.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
07-01-2016, 05:04 PM
She is sweet and it makes him nervous, though it does not show in the languid posture of his body. She is small and golden and it nags at the back of his mind, trying to drag forward memories that he does not want to bare in the light of the unfeeling sun. So he turns his inner eye resolutely away from them, his hooves as firmly rooted in the present as he can make them.
There is no past. There is no future.
"I am glad as well, otherwise I am afraid that even a place so beautiful would have quickly become lonely." Truth, again, he could say no different. "Nothing is as beautiful in solitude as it is when shared."
Where had he heard that for the first time? His mother, he thinks. She was gentle. She loved, deeply. It was something she would say. She had treated him as though he were small even long after he towered over her- because Seanan had always been tall and could not imagine being otherwise. He lowers his head, lavender tinted orbs peering at the lush grass at his hooves. He sniffs delicately at some of the brightly colored Birdsong blooms, heads nodding in the gentle breeze that stirs the grass around his hocks. In the shadow of his own body, the lavender leaves his eyes their normal rose color, only to be conjured back by the sun when he again lifts his head.
"Are you from Helovia, then? I don't know if I have met anyone native yet." He quirks a slight smile because it is true. Some he has met he does not know their origins, but those who have spoken of it have all been like him. Migrants. He never asks what drove them to Helovia, or if they found what they sought. He doesn't ask, and neither do they.
@Zyanya
There is no past. There is no future.
"I am glad as well, otherwise I am afraid that even a place so beautiful would have quickly become lonely." Truth, again, he could say no different. "Nothing is as beautiful in solitude as it is when shared."
Where had he heard that for the first time? His mother, he thinks. She was gentle. She loved, deeply. It was something she would say. She had treated him as though he were small even long after he towered over her- because Seanan had always been tall and could not imagine being otherwise. He lowers his head, lavender tinted orbs peering at the lush grass at his hooves. He sniffs delicately at some of the brightly colored Birdsong blooms, heads nodding in the gentle breeze that stirs the grass around his hocks. In the shadow of his own body, the lavender leaves his eyes their normal rose color, only to be conjured back by the sun when he again lifts his head.
"Are you from Helovia, then? I don't know if I have met anyone native yet." He quirks a slight smile because it is true. Some he has met he does not know their origins, but those who have spoken of it have all been like him. Migrants. He never asks what drove them to Helovia, or if they found what they sought. He doesn't ask, and neither do they.
@Zyanya
All interactions are go, short of death and permanent crippling.
