[private] leaving all my past and silhouettes up on the wall; svedka

[Pteron]

and since you’re the only one that matters,----------------
----------------tell me: who do i run to?

Pteron decides that he likes this stranger with his laughing eyes and crooked smile. Svedka exudes the same sort of happiness that Pteron is capable of, but it doesn’t feel smothering like his own often does. (Pteron does not use that gift frequently, and his control of it is poor). It brightens his smile, and he glances down in an answer, visibly charmed by the flirtation.

He looks back up quickly, though. It is less that he is distrustful of Svedka and more that he is primed to watch for danger. While the other man talks, some part of Pteron remains ever elsewhere, his attention never quite settling fully on the smiling stallion in front of him. He’s not look at him closely enough to question the changes in the other’s face as he lies. Not that he would have noticed with complete attention though, Pteron has never been very good at the niceties of diplomacy.

Svedka mentions Hyaline, summoning thoughts of Aegean sleeping peacefully in the distance. Pteron’s dark mouth almost turns up into a smile, until the other mentions the war. How long has he been displaced, Pteron wonders? Years, or even decades? Having been wandering little over a year, Pteron cannot image what it might be like to be so long with an anchor. The thought makes him a little sad, and he’s shaking his head even before Svedka clarifies that he means the Forest.

“I don’t like it,” the dun admits, letting the blue strands of his mane resettle against his pied shoulder. “I don’t have much preference in where I rest my head, but I like it to be with more permanent faces around, you know?” That someone might prefer to be alone than with others is something that Pteron knows about. He does not understand it, but he knows about it. “We’ve talked of going West,” his tenor voice is warm as he speaks, gesturing in that general direction. “Somewhere warm year round sounds nice. Have you ever been that way before?” In his time wandering, perhaps Svedka has seen Island Resort or Tephra, and knows something about their seasons. Pteron knows Ischia would be wonderful, but he owes a most sincere apology – for leaving his friends without saying goodbye – and he’s not quite sure he is ready to do that quite yet.

“I don’t mean to keep you,” Pteron tells him after a moment, “not if you’ve a soft place ahead calling your name.” Svedka had said that they should be asleep, he thinks, but what has brought him out here. “But if you have a while, perhaps  you’d join me on a walk? I would appreciate the extra pair of eyes.” He smiles, the expression charming and sincere.

@[Svedka]

-- pteron --