03-09-2021, 01:58 PM
The light that meets the dark
Cheri and her family had lived in a much different world for months now, waking up and falling asleep with the dark, and as a consequence nearly everything had changed. Even basic things, like the fact she wasn’t really certain where she was walking, just that she knew by smell and sticking to the common paths they were headed in the right direction. Destinations couldn’t really be seen with her useless eyes in this dark, so fortunately for Targaryen his guide had been too focused on making sure they were travelling inland to see his misstep and stumble. However, because Cheri had also gotten pretty used to following voices in the past months, she did hear the entire commotion and promptly stifled a laugh.
It died on her lips the moment she ducked, hearing the weighty thud of Targaryen’s hooves landing beside her as the bigger stallion jumped, but she didn’t shy away from the closeness or the possibility of ‘accidentally’ having their bodies touch in the heavy dark like she might’ve with any of her other siblings. Unlike bumping against Reynard (who wouldn’t have been so nice about the faux ear bite), little brawls like the ones she and Targaryen were in right now tended to end softly. Sometimes, Cheri even wondered if she might actually be encouraging the behavior because she liked the ending, where normally she’d cut it off with her twin by now. As the two pegasus settled alongside one another again the uncertainty quickly faded, and Cheri (focused once more on their heading and her questions) only felt drawn away from her purpose when the stallion answered.
There was something in the tone of his voice that concerned Cheri enough to make her slow down a bit, glance sideways, and take notice of how he’d looked off into the woods just before talking. Something sad, she thought, perhaps a little bittersweet. Cheri cared about her friend—more than she realized—and the moment struck her deeply. She felt like consoling Targaryen somehow, but as soon as Cheri thought about touching him with her nose he suddenly disappeared, incapable of offering anything because he was currently eating dirt.
Cheri winced and then immediately was by his side, forgetting about the moment and what it could possibly have meant as she hovered tenderly near Targaryen’s crumpled body with a pitiful smile. “You okay down there Yen?” Cheri couldn’t help but chuckle. He was a tough brute, he’d be alright—she’d seen him fight for real, after all, and he was no weakling then. But he was probably still most definitely in pain, so she straightened up and got serious. “Just stay put you loveable clutz.” Cheri murmured in the dark, nosing him gently here and there as she steadied her breathing and began to concentrate, building up her magic to give him a little dose of something good.
Luckily for six-hooves, he had the best kind of friend for these sort of things, which Cheri was certain only happened in excess every time they got together. Maybe it was their polar luck reacting to one another, or maybe their fate was just the kind that bordered on schtick humor, but either way Cheri didn’t care. She thought it kept him humble and appreciated the practice each happy accident provided.
“One, two, and three.” Cheri counted each bump of her nose against Targaryen’s crooked right wing, each number a little shot of the healing she could provide with her powers. “Let me know if you have any residual soreness later, alright?” She told him warmly, taking a step or two backwards to give her patient space. “It’s not much, but I think it’ll do the trick for scrapes and pain.”
It died on her lips the moment she ducked, hearing the weighty thud of Targaryen’s hooves landing beside her as the bigger stallion jumped, but she didn’t shy away from the closeness or the possibility of ‘accidentally’ having their bodies touch in the heavy dark like she might’ve with any of her other siblings. Unlike bumping against Reynard (who wouldn’t have been so nice about the faux ear bite), little brawls like the ones she and Targaryen were in right now tended to end softly. Sometimes, Cheri even wondered if she might actually be encouraging the behavior because she liked the ending, where normally she’d cut it off with her twin by now. As the two pegasus settled alongside one another again the uncertainty quickly faded, and Cheri (focused once more on their heading and her questions) only felt drawn away from her purpose when the stallion answered.
There was something in the tone of his voice that concerned Cheri enough to make her slow down a bit, glance sideways, and take notice of how he’d looked off into the woods just before talking. Something sad, she thought, perhaps a little bittersweet. Cheri cared about her friend—more than she realized—and the moment struck her deeply. She felt like consoling Targaryen somehow, but as soon as Cheri thought about touching him with her nose he suddenly disappeared, incapable of offering anything because he was currently eating dirt.
Cheri winced and then immediately was by his side, forgetting about the moment and what it could possibly have meant as she hovered tenderly near Targaryen’s crumpled body with a pitiful smile. “You okay down there Yen?” Cheri couldn’t help but chuckle. He was a tough brute, he’d be alright—she’d seen him fight for real, after all, and he was no weakling then. But he was probably still most definitely in pain, so she straightened up and got serious. “Just stay put you loveable clutz.” Cheri murmured in the dark, nosing him gently here and there as she steadied her breathing and began to concentrate, building up her magic to give him a little dose of something good.
Luckily for six-hooves, he had the best kind of friend for these sort of things, which Cheri was certain only happened in excess every time they got together. Maybe it was their polar luck reacting to one another, or maybe their fate was just the kind that bordered on schtick humor, but either way Cheri didn’t care. She thought it kept him humble and appreciated the practice each happy accident provided.
“One, two, and three.” Cheri counted each bump of her nose against Targaryen’s crooked right wing, each number a little shot of the healing she could provide with her powers. “Let me know if you have any residual soreness later, alright?” She told him warmly, taking a step or two backwards to give her patient space. “It’s not much, but I think it’ll do the trick for scrapes and pain.”
@[Targaryen]