let my shadows prove the sunshine
She smiles at him and perhaps if he had been fully himself (he still is, he reminds himself, but there is an ache that he cannot explain of something missing), he would have noticed that though the smile is lovely on her enchanting face, that she too seems to have a shadow cast over her - much like himself. But he isn’t as observant as he normally would have been and he does not think to question it; especially when she repeats his name the way that she does.
Part of the stallion feels that familiar stir - that longing to be near to someone, to bask in the glow of their beauty and liveliness, to breathe in their scent and dance with them beneath the moonlight and its shadows. He nearly listens to it, taking a sweeping step towards her to initiate that bold way he would take over the conversation, but then falters. Perhaps it is the way his wounds ache and rip with each step, or the fact that even a beautiful stranger could not quite erase the still fervent memory of dying and being brought back from the dead.
However, Svedka’s able to offer her that same charming smile he so often wears - sultry and nearly lazy on his pink mouth. She’s so calm, so extravagant, so otherworldly; a beautiful balm against what’s inside him (what he is lacking?). So when she agrees to his idea, he is elated. She steps away from him but Svedka is quick to follow, his pale legs bringing him further into the depths. He’s more confident now with a guide so near to him, for if his muscles were to fail then at least he would be rescued by her.
He wonders if she is thinking about the terrible claw marks on his golden skin, or if she is merely pretending that they aren’t there. Either way, he is glad she is treating him in such a way that he nearly forgets of their ugly presence, all gnarled and swollen and red from new skin attempting to heal.
As they float in the calm, gentle waters of Ischia, Svedka begins to relax. He can feel himself becoming weightless, nothing amidst the crystal clear waters. He sighs, his white eyelids fluttering closed over his cerulean eyes. A single pale gold ear flicks towards her, the flaxen and bright blue of his now-wet mane plastered against his damp neck. “Tephra,” he replies gently, opening one eye to peer at her. He pauses, taking time to lick his lips and to taste the salt that dampens them. “It’s always been my home, but there is just something about your calm waters that I cannot find back home.”
Svedka smiles at her easily, closing his eye with another contented sigh. “Is that one reason why you stay?”
svedka
@[Aquaria]