12-30-2018, 11:40 AM
Leilan
Glaciers melting in the dead of night
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
Silently seething, he notices the utter lack of care for anything Leilan just said, in the kelpie stallion. Ivar’s eyes don’t light up with recognition, in fact he doesn’t even mull over the request. Just ignores it, and deems it unimportant.
Briskly, as if to try and forget about it, the roan tilts his head to Mary, who finally has given her name, figuring he’d rather talk to her instead. But during his own question for her name, the chestnut roan girl had mentioned something, a thing that took a little longer to click. ”What?” Her emotional tone had made it harder, and while his brain updates him in retrospect with the exact words that accompanied the accusation, she repeats it, much clearer this time. You are my father. Angry - like he would probably be, too.
As her brown eyes stare at him in accusation (like, how the fuck should he have known about her, or prevent this?), he just stares back almost-emptily. Ears fall flat as colour drains from face (figuratively) and eyes (literally; a whitish look to them instead of the icy blue), his mind racing and practically blocking out whatever Ivar and Mary still had to say while he struggles to understand. A golden-haired roan yearling; perhaps he should have asked. But if that’s true, she looks about nothing like her mother; only in conformation.
Awkward, she tells them all, and with some blinking, he returns slowly out of his haze. This can’t be real. But it is, it seems. He watches the other two take their leave, which somehow makes it even more awkward, for now he is supposed to say something. He gives a tiny shake of his head, as if trying to wake from a dream, and narrows his eyes at her, looking her over, where’d she suddenly come from then? But he knows, deep down. There’s only so many mares he’d been with that autumn, the fall whereafter he’d died. So many things had happened since then, but since Thalassa knew where he lived, he hadn’t thought that if anything had happened, she would have just left him in the dark about it.
Apparently she had decided he didn’t need to know. Suddenly angry with someone not present, the scaled stallion starts pacing, as a way to relieve his muscles from the tension that has suddenly built. Indecisive too, because what’s he supposed to do or say now? ”Fuck.” Why did mares have to be the ones to decide not to tell, why wouldn’t they, even? Now she’s hurt both him but also her - their - daughter.
And he didn’t know shit. He doesn’t even - oh. He stops, looking at the girl. ”Could you at least tell me your name?” They have to start somewhere, at least. He can’t very well be angry with her, because it probably wasn’t Naia’s choice to never go find him.
He’d never thought Thal to be the type to hide, though. Shit.
Briskly, as if to try and forget about it, the roan tilts his head to Mary, who finally has given her name, figuring he’d rather talk to her instead. But during his own question for her name, the chestnut roan girl had mentioned something, a thing that took a little longer to click. ”What?” Her emotional tone had made it harder, and while his brain updates him in retrospect with the exact words that accompanied the accusation, she repeats it, much clearer this time. You are my father. Angry - like he would probably be, too.
As her brown eyes stare at him in accusation (like, how the fuck should he have known about her, or prevent this?), he just stares back almost-emptily. Ears fall flat as colour drains from face (figuratively) and eyes (literally; a whitish look to them instead of the icy blue), his mind racing and practically blocking out whatever Ivar and Mary still had to say while he struggles to understand. A golden-haired roan yearling; perhaps he should have asked. But if that’s true, she looks about nothing like her mother; only in conformation.
Awkward, she tells them all, and with some blinking, he returns slowly out of his haze. This can’t be real. But it is, it seems. He watches the other two take their leave, which somehow makes it even more awkward, for now he is supposed to say something. He gives a tiny shake of his head, as if trying to wake from a dream, and narrows his eyes at her, looking her over, where’d she suddenly come from then? But he knows, deep down. There’s only so many mares he’d been with that autumn, the fall whereafter he’d died. So many things had happened since then, but since Thalassa knew where he lived, he hadn’t thought that if anything had happened, she would have just left him in the dark about it.
Apparently she had decided he didn’t need to know. Suddenly angry with someone not present, the scaled stallion starts pacing, as a way to relieve his muscles from the tension that has suddenly built. Indecisive too, because what’s he supposed to do or say now? ”Fuck.” Why did mares have to be the ones to decide not to tell, why wouldn’t they, even? Now she’s hurt both him but also her - their - daughter.
And he didn’t know shit. He doesn’t even - oh. He stops, looking at the girl. ”Could you at least tell me your name?” They have to start somewhere, at least. He can’t very well be angry with her, because it probably wasn’t Naia’s choice to never go find him.
He’d never thought Thal to be the type to hide, though. Shit.
you set my soul alight
@[naia]
Omg that is more awkward than I ever imagined, lol
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
| 