08-30-2019, 10:10 PM
Aquaria tells him to behave himself, and Pteron shakes his head playfully. He takes her warning lightly, for his infatuation and reckless courage combine into something quite like foolishness.
“I can’t promise anything,” he tells her with a smile, but says nothing further as she begins to describe her underwater world. The dun stallion tries to picture it in his mind as she does, and he recalls the odd underwater song of the illusion that Aegean had woven for them high in the mountains. Do they have those creatures here, he wonders? Without knowing what they are called he is reluctant to ask. He’d have to mimic the sound to give her any hints, and the idea is rather embarrassing. So instead he nods with gusto at her wish to someday show him.
“Someday,” he repeats. He does not know how, but he has seen a great many wonderous things in Beqanna in his short life. Surely breathing underwater for a bit is not out of the realm of possibility.
When she blushes at his words, Pteron feels an electric thrill, a flush of satisfaction that rises as she comes closer. Her forehead is cool against his dry shoulder, and though he considers tugging at her finlike mane the way he might curls, he is uncertain how delicate the glistening thing is, and instead just rests his muzzle briefly in the soft place where her head meets her neck.
“Good,” he replies, reaching out to bump up her jaw so she might meet his gaze. “I hope that means you’ll be excited to see me when I come back.”
He does mean to leave, that much is clear from both his words and the way he pulls away, his wings shifting at his sides.
“I’m afraid I’ve got to get going,” he tells her, and there is genuine reluctance in his voice. “But I’d like to come back, and see more of your Ischia.”
@[Aquaria]
“I can’t promise anything,” he tells her with a smile, but says nothing further as she begins to describe her underwater world. The dun stallion tries to picture it in his mind as she does, and he recalls the odd underwater song of the illusion that Aegean had woven for them high in the mountains. Do they have those creatures here, he wonders? Without knowing what they are called he is reluctant to ask. He’d have to mimic the sound to give her any hints, and the idea is rather embarrassing. So instead he nods with gusto at her wish to someday show him.
“Someday,” he repeats. He does not know how, but he has seen a great many wonderous things in Beqanna in his short life. Surely breathing underwater for a bit is not out of the realm of possibility.
When she blushes at his words, Pteron feels an electric thrill, a flush of satisfaction that rises as she comes closer. Her forehead is cool against his dry shoulder, and though he considers tugging at her finlike mane the way he might curls, he is uncertain how delicate the glistening thing is, and instead just rests his muzzle briefly in the soft place where her head meets her neck.
“Good,” he replies, reaching out to bump up her jaw so she might meet his gaze. “I hope that means you’ll be excited to see me when I come back.”
He does mean to leave, that much is clear from both his words and the way he pulls away, his wings shifting at his sides.
“I’m afraid I’ve got to get going,” he tells her, and there is genuine reluctance in his voice. “But I’d like to come back, and see more of your Ischia.”
@[Aquaria]