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01-10-2016, 04:53 AM
Ivezho
Ivezho didn't know what it was about the Grove that drew him. Perhaps the stillness of the pond within, the tranquillity it offered, the peace it radiated. Ivezho could use a little peace in his life - Helovia wasn't known for it in general, and so if the Grove could provide him with it where nowhere else could, the Grove he shall go.
The peace of the Grove didn't do much for the raging torrent of thoughts within his crown, however. Ivezho had left the Throat, within intentions of returning, but actually doing that was different to the simple well-intended intent. He had learned that he was to be an uncle, that his brother had grown and found himself a lover, at least for one night, (and if what had happened in the Meadow was anything to go by, perhaps that love ran deeper than just that one time?).
What did he have to show for himself?
Always Ivezho measured himself against his brother, always he found himself lacking, wanting to be better, to be like Rhoa, for Rhoa was the perfect son, the one that didn't leave when things got too confusing, the one that belonged with his family and the herd, the one who knew and understood and performed his duty willingly, enthusiastically. Ivezho was the lost one, the wanderer, the one who had cast himself adrift from his home and neglected to return there, despite knowing the way. Ivezho had tried to make amends, for he did love his family, his brother, but he couldn't seem to let go of whatever it was that held him back from living…
A sound interrupted his musings. A sob, a cry, a sniffle. Long ears twisted atop his crown, as his viridian gaze sought out that which made the sounds. He was a kind stallion, first and foremost, he did not enjoy to see another suffer in sadness or misery, even if he suffered such things himself without aid from others.
He found the source of the sound.
She was dark, a reverse pattern to the pale, spotted, baroque stallion he had seen at the Meadow. Ivezho turned his body, the setting sun allowing the glow his magic gave off to become more apparent - he wondered, did this mare, this Glacia, recognise him as her lover's relative by their similar magics, their similar smiles and builds?
It was a foolish thing to wonder, for Ivezho only answered his own query the same way he answered everything he asked himself about his brother; the only thing she might recognise is that he is a far better stallion than I.
"Glacia," he murmured softly, recalling her name as the one his brother shouted after her retreating form. Perhaps he should have been more wary, more careful in his approach, for she was a pregnant mare, and crying besides; but maybe Ivezho was just a narcissist after all.
"I am Ivezho, Rhoa's brother.. I saw you.." he didn't know how to finish the sentence, but let it linger and fade into silence as he closed the gap. He wore an expression of genuine concern, his crown low as he paused his motion and silently asked if should would have him nearer (or further away) from herself.
"I just wanted to check how you're doing."
@Glacia
The peace of the Grove didn't do much for the raging torrent of thoughts within his crown, however. Ivezho had left the Throat, within intentions of returning, but actually doing that was different to the simple well-intended intent. He had learned that he was to be an uncle, that his brother had grown and found himself a lover, at least for one night, (and if what had happened in the Meadow was anything to go by, perhaps that love ran deeper than just that one time?).
What did he have to show for himself?
Always Ivezho measured himself against his brother, always he found himself lacking, wanting to be better, to be like Rhoa, for Rhoa was the perfect son, the one that didn't leave when things got too confusing, the one that belonged with his family and the herd, the one who knew and understood and performed his duty willingly, enthusiastically. Ivezho was the lost one, the wanderer, the one who had cast himself adrift from his home and neglected to return there, despite knowing the way. Ivezho had tried to make amends, for he did love his family, his brother, but he couldn't seem to let go of whatever it was that held him back from living…
A sound interrupted his musings. A sob, a cry, a sniffle. Long ears twisted atop his crown, as his viridian gaze sought out that which made the sounds. He was a kind stallion, first and foremost, he did not enjoy to see another suffer in sadness or misery, even if he suffered such things himself without aid from others.
He found the source of the sound.
She was dark, a reverse pattern to the pale, spotted, baroque stallion he had seen at the Meadow. Ivezho turned his body, the setting sun allowing the glow his magic gave off to become more apparent - he wondered, did this mare, this Glacia, recognise him as her lover's relative by their similar magics, their similar smiles and builds?
It was a foolish thing to wonder, for Ivezho only answered his own query the same way he answered everything he asked himself about his brother; the only thing she might recognise is that he is a far better stallion than I.
"Glacia," he murmured softly, recalling her name as the one his brother shouted after her retreating form. Perhaps he should have been more wary, more careful in his approach, for she was a pregnant mare, and crying besides; but maybe Ivezho was just a narcissist after all.
"I am Ivezho, Rhoa's brother.. I saw you.." he didn't know how to finish the sentence, but let it linger and fade into silence as he closed the gap. He wore an expression of genuine concern, his crown low as he paused his motion and silently asked if should would have him nearer (or further away) from herself.
"I just wanted to check how you're doing."
@Glacia
veerdesigns | larfsalot
on deviantart
please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
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