Meadow

Emhyr returns her greeting gesture with little hesitance, reaching out to brush his nose against hers. For a moment he allows himself to indulge, breathing in the sweet scent of her, letting it fill his head and seep into his mind. Were he a lesser stallion he might find himself concerned with the effect she might have on him. But he has fought hard to free himself from the fetters of baser instincts, and feels little guilt about allowing himself this small piece of pleasure.

The pair settle companionably beside one another. For a moment, Emhyr thinks that this would be enough - to let the night pass by in silence, simply enjoying the company of this beautiful stranger. It would renew him in a way nothing has since…

Emhyr blinks away the thoughts of his youth, wary of spoiling the pristine moment he has found himself within.

Sweet, soft words float through the air between them. A simple question she has posed, but one that sends Emhyr's mind whirring. For several long moments he contemplates his answer as he peers up at the star-smattered sky, his ears perked forward atop his crown, as if he might hear the whispered wisdom of the heavens if only he listens hard enough.

"They tell me… that my troubles are small, in the grand scheme of things. That no matter what woes might plague me, they are infinitesimal when stood against the vastness of the world." Emhyr pauses, baffled by the profoundness of his words. He'd never considered himself especially enlightened, but perhaps there were parts of him that yet remained unexplored. He clears his throat and tilts his head to peer down at the silvery mare, an awkward half-smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Sorry if that was depressing. I'm not usually inclined towards such dramatic talk, but I've a lot on my mind lately. I suppose it shows in funny ways."

Yet as he stands here, peering back up at the sky, silence settling in the minuscule space between his body and hers, he feels a foreign sense of calm begin to wash over him. Thoughts of the Bay, of Tinuvel's future, of Enver and Eythora and Vhagar begin to slip away, evaporating from his mind like morning mist beneath the sun. For the first time in years, he feels truly at ease. It is a startling sensation, to be so free of the afflictions of his own mind. He welcomes it, knowing too well how temporary it will likely be.

It is not easy to ignore the way she shuffles closer, to deny the pleasurable warmth that circulates between them and seeps into his autumn-chilled skin. Emhyr stays staunchly in place, but there is a sway to his stance that sets his shoulder brushing oh-so-softly against hers.

"And you? What do they say to you?" he murmurs after a moment, peering at her from the corner of his eye. If he looks a moment too long, admiring the way the dark curtain of her mane falls against the elegant curve of her neck, or the the gleam of the moonlight reflected in her eyes - well, what's the harm?