05-20-2018, 09:39 AM
the secret of our world is written in the stars
He is always moving, always exploring every inch of Hyaline when time allowed it - especially with the blooming that came with spring. Hyaline is decorated in the vibrant colors of the surrounding flora, blooming brilliantly in the warmth of springtime sun. Some ice still clings helplessly to the ground, but each day it is melting away beneath the change of temperature. His willow tree is now back to its glorious former being, swaying gently in the breeze and framing the now-melted lake he so adores. The water is still frigid against his skin, but he has taken quick swims once or twice despite its bitter cold. He cannot help it; the water calls to him, with its crystal clear depths and shining, glass-like surface.
He has just emerged, damp with lakewater and knots of lilies and water-dwelling plants caught in the ivory and blue of his mane. Drying beneath the warmth of the sun, he had set off in the direction to the rocky mountain backdrop, to see what else has begun to grow in the mild weather of spring. His mind, though particularly focused on the bright colors of wisteria and other blooms, lingers on Ilma momentarily as it now so often does. Their relationship had grown deeper over the cold and bitterness of winter, vowing to protect her and keep her safe while she grew each day. They are no longer strangers or even just friends - there is something deeper in their bond that he cannot explain, and he finds himself even worrying about the ivory woman when he is not with her.
Ilma’s voice quickly changes his demeanor, and with a curious and concerned expression, he searches the confines of Hyaline for her. Her coat is brilliantly white in the vast color of the world around her, the perfection of her alabaster feathers softly shining in the sun’s light. He cannot help the breathless smile that finds him when he finally sees her, and he trots up to her with a soft whuff against her neck and shoulder, inhaling her familiar scent with quivering nostrils. Her belly is swollen with child, but being with her so much, the size does not surprise him. “It’s time?” His voice is clear with excitement as well as hesitancy - he had never witnessed any birth, and would not know what to do if something went wrong. The stallion brushes her pale forelock from her eyes with a brush of his pinkish lips, still damp from his swim.
The darker stallion is hidden beneath shadow of fully grown trees, downwind from where they stood. Svedka has not noticed the figure that watches them so hauntingly, as he is engrossed with Ilma’s wellbeing and not the world around him. Soon, however, that might not be the case.
He has just emerged, damp with lakewater and knots of lilies and water-dwelling plants caught in the ivory and blue of his mane. Drying beneath the warmth of the sun, he had set off in the direction to the rocky mountain backdrop, to see what else has begun to grow in the mild weather of spring. His mind, though particularly focused on the bright colors of wisteria and other blooms, lingers on Ilma momentarily as it now so often does. Their relationship had grown deeper over the cold and bitterness of winter, vowing to protect her and keep her safe while she grew each day. They are no longer strangers or even just friends - there is something deeper in their bond that he cannot explain, and he finds himself even worrying about the ivory woman when he is not with her.
Ilma’s voice quickly changes his demeanor, and with a curious and concerned expression, he searches the confines of Hyaline for her. Her coat is brilliantly white in the vast color of the world around her, the perfection of her alabaster feathers softly shining in the sun’s light. He cannot help the breathless smile that finds him when he finally sees her, and he trots up to her with a soft whuff against her neck and shoulder, inhaling her familiar scent with quivering nostrils. Her belly is swollen with child, but being with her so much, the size does not surprise him. “It’s time?” His voice is clear with excitement as well as hesitancy - he had never witnessed any birth, and would not know what to do if something went wrong. The stallion brushes her pale forelock from her eyes with a brush of his pinkish lips, still damp from his swim.
The darker stallion is hidden beneath shadow of fully grown trees, downwind from where they stood. Svedka has not noticed the figure that watches them so hauntingly, as he is engrossed with Ilma’s wellbeing and not the world around him. Soon, however, that might not be the case.
(be my escape)
Svedka
@[Ilma] @[Arithmetic]
There's no reason for Svedka to notice him...yet. >
If he's still here once the baby is born, or if he gets himself noticed, I can't promise what will happen! 