Breathe in so deep

Winter was, as expected, making its way through the pines. It wouldn’t be stopped, it wouldn’t be slowed, much like the hot-blooded Chamberlings. Frost nibbled at the bark of the sentinel pines, refracting rainbows from the early morning sun. A rare display for the normaly dingy, mist filled forest, the sun unable to fully shine through the thickset towers. The pine boughs strained to hold the weight of freshly fallen snow, a sudden bend sending the powder across his head.  White flurries rolling towards their fallen brethren, sticking to the dry locks of the bay stallion.

He shook his dial, unsurprisingly unhappy with the recent event.  There was nothing to be happy about having received a cold dusting of frozen precipitation. Flakes spotted ebon tresses as he attempted to rid himself of their damp caress. He kept to one of many trails, those that slithered like snakes hugging the trees. Paths were beaten into the topography of the land from the constant clockwork patrols. An evergreen bush sat against the protective back of a large bolder, chilled winter roses blooming despite the dropping temperatures. They tended to do that, winter roses, blue as the cold frost. He snagged a single stem, the thorns biting at his velvet lips, he seemed to not notice. Thin blades pricking against his whiskers, a tiny bead, barely a pin-head drawing the warmth from his veins.

There was something about the crisp scent the wood took on during the cold months. He felt more alert, like the scents of the world were reborn over again.  Everything starting fresh and new, a blank slate. All aside from the ingrained scents of his family, of his herd.

He would once more be brought something new, Engel’s womb had quickened for the lovers again that spring. He simply couldn’t keep his hooves away from her, and their growing family could only attest to that. He had been riled the night he had been gifted wings, choosing the scale and membrane flight tools of a dragon. They were the obvious choice really. Fireproof, they would grow large enough to lift his mass, and the scaled frames that grew from his back were proving hard to damage.  He hadn’t yet used them, they were still taking shape, growing ever longer and wider. Iridescent mahogany brown, a green sheen to match the color of his eyes when the sun struck them just right.  Each finger-like tip ending in a sharp talon, as gray as slate.

Breathe in so deep

The earth bends where he steps, engraving each of his hoofprints in the icing covered landscape. The crunch of the snow only lends to the crisp atmosphere that winter provides. His skin shivers momentarily, his bay coat coming alive, warmth passing over his skin to stave off the cold. His feathers fall one last step before velvet finds his side, and he is still. Still as stone as the caress grabs his skin, tracing heat across his side.  It is an odd sensation, he turns his dial to look on her but it simply is not possible. Had he not been present when she received her Kingdom gift, he may very well have been under the impression that he was touched by a spook. What kind of spook might touch him in such a way? There were things he had heard of once, briefly. Things he could not recall the names of but they were said to exist, and lately he found himself doubting very little what could, and could not be real.  Magic. Beqanna was full of it and likely the world was too, though he found little comfort in that thought.

The rose bends with his jaw, clenching against each wave of desire that wormed its way to his thoughts.  Would that he could spend his existence entwined with her in a lover’s embrace. Choking on the bleached silk that rolled far past her shoulders. Perhaps relief claimed him as she slowly trickled into sight. First her face, each line curving just the way he remembered. The angle of her nose, the line of her lips, all the same. Long lashes framed her crystalline eyes, eyes that sparkled like stars that stole the brilliance of the sun. He reached to snare the flower in her hair, spending much more time than was necessary breathing her in as he worked. His nares flaring wide as he pressed into the flaxen waterfall, imagining he was sinking into her. Lifting away only to be met again at his neck, pressing hungrily up to his jaw, his mouth fell agape before he cleared his throat.

”What else would have me? Down feathers?” He laughed at the thought, a rumbling filling his broad chest. ”I think only good little boys and girls are gifted such things.” He grabs at her azure stare, lifting one scale and membrane appendage, his own eyes locked as he bends his wing towards her. He strokes the tip of a slate-colored talon gently under her chin, hardly pressing into the soft flesh. He would die before he ever caused her harm or damage. His dark lips find hers hungrily, as if he could consume her very being he would and they would no longer exist as separate entities.  ” You taste especially sweet today.” He growls, a rich, rasping baritone leaving him. “I’d find anything else dramatically unpleasant, I’ve missed you as well, both of you.” Again he touched a wing to her, gently patting her side, the only way he could touch their child within. ”You are far too good to me.” he observed, commenting as if he spoke off handed.  In truth it was a rather deep statement for the bay soldier.