i know i need us more than i need me
The sound of her summer storm's approach lends itself to the rhythm of my melody, her hooves the percussionists in tonight's opera. Though she approaches fast, I can't help but think of how slow one moves through this life, of how agonizing time can feel when the one you love resides in a place almost always unaccessible to you.
I almost grimace (an expression most like a smile on my Arabic face) at the irony of my situation; a son raised by a dreamer, with a dreamlocked twin sister, whose dreams come shorter and shorter by the day. The dreammaker, the dreambound, and the dreamless.
A tear trickles down the side of my face that the stranger cannot see as she breaks into the clearing like a gust of wind. My jaw would ache with the gnash of my teeth were it not for the aching keen of my song.
Beautiful, she whispers, though I swear I hear her word more as a thought, a sentiment, than anything physical. To welcome her approach, I turn my head with care, setting my blue eye upon her as she appears to fall under my spell. Walking, falling, she seems to do both at once; the brown of her coat gleams a bluish-white beneath the glare of my wings. "Beautiful," I sing in return, the word a long, drawn-out note that verges on incomprehensibility, though I know that the little mare before me will know exactly what I sang.
When my admirer finds herself frozen not inches away from me, I taper off my song with a gradual decline until the silence itself reminds us of the beauty of the disappeared notes. Against my sides, my wings rearrange, throwing light around the clearing in a disarming fashion; in this disarray, I reach out and place my mouth upon her.
Lips to cheek, gliding up to her ear. A warm exhale placed there and an inhale as though to memorize her scent.
"I'm Indius," I murmur, pulling my face away to gaze into the depths of her wide, starstruck brown eyes. "Tell me your name."
I almost grimace (an expression most like a smile on my Arabic face) at the irony of my situation; a son raised by a dreamer, with a dreamlocked twin sister, whose dreams come shorter and shorter by the day. The dreammaker, the dreambound, and the dreamless.
A tear trickles down the side of my face that the stranger cannot see as she breaks into the clearing like a gust of wind. My jaw would ache with the gnash of my teeth were it not for the aching keen of my song.
Beautiful, she whispers, though I swear I hear her word more as a thought, a sentiment, than anything physical. To welcome her approach, I turn my head with care, setting my blue eye upon her as she appears to fall under my spell. Walking, falling, she seems to do both at once; the brown of her coat gleams a bluish-white beneath the glare of my wings. "Beautiful," I sing in return, the word a long, drawn-out note that verges on incomprehensibility, though I know that the little mare before me will know exactly what I sang.
When my admirer finds herself frozen not inches away from me, I taper off my song with a gradual decline until the silence itself reminds us of the beauty of the disappeared notes. Against my sides, my wings rearrange, throwing light around the clearing in a disarming fashion; in this disarray, I reach out and place my mouth upon her.
Lips to cheek, gliding up to her ear. A warm exhale placed there and an inhale as though to memorize her scent.
"I'm Indius," I murmur, pulling my face away to gaze into the depths of her wide, starstruck brown eyes. "Tell me your name."
Indius
A Kristin pon? For me?? *big eyes* I am so happy
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@[Moonlet]