[private] I could take the whole world with me

[Tarian]

What emboldens him to come so close?

And more importantly, why doesn't she move away?

Tarian hovers there a moment, his dark muzzle pointed to the speckled points that adorn her forehead. He had fully expected her to step out, to give him some sword-tongued reprimand, and yet it is the silence that nearly threatens to swallow him. Her rejection would be far easier to take; it's the joke - light and breathless - that leaves him wondering what might happen if he were to take another step closer.

If he were to touch her.

Don't. He thinks suddenly, sharply.

But Altissima is looking him, her eyes much more brilliant in this proximity than he could have ever fathomed. Much deeper and he dares to even blaspheme a little - it rivals the starlit sky that his Uncle could summon. Those alluring eyes rival any memory of stardust that Tarian has. He stares a moment too long and berates himself for it but those thoughts are far away. The pale mare seems to banish them - all the things he should say. Those words are always so hard to find when she is so close.

The back of his throat has gone dry, like he has spent days without water. That is what Tarian notices when she glides away, when the chill and the cold come to claim his company again. He nearly shivers but partially shakes out his wide wings instead, any kind of movement to call him back to the present. Glad for the feelings that return, he decides to take a few decisive steps of his own, and the Loessian moves over the dunes (though carefully, just in case any Fluertle nests were nearby) with the assurance that she would follow. As the clouds pass over the moment, his glow flickers in and out and Tarian is glad for Altissima's shimmering.

He doesn't have to look back to know where she is.

Funny how before that it had been how close @[Altissima] was and now Tarian finds that he can't stand the silence between them. Another form of this damned space.

"Tell me something," he finally says, no longer abiding the quiet between them. His voice comes harsher than he intended, meant to be harder on himself than her because she seems to blur so many of his lines. Tarian keeps moving - the salt springs aren't far now - as he asks her with their warmth already seeping into the baritones of his steady voice: "Did Pangea not suit a Wildling such as yourself?"