[private] you've set my heart on fire, pteron

[Pteron]

finger trips across my cheek----------------
----------------kiss me until i can't speak

“Thirty.” Tells her without hesitation. The serious expression he wears while pronouncing the number is quite brief, and soon he smiles and laughs softly at his own attempt at humor. “I dunno,” his winged shoulders shrug unconcernedly, “Probably big enough to protect yourself though?” It is clear, not only from his earlier concern but also from the way his olive gaze flicks up and down the star-girl in front of him. She’s no bigger than Elio, he thinks, his half-grown sibling that he doubts could fend off a badger, let alone a walking hoarde of the undead. For a just a moment he stares more closely (with curiosity rather than appraisal – she is pretty, but pretty like a leaping doe or a jackdaw in flight, not like a woman) but he does not find what he looks for and draws back with a small shake of his head.

“I don’t suppose you can turn into a rock, or something?” He asks, knowing that such things are often hidden within a creature. “Set things on fire with your mind? Grow spikes on your tail?” None of these questions seem to strike a chord with her, Pteron sees, and he huffs a short sigh in response. “Where’d you come from, anyway?” He’ll have to take her back there, the tobiano decides. Narrowing his gaze, he peers into the inky forest. He hears nothing, sees no one, and turns back to the yearling with a bemused sort of resignation.

“I’m Pteron.” He tells her.

There are so many starry horses in Beqanna that Pteron cannot even imagine what family this one might belong to. Beqanna is blessed – or perhaps cursed – that a god walks among them every six years, siring children that reflect the galaxies he wears. This occurs to Pteron just as he was turning back to face her, and he glances once more at the purple stars. This could be one of Carnage’s children, Pteron thinks, and surely the child of a god should have some sort of ability to defend herself. He hopes it’s not the ability to change into that odd white rat he’d seen once, or the ability to show the phases of the moon on her neck.

@[Desire] 

-- pteron --