"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
06-21-2018, 09:01 AM (This post was last modified: 07-01-2018, 02:00 PM by Nymf.)
It had been a long time since she had last wandered outside of the stronghold of Nerine. They had been warned that Beqanna was no longer safe, that darkness lurked in places it hadn’t before. To her, it had never been safe. Evil had not reigned in Sylva or Leoss when her husband had been taken from her. There was darkness everywhere, she just chose to search for the light.
Lost in the meadow she walked the expanse of it, left over sprigs of grass tickled her sides as she moved. Another winter would soon be upon them but, for now, she enjoyed the cool winds of autumn. All around her romance bloomed and their familiar pang of her loneliness wasted no time in greeting her. By now her son would be edging on two if he had lived, instead he was buried lifeless beneath the rolling hills of Nerine. She often imagined how he would look, a spitting image of his father, and how he would act. Behind closed eyes she saw him galloping gallantly throughout the seaside kingdom. Free spirited and brave. During the quiet moments of her night, it was such thoughts that brough her joy.
The once vivid and blooming wildflowers have come and gone, replaced with the long, golden grasses of autumn. Some of them crunch beneath the weight of his hooves on their roots, while most of them brush gently against his ivory and honey patterned stomach. The air is cooler, yet the warmth of the day left some heat to where the chilly breeze is nearly welcomed as it filters through the empty meadow, whistling through the hills and valleys as it trickles through Svedka’s two-toned mane. The breeze not only brings a coldness that sends a delightful shiver down his spine as if an icy finger had traced it, but the familiar scent of a woman he had not seen since spring.
The stallion snorts softly at the peculiarity of it, lifting his head to sample the wind once more with flaring nostrils. He grins wildly, moving forward at a brisk trot now - more purposeful in his movement through the meadow - while his honeyed ears flick back and forth for any sound that could help him find her easily. The afternoon sun is before him, illuminating the entire landscape before him in molten gold. Dust catches the rays and falls through the air like flakes of glittering sunlight, a beautiful sight, but not what he wanted to find. Svedka snorts sharply, almost desperately, but as he crests a nearby hill, his searching quickly comes to an end.
She is just as he remembers her - soft, angelic, beautiful - beneath the sun’s gentle rays, the sweeping wind bringing her scent to him once again. He does not hesitate, continuing forward in a quick trot towards her. Svedka’s neck curves mildly, pressing his chin to his chest as he approaches, elongating his steps so that he could get to her quicker. The stallion slides to a halt before her, both of them surrounded by golden stalks of grass and the dying warmth of the afternoon sun. “Nymf.” He says her name breathlessly, a single foreleg tearing at the ground for a moment before he truly settles before her. His blue and ivory tail slashes against his flank as he stretches his neck towards her, wanting to feel the velvet of her muzzle against his own.
Autumn clung to the land, transforming it from the once vibrant and lush greens of summer to the dulled browns of the season. Around her a cruel wind whipped through the glistening copper tips of her feathers, her wings held close to her side to preserve what little heat remained. She sensed a cruel winter would soon be upon them and she grieved the thought of her eventual confinement to Nerine. Althoigh welcomed and protected by the Leviathans, she felt an aching disconnect. It had been that very same sense of nagging that had lured her to the never ending hills of the meadow. Standing there atop a crest she imagined how the landscape would change come spring's longed for that. Wild flowers and newly birthed sprigs of grass would push itself up through the remnants of the frost, transforming the land with its colorful hues. All around, newborn foals would frolic and play, their cares far from the ones that troubled their parents. Occasionally, a lone bud would abandon its stalk to take up a place woven into baby soft manes.
Flowers in manes...
Unbidden she remembered Svedka, the palomino stallion whose path she had crossed as she wandered beside the river. Handsom and dripping with charisma, she smiled at the memory of his own floral arrangement tied within the white and blue of his mane. There were not many left like him and, for a moment, she wished that they hadnt had to part ways.
Dusk was nearly upon her, the afternoon sun quickly fading in the gray blue above. Exhaling slowly she turned round, back towards the path she knew would carry her safely home. There, a mere spot in the distance, her eyes fell on the figure of a lone palomino trotting eleelegantly toward her. Unmistakably recognizable, she hardly believed her eyes. Svedka. Lacking his array of blossoms he appeared different - more masculine somehow. Nervously she ducked her head, her saphire blue eyes watching him through thick lashes, as his gaze fell upon her. With an elongated stride he rushed towards her. A million butterflies erupted inside of her belly, fluttering and churning her insides. In the blink of eye he stood before her, the icy wind tossing his multicolored forelock away from his head. Breathlessly her name slips from the softly smiling curve of his lips and her heart jumped into her throat. Before she can summon a reply his muzzle is being offered towards her, a greeting that is both familiar and intimate. Mirroring his movements she gently brushed the soft of her own nose to his, trailing it along the length of his face to plant a soft kiss upon his cheek.
She not only presses the velveteen of her ivory mouth against his own, but lingers long enough to exhale the sweetness of her breath against his cheek, pressing the gentlest of kisses against the strong muscle of his pale gold and white jawline. Hello, Svedka. Unexpected but certainly not unwelcome, her voice and gesture sends electricity fizzling through his spine, a sensation that brings the handsomest of smiles to the palness of his lips. Svedka follows her retreating face with wide, sweeping steps of his own. He would not let her close the space between them and then shy away, because he refuses to give her the chance.
They are now nearly chest to chest, the clear scent of sky and wind and sun on her copper-tinged wings settling into the fluttering of his nostrils. Svedka’s neck curves, strong and sturdy against her willowy and slender form, tracing the white of her neck with his own mouth, peppering her skin in tender kisses. “Hello,” he replies, his voice mumbling into the soft curve of her neck, his breath warm against the frigidity of the coming night wind.
“How have you been?” He truly does want to know, but he is lost in each gentle curve of her cheek and sloping neck, pressing his mouth onto the soft dip of her pale shoulder. “I hope you’ve been well. If not,” he pauses, another firm kiss planting onto her shoulder, “you’d have to tell me what I could do to change that.”
There was no explanation for the electricity that hummed between them. Surrounding by the gentle touch of his warmth, she felt herself leaning nearer to him. It had not been so long ago that she remembered a time when her days had been filled such passion. The memory of her lover's tender caress had haunted her, even as Svedka's own lips reawakened a recklessness within her.
Unrelenting and unexpected, their reunion had transformed around them, feeding off the unsettled energy of their previous unsettled departure. It would have been a lie for her to say that she had not thought upon him since their night spent bathed in moonlight.
Mirroring her every move, Svedka keeps the distance between them nonexistent. Distracted by the fiery heat within her, the cruel touches of autumn were lost to her. Her body pressed against his, the vibration of his voice is a mere tickling at the back of her mind. She did not love him, she knew. At least, not in the way that she had loved another. No, the pull towards him was animalistic. A hunger demanding to be satisfied. Lust.
Intention lingered behind every kiss left along the curve of her. Spoken words breathed heat onto her flesh, raising it in delight. His words were but a mere formality, one she would have gladly overlooked. Meeting his gaze, she saw that he felt the same way.
"Shut up and kiss me! she demanded in a tone uncharacteristically forceful. Without awaiting his reply she pressed her lips to his, reveling in the taste of him.
She longed to forget. Desired to feel something other than the doubt that clouded her senses. And he was there, offering to help make it better.
Nymf
I Have No Tears Left To Cry
@[Svedka] this is me giving you the green light to do whatever.
He hadn’t expected his advances to go unwanted, but the gold and white stallion certainly hadn’t expected the shy, dreamy woman to further insist; to command him and open up a doorway that Svedka had not visited in a long while. There is a deep rumble in his chest - soft yet rugged in the way it vibrates in his throat - his breath quivering warmth across her neck, his once tender and wispy touches of his lips now more purposeful and prominent, unhesitant and bold as he traces each white curve of her shoulder and chest, nostrils fluttering wildly. He lifts his head, wanting to see the gentleness of her eyes, and is met with a fervent and passionate kiss - one that he had not been ready for but willingly gives in to, pressing himself against the warmth of her pale mouth with a strength and resiliency that he hopes she has never experienced from a lover.
Svedka had wanted to challenge her and Nymf had steadily rose to the occasion, no longer a gentle and swathing woman in the dying sunlight but the purest picture of primal urges, extending her hand to him for a dance that has long since sung to the test of time. He releases himself from their entanglement, but only so that he can somehow get closer to her, a deep nicker of longing and pleasantness erupting from his parted mouth. He reaches up to draw his mouth across the curve of her pale neck, a hot-blooded kiss pressing into her skin before he gently grabs at her neck, pulling her closer to him with a light pull. “Come here,” rattles his voice, suddenly huskier than it had been moments ago, lost within the scent of her and the softness of her femininity. He steps past her so that they are shoulder against shoulder, his mouth now trailing further down her withers, intermittently nibbling and kissing the supple curve of her spine, his lips met with the velveteen softness of her folded wings.
The depths of twilight begin to shower them, fractiles of dying sunlight painting them a myriad of golden colors. The deep blue of darkness meets the sunset, tiny pinpricks of stars beginning to peek out from behind the veil that the sun once held tightly to them. Fireflies begin to levitate from the golden, swaying grasses, the sound of their wings slightly buzzing as their blinking bodies illuminate the field around the couple.
Svedka hardly notices the natural beauty of the scene, however, for his cerulean eyes never leave the beautiful woman before him.
svedka
@[Nymf] you need to mark this mature for me, pleeeeeeease
The whole world faded away, leaving only heat and passion in it's wake. Pressed against him she feels his pulse quicker as surprise coarsed through his veins. Igniting like a fire around them as they both dove deeper together. Surrender was easy and Nymf relished in the release it provided. Safeguarded within the bubble of a newly created universe, irrisensten and persistance met her every movement. Lost to herself, a breathy moan escaped past the velvet of her lips as his own response vibrated against her skin. Nipping playfully at the blue of his mane she inched closer to him despite the room to do so. Everything was gone. Pain, longing and loneliness fled as her heart tumbled widely within the cavity of her chest. Svedka was all she needed. Svedka was all that she wanted.
Like a dance they drifted, the other unwilling to allow even the slightest of breaths to come between them. Pulling away only momentarily she glued her gaze to his saphire pools, disbelief proving to be her only distraction. He was here, with her. A willing participant. She wondered if he could see her heart as it struggled against her flesh, if he could feel it perfectly timed to his own.
Only partially aware of the changing colors of the skies gradually deepening navy, time otherwise held no claim to her awareness. Bitter cold and the clouding of her breath following each exhale were all things she was numb to. All she new was the warmth of his lips upon her skin as they traveled along the length of her spine. Slowly her eyes closed, her body responding to his touch without her command. Upon the blacks of jer lid explosive colors danced jovially. She needed him. Longed for him.
"Svedka," she moaned, her voice almost a demand hidden behind clenched teeth. She felt her tail lift and the warmth between her legs. She was ready to feel him. Ready to belong to him, even if only for a brief moment.
