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PRP between CitrusCupcake's Anushka and Novablu's Gypsy Winter.



As much as he liked the cold, chillingly beautiful aspects of winter, the half-angeni stallion found summer...nice. Not as pretty, not by far, but the way the warm summer breeze ran fingers through his hair, making the little beads in his braids click together. He stood atop the green grassed hills, neck arched, watching as a couple birds fluttered their wings and pecked at the ground, making soft chirps as a scuffle between them broke out over who got the delicious worm. A small smile graced Gypsy Winter's lips as he watched, admiring the way the birds' black and green feathers shimmered iridescent in the sunlight.

The sun beaming down on his teal and white pelt, Winter turned his gaze away from the little birds to see a hawk above them, circling, predatory and cool. Steel-gray eyes locked on the bird of prey, its claws itching to descend and snatch up one of the unsuspecting little grackles.

The little niggling thought in his mind told him he should move--scare off the little birds and stop the big bird...but at the same time, a morbid part of him was curious, interested in seeing how the hawk's claws would sink into the little bird, squeezing the life from it. So he did nothing and sure enough, a moment later the hawk dove--down, down, raptor's claws extended. The birds shrieked and scattered, wings flapping hard enough to kick up dirt, but the hawk was faster and when it took off back into the air, a tiny little black bird was gripped in its claws, feathers falling to the ground.

The air was quiet after that, and so was Winter, lost in thought. Seen by most, death was terrifying. Seen by him--the way the hawk swooped, the delicate way little black feathers fell to the ground--death could be beautiful...

A shout filtered through the silence, pulling Winter from his dark thoughts as steely gray eyes surveyed the surrounding area. Look out…below? His wings flared and he glanced up to see a brightly colored soquili floundered through the air, one of her wings caught up or injured, perhaps? Winter snorted and took off at a trot, giving the mare room to land, however haphazard that might be. And, admittedly, it was a little shaky yet still managed to be graceful.

Winter took in the young mare—of course. An angeni, that partially explained the graceful landing. With a soft inward chuckle, ears pricked and his silver mane flopped over one eye, he tossed his head and circled closer to her, his movements smooth and fluid like those of a dancer. And oh, what a pretty thing. Yet… Something about her touched the depths of his mind, his innermost thoughts. He couldn’t quit looking at the brightly hued peacock feathers strung through the miles of long silver mane. Mane that was tangled in her wing, therefore giving her the reason to crash land.

“Do you need…help, maybe?” His voice was soft, almost feminine as he inched a little closer, curiosity piqued. She was beautiful yet oh, so familiar. If she’d been white instead of vivid purple, she might’ve been Mum’s sister…