[private] When did the colors fill in the spaces where there were none?

[Fyr]

I'll settle for the ghost of you.

When he had been shunned as a child, alone and avoided in the Den, there had been a time when he had wished he had never been born. Or at least, hadn’t been born with his spirits and his flames. Even after losing so much, he finds he isn’t as desperate as he had once been as that sad lonely colt. Despite the candle of hope that is nearly extinguished, he is not defeated. Experiencing the love and care of a devoted mother, the friendship of Lies and her stars, meeting Sickle and the rest of the Pampas crew, the kindness from an angel… It had changed something in him. It had given him a different kind of hope that perhaps, no matter how terrible he was, Aela had been right after all. There was still a chance to be the kind of terrible HE wanted to be and not what was dictated for him. 

Lily’s muzzle presses to his neck, inspiring a flare of orange and red to spiral up towards the sky along his shoulders. She still does not burn, not in the dire way he had once anticipated. The darkness does little to hide her blush, not when they are so close and wrapped in the haze of their mutual glows. His own pale golden cheeks rise with a similar heat as she pulls away and is surprised by how disappointed he is to no longer feel her touch along his dappled skin. Her words are gentle, raw. The hesitance leaves his smile as the familiar silence falls between them.

Only to return at her request. His mouth suddenly feels incredibly dry and he tenses, unsure. The only other being (and female) he had ever slept next to was his mother. He had been on his own now for so long, he had just become accustomed to it. Being alone again. Yet the exhaustion is clear on her face, in her golden eyes, and he finally gives a small nod in acceptance, not trusting in his voice or his words. The dark voice in his head begins to purr with malicious intentions but he is firm on ignoring it. Not tonight. Not with her, if he can help it.

Following her into the cave, he gives her some space and folds his long limbs beneath him awkwardly when he finds a spot to sleep. However, he does not stay away from her for long. Not when he notices the shiver that constantly crawls across her ivory flesh, coaxing him to move close enough to her to exchange mutual heat. Surprisingly, once she is beside him, he easily finds sleep. Not once does he dream of those that were lost, of drowning in a black ocean. It is dreamless and restful, the best slumber he had gotten since the Pampas fell.

FYR

Photo by Little Willow Art

@Lillibet