[private] here come the smolder

[Tangled]

— I’ve been falling through the dream-mine and I'm hoping at the bottom
all the mountains of coins I've thrown have bought the wish I cast them for —

His happiness is magnetic, and she finds herself glad to be drawn in by that gravitational pull. She is unfamiliar with hardships and darkness, having been raised in the warm protection of two loving parents on the bright sands of Tephra. The light is all she has ever known, and she finds herself cautious of things that feel heavy and dark. It’s why she did not venture out much beyond what she has grown comfortable with; the tales woven around Beqanna seemed more like nightmares than fairytales, and Tangled was content to tuck herself away from it all, spinning dreams and fantasies in her mind.

She is reminded though that it can be rewarding to breach the confines of her own imaginary bubble. Her dreams can only get her so far.

She laughs at his enthusiasm, a light and easy sound, and slowly she withdraws her nose from where it had lingered near his mane. “They’re beautiful,” she tells him earnestly, watching him with quiet but curious eyes. Her neck curves as if to try and touch one of the small white flowers that clings to a long tendril of mane, before she turns her seafoam-green eyes back to him and answers, “Mine are from my mother, too. I always thought hers were much prettier than mine.” She gives her head a small shake, sending the flowers rippling through the strands of her red mane. “My name is Tangled, by the way.”

Tangled

@[Eugene]