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hmm50.188.48.144Posted On May 23, 2017 at 8:09 PM by griffin


He'd noted that a few other people were meandering through his park, but things were starting to get dark and a little whiskey-blurry, and so he ignored them all as long as they kept out of his space. Which they all did, naturally, because 'grown man on a children's toy' didn't really send the best message.

Though why the hell should kids have all the fun? They didn't have to pay bills, didn't have to try and figure out dating, didn't have to buy their own food – just got to make up shit and play all day. What had he even worried about as a kid? Baseball cards? Assholes.

The fractured thoughts broke when one shape started wandering toward him, looking oddly familiar, but in the maddening way that happened when you saw someone outside of where you expected to. Honeslty he hadn't thought he'd see Ray again at all, given their random meeting and the respectful no-phone-numbers-exchanged, but when it turned out to be here and she started forward to take a seat beside him, he forgot (for the moment) the reasons he was drinking and let a big lopsided grin steal over his features instead.

“Ray the brachiosaurus girl!” he cried, managing to sound both inordinately excited and slightly drunk. To be fair, he was both.

Because he wasn't that drunk yet, it did cross his mind how pathetic and potentially questionable this looked to her. Probably would undo all the work he'd done to prove he was an intelligent, museum-going sort of person with a stable job.

“I swear to god I'm not a pedophile,” he told her, and looked sidelong at her. “Though I know I'm not making a great case for myself. Wanna drink?” He made to hand the leather-padded flask to her, bumping her shoulder with his as he did so.

If Asterion knew Karou’s story - the chase and the capture, the tale older than the world - how would he feel? The stallion was struck by Calliope from the moment the met her, captured as surely as the gazelle mare had been, but the how of it was entirely different. He knew the unicorn’s strength and he knew her justice and he knew the way she made him feel, the hope for himself she put in his breast through words and looks, and yet he hardly knew her at all. He’d never had the chance to learn of Velius, of Fantome, of the short-lived war.

Likely that is for the best. The downside is that the things he believes are true only to him.

His ears swing forward to catch her words, slighter than the wind. He would flush, if he could, after hearing them. As it is a warmth runs through him and his feet shuffle uncomfortably as he searches and searches for something to say.

Eventually, he settles on the truth.

“I thought there was something familiar about you,” he says finally, his gaze dropping from hers almost shyly. “I’m sorry I startled you.”

Despite his words - as if they could negate his feeling - there’s still something about her that feels like an itch to his mind. He can’t keep his eyes off of her for long; they come stealing back again, taking in her strange markings, her delicate edges, the intangible wildness of her. Maybe it is the antelope features and maybe it is something altogether different, but his curiosity is sparked by her and it feels as though the world is closing in, heavy as fate.

“I’m Asterion,” he breathes, his name like an offering, and the words leave a cloud of mist to fade behind them.

we're hardly ever what we dream

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