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12-01-2015, 11:42 PM
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Rhoa Like ships in the night My angel doesn't disappear into the white expanses as part of me thinks that she will. Instead, she turns. With exquisite slowness, she teases me with the thought that she will stay. Indeed, with every moment and every movement she seems to remain fixed in this place, so far from the heavenly home she surely resides in. "It is-" I agree, with an easy smile. The purpley/soot colour that lines my lips darkens as I smile. It is a genuine, handsome, and effortless movement that spreads to the teal of my gaze as it regards her. "-Like nothing matters...for there is no one but us to care. And yet, does that not make it all the more meaningful?" My melodic tones dance off into a mild laughter as I realize the absurdly prophetic nature of what I've just said. I am no one, with nothing to say. The poetry that flows from my lips is mere happenstance in the presence of an angel in black, it is nothing.. Her eyes catch light of something on my face, but I know not what. Instead, as she looks at me, my eyes focus on her horn. So pristine, sharp, deadly. How .. .romantically forbidding. How is it that one could share a nuzzle? How could thoughts be pressed from one mind to another, with such a weapon lingering between the two skulls? But then, that is the romance, is it not? That distance? That gulf to overcome? Biases? Racism? Distractions "Of course Glacia-" I hear myself agreeing seemingly just as her words reach my ears, as if somehow I knew she would ask. Her name rolls off of my lips as if I've already known it - and yet she's only just offered it to me. Effortlessly one of my wings raise - but it doesn't just raise. Instead, it curls towards her, as if inviting her within some secret cave or cove that it has created. "I understand-" My words are hushed, whispered, intimate. Why shout, when only the two of us exist? There is no one else to hear, and so my words are meant only for her. A feather or four curl towards her cheek, meaning to gently grace the curves of her cheek, and the velvety lines that lead towards her muzzle. "I am Rhoa." I answer her, distantly, distractedly. "The last." I conclude. "How can you be near those than you care for, with such a splendid spire upon your brow? " My muzzle tilts downwards, pushing my forehead towards her brow as if to emphasize the barrier that her horn presents. The hairs on my muzzle dance as I exhale another stream of frosty air. @Glacia |
