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10-29-2013, 06:24 PM
“I don’t belong anywhere either,” I replied with what I hoped was a reassuring tone, staring wistfully into infinity. So many times we had turned our backs upon the promise of home, believing it our choice alone, but perhaps we were simply unfit for civilized company. Straightening, I shook the troubling whispers out of my thoughts. It would not do to dwell upon bitter maybes.
“Well met, Ranjiri,” I said warmly, “I’m Konstantin – or Kostya, if you prefer. I’m not exactly from around here.”
I followed her gaze toward the brittle summer grass, alighting upon the single vivid flower in amongst the thistles. My ears flicked forward with undisguised interest ; as much as I looked at the sky instead of the ground, it was hardly surprising that I missed the odd little blossom at first. I, too, had never seen such a thing, but moments ago I had never seen a horse that looked like the filly before me and scant months ago I had never so much as entertained the thought that anything remotely magical or mystical even existed. Novelty was becoming the norm for me.
Needless to say, with or without a suitable mother figure in my life, I was not about to destroy anything so lovely. I glanced questioningly at the gilded filly before leaning in to brush it with a tentative whisker. It felt soft and supple and, unlike the surrounding vegetation, unaffected by the ravages of summer.
Curious indeed.
“What do you suppose it is?” I murmured, tilting my head. Something about it made quiet seem appropriate, as though the flower might either burst into flame and kill us at the slightest provocation (I nearly shuddered at the memory) or shyly vanish back into whatever void magical flowers inhabit when they are not blooming under the noses of mere mortals.
“Well met, Ranjiri,” I said warmly, “I’m Konstantin – or Kostya, if you prefer. I’m not exactly from around here.”
I followed her gaze toward the brittle summer grass, alighting upon the single vivid flower in amongst the thistles. My ears flicked forward with undisguised interest ; as much as I looked at the sky instead of the ground, it was hardly surprising that I missed the odd little blossom at first. I, too, had never seen such a thing, but moments ago I had never seen a horse that looked like the filly before me and scant months ago I had never so much as entertained the thought that anything remotely magical or mystical even existed. Novelty was becoming the norm for me.
Needless to say, with or without a suitable mother figure in my life, I was not about to destroy anything so lovely. I glanced questioningly at the gilded filly before leaning in to brush it with a tentative whisker. It felt soft and supple and, unlike the surrounding vegetation, unaffected by the ravages of summer.
Curious indeed.
“What do you suppose it is?” I murmured, tilting my head. Something about it made quiet seem appropriate, as though the flower might either burst into flame and kill us at the slightest provocation (I nearly shuddered at the memory) or shyly vanish back into whatever void magical flowers inhabit when they are not blooming under the noses of mere mortals.
