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Fireflies danced on her retina, were only blurred flickering lights that thoughtful, troubled eyes kept finding in its vision. They were like thoughts; light on an off - on and off, in this summer night were sleep would not come to those with thoughts and puzzles incompleted. But she felt like she'd lost some puzzle-pieces along the way, so then sleep would never come? What would she need for it to come back to her without needing those vital corner-pieces? Or did they just lay hidden in this maze of adventure and wandering and did she only needed to explore it, to find herself either trapped or discover salvation. Wanderers were gamblers, but this was not a wandering matter. This was faith: Faith was not a gamble, for she couldn't get it right or wrong. It was simply there; knotted to the core of her heart and mind, woven through her body and soul.
She blinked as the fireflies danced on and pushed away complicated thoughts with simpler of words. "I will get myself a glass jar..." the tigermare whispered. "And catch you." and then silence laced itself once again to the ending of her words. A shiver slithered over her body. For silence there was, in these clouded grey woods - and silence was also the nights' companion. Breaking it somehow seemed like a treachery. But as silence was just that; you wouldn't ever hear it complain.
Rustling and the breathing of a creature decided to break that ancient bond of the night, as in these modern times they all seemed to be rebelling against nature. Her head turned in an uncomfortable way, just to be able to keep her seat in the throne under the old oak, pressing her back and neck against its old, crispy bark as the roots winded around her. Looking up from under her white lashes; big eyes gleaming through the night's colors, it at first felt like he just flew at her. Like a white horned crow, maybe; or a swan, slowly drawing closer by flapping wings he didn't have. Then the wings vanished and he just stood there, stood there as if he was about to set root himself - or as if he already had, back in those ancient times, long ago. She thought him big and huge, as she currently didn't have the perspective to think otherwise, laying hoof-in hoof-out on the ground. His coat was pale with flecks, flecks which made her think of fireflies that may just have randomly clashed into him, stupidly being crushed by themselves as their fires got extinguished by the coldness - turning to ash on his icy hide. Somehow being embraced by the white mist suited him. Unknowingly she let the mists dance and thicken around this obscure being - and then let the cloak fall away slowly, as if unwrapping a present, for she wanted to finally see.
She blinked as droplets of light fell through her vision, leaking from the circle of light above her head. A halo that crept along with every one of her movements, an idle thing that symbolizes who she was so that she never could escape from herself. As much as it proved her everlasting sanctuary, this night was the first night in a long time she simply felt chained. And it ruined her, for she was not meant to feel the way she did, for she was the one who needed to enlighten others in their religion. How could she, if she was trapped in her own maze?
The tigermare glared at him, laying down on the moist soil and glimmering grass, pondering if she needed to get up on her hooves in order to not appear rude. Then again, it was night-time, which was the time most but the troubled or most devious slept. Her sleeping happened its biggest part laying down, so maybe she would just let him deal with it. The longer she stared, however, the more she began to wonder if he was even real - if the memory of him drawing closer had been just an illusion, after all. She wanted to say something to him, just to prove to herself that he was real, but she also felt the silence of the night pressing her willingness to do so. And thus, with her ears curled towards the wanderer and her wings slightly awakened from their moment of relaxation, her lips parted - and then closed again; anti-climax. But she did want him to come closer, as her interest was peaked. So she spread her feathered hands, low, under the line of her ears; hoping he would get the hint that it was a welcoming sign - not a warning, and certainly not an embrace. For he was a pleasant distraction.
Then she remembered his odd sounding words.
"What?" she whispered.
@[Mauja] || Notes: ; v ; || Wordcount: 809 || "talking" ||
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