Slippery Shadows

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Posting Goddess
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Re: Slippery Shadows

Post by Vineda »

Fancy too pulled her waterlogged body up out of the eerily quiet lake, dripping buckets of water down onto the gritty ground. She'd have felt the weight of the water on her more if her attention hadn't been so taken by the light source they'd finally reached. It was breathtaking, and her gasp was quietly audible as the lightning show flickered overhead, lancing the steady glow of the moss with more intensity, more color.

'Tis a beautiful blue. I can't say I remember ever seeing the color of lightning, sir. Is it always thus? Her smile mirrored his own, all nerves and worries washed away in the water.

The moment of truth was so very pleasing. He named her gently, with playfulness, and she hoped gladness that wasn't merely her perception. She followed his direction easily, perfectly content with the knowledge that if she so choose to pick a different route he would acquiesce. Yes. My family is my home. They require so much, yet they give so much in return, each of them in their own unique and interesting way. Exploring the shadows further never sounded so nice.

And then. Oh, and then there was that little shimmy.. Her whicker turned into an out loud laugh. Putting all her sass into her tone, she egged him on. I very much doubt, poor sir, that I shall be the one struggling to keep up! She shouldered up against him, a bit hyper now that all was said and done and yet there was no ending to be found.

Posting Elemental
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Re: Slippery Shadows

Post by Songhue »

His grin widened and for a moment from sheer joy, his eyes literally glowed with a flickering light of their own - a light caused by minuscule sparks dancing just over the surface of his orbs, the flutter of light almost seeming to laugh.

Ah, but it was no wonder this pretty had made him question rather he could let go of his secret love to move on, to find another; no wonder he had been drawn to her in such a way. He should have known, aye! But what a lovely surprise, as well, to have an honest conversation without his own quiet uncertainties getting in the way.

Ah, but Pretty, I know more than the color of lightning, so perhaps... Perhaps, aye, just perhaps, he teased, brushing against her even as she shouldered her way level to him.

And then they were in a glowing tunnel, the thick moss slowly thinning as they left the dampness of the mirror-like lake behind. He had seen reflections in that water, although he wasn't sure rather she had noticed or not - the little blue flickers shining perfectly from the water, illuminating hidden shadows deep within, hinting at the different formations to be found near the bottom. But that's all it was, shadows and hints - and it was only thanks to his talk with this rather wonderful mare that he had thought to see them at all, rather than the flat image of what he could just as easily see above them.

The ceiling, as well, had done much the same - it wasn't a smooth covering at all up there but one that was given depth by the fleeting shadows, granted substance where the light couldn't reach.

That part of his journey, at the least, had been achieved - he now understood the dark in an entirely new way. And it was all thanks to Fancy.

Ah, but still - still, the complete darkness posed a challenge for him. Sudden, violent light, oh yes he could handle that. As the shadows here thickened into an impenetrable wall, however, his eyes were at a complete loss.

But he knew now not to worry over such things; the robbery of his sight didn't disturb him in the slightest. Now, thanks to this expedition, he was confident in his other abilities - the dark was no weakness of his. Ears perked, feeling his way with hooves and claws in what surely must be at the least dim lighting still for the mare next to him while he was blind, skin tingling with little spikes as he kept note of the air currents, Hybrid was still able to piece together a picture of where he was.

Smirking, he arched his neck around and aimed a playful nip directly for her withers, the shot so accurate that it was as if he could still see. The sound of her hooves, the feel of the air she displaced as it brushed against his side, the very smell of her told him enough to try for such a light tease - although she was smart in her own right and would quite possibly move out of range, only to tease him about his aim. She was, to his mind, absolutely adorable that way.

Now you're not lost already, are you, Pretty? he joked, and then let out a low, grinding chuckle, flicking his tail as he took an extra-long stride as if he intended to speed up and leave her firmly in his dust. He didn't, of course, but the game was too much fun for him to pass up.

And what's more, he couldn't. He still had to place his legs quite carefully, if he wished to avoid tripping again. For all his swagger his steps were nearly dainty and there was a clear hesitation between the first touch of his toes and the moment his hoof or talons took his weight.

The colors in a storm, he rumbled, tilting his head as if he could see them now, Ah, but you were asking of them, weren't you, Pretty? Well, Miss Fancy, much as you see the shadows as they play with the light, I can see into storms. There are so many colors... Deep within the heart, within very special storms, the lightning is the brilliant blue. In drier areas it can be nearly white, and in places like... Oh, Nova's lands, for instance, where there is always sun, it is a vibrant yellow. But there's more, there's shades in between each. I've seen green lightning in a blue storm, white in a black, orange in a grey. They have a dance of their own, Pretty, these storms, a breath and life unique to themselves, and such colors if you know to look. My favorite though is that bright, vibrant blue. It comes with my favorite storms, the best winds, the sweetest scents, the deepest clouds. Sometimes they dance in such a way as to turn a black storm that same deep blue you like, pushing at the shadows inside with their light.

He grinned, smirking at himself a little bit as he went on. Ah, but only she could pry out every little aspect of his thoughts without even trying, only she invoked this desire to help someone truly see what he did, to understand what he knew.

For any other it would have been far simpler. Yes, it is always that way with lightning and colors; they come in many shades. To describe them, though, to offer more - well, that was unique.

But then, so was this mare.

Now, you tell me, if you've kept up enough to hear me still, he joked, adding a moment's swagger as he pranced around in front of her and fell back on her other side - show me up!, that swagger begged, what've you got, my pretty one? if it's simply that home is the entirety of your bonded, and the welcoming glade is where you most frequently see them off or bring them in - wouldn't your physical home simply be that glade? Tell me, Pretty, why it can't be that your home is the very center of all such passings, as you keep after bonded and bond-mates alike? Perhaps you've had a home this whole time; the one place you keep finding yourself returning to, for some reason or another. Have you thought of that? Or that, perhaps, this very thing is your own measure of dealing with rebonding - to have become the shadowed heart of it all, the one that can fade out or flash vibrant beauty all around?

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