in the darkest hour, the dead of night

[Pteron]

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

Pteron glances back down at the water for a moment, and when he looks back up Rosebay is still watching him. That elicits a smile, and then a playfully suspicious narrowing of his olive eyes as she introduces herself. The winged stallion knows what flirtation looks like, and he has no doubt that the doe-eyed mare with her pretty flowers is flirting.

He’d not come here for a dalliance, but he does enjoy pleasant surprises.

The sound of distant thunder pulls at his attention, and though he turns his blue-green muzzle toward the slow-travelling storm, he finds it difficult to do so. It is as though he didn’t want to look away from the ruddy mare, and he finds that the fuzziness in his mind fades away as his full attention returns to her. That feels better, somehow, though he cannot quite put a feather on why.

He doesn’t even bother to try, really, not when she’s showing him the heady smelling flowers.

“I’d ask for a taste,” he says with a good-humored raise of his brow, “but I learned my lesson as a boy that the sweetness of flowers is more often in their appearance.” He’d tried a hibiscus once, and the brilliantly orange flower had tasted of the finest red Loessian dust mixed with a rotten lime. (He’s not had a rotten lime, but he’s fairly sure they taste greener than rotten lemons)

@[rosebay]

-- pteron --