Samanayrs

"I love Pyride..." Rustle said quietly to him, watching as he lowered his head more and more to hide it. "I'm... soyrry... I didn't mean... to cyry..." Rustle stretched her neck out, gently pressing their muzzles together again. As carefully as she could, she nudged his head up, keeping their muzzles pressed together as she did. Her little willow whispered to his ears as she did this, brushing in ways she used to find ticklish, and now was used to. "I want a foal..." She blinked slowly, her bright blue eyes clear of tears again, the ones that had stained her sweet coat were drying away, but now she was tired. "I want one with you." she said slowly, barely holding back a yawn.

(HEH YES!! *hugs back tight*)

His tail was swishing wildly as he looked up at her, jaw dropping and shakily saying. "yreally?! yRustle does?!" His eyes lit up like violet stars, as he leaned up closer to her, feeling her soft skin against his, shaking like a leaf on the edge of a branch from the overwhelming joy. Her willow brushing against him made his ears twitch with amusement, thoroughly enjoying the light tickling sensation. He led out an almost purr, tilting his head.
His heartbeat sped up as he blurted out with disbelief. "You... you do?!" His eyes were lit up and he looked down ashamedly "I made you cyry..." He mumbled low, ears back. "I thought since you said only if I taught them poetyry you didn't want to."

(*hugs tighter with a squee*)

"Well... they must know poetyry.." She mumbled, lips wriggling slightly in embarrassment. "I d-didn't mean to... lead you on... my stallion.." Rustle looked down ashamedly, trying to show him that she did not mean to accidentally crush his hopes. Suddenly Rustle launched herself up, tail quivering, shaking her head. "W-want to yrest?" she mumbled some, picking up his quiver without waiting for him to answer as she turned. She trotted half way around towards the largest white willow, who's trunk was thick and reached far up and out. Glancing over her shoulder at him she tossed her head meekly.
Pushing her way through the large masses of willow leaves, she slipped through and looked around. It was empty, as always, with thick masses of grass, and slight sand where the water touched but the willow still hid. Slowly she went to the roots, where a slight, natural hollow was made where she chose to normally tuck herself in and sleep in. Next to it was a nook, and she nudged the quiver there, where it fit with room to spare on all sides.

"Alyright..." He said slowly, gazing down embarrassedly, his violet eyes soft like violets, his wings flapping with his leaves rustling like an embarrassed way of waving off her apology, not disrespectfully, but when he gazed up, his eyes told her he had forgiven her, and held no grudge in his heart. His heart was practically soaring with a fast beating as he beamed at her, pawing at the ground, muttering. "Soyrry that I'm so... emotional.. not usually like this!" He blinked again, starting to trot after her after a silent moment as he processed the words she had said. Resting? Where?
He followed aimlessly, without trying to race ahead, watching her with wide colt-like trusting eyes, eyes softening to a sweet gentle look as she disappeared into a curtain of leaves, following her as leaves brushed his back, quietly rustling and brushing against his branches and skin.

Rustle turned around to look at him as soon as she put his quiver into the 'ledge'. What was he thinking, she wondered. About her, or this place she called home, her terrible breakdown that was no better then a new foals. "It's alyright, Pyride, we all have those kind of days," she finally said with a meek smile. Slowly she set some space between the hollowed out point and her, and lay down neatly. "I live heyre, and this is wheyre I sleep most." Rustle nodded and flicked her tail thoughtfully, wondering if he would join her rest right next to her, or a bit away.
The large space that was unoccupied by trees, and was instead water, had caught a thick breeze to rush through this place. The willows that were all gathered around had their leaves swept up into the air, pulled with the breeze, and all started their whispering rustles, talking to each other and trading secrets. Her own little willow tried to follow its larger counterparts motions. The one she and Pride were under had its leaves lift right up, giving them a full view of the hole 'small' lake and the other trees. The breeze relaxed and died out some, and the rustlings stop, returning the leaves to normal. It was beautiful to see, and, though many might find the noises these rustling branches made, she found it astounding, and just as much delightful.

His bow was still slung over one shoulder, as he scuffed his foot, shifting on his hooves, lowering his head sheepishly. She looked so peaceful and calm in her little haven of trees and waters, like what she was created from, a creature of blossom and cloud, so ethereal that she could dissipate in a moment. His eyes were soft and dream-like as he looked at her settle down, lost in the depths of some poem. “You belong here, lady of the lake.” He spoke seriously, not a mocking hint in his voice, despite the slight smile. He pawed with a ruby hoof, tossing his mane for a moment before looking down embarrassedly.
The space next to her looked so inviting, but something held him back, embarrassment, desire not to crowd her, nervousness, call it what you will. As he thought over it, all of the willows stirred about them from a zephyr’s breath, tendrils being blown up into dancer’s waves, as he gazed about at the moonlit lake, like a fairytale’s tear, lined with the crouching tearful figures leaning over the water, crying at their own reflections. A soft chant leapt unbidden to his lips, as his whispered out. “Do not cyry, ladies of gyrace, you ayre by fayr the faiyrest, and I will cayre foyr youyr sisteyr.” He bowed his head slowly, swishing his tail, bowing to the lake and the beings rounding it, a graceful and oddly chivalrous move, raising his head to be hallowed by blue-tinted moonlight, his eyes dark and looking dramatic, the rustles of the branches and far off sounds of insects the background music to the ballad of the two equines. He turned his eyes back to her, almost unearthly as he did so, looking menacing and mysterious, magical and a monster.

(I HAD TO THE DRAMATIC SCENE WAS CALLING TO ME. Like Kalvin’s fire as a dragon. *wiggly fingers* I had to add so many ‘y’s XD)