Tonight, however, is not like every other night. Snow and ice drip from tree’s branches in the distance; he enjoys watching the glittering mounds slowly melt down to nothingness, their brilliant white illuminated only by the light of the moon. Small blossoms are blooming within the branches, beneath the small heaps of the leftover ice and snow – perhaps they are white, or maybe cherry blossoms, but the darkness will not allow him to see, nor will his near pupil-less eyes. Vines drape themselves from the entrance of the cave’s gaping maw, and sometimes the gentle sound of the wind will caress the greenery and flow through the damp, chilling tomb of stone. He is just close enough to allow its warm fingers to tenderly wrap themselves in the tangled mess of black forelock and mane, to brush gently against the musculature of his jawline. Suddenly, the spring breeze shifts, and his sharp blue gaze watches as the vines twist in the opposite direction, parting just enough for him to see a little bit clearer. The stallion becomes tense almost immediately; he sees her beneath the shadow and darkness, bright and almost blinding compared to the world that he is so accustomed to living in. He nearly takes a step back, but his hooves would rack loudly against the smooth stone beneath him. She has not seen him yet, and perhaps it would stay that way; he would be merely a shadow looking on from another dimension and she would move on, leaving him behind in the world of darkness that beckons him in deeper. His heart races and he could feel the sweeping darkness around him pulling him back, to hide away into the shadows and to remain unseen and protected. But his hesitation, this mere few seconds he remains motionless, gives her the time to realize she is not alone. Balto holds his breath as she creeps closer, her dark eyes searching the depths and hollows of his catacomb, trying to find his figure within the darkness. He falls back deeper into the cave’s mouth, his hooves clacking on the damp cave floor, not necessarily frightened but unsure. He glances over his shoulder for merely a second, his nostrils flaring as a soft snort leaves his lips. His companion, the dark and twisted stallion that lingers in the even deeper and darker parts of the caverns, is still sleeping amongst the shadows somewhere deep in the cave’s belly. Her voice finds his ears and his head straightens with a snap, his forelock cascading over his wide, blue eyes. Hello. As crisp and clear as daybreak, her tinkling voice whispers through the damp air. It’s nearly angelic, the sound of a woman’s voice for the first time in nearly a decade. He dare not speak, he can’t, for he knows the sound of his voice would only rattle compared to hers; nothing but dust and rock and emptiness will come from his throat. He does, however, take a single step towards her. once the king of beasts but now they feast on thoughts beneath his vacant crown. |
@[keeper]