Meadow

Thankfully, his childhood had been good.

No tragic stories, no helicopter parenting- his mother had done her job and happily doted upon her son as she should have, and once he was big enough to no longer need her sweet mother’s milk, he was kicked to the curb and launched into grand society.

He didn’t mind, he was too beautiful for the world to be sheltered from his vision.

This girl though, shining bright as a flame amongst the snow, must have been hidden away in some far and unknown land for him to have never seen someone as lovely as her. She appears to be taken aback by his words, and were it not for the redness of her skin, she probably would have flushed at his forward words, and he loves it. “You are most welcome darling- everyone needs to know what their gifts are.” He replies to her gratitude in kind, happily doting upon her beauty and hoping that if he leaned in close enough he could drink in a little bit of her natural talents and be even more perfect.

Even Valens’ mother had been made jealous by his beauty. It was the flat blue-black of his hair that taunted her, reminded her of his father and made her bitter, and it was his delicate face and neck that reminded her that she was almost robust in her appearance. It seemed that only her colour made her eye catching- though apparently not enough for the speckled beauty to remember the name of his own mother.

“Oh thank you, thank you dear.” He smiles, curling his neck and showing off his spots, just for her, up close and personal. “Down to business I suppose- my name is Valens, and it is my absolute pleasure to have met you my dear.” He circles around her, giving her fabulous coat another good once over and leaning in close, like he was offering her the warmth of his white, white skin.

Really, he’s trying to see if there’s a way to steal her secrets.

Alas, it seems genetics were on her side and she had been as gifted in her bright shininess as he had been in his whiteness and spots.

Stopping his pacing when he is shoulder to shoulder with her, their colours of red and white and black (oh he does love seeing that, doesn’t he?) contrasting wildly against the snow. From here he can rest his pink, spotted nose against her shoulder tenderly. “You are in good, good hands.” He hopes he has made a friend, as superficial as their relationship may be from here on out.