This is a state of grace
This is the worthwhile fight
This is the worthwhile fight
The sensation of riding the longma is not different from riding a horse, save for the fact that his hooves splash upon the surface of the water rather than powering through the surf. Lyra cannot claim to be particularly experienced with either creature (she's more at home upon a boat than on a steed), and her grip, at first, is tight and tense. She has to will herself to relax into the ride, to trust that the man-turned-beast beneath her will not let her fall.
And as they go along, she begins to find the joy in the experience, gazing out over the waves and sand and sky from an entirely different perspective from anything she's ever seen before. It's truly breathtaking, to have this ability, to have this shift, and she feels her estimation of Noah - already high - rise further.
The longma lengthens his stride until they are trotting, Lyra doing her best to maintain a light seat. Her fingers clench in the creature's mane, her legs tightening against his sides, but what might have been a jarring gait in a horse is as smooth as the rolling sea upon Noah's back. When he gives a small hop, Lyra squeals a sound somewhere between a shriek and a giggle, her fingers momentarily releasing with a rush of adrenaline before she grasps once more at his mane. "Noah!" she cries, laughing outright now, unsure what she has done to unearth this playful side but more than happy to continue for as long as she can.
And so they continue on to the little cove, where they can rest and relax in the calmer waters, until it is finally time to part once more.
fin
And as they go along, she begins to find the joy in the experience, gazing out over the waves and sand and sky from an entirely different perspective from anything she's ever seen before. It's truly breathtaking, to have this ability, to have this shift, and she feels her estimation of Noah - already high - rise further.
The longma lengthens his stride until they are trotting, Lyra doing her best to maintain a light seat. Her fingers clench in the creature's mane, her legs tightening against his sides, but what might have been a jarring gait in a horse is as smooth as the rolling sea upon Noah's back. When he gives a small hop, Lyra squeals a sound somewhere between a shriek and a giggle, her fingers momentarily releasing with a rush of adrenaline before she grasps once more at his mane. "Noah!" she cries, laughing outright now, unsure what she has done to unearth this playful side but more than happy to continue for as long as she can.
And so they continue on to the little cove, where they can rest and relax in the calmer waters, until it is finally time to part once more.
fin
Love is a ruthless game
Unless you play it good and right
Unless you play it good and right
Lyra
