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04-12-2016, 10:52 PM
Spots danced behind his eyes as he flew.
He hadn't quite been able to banish Myrrine from his thoughts. If it had been another mare, perhaps - one not so naive and innocent, perhaps - then he might have been able to smile and move along. But it wasn't, was it? It was the young spotted girl who had cried into his chest, spilling her fears and her secrets to him, admitting that it was to be her first time. Perhaps a stronger stallion would have denied her, told her to save herself for whatever man would truly claim her heart. Of course, Quilyan had never claimed to be a strong stallion, particularly not of late. Not when he had borne so much confusion and pain. Myrrine had offered him an outlet for his misery, and he had allowed himself to sink happily into the stupor she had provided him. Even if it was only for an afternoon.
As much as he was not a strong steed, nor was he a heartless one. The girl had not given him a satisfactory answer when he had asked her how she fared, and they had parted ways. Try as he might to banish the thought of her from his mind, his thought had returned to Myrrine time and again. How was she doing? Had he harmed her? Taken advantage? Was she happier now? Or had he ruined her entirely? Finally, tired of his obsession, Zarina had suggested that he simply go find Myrrine and ask her. With his marmoset buried in his mane, the stallion had taken off for the World's Edge, distracted and hopeful and fearful all at once.
He touched down outside the border, peering cautiously through the trees. "Myrrine --" he called earnestly, hoping that it would be enough to summon her.
"more words."
He hadn't quite been able to banish Myrrine from his thoughts. If it had been another mare, perhaps - one not so naive and innocent, perhaps - then he might have been able to smile and move along. But it wasn't, was it? It was the young spotted girl who had cried into his chest, spilling her fears and her secrets to him, admitting that it was to be her first time. Perhaps a stronger stallion would have denied her, told her to save herself for whatever man would truly claim her heart. Of course, Quilyan had never claimed to be a strong stallion, particularly not of late. Not when he had borne so much confusion and pain. Myrrine had offered him an outlet for his misery, and he had allowed himself to sink happily into the stupor she had provided him. Even if it was only for an afternoon.
As much as he was not a strong steed, nor was he a heartless one. The girl had not given him a satisfactory answer when he had asked her how she fared, and they had parted ways. Try as he might to banish the thought of her from his mind, his thought had returned to Myrrine time and again. How was she doing? Had he harmed her? Taken advantage? Was she happier now? Or had he ruined her entirely? Finally, tired of his obsession, Zarina had suggested that he simply go find Myrrine and ask her. With his marmoset buried in his mane, the stallion had taken off for the World's Edge, distracted and hopeful and fearful all at once.
He touched down outside the border, peering cautiously through the trees. "Myrrine --" he called earnestly, hoping that it would be enough to summon her.
"more words."
Quilyan
counting on the night for a beautiful day;
subtlepatterns.com | kaydeniro & larfsalot @ deviantart
OOC | Blegh I am so sorry this is such crap @Myrrine
Please tag Quilyan in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!
