There is something behind the throne

Quilyan

greater than the king himself.

If he could remember his history, he would remember that he had fallen for Resplendence for the same reasons that he found himself drawn to this mare.  She had been timid, fearful, in distress but too polite to say so.  She had been kind, too, just as Myrrine was kind.  Resplendence had always enjoyed physical closeness, and it seemed that this was another trait that Myrrine shared with the prince's first love.  Of course, he could not remember - and, just now, he couldn't say that he wanted to - and so he was left to marvel at the newness of the feelings bubbling in his chest.  He was quite taken with the butterfly-mare.

Myrrine finally noticed Zarina, who peered at the mare out of one eye, preferring to keep the other closed so that she might more easily fade back into the deep abyss of sleep.  She grumbled softly at the mare's assertion that she was "adorable."  Sure, she may not have been the most fearful companion, but adorable?  How very offensive!

"Ah, Zarina," the prince introduced her quickly, the better to cover up the marmoset's protests.  "I must apologize, m'lady.  I'm afraid she's a bit slow to warm to strangers."  He leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially, "She gets a bit jealous, you see."  The marmoset harrumphed in his mind, a grumpy sound derived from her preference for sleep.  She did not deign to comment, a choice for which he was glad.  "I found Zarina when she was a newborn," he explained further, filling in the blanks of his memory from the precision of his companion's.  "We have been together ever since."

The mare turned, ending up perhaps a bit closer than she had intended.  The stallion was distracted from his companion's atrocious manners by the feeling of her warm breath, the allure of her hazel eyes - and then she was retreating, leaving him breathless in her wake, struggling to shove the sudden desire that he felt away.  He was relieved when her attention turned to the snow, leaving him time to regain his composure.  Gods, if only the mare knew what a tease she was unwittingly being.  --Oh, pull it together,-- Zarina commented rudely.

The snow, to Myrrine, was both happy and lonely.  He chuckled as she caught a flake on her tongue, turning to show him; he frowned when she became suddenly somber, no doubt caught in a memory of her mother.  He might have pressed her for more, but he had never been one to pry into someone else's past - and despite his attempts to help her express herself more freely, there were some things that were better left inside.  He took a few steps forward, joining her to gaze out at the snow.  He knew what it was like to miss an absent family member.  He reached for her shoulder, aiming to brush his muzzle softly along her skin.  "You aren't alone now," he murmured, offering himself in place of her sorrow.

He did not move, allowing his muzzle to linger against her (unless she had previously shied away from his touch). She needed a distraction - something to chase away the errant thoughts that may or may not be bombarding her. A small grin appeared on the prince's maw. "What about the rotunda?" he asked, his voice rumbling deep in his throat. "How has this afternoon made you feel? The good and the bad, remember." There was something playful (and not altogether innocent) in his gaze as he attempted to lure her back into the light.

"Talk talk talk."

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