"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Both of their hearts are stammering in their chests, beating out I-love-you’s in a rhythm fast-paced and certain. He has never been so certain of anything in his short life beyond the trail underfoot or the grass in his belly, but he knows her like he knows those things - important, vital, necessary to his very existence. The bay continues his nibbling ministrations to her withers, but he grows increasingly distracted by the fact that they are in the thick of their impetuous youth, early into autumn, and deeply in love.
His moves his head from her back; his upper lip stiffens, curls up as he scents her estrus. The stallion snorts as she swings her hindquarters away from him; frustration darkens his face momentarily, a natural response to his own boorish nature as they come face to face with one another. He arches his neck to make himself more impressive, already a fair bit taller than her, and he half-nips in a teasing manner at her muzzle. Mandan rounds his crest further, squares up as he feels each nibbling kiss that she gives him but he is blind in his youth and feeling his oats as they say.
He is too eager as he dances towards her hindquarters, light on his feet and wary of her lest her mood should change all of a sudden. Mandan bites at her shoulder then her hip, little love-nibbles of his own as he leans his chest into her rump, testing her. There is no doubt in his mind that mating is natural - he has seen stallions cover their mares but never before has it occurred to him to seek a mare and further the bloodline, until now. That is partly to do with nature and her control over them and more to do with the fact that he loves her. He shows it in the way he lays his head against her rump, rubbing his cheek there in a sideways gesture that imprints his scent upon hers.
He touches, molds, caresses her. His playful nip of her muzzle causes her to squeal playfully and she watches with mischievious eyes as he arches and dances for her. She gazes beneath salmon tresses as he follows her spine, kissing and touching her. The bay woman shivers at this touch. Tiara swings to look back to her stallion as she scents her and nudges her end. She leans forward slightly, stetching her legs and flicks the long tail before backing towards him, tail aside. It all was so natural and normal for the mare though this was her first time. She did not have to question anything and she was not scared. Her body moved as though not her own.
"Mandan." His name is spoken in a hushed whisper, lined with a hint of desperation in this moment. She wanted him, needed him. His touch alone was not enough now as her head became light and foggy. The orange pink tresses flick up and over her hind quarters and remained there fanned across her copper body. "Please." The single syllable is a soft coo that she whispers over her shoulder to him, amber eyes watching him as her breath quickens in anticipation.
Mandan is overwrought by nature and need; he snorts, tempestuous and impatient as he awaits a sign from her. He was able to maintain a modicum of control since he did not simply mount her right then and there. Finally her body stretches long and lean before him, her pink tail moving up and to the side; he bumps his chest against her rear in anticipation, so eager to burn off the hot urge to mate her that spirals through his veins. She is his, forever and always, and a foal growing fat in her belly will be proof of that he thinks.
He breaks his trembling stillness the moment she desperately murmurs his name; he breaks up and over her, covering her, sparing no thought to whether he is too heavy for her back or whether she is comfortable or not. This was not about creature comforts - they were animals after all, and he does what stallions have done to mares throughout the years. When he is done, he dismounts and slips alongside of her, quiet and thoughtful. He makes no apology, they both acted as nature intended for him to do but he looks sidelong at her for a long while before the meadow swallows his gaze.
“What now?” he muses aloud, his lips straying to her cheek and brushing a kiss there.
Her breath is hitched and jagged from the rush of emotions as he takes her and making her his own. Her mind swims in the act of their lovemaking, Ygritte was more sure of this than anything else her in life. She bears his weight upon her own with mild discomfort as her adrenaline has taken hold. Her heart races, bursts, in this sacred act between lovers.
Only when he slips from her to take her side does she lean against him with exhaustion. Dreamy eyes moving to his own as she gazes at Mandan. Delicate tiara lifting to playfully lip at his tresses in a loving gesture. She feels happy...complete, except for one thing.
Features cloud slightly as she realizes that Mandan is in the Meadow and she apart of the Falls. Now it's silly to think she would ever leave his side but perhaps he would like to go with her? Be her stallion and she his mare among the healing waters? Gently the woman nuzzles his neck, almost burying it against his skin as she inhales his scent. The young mare is aware that he could say no and prefer the meadow and to leave her as a silly, pregnant mare but no. Not her Mandan. She loved him and it was written in the stars that they would find one another across all galaxies and all oceans.
Dark eyes come from their quiet place against his thick neck to search for their gaze. My love- She searches his eyes. "will you come back to the Falls? So we may raise our child together?" Her tones are soft and breathy as she speaks to him. She wants to continue...to proclaim her love, to always want to be by his side but she stops and waits for his response. She wants to touch him, caress his cheek, kiss his neck. Her body is calling to him but she restraints. His name is stamped across her heart but she waits still. Internally she says a little prayer that he will come, holding her breath as she waits for his answer.
His thoughts are heavy and flickering beneath his great spiraling horns; he imagines they keep the other stallions away from his beloved bay mare but he knows better, boyish and grown all at once as to be an internal conflict that rages in him. He had been old enough to mate but harbors the same secret worries any stallion faced with impending fatherhood harbors - will he be enough, know enough, teach and do enough for his foal? The bay shouldn't worry like so, he is his mother's son after all and Scalped’s sons and daughters never ceased to be other than what she expected - strong, true, and wise. His worry was all for nought as he feels her dreamy gaze search out his own dark eyes.
Mandan gives her a tender smile until he senses her distress - it breaks across her face like stormclouds stealing the light and his smile turns into a frown. He wants to know what troubles her but trusts that she'll tell him in her own time, and she does. She is too gentle and nuzzling and for just a moment, he feels like she is preparing to say goodbye and his heart trips over itself in his chest in fright. His lips nearly shape a plea until he realizes that she is mustering all her courage to ask him what she asks him - go with her, to the Falls. “My sister was born there beneath a great big tree,” he mutters, remembering what his mother had divulged to him about his half-sister’s origins, not that he cared one whit - they had pestered each other until she struck off on her own.
“Breathe love,” he reminds her gently as he rubs his cheek against her neck, mindful of his horns - they sometimes get in the way and he would be devastated if he accidentally skewered her. “I will follow you wherever you go,” and that's about the same as him saying let's go then. He even gives her a playful shove with his nose as if to say stop wasting time.
12-22-2015, 09:38 AM (This post was last modified: 12-22-2015, 03:52 PM by Ygritte.)
Ygritte was always easy to read. She never tried to hide her emotions not could she. She wore them on her face like daisies in her hair. And now Mandan knows this. He bears witness to the rapid turmoil that crosses the woman's features but he also will see the relief splash like fresh spring water, rinsing away the muddy worry. He said yes! In a flurry the pools glassy with wetness brighten and widen in happiness! "Oh Mandan," a smile pulling her lips in an upward curve as she settles close to his side.
The bay woman listens to her mate as he soothes her, wicking away her worries in only a few words. His gentle nudge makes her laugh brightly and in return hr receives a soft one from her. Lobes flick to catch words about a sister and Ygritte knows this tree. It stands solid and ancient in the walls of the forest as the other foliage bow before it. Skull elevates to playfully nip at the inky black horns that sprout from her love's poll. His presence alone if enough to make her feel safe and warm. His scent draws her to a warm place and she revels to be beside that stallion that she may call her lover, her partner.
ygritte
texas&nativity
((so cute want me to make a thread in the falls? or would you like to? im ok with whatever <3 ))
Ygritte
want me to make a thread in the falls? or would you like to? im ok with whatever <3 ))