salt and shadow
Azrael is relieved to see the expression change on the red-gold mare’s face as she acknowledges him. She looks curious, even friendly, and he thinks perhaps whatever it was that was making her scowl just then had been less mind-consuming than he thought. He smiles at her, ears coming forward in his smoky cream-gray mane.
Her answer is uncertain at first, but then she commits to it, and Azrael chuckles good-naturedly at the progression. She guesses out loud that he does not live here on the Crossing, and Azreal shakes his head.
"No, I live on Atlantis," he says, tipping his fawn-colored muzzle to the South,
"in Paradise. This is my first time away from it, actually." He gives a shy smile, knowing that it’s silly to be embarrassed by something like but feeling embarrassed anyway. He’s come to the realization at this point that she’s quite pretty, and this makes Azrael want to seem more adult than he is. Will she think he’s childish for staying in his home territory into his adulthood, rather than setting off and exploring as a yearling (like he’s assumed most other yearlings do)? Or will she mistake him for a yearling right now, on his first ever adventure? He’s sure now that his statement about Paradise will have implied exactly that.
Well, he can only hope she won’t dismiss him or lose interest. He’s enjoying her company so far, and his eyes keep flicking to the vibrant slashes of white in her ochre coat and tracing them, though he tries to be polite and not stare. She’s lovely; it’s difficult.
"You’re welcome to come to Paradise if you’d like a change of scenery," he says, trying to forget about his perceived mistake by just moving onward.
"I don’t own it or anything, but the mare who runs it lets me have some of it for myself. I’m taking care of my twin sisters there — our parents disappeared when they were very little." He smiles, abashed, realizing he’s rambling on like a fool.
"Sorry, I think I talk too much," he says with a chuckle.
"What’s your name?"