BRIGADE
She is more beautiful, more refined, than anything he has ever seen before.
It is a poisonous, toxic thing for a young stallion who has tried so hard to keep himself from the rest of the world. His mother and sisters are beautiful, but they are different than Kensa. Pyxis was wild and rangy and beautiful in the kind of way that always held you at an arm’s length distance. He knew the beauty of the wolves and the mountains but not the silken beauty that curves her lips and deepens her gaze.
It makes the ground he stands on feel like quicksand, his face hardening in defense.
He is quiet as he watches her cut across the path before him, moving into the shadows, and he swallows, suddenly all too aware of how dry his mouth is. When she finally does address him, he just nods, the silent length of his forelock falling to the side his face so that it can curve around his wide jaw.
Brigade takes a few steps until he is closer to her but not close enough to share the space with her. His wings shift to the mottled red and cream and gold of her coat, the feathers ruffling as he draws them closer into his wine-red sides. “My name is Brigade,” he finally offers, but his throat tightens with what he realizes must be nerves. Before he can even consider saying anything more, his lips press together.
Then he just watches her, his light grey intense and unblinking as he studies her, not knowing how to be anything but the boy raised by wolves, the boy made of stone, the boy of storms and raging waters. Any sense of decency floods from him and he becomes all the more unrefined in the face of her refinement.
the world was on fire and no one could save me but you
it's strange what desire will make foolish people do
@[Kensa]