05-07-2021, 09:46 PM
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It has been over a year since they have last seen each other. Over that time, Targaryen had transformed from a mature colt to a young stallion. His gangliness is replaced with a strong, straight build. The sunlight holds itself to the colored feathers of his wings, giving them a shimmery appearance as he wanders the Meadow. And when his eyes land on Catryn, he admits to himself that time has aged her well.
“Catryn!” Targaryen’s cinnamon eyes want to trace the soft curves of her brindled body, but he forces them to stay on her face. And he’s surprised to find that her eyes seem aware of the world around them. Catryn sees him. The tobiano steps closer to the young mare, dipping his head in a charming greeting that causes his multicolored forelock to dance across his smooth face.
A brilliant smile dazzles his face at the sight of his friend. He is thankful the brindle had made it through the eclipse, though he had no doubts she wouldn’t have. Catryn had an advantage over the rest of Beqanna; she was already living in a world of complete darkness. Targaryen had found her so brave when they first met, and Catryn had only been fearless while they practiced flying that day. The stallion is certain she can see among the newfound sunlight — her eyes catch twin birds landing on a tree nearby — but he hesitates to mention it.
She had told him off the first time, after all. So instead, Targaryen takes another step forward and pushes his nose through the air in the direction of Catryn’s sunlight wings. He’s always wanted to touch them, to feel if they are warm or silky or electric, but he resists the urge by saying, “Had any time to practice?”
“Catryn!” Targaryen’s cinnamon eyes want to trace the soft curves of her brindled body, but he forces them to stay on her face. And he’s surprised to find that her eyes seem aware of the world around them. Catryn sees him. The tobiano steps closer to the young mare, dipping his head in a charming greeting that causes his multicolored forelock to dance across his smooth face.
A brilliant smile dazzles his face at the sight of his friend. He is thankful the brindle had made it through the eclipse, though he had no doubts she wouldn’t have. Catryn had an advantage over the rest of Beqanna; she was already living in a world of complete darkness. Targaryen had found her so brave when they first met, and Catryn had only been fearless while they practiced flying that day. The stallion is certain she can see among the newfound sunlight — her eyes catch twin birds landing on a tree nearby — but he hesitates to mention it.
She had told him off the first time, after all. So instead, Targaryen takes another step forward and pushes his nose through the air in the direction of Catryn’s sunlight wings. He’s always wanted to touch them, to feel if they are warm or silky or electric, but he resists the urge by saying, “Had any time to practice?”
@[Catryn]