05-17-2021, 03:37 PM
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Cheri’s joy had been infectious when Yanhua had finally approved of her dreams, and Targaryen couldn’t help but smile alongside her. He’d been truly happy for her, in the beginning. Yet her absence left a gaping black hole in his days. The clearing in the heart of Taiga didn’t seem as comforting, the sun didn’t shine as bright, and even his flights across the tips of the redwoods seemed lackluster. Targaryen has forgotten what it meant to be alone, despite the years of his life he’d spent content that way.
It hadn’t taken very long before Yanhua seemed to recognize Targaryen’s need for purpose. The days the tobiano spent roaming Taiga mindlessly, dragging his sullen heart behind him, were very few, but they felt like years to the stallion. One morning, the Guardian had found Targaryen and put him to work for their ancient forest. While he had been planning on visiting Cheri once she was settled in her new home, the duties Yanhua gave him made it difficult to escape.
The work had been good, at first; as the seasons change, Targaryen feels the effects of time and distance stretch between him and Cheri. She overcame him (and perhaps she always has, but distance makes him much more aware of it) and she saturates his thoughts and dreams. The tobiano pours himself into his responsibilities, but each morning he wakes with Cheri’s electric eyes printed on the back of his eyelids, and each night he falls asleep to the sound of her gems echoing a lullaby.
Finally, Targaryen works up the bravery to abandon his tasks for a day. He is thankful Loess is only a short flight from his nest, that Cheri had not picked Ischia or Pangea to explore. The wind currents above the red-rock kingdom are more aggressive than the ocean-side Taiga, whipping off the mountain range in the distance and having room to run above the canyons. The stallion is pushed from left to right as he flies, and his muscles are sore by the time he lands near a hot spring.
Soft brown eyes peer across the landscape, and he huffs out the series of calls they had made together. Targaryen shifts his weight as he waits, anticipation and excitement to see Cheri making it nearly impossible for the pale green stallion to stand still.
It hadn’t taken very long before Yanhua seemed to recognize Targaryen’s need for purpose. The days the tobiano spent roaming Taiga mindlessly, dragging his sullen heart behind him, were very few, but they felt like years to the stallion. One morning, the Guardian had found Targaryen and put him to work for their ancient forest. While he had been planning on visiting Cheri once she was settled in her new home, the duties Yanhua gave him made it difficult to escape.
The work had been good, at first; as the seasons change, Targaryen feels the effects of time and distance stretch between him and Cheri. She overcame him (and perhaps she always has, but distance makes him much more aware of it) and she saturates his thoughts and dreams. The tobiano pours himself into his responsibilities, but each morning he wakes with Cheri’s electric eyes printed on the back of his eyelids, and each night he falls asleep to the sound of her gems echoing a lullaby.
Finally, Targaryen works up the bravery to abandon his tasks for a day. He is thankful Loess is only a short flight from his nest, that Cheri had not picked Ischia or Pangea to explore. The wind currents above the red-rock kingdom are more aggressive than the ocean-side Taiga, whipping off the mountain range in the distance and having room to run above the canyons. The stallion is pushed from left to right as he flies, and his muscles are sore by the time he lands near a hot spring.
Soft brown eyes peer across the landscape, and he huffs out the series of calls they had made together. Targaryen shifts his weight as he waits, anticipation and excitement to see Cheri making it nearly impossible for the pale green stallion to stand still.
@[Cheri]