searching for myself [Brennen, any]

[Jesper]

Obsidian colt feels the burden of his secret past dissipate into the quietness, though a flutter of anxiety touches his heart. Jesper is ignorant of the meaning of his words – their significance – but, at least he is aware that he is ignorant. He would very much like to be educated. He can only hope that Brennen would be able to shed some light on all of it - or, most of it. Heck, just understanding any of it would be nice.

Tufted listeners detect the end of the silence and, hone in on the mahogany steed’s words. My mother’s eyes? My grandmother’s eyes? He knew those eyes? Ceil blue gaze notes Brennen’s genuine and, large smile while acoustics catch his light laugh. The next few words struck the boy into a state of shock. Cardiac sinew tightens, air sacs expand with a huge inhale and, every single joint locks in place. My grandfather.

Moments later, Jesper feels the daystar, now at its peak in the heavenly dome, melting through the stiffness that had overcome his chassis. A warm breath exhales from salmon-rimmed nares as young male begins to relax once more. He absorbs the remainder of his grandsire’s words and, takes his time to process and digest. Nostrils flutter to signal that the boy is not so lost in thought that he had forgotten to breathe. Soon, Jesper compartmentalizes his thoughts and, begins to search for the right words. The realization that Brennen had been present for generations spurs Jesper’s first sentence. Swallowing, ice-blue gaze meets noble steed’s golden orbs before edgy voice emits from parted maw. “I am… honored.” Ink-painted equine reminds himself to breathe and, collect himself. “I would be honored to shadow you and learn everything you can teach me. I would very much like to find my purpose in this world.” Gaze softens, almost pleading-like, in an effort to persuade Brennen, should his grandfather feel he is not up to this challenge.

The tension that overcame Jesper earlier is gone. Now, his heart rate pulses with the anticipation of being this close to making something of himself. His pointed lobes act independently; one focuses on the muscular stallion accompanying him and, the other, casually swivels atop poll to filter through the crackle of the humid, autumn day.

@[Brennen]

OOC- So many feels in Brennen's reply <3