dreams unwind; lover is a state of mind. | siberian, nymphetamine only

[Misra]

Misra

   His words are swift and his eyes alight with mischief, and though she is youthful, she immediately recognizes his teasing tone and she can feel the way her cheeks flush with mild embarrassment. She merely smiles shyly in return, the bleak sunlight peeking through and bathing her silvery pelt as she shifts in place among the dancing rays of light. She is momentarily speechless, as she had not thought she would even find Siberian, let alone be left alone with him - or even more importantly, find herself as drawn to him as she is in that present moment. He is handsome, undeniably so, and her eyes linger on his damp coat and bright eyes as he watches her with the same curiosity. She had known him only in his ursine form, and when she had been but a child - but now, looking upon him with new, gleaming eyes, she sees much more.

  She pauses from her momentary reverie, deep brown doe eyes watching after the retreating crimson-tinted form of Nymphetamine. "Thank you!" She calls out, her voice echoing off of the thick foliage of what remained of the forest. ".. for everything." She trails off now, her gaze once more upon Siberian, suddenly self-conscious of her booming alto. She offers a momentary sheepish smile, but he speaks, and her worry is forgotten.

  "I would love to see it." She says earnestly, a giddiness rising up within her petite frame. She draws her thick, feathery wings tighter to her body, as if trying to appear smaller, but she is already such a small thing. Misra longs for adventure, for new experiences and always has - this is no different. She has sought out not only a friend today, but new air to breathe, new scents to take in and new terrain to discover - little does she realize she is stumbling upon so much more.

  She is quiet for much of their short lived journey, remaining close enough to his side that she can feel the warmth radiating from his skin and see the way his muscles shift and move beneath his coal-painted coat, but she remains a step back, pausing in awe as the fiery tree comes into view. She halts altogether, her long, slender limbs pausing as her hooves press firmly into the moist soil beneath her lithe weight. Her eyes, bright and curious, peer up with wonder, drawn to the bright, flickering flames lingering at the very core of the tree. She steps forward and moves past Siberian, her wing gently brushing his side as she moves along, in awe and fully distracted.

  Misra has never seen anything like it, and perhaps, she never would again.

  "It looks as if nothing around it has burned .. is that the magic it holds?" She gazes to him again, observing him as he paces in place with an anxiety she had not seen before - not in equine nor in ursine form. She offers a smile, then, her dark eyes meeting his, trailing for only a moment to admire the splash of white across his forehead. "This is beautiful, Siberian. Thank you for showing it to me. Tell me - what is it?" Her inquiry rises above the crackling of the flames behind her, long forgotten as she watches him intently, moving closer step by step. Her cheek tilts and her ears flick, curiosity evident, though her tone of voice has dropped to a murmur. "Does the fire not burn ..? Is it only meant for light, or something more?"

she rules her life          like a fine skylark
and wouldn't you           love to love her?

[Siberian]

With a relieved smile, the stallion goes nearly limp-kneed with relief when he realizes that his fears were groundless; Misra did indeed like the tree and seemed to find it as mesmerizing as he did. He shivers instinctively when her wing brushes against his side as she passes him to look closer at the blazing tree. Her touch was unlike anything he'd felt from another horse; far more gentle and somehow alluring, though the Budyonny has no idea how the pegasus was able to inspire such feelings in him with a simple grazing stroke of a feather tip. He watches her quietly as she turns away from the Chamber's most noted landmark and back towards him, ears flickering as she questions him about the how and why of the tree. She moves in close to him, her voice dropping in volume as she steps further into his bubble. Honestly, though, Siberian finds himself not minding this violation of his space at all, staying right where he is instead of backing away as Misra advances.

The bear-shifter lifts both shoulders in his best attempt at an equine shrug before trying to answer the mare, for he has little idea of how the magic worked. "I'm glad that you like it, but I'm really not all that sure of how it came to be, Misra....I'm sorry. The tree was here doing its thing long before I was brought to the Chamber as a foal. We used to have a priestess here who looked after the tree and was knowledgeable about it, but she departed when Straia stepped down from the throne. " Looked after was a bit of an understatement....the brief time he had known Shaytan had shown her to be literally obsessed with the kingdom's tree, even to the point where she had refused to abandon its immediate location during the war when the surrounding area was becoming engulfed in very uncontrolled and dangerous flames. "Does the Valley have some sort of landmark setting it apart as well? " He continues to gaze across the short distance between them, wishing that he dared place his muzzle to her shoulder or cheek, then wondering where that thought had come from.

Siberian

The sexy grizzly boy of Beqanna

[Misra]

Misra

  "It does, but it is nothing in comparison to this." She murmurs, her voice still low, her tone more sultry than intended. She is a delicate child, or once was - as a blossoming female coming of age, she was inherently confused. She had been given affection from the very first breath she had breathed, and yet, it was different than the affection of a father or a mother. She was taunted, frowned upon and ignored by many of those she had grown up with. Only Kirin had fed into her desperate need for affection, and it had been more sensual, more intimate than any touch she had witnessed between family before. It befuddled her mind; left her uncertain and caught within a tangled web of adoration and lust. She did not know how to befriend - only how to defend, and how to seduce. It left her feeling as if she were only a fragment of her true being; a piece of what could be.

   She was broken, this she knew. But perhaps Siberian did not have to know that. She presses her feathered side to his as she slowly encircles him, ensnaring him and drenching him in her scent (the scent of the salty ocean never left the entanglement of her feathers), her lips pressing to his shoulder as she comes around to his other side. She lingers there, an incomplete whiskered kiss left upon his shoulder as her brown doe eyes peer up into his own, an innocence she had never quite held still lingering. "The Valley has the protection of its wolves. A pack - quite large - patrols the border. They are hardly friendly, and they are unlike any wolves I have seen before. Swift, agile - dangerous," She murmurs, her gaze trailing off as she peers towards the fiery tree again. "therein lies their magic."

  She breathes softly, the warm air brushing against Siberian's dark pelt as she presses against him. She hardly sees the harm, but she is pressed to him quite intimately - she knows nothing else though. "Do you remember when we first met? I was so .. rude," She laughed softly, though there was little humor there. "I was so scared. I had never met anyone like you, but the longer you stayed, the longer we spoke .. I wondered if I'd ever see you again. I'm glad that I found you."

she rules her life          like a fine skylark
and wouldn't you           love to love her?