Falls

For the first time in years, Osmanthus has taken his leave of the Peak.

It's strange, to step hoof beyond its borders again. He hasn't a clue what has spurned him on. But there is a relentless itch beneath his skin, a deep-rooted desire to just… get away. Perhaps it is the reemergence of Amaryllis that has finally shoved him from the years-long slump he had found himself in. Perhaps it was his tender coupling with Ofelia that has renewed his spirit. Perhaps it is just his own psyche, finally pulling itself from the darkness it had found itself in for so long. Whatever the reason, Osmanthus is grateful to be feeling somewhat normal again. For too long he has lost touch with himself.

He wanders the Falls, walking an aimless, meandering path through the ancient oaks, breathing in the soothing scent of the petrichor, of the water-soaked moss and the dewy leaves. In the distance a stream burbles happily, and beyond even that he can faintly hear the crashing of the waves as they meet the shore. The sun has begun its descent, painting the forest in hues of warm orange.

Eventually Osmanthus veers towards the coast, intent on soaking up the last rays of the sun before he heads back to the Peak. Closer he draws, and ahead a dark figure, bathed in buttery light, catches his attention.

Though the image is fleeting, brief glimpses caught between the moss-covered trunks of trees, it is so familiar that it immediately sets his mind to racing. Osmanthus tries to ignore the way his heart takes off at a wild gallop from nothing more than a mere glimpse. Pushing forward, he

"Anso…" He breathes the stallion's name as if it is sacrosanct. Innumerable years have passed since he last laid eyes on his once-was lover, but Osmanthus still whispers his name with the same tender reverence.

He lingers there, swaying between action and indecision. He has no greater desire than to rush forward and press himself against Anso, chest to chest, heart to heart, to wrap him in a loving embrace and never again be parted from him. Yet it has been so long, and Osmanthus is entirely too aware that much has happened in the interim - likely for the both of them. What if Anso no longer welcomes his affections? What if the place Osmanthus had carved out for himself within Anso's heart is now occupied by another? The mere thought sends a wave of nausea sweeping over him, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

Rooted to the spot, Osmanthus can do little else but stare in disbelief at Anso, trying not to pay heed to the tender bud of hope that has begun to blossom in his chest, its roots winding their way around his ribcage. Osmanthus sucks in a breath, but it does little for the frantic beating of his heart, his amber eyes darting wildly over Anso's familiar frame as if trying to drink in every detail before he is inevitably taken away from him again.

Osmanthus isn't sure how much time passes, silence hanging thick in the air between them. Eventually, he gathers his courage and takes a single step forward, his pale pink lips pressed tight into a thin line. "I… I…" the words seem to get tied up in his throat, a knot of 'I love yous' and 'I've missed yous' and 'where have you beens?' Osmanthus swallows thickly, settling on: "It's good to see you again."