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the Rift

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Cyrus Posts: 20

Up For Adoption

Stallion :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 3 Years Buff: NOVICE

Semper

01-09-2013, 07:13 PM

Cyrus

colors never faded, reckless and unabated - may take me but never take us all

As he finds himself in a cackle soggy with ignorance, the tree suddenly begins to chime in branches, leaves, and all shaking upon the upheaval of Willow. She has one of those soft, deep chuckles that only a grandparent could own and as it finds itself out of control the young stallion narrows his teal eyes, shifting them awkwardly lowering his own laughter all at once. His breaths carry out the last two puffs of giggle before he's a little weirded out, electric eyes shifting to the ground quickly. He couldn't resolve to thinking anything else but, 'that tree just laughed.' The boy wanted to respect her for her own race down inside, but the peculiarity of the situation ate down the mature courage that stood with boy for the few seconds in. It leaves him staring there, broody hormones instantly melting into inelegant fear. His heart leaps, his mind stutters, he feels a bit woozy and he is sure it isn't from the calamity of his run.

And the horse tree, speaks. Cyrus feels each syllable as a tremor down his ruby spine. Her voice is rough and woodsy like the bark climbing out of her withers, and it was then in all of this that he noticed the companion weasel chirping and cackling as the mare herself. She spoke to it lightheartedly, and the boy became a little more aware of himself. He pushes up from his chest to appear larger compared to the enormous tree-animal, and lifts his tilted face, erasing the confusion from it. Cyrus looks right into the fluid emerald eyes she has and declares her normal. As close as he can manage to normal.

Then Willow speaks to him, voice a noble concern, sounding like the yawn of a new sapling emerging from the floor of spring. Her name modified her tree name. 'Willow,' he thinks, rolling the name over his mental tongue. "Willow fits you, perfectly," he says with a light smile. "Also, forgive me as well, running up on you like that was rude." 'So was laughing at her,' his conscience blared.

Cyrus knew he was a dramatic colt. He took things of the world and made them into immature scenes that he would indeed regret.

He calmed now, feeling the anxiety slip from him and his mind start to churning like normal. All trace of his parents and the unfound child fell away as the Lignea distracted him completely from the mindset that sent him away to running. He thinks he likes her, finding some sort of refuge in her shady green eyes. A curious thought soon prodded inside him as he thought over her kind words. Of course he thought of the connection between the Sun God and her leaves. He wonders if it is the Sun himself that provides her food. "Willow, I hope you don't find it rude to ask, but do you happen to feed like a plant? Like, feeding from the sun?" It was the only thing the boy could possibly think. His own mind consumes him when any aspect of the gleaming life comes into his mind.

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Messages In This Thread

|frost| - by Willow - 12-26-2012, 05:53 PM

RE: |frost| - by Cyrus - 01-03-2013, 07:05 PM

RE: |frost| - by Willow - 01-09-2013, 01:32 PM

RE: |frost| - by Cyrus - 01-09-2013, 07:13 PM

RE: |frost| - by Willow - 01-16-2013, 01:03 AM

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