05-17-2021, 06:04 PM
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The sound of her voice is the sweetest song to his heartsick ears. But the steam hides her, and Targaryen begins to wonder if he’s dreaming or hallucinating or missing her so terribly that a bird’s cry sounds like her. Like the tides on Taiga’s shore, his heart rises when he hears her voice and then falls when disappointment grips him. Doubt creeps in, bringing an army of questions he hasn’t had the time to think yet. Is she too busy to spend a day with him? Does she miss him? Does she think of him as often as he thinks of her? Does she even think of him at all? Is there a new best friend she’s adopted? (And deeper, he wonders if there is a new best friend she spends her nights with.)
Just as Targaryen feels the weight of his questions begin to suffocate him, the clouds move aside to reveal Cheri. Her rapid descent pulls the steam toward her, and for a fleeting moment, he catches the sight of her wrapped in light and soft clouds. His heart clenches, and then suddenly speeds up as she splashes toward him. The tobiano almost can’t believe she is truly coming toward him, appearing from among the steam and sky like a ghost. As she comes closer, Targaryen can see the sparkle of tears in her eyes, and he knows she’s real.
He’s always been a sympathetic crier, but the tears that form along the brims of his eyes are also from the overwhelming tide of emotions that crash upon him at the sight of Cheri. He cannot help thinking that she is beautiful, and this time he leans into the thought instead of pushing it away. In their separation, Targaryen had begun to wonder if he could continue living in silence — if he could continue to ignore his feelings for Cheri, feelings that go beyond what he knows of siblings and simple best friends.
As her blessed wings (silky and soft and warm, as if the sun had placed itself in the gentle slopes of her shoulders) wrap against his sides and as he feels her slender head tuck itself perfectly beneath his chin, Targaryen suddenly understands that he cannot stay silent any longer. The desire to stand like this with her, to feel her tears dry on his skin, to be a home among her adventures, to be an adventure — he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from spitting it all out at that very moment.
Her question prolongs the moment a bit longer, and Targaryen leans back so he can see her face. “Your dad gave me a lot of things to do. I wanted to come sooner, but I couldn’t get away until today.” The stallion feels his entire being simultaneously tighten and relax at the sight of her. He had thought once that an entire world could be found in the curves of her face, and now he realizes that there is more than that. Targaryen can see pieces of himself reflecting in her eyes; within the pale green islands against her ebony ocean, he can find where he has buried his heart.
“Cheri,” he says, with a voice that is low and soft, “I’ve missed you so much.”
Just as Targaryen feels the weight of his questions begin to suffocate him, the clouds move aside to reveal Cheri. Her rapid descent pulls the steam toward her, and for a fleeting moment, he catches the sight of her wrapped in light and soft clouds. His heart clenches, and then suddenly speeds up as she splashes toward him. The tobiano almost can’t believe she is truly coming toward him, appearing from among the steam and sky like a ghost. As she comes closer, Targaryen can see the sparkle of tears in her eyes, and he knows she’s real.
He’s always been a sympathetic crier, but the tears that form along the brims of his eyes are also from the overwhelming tide of emotions that crash upon him at the sight of Cheri. He cannot help thinking that she is beautiful, and this time he leans into the thought instead of pushing it away. In their separation, Targaryen had begun to wonder if he could continue living in silence — if he could continue to ignore his feelings for Cheri, feelings that go beyond what he knows of siblings and simple best friends.
As her blessed wings (silky and soft and warm, as if the sun had placed itself in the gentle slopes of her shoulders) wrap against his sides and as he feels her slender head tuck itself perfectly beneath his chin, Targaryen suddenly understands that he cannot stay silent any longer. The desire to stand like this with her, to feel her tears dry on his skin, to be a home among her adventures, to be an adventure — he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from spitting it all out at that very moment.
Her question prolongs the moment a bit longer, and Targaryen leans back so he can see her face. “Your dad gave me a lot of things to do. I wanted to come sooner, but I couldn’t get away until today.” The stallion feels his entire being simultaneously tighten and relax at the sight of her. He had thought once that an entire world could be found in the curves of her face, and now he realizes that there is more than that. Targaryen can see pieces of himself reflecting in her eyes; within the pale green islands against her ebony ocean, he can find where he has buried his heart.
“Cheri,” he says, with a voice that is low and soft, “I’ve missed you so much.”
@[Cheri]