I fell for your magic, I tasted your skin
He hears the cough and the crunch of a rough landing and swivels his ears to track the aftermath. His head follows in short order, and when he sees the new girl who has fallen from the sky, he finds himself now surrounded by Beqannians instead of hopelessly alone.
A grin twists his lips at her rather dramatic entrance. But just as Finian is moving forward to greet her, she brushes by him and heads for a small pool just beyond. He had seen the pool before, but it was merely a shallow dip between one rise of the field and the next. Probably it is filled and emptied depending on the variability of the local rainfall. It is nothing like the tide pools of home. Seeing it reminds him of his fryhood, though. He remembers cavorting through the rough wavebreak with his friends, wearing himself ragged, and then curling up in the sun-warmed tide pools and sleeping alongside the starfish. He remembers the cold brine in the wind as it lifted and tangled the dual hairs of his mane, the clinking of the seashells already caught in his hair as if it were a net at sea. He remembers the hard clash of the ocean and the soft breath of his mother wuffing in his face and waking him. Ah, the things he will miss if he stays here.
The mare seems to enjoy this pool, at least. He watches her with his curious seafoam eyes. She goes to the water easily, unwinds within it as if spilling her secrets to an old friend. It is then that the acrid scent of fire and ruin reaches his nostrils and her intent becomes clearer. Water is a balm whereas fire is blight. He curls his lip in disgust even as understanding begins to grip him. He can see the moment she teeters on the edge of wanting to dissolve into the water, to let loose her composure and sink into the mud that is surely under her feet. Somehow, she remains standing instead.
Her resolve is admirable even if her voice betrays her. “S’all right. Don’t worry ‘bout me.” Fin moves toward the bank of the pool, stopping only when his front hooves are wetted by the disturbed water. His normally jovial mood is absent in present company – even he knows a time and place, mostly. “Wha’ about you? Are you all right, lass?” He tilts his head to take her in with a more critical eye. “Looks like you’re the holder of an unfortunate story. I’m right sorry for it.”
Just as he’s going to tell her she can maybe tell him one day, that this day should be spend recovering, they are joined by another. This one is a male, and Finian is disappointed to find that he’s not the only stallion in the land after all. He nods in the stranger’s direction when he reveals Oceane’s name but not his own. “Never well when a pretty lady is hurtin’. But thanks anyhow.” He’s no knight, but some kind of protectiveness bubbles up within him. The earth-toned stallion seems to know Oceane to some extent – maybe they can both get her home? “Name’s Finian. This is only my second day here in this land. Wha’ happened?”
A grin twists his lips at her rather dramatic entrance. But just as Finian is moving forward to greet her, she brushes by him and heads for a small pool just beyond. He had seen the pool before, but it was merely a shallow dip between one rise of the field and the next. Probably it is filled and emptied depending on the variability of the local rainfall. It is nothing like the tide pools of home. Seeing it reminds him of his fryhood, though. He remembers cavorting through the rough wavebreak with his friends, wearing himself ragged, and then curling up in the sun-warmed tide pools and sleeping alongside the starfish. He remembers the cold brine in the wind as it lifted and tangled the dual hairs of his mane, the clinking of the seashells already caught in his hair as if it were a net at sea. He remembers the hard clash of the ocean and the soft breath of his mother wuffing in his face and waking him. Ah, the things he will miss if he stays here.
The mare seems to enjoy this pool, at least. He watches her with his curious seafoam eyes. She goes to the water easily, unwinds within it as if spilling her secrets to an old friend. It is then that the acrid scent of fire and ruin reaches his nostrils and her intent becomes clearer. Water is a balm whereas fire is blight. He curls his lip in disgust even as understanding begins to grip him. He can see the moment she teeters on the edge of wanting to dissolve into the water, to let loose her composure and sink into the mud that is surely under her feet. Somehow, she remains standing instead.
Her resolve is admirable even if her voice betrays her. “S’all right. Don’t worry ‘bout me.” Fin moves toward the bank of the pool, stopping only when his front hooves are wetted by the disturbed water. His normally jovial mood is absent in present company – even he knows a time and place, mostly. “Wha’ about you? Are you all right, lass?” He tilts his head to take her in with a more critical eye. “Looks like you’re the holder of an unfortunate story. I’m right sorry for it.”
Just as he’s going to tell her she can maybe tell him one day, that this day should be spend recovering, they are joined by another. This one is a male, and Finian is disappointed to find that he’s not the only stallion in the land after all. He nods in the stranger’s direction when he reveals Oceane’s name but not his own. “Never well when a pretty lady is hurtin’. But thanks anyhow.” He’s no knight, but some kind of protectiveness bubbles up within him. The earth-toned stallion seems to know Oceane to some extent – maybe they can both get her home? “Name’s Finian. This is only my second day here in this land. Wha’ happened?”
Finian
@[Oceane] @[Leilan]