"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
He shifts closer and she relaxes with the proximity, a slight shuffle of her own dark hooves closing the gap a little more still. “Isakov.” She echoes his name too, soft as a breath and just for herself as she memorizes it, holds it close so she might keep it safe like it is a new treasure for her to hold in her mind. And that is exactly what she thinks it is - a treasure like the brief touch of his muzzle on her dark shoulder that causes her smile to shimmer and dance like sunlight on the water.
She’s thoughtful for a moment before replying to his question, her green gaze on him but unfocused. It does not occur to her to evade the question or answer with anything other than the complete truth - she is happy to share pieces of herself. Happy to give and take in a conversation that might cause him to linger near her a little longer. “Oh, my family is quiet. Sometimes my brother and I play but my mom…” Avelina trails off, thinking of her quiet night-eyed mother and also wondering already if she had dreamt the touch of this star-brushed boy, if she had just hoped for it enough that she tricked herself into thinking it already happened. “She tries to hide it but she’s sad. And I think it’s easier to not talk at all than it is to talk about one thing when your mind is full of something else. So sometimes... it’s easier if I’m not there so she doesn’t have to pretend.” For Avelina this feels like a kindness, and she truly does not mind exploring on her own.
Her nose scrunches up again as she finds it easy to once again laugh at herself and the odd words she’s sharing. And just like that her focus returns and she’s smiling at him with a crooked slant to her smile. “Does that make sense?” And then a beat later. “Is your family not like that?”
