If only I could fly...

The thought was one that had often crossed my mind, though not necessarily in the most literal sense. Lately, though, having been around a variety of Pegasi, I was beginning to wonder what it would be like to soar through the clouds, completely and utterly free of the worldly obligations that tend to bog me down. I found myself watching their graceful flights with an increasing sense of envy. Recognizing this in myself, I fled my herd for a time, ashamed. I am not the jealous type, nor the type to spend my days longing for that which I would never possess. In reality, it wasn't the ability to glide along the currents of the earth that I desired, but the freedom that I was sure would accompany such a power. It was the escape from the ground below, the liberating loneliness that seemed present in the very bursts of wind that took the fliers away.

As I wandered the realm searching for - well, I'm not sure what I was searching for - but in any case, as I wandered my way into the deep forests of the southeast, my cranium began to ache in an uncomfortably familiar way. In that moment I became thankful for my jealousy, as it had run me far from my herd and my new home. The headache was usually a predecessor to a blackout, and as I had yet to mention my ailment to any of those back home, I was grateful to have gone away. With any luck, I would reawaken after with nothing to be held accountable for. I only hoped that I would not stumble across another in the dense woodland.

As though in ironic answer to my unspoken plea, through the trees horseflesh became visible. How I managed to see the dark-colored stallion in the poor lighting of the Frostfall forest was unknown to me until I drew nearer; only then could I take note of the true color of his pelt. A nice bay color, with wings folded along his massive back. This, however, would be a feature for me to observe another time. He towered over my scant 15.2 hands - not a small equine, but certainly tiny enough compared to the draft - and this brought to mind whispered stories of angry steeds and sinful deeds, used to scare the young faes into wariness upon meeting a stranger. I was no different, and despite the growing pain behind my plain chocolate eyes, I had tensed in the case I needed to escape.

I would place bets that I'd be able to outrun the monstrous stag in this forest, as the undergrowth grew into thick hedges and the trees wound together in tight spirals. It wasn't the kind of place that he would be able to easily navigate. But then there was the problem of my imminent blackout. Should I stay, or should I run? It was useless to stand there and debate with myself, in any case. He would already have seen me, and so it would be impolite to not offer even the slightest of greetings. As such, I raised my eyes to meet his - so far above mine! - and opened my maw to speak. "Hello, sir. I hope I haven't disturbed your evening with my wanderings." My voice was soft and kind - it rarely shifted from these tones, as that is the kind of fae I am. It is easily readable in my mannerisms and actions. Even Midas, the gentle knight from the Throat who had offered me a home, had clearly seen my caring tendencies. The thought brought a smile to my lips, furthering my sweet persona. I could just hope that this stallion was of a similar nature.

[W/C | 633]