smoke in the valley like morning mist
#1
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For Micah! Set in the heart of Ethereal Eclipse between both territories.
322



She had been furiously distracted lately. Spending as little time at home as she possibly could, Ever treaded the territory on her stallion from morning to night, finding comfort in the spring aura. Occasionally, she would dismount to tend to a few sparse flowers or set more scent markers along the borders. The work was tedious, but anything to keep her trailing mind occupied was good enough.

When alas the silver female couldn’t take lingering in the territory like a fine little girl, she planned a trip to, well, anywhere. She needed out. Ezra was gone, missing. She hadn’t seen her love in days. Whether he was just outside or beyond the hills, Ever wasn’t going to wait. Nightmares and thoughts of the dark man tortured her until the morning she decided to leave herself.

By sunrise, the cloud-furred young had already passed the border in a dangerous rapid gallop. Saphraine breathed quicker, his breath no longer showing in the spring air. Ever urged him on, fueled by anxiety but kept her hands in control. They ran straight for as long as the rogue haflinger could manage. But eventually, the girl let time catch up with them.

The companions gradually stopped in a thick grassed clearing, just inside the outskirts of a forest. Ever slipped gracefully off her mount and into the field to her knees. White buds dotted starkly out in the green grass. Ocean hued eyes watched Saphraine strain to breathe before he gingerly picked out a patch of feed. She fingered her auburn ringlets while the breeze stirred a few tendrils. The exhaustion from the lack of last night’s sleep had caught up with her suddenly, but the silver and russet girl fought it, instead braiding the top of her mane in her odd weave and tying it with the ribbon on her dress. To keep busy, Ever continued to weave the grass and flowers into an unusual band.

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#2
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Thanks for startin', schnookums!


He certainly llked Cercatori d'Arte, relished the freedom the pack allowed; though he did not call himself a member just for the opportunity to use the back of his stone cottage as an open canvas, the ability to do so was a fine plus to being a part of the pack. He had made friends, though few, and the "Great Earth Mother," as his father and sisters would have called it, only knew the trials Micah endured in order to befriend even a single soul. Storm Lily always discouraged it; his ghost of a sister wished to keep him as her own, and whispered vicious nonsense in his ear each and every time he threatened to grow close to another.


The pepper-pelted boy had tried to talk his haunting sister into allowing him a stallion companion, but it was to no avail. A horse will help you get away, she hissed. You already left Juniper Peace and our sisters. You'll try to leave me again like everyone else did.


Guilt. Discrouragement, disappointment, guilt — but he abided by his little sister's demands.


Thus, he walked with an even gait from the packlands that day, his soul of a sister following behind. Micah spent the morning scavenging, searching as always for more paint to restock his supply, but still-functioning spray paint was scarce and hard to come by. He would travel to Halifax next, he decided, entirely by foot... his sister allowed him nothing more. Storm hissed in his ear as he stepped, exasperation about his face; soon would come the day he destroyed his father and released himself from such torment and haunting, and though he loved his little sister and would act in vengeance for she, the boy had never known such excitement for that inevitable day.


On the outskirts of the forest he moved into a clearing, chocolate eyes falling upon equally exhausted mare and were. Anxiety rushed through his veins, bothered as always to have intruded, but a worried weariness darked the girl's lovely features. He hesitated, standing there awkwardly a moment, unhearing of Storm's caustic arguments about speaking with the stranger, and with clearly shaking hands moved a little closer.


"Y-You look sad," he mumbled, fingers fidgeting with one another, long ears plastered against his skull. "You shouldn't look so sa-sad, I think y-you would look nicer if you we-were happy." Upon realizing how awkward such a sentence sounded, nervous tremors overcame his entire body, and chocolate eyes looked away, searching for an escape. "I-I like your dress... I'm s-sorry, I'll le-leave you alone, I didn't me-mean to intrude..."


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#3
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Sorry for the wait, was having trouble with 'Ever-muse'
<3
362



The wind rustled the thick pine tree branches gently and moved the shadows on the ground to another place to pool in the light morning brightness. A beam of golden luminosity stirred on her smoky foot until she moved it back into the dark. Grass tickled her elbows in the air currents and caused the perennials to lean on her silvery form. She breathed easily now, more content, her aqua hued eyes finding that the stallion had slowed to the same conclusion. Her gaze drifted back down to the belt she was formed and found the ends falling apart and the flowers slipping from her grasp. Ever ignored the imperfection and began taking apart the buds slightly viciously and let them fall into a heap before her lap.

Suddenly, an unsecure voice broke the raspy sound of leaves against leaves. The noise perked the girl’s auburn ears and caused her to turn her head, curls slipping from her shoulder to her back. He must have been her equal in age, or close, despite the obvious youth of fear in his dark features. She found him rather appealing, at first, as she listened to his quiet voice greet her awkwardly. Gaze dropped immediately at the mention of her state as well as her ears, lowering and blending with her mane. Ever stood, throwing up a protective mask she was used to yielding.

Do not leave,

The girl said sensitively. She had been very alone since Ezra’s disappearance and found a cool relief in the sense of meeting someone new. It wasn’t rare for her to encounter another. However, it was unusual for her to be even this far from the borders. Another breeze ruffled her garment and fur, carrying the boy’s scent to her auburn dusted muzzle. He was an Arte. That much was clear from the sweet-acid like scent that was unknown to her as paint. Since the accidental encounter with Shawchert, Ever had not even neared the territory. Immediately interest aroused in her and she stepped forward, closing the space between the two silver speckled wolves. Reddish ears could hear the snorts of disapproval from Saphraine.

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#4
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Before he could escape she halted him in his steps, her great eyes pleading for him to stay. Micah did not understand a thing; they did not know each other, let alone ever laid eyes on one another, yet she so drastically requested he remain in her presence — a delicate, beautiful flower like she, desperate enough to yearn for any stranger, even one as scrawny and timid as he?


As always, she presented herself with more confidence than he could hope for, and though the rapid nervous tremors of his body subsided, he busied his still-trembling hands by pulling at his hair and tracing striped curls, twists of locks similar to hers. "M-My name is Micah," he stammered, taking a few nervous steps closer, but withdrew behind his bangs, unsure what to say. Comfort her? Ask her the problem?


Fiddling with his fingers, Micah maintained a distance. "Do you... um... n-need a hug... or something?"


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#5
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What an odd thing to say, the girl thought, letting her brow drop lower towards her eyes in curiosity. She tilted her sienna ears, confused and intrigued collectively. The boy was so much different than what she saw in everyday in Cour des Miracles. His flustered personality made her tentative but momentarily distracted her from the outside world.

As the white streaked male closed the distance even further, Ever watched, subdued in interest. Micah eventually found sanctum behind his mane which was equally seashell-cream flecked. His hands moved repetitively, fooling and hopping over themselves. She tried not to let her gaze stray towards them, in chance the action may make the boy feel to flee again.

I am Ever

The silvery girl replied, completely lacking the jittering falter in speech that the Lykoi had.

I do not think I need a hug …

Ever said unsurely. Her eyes glinted as she tilted her head in questioning. He was the most unusual character she had met and couldn’t help being immediately fond of the timid hybrid. Another strong gust blew through the clearing, carrying forth leaves across the sage grass and pushing back both wolves fur. Ever smiled lightly, seeing a glimpse of Micah’s sepia toned iris.

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#6
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"Ri-ri-right, s-s-sorry, that was re-really stu-stu-stupid of me," he stammered, trying to laugh as his face turned hot and his hands began to shake further, wracked with the onset of embarrassment. Of course she doesn't want a hug, you idiot! Without realizing it, the male raised a fist and tapped himself on the forehead regretfully, grimacing beneath arm and curls. She doesn't even know you! Why do you have to mess everything up?!


The ghostly Storm Lily laughed a horrible noise as she circled around them, only furthering the speckled boy's humiliation. In contrast, Ever had been gentle in her answer, nor did she chuckle in his face; this was not enough, of course, to keep Micah from scolding himself a thousand times over in his mind and scrambling to put the pieces of the conversation back together, now that he believed he had utterly wrecked the dialogue completely.


The wind picked up, carrying his long, white-streaked curls from his face and unwittingly releasing him from his prison hidden behind them. As if caught suddenly exposed, he had no choice but to blurt something out. "Wh-wh-why are you so sad? I mean, y-y-you look s-so sad, I-I mean, n-not to be of-offensive, b-but..."


Damnit, Micah, you're screwing it up again!! He returned to batting himself in the head with a fist, gritting his teeth together in humiliation.

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#7
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She couldn’t help herself. As much as the silver girl tried to refrain from her sharp action, she let her smoky hand lash out and seize the boy’s hand, lightly jerking it away from his face before he could complete another outlandish punishment. For the time being, Ever kept her grip delicately loose on Micah’s wrist until she let go after a substantial amount of time. Her face contorted into a panicked expression.

His answer had brought her discomfort in the first place, but to see him scold himself for an impulsive outburst made her distressed. She placed a hand on her arm and looked down before back up to respond.

Just … missing someone,

Ever said shortly, still keeping her tone tender despite her fluttering pulse. She didn’t feel the need or desire to speak about her emotions. The expression on Micah’s face sent her cold, aqua hued eyes staring afflicted and doubtful in his direction. However much the boy blamed himself, the girl found fault in her own actions for making him shameful.

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#8
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Ever grabbed his hand before he could further scold himself, plunging the yearling further into guilt, especially when she turned away with the feeling in her blue-eyed gaze as well. He did not want to trouble, not more than he already had, not more than she already was. The male could see smile lines lightly in her features; she was not one for sadness, and this depression was difficult for her to understand and break herself out of. Micah could recognize that, if nothing else, but was unsure how to assist her in recovery without making himself — or Ever — feel any more like a fool.


Micah did not resist her grip, but stopped moving instantaneously at the touch. She expressed her feelings, both in manner and in speech, but did not share any unnecessary information. What was Micah to say?


He took a deep breath and tried for a smile, though it came out weak and afraid — but earnest nonetheless. "Y-Y-You're very pretty," he mumbled, and dipped his gaze in heavy embarrassment immediately thereafter, "a-a-and really n-nice, too... I-I mean... th-they're missing out..."


The boy let the words hang in the air, then cringed again and tried to raise his hand to bop at his forehead, but found it still within her grip. "I-I'm s-s-sorry," he whispered instead, shaking his head furiously at the soil, face hot with humilation and shyness.

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#9
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End soon? I don’t see anything else they could do :3



Her hand still felt warm from her impulsive grip on the boy’s arm. His immediate reaction to her touch made her even more uneasy, staring behind him instead of into his shallow irises. She let him stumble over his words, rude of her not to cut in and save him, but she wanted him to comfortable. The stuttering continued for a moment before Ever continued just after his anxious apology.

Thank you … there is no need to apologize,

She waited, disheveled, for Micah to find another odd thing in her words to feel embarrassed about. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to live a life in fear such as the Lykoi appeared to be. His scent still gave off the slight acidic smell of paint, which was foreign to her.

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