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Mists of grey clouded her vision, the island laying like a strange, black silhouette in the far. The mare blinked, like she had done once every minute or so; one of the few movements her body had went through while standing in this cooling, Arabian night. A night she felt strange in, alone. Simply waiting for his presence. Her wings had brought her comfort by wrapping their feathered hands around her face, like ear-warmers – but slightly different. Now that Night had thrown its blanket over the lands, a halo had silently appeared above her head, had grown stronger ever since the sun had gone down. But she wasn't aware, for she was so used to it now. There were other things that clogged her mind. The tigermare might have had overlooked the fact that temperatures would drop, and that the bitter bite of the sea winds would grow, tickling her skin with its needles while cold crept into her bones. The fury that raged within, being an illusion, could not keep her warm. At some point she closed her eyes, thinking that if she would just take a quick nap, the cold would not bug her as much. If he could just come... This could have been over so quickly, after all. But alas, faith has decided otherwise. So two wide open, golden observers kept staring into the grays of the night –Until something that looked more like a meteorite than a horse broke the colorsheme. Maren watched as Gaucho grew nearer, swimming through the sky like pegasi did. But in style. Slowly the blessed creature descended from the sky, flames licking the air he had cut.
Her Sultan's stormy blue gaze found hers, the light of her halo mixing with the reflections of his fire. He spoke her name – or gave it a good try, she decided, as his overthrowing muscular body worked as both a windshield and a heater, which she keenly welcomed. "Gaucho." The mythical chick-on-fire began hopping around, Maren following her from the corners of her eyes. It added tiny twigs to the hill of branches, adorable. From somewhere came the need to smile, but she didn't. Couldn't, and that made her heart ache. Desurated clouds came from her nose as she looked at her company. The pile in the sand; the only thing that stood between the two of them. Something in the back of her mind casually noted that it was kind of awkward that the only thing what was suppose to be lighting up the night, should have been the fire-pit – but instead it was two horses and a chicken.
"What are doing out here?"
She wanted to correct him; What are you doing out here. But that would show how frustrated she was, because she rarely cared about trivial stuff like that – not that he knew her that good. Then she saw his ear searching for sounds, but the tigermare did not say: Yes, I am alone, which she did not know why not. Maybe because the tigermare secretly hoped that she wasn't the only selfish soul on this beach. Caring, an achor, steady – why can't I be those things? And then again; maybe she preferred it this lonesome way, for only Gaucho would be the one present to hear her egoistic words. But there were no words yet. Only silence, as she had moved her gaze from the Wildfire, and into the mists where the black silhouette was.
Then, finally soft-spoken words managed to squeeze themselves from between her stiffened lips. From the cold. “What do you think I am doing out here?” The tigermare spoke, for she sincerely wondered if he was already aware of Maren's intend – If standing on this deserted beach, near the bridge to the Throat, with a bunch of thrown-on-a-pile twigs still meant anything in that Sultan's blue eyes. Or perhaps her nice tones threw him off, she didn't know. Maren swallowed a lump of air as her golden eyes had found those again. Has my Sultan's mind already exposed my selfishness? Nevertheless, the pale purples of her eyes did not speak.
“Do you remember our first conversation?” Her slightly hurt voice barely overruled the piercing wind, which was not even that loud, but in the depths of her words there lay a deeper tone; something not fitting with who she wanted to be, but rather who she was.
Why did you not tell me when you could?
Did you really just not listen?
– Or did you simply forget?
Then, nodding at the pile; “Could you light that for me, please?” the mare asked, which was actually a mere whisper accompanied by a cloud of damp, but making it sound like a sidestep. But then she fell silent, found his eyes with those golden flames that were hers. As silent as the fuse of a bomb before it all came falling down, because that was how her anger worked.
Look at how much of a hypocrite I am.
@[Gaucho] || Notes: || Wordcount: 832 || "talking" ||
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