Kensley is as cool to her touch as he is to read. It makes Aela bolder than she normally would be. The girl who would be so careful to keep her distance from others keeps none between them. Her petite muzzle runs along the side of his face, trying to sort through the shadows and ghosts she glimpses through his fog. It ripples away sometimes but it never reveals anything definite about the gray stallion. When she blinks again, it just the two of them standing in the present.
He is all surface and even as she peers deeper, Aela finds no depth.
Maybe this should trouble her. Some part of her knows (even at this tender age) that there should be more substance to a soul. There should be more here besides shadows and murk. But Kensley carries no weight at all. It makes his company all the easier for the little girl. She has nothing to bear from him and yet there is a knot of tenderness twisting in her chest.
So she shows him something else. She shows him as he appeared just moments before.
(’My name is Kensley,’ says the gray stallion. The vantage point isn’t his own; it comes from below. It is a child’s gaze who looks up with curiosity. He blinks and says, ’Or it was. A long time ago.')
Aela takes a step back and the golden filly tilts her head in a familiar way - a gesture that she is learning from him. She had tried showing him as far back as she could remember and it hadn’t worked. She’d help him find his name, she thinks. If she were able, if she could just talk, she’d tell him that. The only sign of her irritation comes out as quick swish of her broomtail and Aela peers up at him again, waiting for his reaction.
He blinks down at her and Aela feels that knot of concern wrenching tight. It tugs and what the girl doesn’t realize is that tugs on something else. Another gift she doesn’t know she has (from the mother she doesn't remember). There is warmth for Kensley blooming in her chest and each time that Aela reaches for him, tries to show him something, she shares it unknowingly.
When she extends up again - feeling that glowing concern towards him - and touches him, there is a spark. A shock that propels her backward a few steps because where there had been nothing, suddenly there is something. A glimmer of confusion before it dissipates. A shimmer of shock before it hides beneath the ghostly facade of @[kensley]’s face.
Her breathing quickens and Aela extends her petite maw out with flaring nostrils as she comes forward again. Her blue eyes look up at him - bewildered - and she doesn’t need a memory to show what her expression is so clearly asking: had he felt the spark too?
He is all surface and even as she peers deeper, Aela finds no depth.
Maybe this should trouble her. Some part of her knows (even at this tender age) that there should be more substance to a soul. There should be more here besides shadows and murk. But Kensley carries no weight at all. It makes his company all the easier for the little girl. She has nothing to bear from him and yet there is a knot of tenderness twisting in her chest.
So she shows him something else. She shows him as he appeared just moments before.
(’My name is Kensley,’ says the gray stallion. The vantage point isn’t his own; it comes from below. It is a child’s gaze who looks up with curiosity. He blinks and says, ’Or it was. A long time ago.')
Aela takes a step back and the golden filly tilts her head in a familiar way - a gesture that she is learning from him. She had tried showing him as far back as she could remember and it hadn’t worked. She’d help him find his name, she thinks. If she were able, if she could just talk, she’d tell him that. The only sign of her irritation comes out as quick swish of her broomtail and Aela peers up at him again, waiting for his reaction.
He blinks down at her and Aela feels that knot of concern wrenching tight. It tugs and what the girl doesn’t realize is that tugs on something else. Another gift she doesn’t know she has (from the mother she doesn't remember). There is warmth for Kensley blooming in her chest and each time that Aela reaches for him, tries to show him something, she shares it unknowingly.
When she extends up again - feeling that glowing concern towards him - and touches him, there is a spark. A shock that propels her backward a few steps because where there had been nothing, suddenly there is something. A glimmer of confusion before it dissipates. A shimmer of shock before it hides beneath the ghostly facade of @[kensley]’s face.
Her breathing quickens and Aela extends her petite maw out with flaring nostrils as she comes forward again. Her blue eyes look up at him - bewildered - and she doesn’t need a memory to show what her expression is so clearly asking: had he felt the spark too?
AELA
she had a marvelous time ruining everything
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