lupei
What the truth is, I can't say anymore
Lupei is, at first, confused. What a positively strange creature she was. Her body nears his and suddenly he becomes rigid, sensing every nerve in his skin on edge. Her mannerisms excite that primal urge in him, and Lupei is, for the first time, afraid of not being able to restrain himself. His tail lashes, that so-called irritating itch just at the base of his skull drying out his mouth and tensing his muscles. God’s above he’d never met a mare quite like this one. If he knew that more existed like her, he’d be more inclined to pardon the female species more often. But no, not Kersey. He knows as soon as she speaks that there’s not a match to be found in the entire world for her.
Of course he remembers her now. How could he forget that innocent-looking face trimmed with vibrant purple markings? A face that disguised a brain perhaps as mentally unstable as his creator. Yes, he remembers her well now. Little Kersey, the fish-killer. The thought of her back then as an indignant little twerp rouses a coy smile along his lips, and he cools, relaxing with the connection. My my, look how the world turns. She’s all fire now, still hellbent on getting her way and getting under Lupei’s skin.
“Truth.’ Lupei says, his low voice carefully enunciated and soft. He breaks away from her, gently, circling her so that he can allow his eyes to roam her body. Time had been incredibly kind to her, almost allowing her an unfair advantage over the other mares who milled about here. “What have you been up to all this time that I’ve missed out on?” He questions, eyes narrowing playfully as he comes to a stop beside her.
Lupei can’t quite be sure, but he thinks he might be in danger of actually liking her.
