01-28-2019, 08:54 PM
don't get cut on my edges ─
I'm the king of everything and oh my tongue is a weapon
I'm the king of everything and oh my tongue is a weapon
As always, she calls to him.
Like some sort of sixth sense, Amet can sense her. The red wytch. The soothsayer. His best friend and most intimate confidant. There's a change in the air, a heightening of vibrations, that tingles against his dragonhide whenever she is near ─ and he follows it, implicitly.
He pulls away from Hyaline and simply follows the pathway that unfurls before him, his map nothing but the wind and a feeling. There's a spring in his step and an exploratory glimmer in his amber eyes as the light blue morning sky slows heeds to high noon, and the rolling hills of the meadow, field, and plains to the surreal quiet of the beach.
He can't remember the last time he had been here, or if he ever had.
Scared to breathe too loud and destroy the melancholic peace of the sacred beach, Amet slows his gait to a meandering walk. His ears flutter, searching almost frantically for the sounds he believed should be there, but simply weren't. Slowly, he continues through the cool spring fog, remaining just outside of the reach of the gentle tide until a loud whinny rings through the air, shattering all semblance of quiet peace.
The sound ─ heart-achingly familiar ─ blooms hope in his chest and coaxes him forward into a gallop. His hooves beat against the wet sand and then kick flecks of it up with each new stride but he cares not for etiquette now ─ not when the soothsayer awaits him and her lamenting call still echoes.
When finally the flat expanse of gray sand gives way to the red body that lay upon her shores, Amet slows his pace to an easy trot. With a quiet nicker and the hint of a smile curling the corners of his soft maw upwards, the dragonhide stallion comes to a halt. "Well I'll be damned," he says incredulously as happy laughter begins to fall from his lips, "Get up and give me a damn hug."
- Amet -