There is my mind, there is my heart.
Her eyes lock on the two toned mare’s frame, staring at her in such way that could be misinterpret as staring through her. In truth, Kylin just needs time to registers what she sees. From there, she needs even more time to think of an appropriate reaction. The soft murmur of a greeting makes her ears flick forward, slow and hesitant. Her fins pull tighter against her sides, caused by something in the piebald’s gaze.
Kylin blinks her hazel eyes once, twice, trice. It’s still there. Her dished head tilts slowly and she takes a small step forward, so she can meet the extended nose half way. Kylin never gets the chance, the two toned stranger beats her to it.
Her first reaction is too freeze, eyes wide and lips parted in a silent gasp. What is this? But then, even though Kylin is fighting it, her frail body starts to tremble. Tears well up in her eyes and as the waterfalls start to flow again, her breath turns into shaky sobs and gasps for air. The lavender and white woman simply cannot help it; it has been so long since she’d last been held. And now a stranger, a stranger is holding her close. The stranger’s body warms her, offers her comfort and support, without even knowing one another longer than five minutes.
Too fast the stranger pulls away. She leaves Kylin trembling, with tears clouding her vision and her side suddenly cold without the close contact between their bodies. On instinct she pulls her fins tighter against her sides, but the thin membrane does not do anything to keep her warm. Nor sheltered.
The question is answered with a quick shake of her head. Blinking her eyes she tries to will her tears away; a pretty impossible task with the worried nutmeg eyes never straying away from Kylin’s own hazel ones. Then, realising what she’d just done, Kylin corrects herself by nodding. ”Ye-“ voice hoarse and unable to continue without clearing her throat. ”I’ll be…” A flat lie. But she has long ago learned that nobody cared for her anyway, why else had they all left her?
But maybe, just maybe, this stranger cared more for her than anybody else had in a long time. Hesitant, afraid to be turned down, Kylin presses the velvet of her muzzle against Kagerus’, a weak attempt to smile tugging at her lips. ”Kylin..” she murmurs softy, then glancing away, back to the thick jungle that starts off the beach. ”Just Kylin.” Ischia’s sore apple.
”You’re not from here..” It’s not a question, but rather a conclusion. Kagerus does not smell like the sea, nor like the rich flowery scent that the jungle carries. It shouldn’t be too surprising, the piebald mare had announced her presence loudly, like a visitor, but Kylin is too far way to make one and one two.
@[Sid] <3