In the House of Stone and Light
Peace descended, coiling around the dark form at rest beneath the blossoming apple tree. Tempting scents drifted on the breeze as it whisked about the dark stallion.
But he did not stir.
Softly, gently; the breeze shifted the unicorn's ebony curls, tossing them about his face. But the motion lacked urgency, being unable to defy it's nature entirely.
Still he did not stir.
In the distance the sun rode low in the sky; just barely above the distant mountain peeks, signaling the end of another day. Overhead a flock of orioles bickered and conjoled with one another, their movements occasionally sending a apple blossom or two to drift down and land itself amid the black unicorn's wild locks or be tossed away by the insistent breeze.
At length the autumn air released a pent up sigh, and settled about his shoulders like a magician's shroad, caressing his sleek sides as his ribcage softly rose and fell.
