Kiss me again
Kiss me until I am sick of it
It is barely dawn when he wakes for the day, a single red eye blearily exposed from beneath the long waves of his raven forelock. There’s a chill in the morning air and the fresh scent of rain hangs heavy on the breeze as dark clouds begin to roll in, a promise of a storm to come. He wonders for a moment if Cheri might be here, where there was a storm usually the onyx and green girl followed. Had she come back? The thought makes a wild flurry of emotions flare in his chest. He has not seen her since he left her standing amongst the wide sea of flowers, alone and drunk. He didn’t need to turn his head to see the rage that probably ran rampant in her bright clover eyes as he walked away. He can see it clearly in his mind, feeds off the hatred that he's sure she had tried to burn him with. The harsh scowl of her lips as disappointment radiates from every orifice of her body. He dreams of it often.
He dreams of a girl of gold now too, with savage glowing stripes and cold oceanic eyes. She smells of wind and dust and unspoken desires. It's the dreams of her that he tries to focus on. The wicked smile on her mischievous lips and the silent promises that tease him from the depths of blue. Sometimes he sees them all together. Aela, Wherewolf with his flared wings and permanent scowl, Crowns of ice and fire (he should seek that one out soon) and whoever else they find as they stir up trouble across Beqanna just because they can and it's better than being boring. Lately it's just her. Bright as sunlight with a coy expression on her delicate features, a devil in disguise.
With a yawn he finally rises, shaking off the last remnants of sleep as he looks upon the flowered world that he calls home. From where he had made his bed (under one of the few trees on a wide rolling hill that’s close to the crystal clear stream), he can see the wide heart of the Pampas. It’s a thin light that comes through gray clouds but he finds he prefers the world this way. There is a beauty in the dimness, in the slated shadows that cover the sky, in the clean earthy scent of promised rain. Has he always loved storms? The red eyed stallion can’t recall but he notices them now, appreciates them now. A scowl plays across his lips as she returns to mind and if he could slap himself over and over again he would. Yes, he’s well aware of why he keeps an eye out for the tempest, why he craves the downpour.
The scowl still lingers as he spots a shape moving through the tall grasses and delicate petals. It fades slightly as he makes out a familiar face but doesn’t disappear completely. So the dappled stallion had come after all. The depths of red glitter coldly over the pegasus but he’s far from disappointed that he’s here. Quite the opposite. “The tortoise finally arrives.” He goads, the scowl finally disappearing into a smug smirk. “Too bad the hare got here first.” A flicker in his scarlet gaze, knowing he’s stirring the pot and making it clear that it’s his every intention. That's what friends are for after all.
Obscene
@[Wherewolf]