08-24-2015, 12:25 AM
If this is to end in fire then we should all burn together
It had been too, too long since Drow had played with such innocent abandon, since fun hadn’t been fleeting and laced with desperation. But this? This game, this moment was pure enjoyment, childish delight in being a physical being, in his senses and the world around him and the joy of finding a new playmate. He felt like a boy again, and if he closed his eyes he could remember the gangly legs, the platinum-pale baby coat, the way his mane and tail had been barely a hint of scruff, how tiny his hooves had been how light his heart had been, how simple life could be to one who hadn’t yet seen far too much.
God, it felt good.
Drow got lost in the splash of water against his skin and washing over him as the strange stallion lunged his way, in the caress of the breeze along all the places where the water struck him, cooling him with those whisper-soft touches. He got lost in the way the water held him, buoyed him, worked his muscles as he charged toward his new friend, closing distance and sending a return wave the other man’s way. Sunlight glinted off his companion’s black coat as he reared up, crashed down, sent water rushing into Drow with carefree laughter that was almost as refreshing as the game itself. Laughter that couldn’t help but draw an answering laugh out of his own throat, low and husky and gritty where his friend’s was higher and clear.
With a sly, wicked grin, Drow turned his head away, looking over his other shoulder and quickly lowering his head toward the water to let his thick, riotous mane sink below the surface before whipping his head around, using the side of his face, his neck and his cascading tangle of silver-white hair to throw water at golden eyes. He snorted, shook his very wet head a bit, and grinned a cheeky little grin. “Name’s Drow,” he said, keeping his introduction short and sweet. “You?”
God, it felt good.
Drow got lost in the splash of water against his skin and washing over him as the strange stallion lunged his way, in the caress of the breeze along all the places where the water struck him, cooling him with those whisper-soft touches. He got lost in the way the water held him, buoyed him, worked his muscles as he charged toward his new friend, closing distance and sending a return wave the other man’s way. Sunlight glinted off his companion’s black coat as he reared up, crashed down, sent water rushing into Drow with carefree laughter that was almost as refreshing as the game itself. Laughter that couldn’t help but draw an answering laugh out of his own throat, low and husky and gritty where his friend’s was higher and clear.
With a sly, wicked grin, Drow turned his head away, looking over his other shoulder and quickly lowering his head toward the water to let his thick, riotous mane sink below the surface before whipping his head around, using the side of his face, his neck and his cascading tangle of silver-white hair to throw water at golden eyes. He snorted, shook his very wet head a bit, and grinned a cheeky little grin. “Name’s Drow,” he said, keeping his introduction short and sweet. “You?”
Watch the flames climb high into the night
Drow