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06-22-2016, 01:22 PM
Zyanya
He is kind.
A smile dapples her face like sunlight once more, her pastel eyes noting his head lowering to be closer to her level. The relaxed stance of his body helps the ease slowly overtaking her, causing her own back hoof to mirror the movement of his. Without much conscious thought, Zya began to enjoy the company of this considerate stallion. Unlike the confident and proud mare Rexanna with her cheeky children, his actions all tuned to her own awkward pace. Comfortably she stood, perhaps for the first time in this strange and unique land, amid an ocean of blossoms and sunshine.
The compliment of her name makes her cheeks surge with hot blood, a blush of her skin underneath the pale gold of her coat. In the ancient tongue of her people, Zyanya meant forever, a name chosen often to mean forever beloved. Being the firstborn of her siblings, Zya's mother aptly picked the name. Her parents often doted on the small girl, protecting her from the harsh realities of the world for much of her life. Seanan introduces himself in turn, and quietly the mare stows away his name, matching it to the opalescent and kindly face rather than the his gangly and awkward body.
The answer to her question poses many others in her mind, wondering how the stallion found the air here cold. For under the gentle gaze of the sun, the air warmed considerably from the world below the peak. Compared to her home in the north, this place could be a sauna. Likely, he lived further toward the south the cruel winds of winter rarely touched. She almost asked, but decided not to pry too far into his life. Instead, she focuses upon the notion that this field held a unique beauty for both of them. Nodding gently in agreement, Zyanya speaks in almost a whisper. "Neither have I."
She watches intently as his neck stretches to survey the magical landscape, wondering idly how one becomes so tall. Wherever he hailed from, maybe height was a natural trait, much like pale colored coats commonly decorated the nobles of her home. Her musings cut short when he prepares his own question, and Zya's childlike face grows thoughtful. Why had she come here? Her answer could branch in a hundred ways, perhaps, but she did not want to bog her company down with unnecessary information.
"I grew restless in my home and wanted to see more," she says while looking out over the floral tapestry. "I thought the peak unusual for climbing above the clouds and wanted to see what lay above." Closing her lavender eyes for a brief moment, Zya turns to face Seanan again. "I am glad that I did," shyly she speaks, her normally delicate and quiet voice taking on a new tone. Glad to leave the cold winter of the Basin. Glad to see the flowers. Glad to meet someone so kind in this new land.
""
A smile dapples her face like sunlight once more, her pastel eyes noting his head lowering to be closer to her level. The relaxed stance of his body helps the ease slowly overtaking her, causing her own back hoof to mirror the movement of his. Without much conscious thought, Zya began to enjoy the company of this considerate stallion. Unlike the confident and proud mare Rexanna with her cheeky children, his actions all tuned to her own awkward pace. Comfortably she stood, perhaps for the first time in this strange and unique land, amid an ocean of blossoms and sunshine.
The compliment of her name makes her cheeks surge with hot blood, a blush of her skin underneath the pale gold of her coat. In the ancient tongue of her people, Zyanya meant forever, a name chosen often to mean forever beloved. Being the firstborn of her siblings, Zya's mother aptly picked the name. Her parents often doted on the small girl, protecting her from the harsh realities of the world for much of her life. Seanan introduces himself in turn, and quietly the mare stows away his name, matching it to the opalescent and kindly face rather than the his gangly and awkward body.
The answer to her question poses many others in her mind, wondering how the stallion found the air here cold. For under the gentle gaze of the sun, the air warmed considerably from the world below the peak. Compared to her home in the north, this place could be a sauna. Likely, he lived further toward the south the cruel winds of winter rarely touched. She almost asked, but decided not to pry too far into his life. Instead, she focuses upon the notion that this field held a unique beauty for both of them. Nodding gently in agreement, Zyanya speaks in almost a whisper. "Neither have I."
She watches intently as his neck stretches to survey the magical landscape, wondering idly how one becomes so tall. Wherever he hailed from, maybe height was a natural trait, much like pale colored coats commonly decorated the nobles of her home. Her musings cut short when he prepares his own question, and Zya's childlike face grows thoughtful. Why had she come here? Her answer could branch in a hundred ways, perhaps, but she did not want to bog her company down with unnecessary information.
"I grew restless in my home and wanted to see more," she says while looking out over the floral tapestry. "I thought the peak unusual for climbing above the clouds and wanted to see what lay above." Closing her lavender eyes for a brief moment, Zya turns to face Seanan again. "I am glad that I did," shyly she speaks, her normally delicate and quiet voice taking on a new tone. Glad to leave the cold winter of the Basin. Glad to see the flowers. Glad to meet someone so kind in this new land.
""
YOU ARE THE BLUEST LIGHT.
@Seanan
