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Breathless, you lie on the ground, your duo-tone face cushioned by the grass you have crushed beneath you in your latest fall. Above you the winds howl triumphantly for a few moments more, then quiet into a light breeze as suddenly as they came, deceptively docile—for the time being at least. With your ear pressed up against the earth, you can hear the thrumming vibrations of a canter. Whatever it is that startled you is coming closer. Before you can scramble to your hooves again, it is too late. The stranger has already reached you and--OH GODS HE HAS WINGS! Pearly legs churn wildly in the grass as you struggle to rise. How are you going to escape this one? Even of you threw yourself off of the cliff and trusted the air to catch you, you doubt that you can outfly him on a day like today and with wings as tired as yours. You are in mid-panic, and you don’t even notice that he is speaking until all of a sudden…did he just say your name??
It is at that moment that you manage to rise, but the shock of the realization nearly sends you to your haunches again. Whirling around to face the stranger, your grey eyes narrow, studying him suspiciously. “What did you say?” you ask coldly. Admittedly, it is rather rude for a princess, but in your mind, you have every right to be on your guard. How does he know your name? He said ‘Nasreen,’ didn’t he? Are you imagining things? You’re sure you heard it! Shifting your weight backwards, you look him up and down. He is a rather well-built stallion, a dappled gray accented by touches of gold, and only slightly taller than you. From the looks of it, he is only slightly older than you as well—too young to have had any connection to you in Th’orqui. But besides your brother and Kaj, you have only met one other male Pegasus in Helovia…your mind flashes back to the brush of feathers, the crackle of blue, the flash of gold, and the comforting voice in the blackness: the unseen stranger who guided you out of the dark. Your expression flickers, softening momentarily as you nearly let your guard down in your distraction. “Do I know you?” you ask, trying to regain your tough-girl composure. The strain in your voice betrays you, however, and you make a mental note to work on that—if you keep sounding like a little girl, you’re going to get yourself killed one of these days.
@[Hawkeye]
OOC: Apologies for her (lack of) manners Cx
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