❤
For all his dullness, Chemdog has quite the imagination, and if he could read her thoughts as they bubble around in her mind he would smirk to himself delighted upon realizing they’re very similar. He’s gone through long periods, years even, where he does not talk to anyone ̶ no one alive, anyway. He’s no mind reader though, and so he can only read the outside of her, porcelain and steel twisted together with a silky voice. His teal eyes tip up to the tips of her antlers, admiring them, and then back to her face.
The waves drown any silences between them, but still their voices cut clearly through the gentle crashing. The rain begins to come down harder now. The enormous stones standing upright in the fog and surf, off the shore and looking like sentinels guarding the entrance to the black beaches of Silver Cove.
Her question draws a grin on his black lips, his teal eyes sliding away from her and out to the horizon he cannot see. “I feel as though my position as caretaker here is only a figment, the Cove does as she pleases,” he breathes slow, blinking with a thoughtful squint before bringing his eyes back to hers, “It is your home,” his gaze goes back out to the misty waves crashing at at their feet. “So, welcome home, Oriash.” he snorts, ending the declaration. He needs not to give permission, that’s never been his role here (even if he wanted it that way), but if she were looking for the old shape-shifter’s blessing then she clearly has it.
A swim, her silky voice chimes next to him and in that moment he hopes her living here will mean this is a routine occurrence ̶ her next to him, that is, her voice speaking just for him; these things he finds, in this moment, he finds that he wants these things. A bit of his greed is boiling through, trying to intrude, but he lets it fly away for now. She is so beautiful though, and her presence is warm to his cold ghostly feel. The euphoric feeling is dripping into him without his knowledge, he proceeds as if this is normal, something that he does all the time ̶ but it is not. It’s been years, what feels like centuries, since a connection has sparked between him and anyone else. Anyone living, anyway.
“Good.” he tosses his head and picks his heavy feet up to a canter into the waves, his sleek fur morphing to smooth glassy scales of the same deep black. His body is swallowed by the grays, dark blues, and lace-white of the waves and he turns back to look over his shoulder to see if she is coming. He offers a toothy, delighted grin, showing big kelpie teeth that glisten ominously. He’s only half-shifted, most of his regular horse body intact, but with scales and a bigger mouth with sketchier teeth than he normally has. The sea storm is brewing a little louder now, the waves crashing harder, and he waits for her to be a bit closer and leans his lips nearer to her ear, “Something about the sea under a storm, the waters feel alive.”
The waves drown any silences between them, but still their voices cut clearly through the gentle crashing. The rain begins to come down harder now. The enormous stones standing upright in the fog and surf, off the shore and looking like sentinels guarding the entrance to the black beaches of Silver Cove.
Her question draws a grin on his black lips, his teal eyes sliding away from her and out to the horizon he cannot see. “I feel as though my position as caretaker here is only a figment, the Cove does as she pleases,” he breathes slow, blinking with a thoughtful squint before bringing his eyes back to hers, “It is your home,” his gaze goes back out to the misty waves crashing at at their feet. “So, welcome home, Oriash.” he snorts, ending the declaration. He needs not to give permission, that’s never been his role here (even if he wanted it that way), but if she were looking for the old shape-shifter’s blessing then she clearly has it.
A swim, her silky voice chimes next to him and in that moment he hopes her living here will mean this is a routine occurrence ̶ her next to him, that is, her voice speaking just for him; these things he finds, in this moment, he finds that he wants these things. A bit of his greed is boiling through, trying to intrude, but he lets it fly away for now. She is so beautiful though, and her presence is warm to his cold ghostly feel. The euphoric feeling is dripping into him without his knowledge, he proceeds as if this is normal, something that he does all the time ̶ but it is not. It’s been years, what feels like centuries, since a connection has sparked between him and anyone else. Anyone living, anyway.
“Good.” he tosses his head and picks his heavy feet up to a canter into the waves, his sleek fur morphing to smooth glassy scales of the same deep black. His body is swallowed by the grays, dark blues, and lace-white of the waves and he turns back to look over his shoulder to see if she is coming. He offers a toothy, delighted grin, showing big kelpie teeth that glisten ominously. He’s only half-shifted, most of his regular horse body intact, but with scales and a bigger mouth with sketchier teeth than he normally has. The sea storm is brewing a little louder now, the waves crashing harder, and he waits for her to be a bit closer and leans his lips nearer to her ear, “Something about the sea under a storm, the waters feel alive.”
CHEMDOG
@Oriash ❤ i'm loving this
