tobiano pegasus has remained rather still since first catching sight of the antlered stallion, but he turns his head at the gust of saltwind.
A familiar scene plays out in a familiar way, and Pteron’s olive eyes watch it curiously. He knows enough to have put together that Aegean is the sibling of the only other illusion-weaver he knows; the faint scent of the white stallion’s visit to Loess had stirred an unexpectedly sharp pang of regret in the dun stallion – Aegean had been so close and he had missed him. Their craft is similar, but the image of the Silver Cove is not exactly like anything Oriash has produced, and he briefly wonders if the two of them had played vision games like his own younger siblings.
“What are you doing here in Hyaline?” He asks. “Do you live here now? Or just visiting? I’ve heard the queen here is very...accommodating.” Pteron grins at that, amused by his own wit. The high peaks have been a haven for youth and beauty since their discovery; the recent shift toward more liberal behavior is not entirely shocking. It is intriguing though, and Pteron had been hopeful he might at least get a glimpse of the fabled golden queen.
@[Aegean]