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02-03-2013, 07:49 PM
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The king whose word no man relies on
Quilyan
never said a foolish thing nor ever did a wise one.
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He has been so strong since the rebellion, thinking of his family rarely, refusing to shed a tear. Tears, he had been taught, were weakness, and the future king ought not be weak. But on a mare, tears twist his heart painfully, and he longs for anything to say, to do, to comfort her. The prince breathes in her scent, closing his eyes, basking guiltily in the wave of calm that her touch has provided. The wetness between their maws is what causes him to open his eyes once more, and when he does, his brow furrows in concern as he watches the tiny rivulets trickling down her cheeks. And then her cranium slips forward, down, and he finds his muzzle resting gently against her forehead. A soft nicker escapes his throat, and he hopes that it is a sound that will ease her pain. She is in so much pain, anyone can see that; but he is the only one here, and he is thankful, for he is sure that with the arrival of others, the beauty would flee. "As I said, my lady, your apologies are not necessary," he murmurs against her forehead. Though he is pained, sharing her misery, he is still marveling at the newfound ability to touch her; even so, he stays frozen, breathing softly, learning her scent, afraid that if he moves, she will, too. It is so out of the ordinary for him to feel this way; it is almost like a fresh breeze, like a cleansing rain on his sinful soul. Oh, he is not evil, but he has made his share of mistakes. But Resplendence makes him feel as though his mistakes had been forgiven. He is slowly, ever so slowly, earning her trust, and he knows that he will cherish this more than he can imagine. What he can imagine, however, is what it would feel like to gently lip her banner, to affectionately nuzzle her shoulder, to wrap a wing around her, pulling her close to him, to drape his nape across hers, to drown in her presence... the daydream, though, is only that. A dream. He stands, still as ever, wings pulled tightly to his sides, his bodice making a straight line with hers. And he wishes, wishes with all his heart that one day, his daydream might become a reality. But not today. "Let us consider happier times, Lady Resplendence," he offers kindly, hoping to draw her from her sorrows. "Tell me, what do you like about Helovia thus far? Your time here has certainly been short, but... I would like to know more about you." It's a bit of a ramble, but he is honest. |
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[W/C | ---] |
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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!
