[private] the way you kiss me will work each time // Kharon

[Rhaegor]

and I could easily lose my mind; the way you kiss me will work each time
calling me to come back to bed, singing Georgia on my mind

Ironically, Rhaegor misses being himself too; he misses the thrill of flirting and of meeting new people and of being handsome. While Chryseis satisfies many of his needs, the plague wears what remains of the boy quite thin; although a certain gleam still lights his eyes on the good days, those are few and far between. This much is quite obvious as he stands on the white sand beach, head swinging low and ribs expanding quickly and weakly. Rhae has seen better days.

But, he is yet young, and subtly immortal; so better days are coming, too.

The sound of another approaching revives Rhaegor, causing him to lift his head and to take a deep, deep breath. With this accomplished, he feels more himself, and sets about gauging the strange stallion. Lacework white atop a gorgeous lavender hue, a look common to many frequenting Beqanna these days. The Hyalinian prince vaguely remembers his Queen Mothers painting a political picture for him some years ago, about a convict of the Leviathan's and his many attempts at claiming a throne prior to that. Clearly, Rhae hasn't the most in depth idea of the medallion-wearing stallion comes from, but it is something.

Hello. The spoken word causes Rhae to dip his head in greeting, though only after he witnesses the other's smile. Something about the plague hardens the boy's heart against being immediately friendly; but the gorgeous violet seems harmless as of yet, and so he does give way to friendliness. In the silence that follows the stranger's greeting (to which Rhae pays little mind, being used to the awkwardness of every new interaction at this point), Rhae's cool brown eyes sweep across the other, watching the way his mane and tail fluttered elegantly in the wind. Mine must be doing the same. Next, he casts his eyes towards the lean and lengthy muscle lining the violet's body. A similar thought colours Rhae's mind.

I haven't seen you before? I'm Kharon.

Rhae only blinks, reminded immensely of his private encounter with Litotes... Private, indeed.

Figuring that his silence ends things, Rhae glances away to study the island; normally he might make more of an effort to communicate, but the sickness in his veins causes his energy to lag. Only when Kharon steps forward does Rhae start some, adrenaline spiking at the other's nearness; but he stays still long enough for the violet's question to find his ears, and for the violet's nose to find the blue of his leopard print markings.

Those? Rhae thinks, craning his own neck to look at the strange, shimmering pattern. His nostrils flutter delicately at his skin, and unconsciously also against Kharon's. From my mothers, he decides. Solace's blue, from her father, and Kagerus' leopard print markings which she inherited from her grand mother... Here, his thoughts trail off, meandering through some memories of his mothers. A warm smile colours his expression, one which might give a non-mind reader some kind of idea - but alas, Rhaegor is the one here with no idea.

Rhaegor

@[Kharon]