[private] someone like you; geremy

[Keilani]

i've been saving my soul for someone like you. so let's love while we're young.

How much time had passed since she had found herself in the meadow? It seemed like the seasons came and went with the blink of her green-blue eyes. The world on a string as it spun and spun and spun. Keilani recalled the spring that she had come for the sanctuary of the meadow's embrace but she must become drugged and complacent on the nomadic lifestyle for when she looks upon her reflection in the streams, she sees a young mare returning the lengthy gaze.

Gone are the knobby knees, the thin neck, the tangled and knotty mane. Those awkward angles of yearling-hood thankfully gave way to the teal pointed bay mare that stood in the meadow on this very day. The hind quarters were well rounded and muscled, leading to the soft arch of her back that coaxed the eye along to the smooth drape of teal tresses rising along her delicately made neck. Her skull is chiseled from the finest qualities of her parent's contribution and it sits perched quiet lovely atop it all.

On this particular day, she ventures out from her cove near a large stream. The autumn season refreshed and revitalized Beqanna from the scorch of humidity and heat. Very few places were spared during the sear. But today was cool, comfortable. Limbs move the svelte form towards the great sea of grass, diving in to part the long strands of vegetation and leaving a small trail in her wake. Each stem caresses her barrel, some more strong than others and some even causing the russet woman to stifle a giggle or two.

She does not have to go far to find her favorite space to graze. It was best to start easly in the morning before most others were out. The shoots were still crisp with the onset of frost and crunch lightly against the ivories on her jawline. There was something quite sacred in the dawn hours as the sun begins to wink over the crest line, slowly waking a sleepy Beqanna beneath it.

Keilani

self-aura manipulating, light armor equipped daughter of pazuzu and lirren

[Geremy]

Geremy

Once more the obsidian clad brute was on the prowl again. Dark hair cascaded down his neck and rippled like waves did the ocean with every powerful step he took, his body flowing with ease over the uneven terrain. Over years of playing his games Geremy had learnt to begin his hunt in the early hours, ensuring he would get the dam he set in his sights. Very few others would challenge him if he approached a female he wanted, his size and muscular frame were off-putting to the younger bachelors, herd stallions and kingdom stallions. 
He was not long standing atop a rise in the meadow, surveying the area for any potential angels that he may prey upon that one caught his eyes. The blue of her mane and tail drew him like flames did a fly and he prowled down towards her, the muddy terrain causing no trouble for his large hooves as he flattened the soil towards the mare. 
She had looks, there was no denying this, and if all went well, she would be a fun one to toy with and then leave heartbroken when he was done. Yes, this one he would enjoy. His onyx eyes looked her over silently as he moved closer and closer towards her, he was almost sure she'd be aware of his approach now. 
"Hello there" He purred, his voice as husky and deep as ever. He cocked his head to the side as he got a better look at her up close and admired her only more. 
"What brings a beauty such as yourself to the meadows at this hour?" He asked her, attempting to lure her in with his voice. 

And so the game began once more. To lure the poor angel in with his charms in any way he possibly could, keep her around for a week or maybe a few months, depending on how fast she fell for him, and then when he got bored of the game, he'd leave her for another. Sometimes he'd juggle several at once, sometimes he wouldn't, it all depended on what was available at the time, and which angel took to his fancy. So far he held no preference, tall, short, young, old, darks, lights, gentle, stubborn. To him it did not matter. They were all angels in his eyes, and they were all victims of his games. 

Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood.