Her laugh is like a first spring bloom: colorful and so startling in bravery that it steals one’s breath. Thorn thinks she can melt even the thickest snow if she tries, with the way the sun orbits around her giggling.
In his childish naivety, he falls, tumbling endlessly into blue of Prayer’s eyes. It is the cheesy whispers of romance that tickle the colt’s ears when he stares blankly at his new companion, smile sweet but empty. He is thinking of everything but reality: of brushing his muzzle abashedly across her cheek or warming himself with the close proximity of her body heat. All innocent thoughts, ones so perfect they can only exist in the genuine kindness of a youth’s mind.
Alas, Thorn is shy, and all these picturesque fantasies go up in flame when he stiffens at Prayer’s touch. The unwitting failure of a boy’s inexperience: doing the exact opposite of what he desires.
The way his face lights up and rises to her orders is like the tide follows the moon: inevitable and certain. “Okay!” he chirps in response, without even a thought of what he might want to do. The water surges against his legs and he stumbles on the uneven ground, but ultimately finds himself in the shallows, facing Prayer.
“Uh . . .” Thorn mumbles out before bashfully turning his head to the side. His wings ruffle uncomfortably against his sides, a brief distraction from the way his heart pounds.
“I’m Thorn.” This he states confidently before dragging his gaze back up to Prayer’s. “And I like you, too! What’s your name, though?” He grins like a fool, that boyish charm hidden deep within finding a special gleam in his teeth.
In his childish naivety, he falls, tumbling endlessly into blue of Prayer’s eyes. It is the cheesy whispers of romance that tickle the colt’s ears when he stares blankly at his new companion, smile sweet but empty. He is thinking of everything but reality: of brushing his muzzle abashedly across her cheek or warming himself with the close proximity of her body heat. All innocent thoughts, ones so perfect they can only exist in the genuine kindness of a youth’s mind.
Alas, Thorn is shy, and all these picturesque fantasies go up in flame when he stiffens at Prayer’s touch. The unwitting failure of a boy’s inexperience: doing the exact opposite of what he desires.
The way his face lights up and rises to her orders is like the tide follows the moon: inevitable and certain. “Okay!” he chirps in response, without even a thought of what he might want to do. The water surges against his legs and he stumbles on the uneven ground, but ultimately finds himself in the shallows, facing Prayer.
“Uh . . .” Thorn mumbles out before bashfully turning his head to the side. His wings ruffle uncomfortably against his sides, a brief distraction from the way his heart pounds.
“I’m Thorn.” This he states confidently before dragging his gaze back up to Prayer’s. “And I like you, too! What’s your name, though?” He grins like a fool, that boyish charm hidden deep within finding a special gleam in his teeth.
thorn
under your skin, over the moon
don't let me in, I don't know what I'd do
roses are fallin', roses from fallin' for you, ooh
I wrote this while high please enjoy the typos and incoherency