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Hello.
A cold face turns to peer through the veil of my own breath, catching on the figure of a mere boy. He is small, still growing and hardly old enough to be away from mommy, if I might be one to say. My dark eyes gaze upon him with a piqued interest. Why is he out here all alone in a forest with a potentially dangerous stranger? Then, I notice them. Wings. One of my brows raises higher than the other.
A curious thing... equines with wings. Like the fairytales told by the elderly to dying children. Winged ghosts come to guide your soul to light when you die. Feeling my own pulse in my chest, I am quite certain I am not dead. So what the hell is a cherub doing, speaking to me? My lips are pursed, holding tightly as I begin to wonder. The large world outside of my old home housed many secrets. Somewhere, I am certain she was hiding. If she existed outside the glass world built by the corrupt will of my father, why not winged horses? Both were just as absurd to imagine.
This innocent looking brat is likely not the grim reaper of my homeland. He settles on asking me another question, my ears still forward, eyes captured, taking it all in. Still, they keep darting back toward the brightly colored wings on his back. The feathers gleaming even in this soft light, likely due to my attention toward them. Are you looking for someone or something? Maybe I could help you if you wanted me to.
I smirk.
My lips drawn in a mocking smile, eyes twisting into something more menacing. My voice, smooth like velvet, ekes out of my lips in a cavalier manner. "A ghost... though she's not likely to have stumbled here." Taking pause, almost as though I were weighing the reality of that statement, I look toward the branches, anywhere except those feathered appendages.
"Maybe a suitable place to stay."
I hope I can make him choke on his own words.
My eyes loll back toward the boy's face, gaze reaching out unwavering intensity. Asking a silent question: do you know of such a place?
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