Silverlight Terrace here's to the ones who dream

A twitch of his ear punctuated the cessation of his own muddled greeting when he noted her own acknowledgements; a mischevious note of her own make rose to answer him. He weighed her percieved patience of his presence with the mounting desire to nip at her heels to entice her into a bout of play. She turned—

A blue as rich and fathomless as the expansive skies. He knew these eyes. 

"Hydra," he breathed without thinking as the realization left him gobsmacked, eyes flying wide and brows drawing together in fleeting befuddlement. Rian, thankfully, succeeded in regaining control of his composure and rapidly mended the cracks that threatened to shatter him apart. He, tempered by the wilds and the year gone, refused to yield to the winds that howled across his crags; even if those winds carried the promise of a tomorrow only found in dreams. 

He, too, claimed the second it took for her to whirl about to rake an appraising gaze over her frame. They were no longer gangling teens, or yearlings, and he could say with certainty that time treated her fairer than most. Rian railed against the rapacious yearnings burning through his veins and alighted his focus to her narrow obsidian mein. A few emotions darted furtively in those cerulean depths; anger, shock, irritation, hurt?

He cricked his tail and flipped one ear back at the question she settled on instead of the easier, and expected, choice of throttling him soundly for... well, she could pick from any number of reasons, and Rian wouldn't have judged her foul for it. 

"Starting over," he answered hushly, only to cant his head a degree to the left and cup that splayed ear toward her again as his voice dropped another octave, "and making amends."