Caden
His laugh is a bright bark of sound, and as she vaults up behind him he pulls on the base of Hugo’s mane - never a bridle with his partner in crime - and the unicorn spins a tight circle and kicks up sand in the direction of the wounded party to the delight of the crowd if their heightened cheers are any indicator. And then it’s just the two of them, high above the onlookers; her voice in his ear and sand beneath hooves as Hugo starts with an easy canter. It carries them away just as swiftly without his enhanced speed, ensuring she can’t escape him so easily now.
“Oh, but I don’t want you bored,” he clucks his tongue, arm wrapping overtop her own and boldly slotting his fingers between hers from above. Not quite entangled or holding hands, but a promising pressure on the webbing of her fingers. “You must be difficult to please - I can’t disappoint you either, as you said.” He turns his head over his shoulder, nearly touching noses with how they’re pressed together. “Say, wasn’t it sunny?” And if she turns to look she’ll instead find - all at once, like ice cream melting over them both - twilight skies and aurora lights, snow instead of sand and the smell of frost as it ices out the salt and surf.
At that same moment Hugo’s canter shifts into a gallop that within moments is faster than any normal steed could achieve, and the aurora colors blur as they race down the endless runway of sand that the coast provides. But Caden ensures his illusion never replaces the temperature of the sun above; he doesn’t have a coat to provide her, and he’d never be so ungentlemanly as to watch a lady shiver if he can prevent it.
“Oh, but I don’t want you bored,” he clucks his tongue, arm wrapping overtop her own and boldly slotting his fingers between hers from above. Not quite entangled or holding hands, but a promising pressure on the webbing of her fingers. “You must be difficult to please - I can’t disappoint you either, as you said.” He turns his head over his shoulder, nearly touching noses with how they’re pressed together. “Say, wasn’t it sunny?” And if she turns to look she’ll instead find - all at once, like ice cream melting over them both - twilight skies and aurora lights, snow instead of sand and the smell of frost as it ices out the salt and surf.
At that same moment Hugo’s canter shifts into a gallop that within moments is faster than any normal steed could achieve, and the aurora colors blur as they race down the endless runway of sand that the coast provides. But Caden ensures his illusion never replaces the temperature of the sun above; he doesn’t have a coat to provide her, and he’d never be so ungentlemanly as to watch a lady shiver if he can prevent it.
You’re red wine and roses, sugar coated
Just a runaway carousel that spins me ‘round, ‘round, ‘round
Just a runaway carousel that spins me ‘round, ‘round, ‘round
