Luna was high up, shining down upon his lone embodiment in the dark. He chuckled at something that amused him, not caring much to whatever it happened to be. It is good-hearted, warm, and welcoming. A smile is painted across his face, indigo eyes gleaming with joy that seems unnatural. Starlight lights him up, cascading over a blue roan body. The rips of white that go across his body are nothing as he hovers about, wings at his ankles fluttering with speed. Just blurs at that area of the body, they are difficult to see. He isn't bothered, because he is smiling with that joyful laugh.
Why does he have to have such a cold, uneasy feeling that surrounds him? Is it happiness with the carefree ways that make him this joyful? He has nothing to be happy about, as it seems. Within his head, he remembers his sister asking where he was going, walking while he flew (she never liked flying even though she had wings, and let him explain to her what flying was like), chatting about things he had in his mind. A vivid question was always "Why are you leaving soon?"
She asked it with a hurt expression, worried and wounded at the idea of him taking off. Known to be as cheerful as he was, he took no time to tell her one thing: "I want to go somewhere where it is warmer. The cold bothers me. I love you though, therefore you should go with me." Her reaction was just a frown and shake of the head, being used to how he acted. Before he took off, she gave him the scarf, pink and made of wool, having wrapped it about his neck. Now, it was slung around the base of his neck, encasing his upper shoulder blades and withers in warmth. The summer heat was paid no attention to; he just wasn't going to take that thing off.
Gentle laughs fill the air again, his coven hooves finally touching the ground as he comes out of transition. In the moon's milk light, you can now see what allows him to fly like that. Eight wings, two to each ankle, black with indigo flight feathers, lay to rest, perked up and pushed to his canon bones. They seem content, and if your eyes are to glare upon them too long, he'll allow a soft laugh to you and explain that it is his mother that caused the wings to be that way. He isn't bothered by them being like that, clearly. He's content and happy, smiling just because he can.
"Oh? Where do you think we are?" It is easy to notice that he is alone, that no one was with him. The question is directed towards anyone that came across him in the nighttime. His smile makes the world uncomfortable, shying away with fear because no one wants to get too close to him. Everything about him causes a dark feeling that causes you to shudder when you get too close. What was even creating that? He isn't bothered because he takes a few steps, moving between the trees as his spider web eyes teem with excitement.
"Hello??? Would anyone like to come out and play with me tonight? I'm lonely...... Where are my friends tonight, when the moon is high and the night air is perfect for good times?"
You dare not go, just because you're scared. He's happy, though who is bothered?
Just about everyone because he's still smiling.


If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?