04-09-2016, 09:52 PM
Misra
The warmth of day begins to set in, interlacing itself between the thick (albeit charred) wooded plain, slowly seeping its way through her dark, silvery pelt and settling into her youthful bones. She strides alongside Nymphetamine; her spindly legs pressing forth with a power all their own as she stubbornly insists on matching his pace. She listens with intensity, her sienna-tinted eyes gazing to him every now and again to watch as his lips curled and moved with each word and the way his eyes lit up as he spoke of his kingdom (it spoke volumes of his deep, unspoken love for its burnt remains) - but mostly, she searched between the thin line of foliage for a familiar face.
She finds herself growing anxious, but she does not allow it to show in the direct lines of her expression. A deeper look into her soulful eyes told a different story - one of anxious thoughtfulness as she wondered if he would remember her at all; at times she wondered if it had all been a dream but there was a thin, lingering pair of scars left behind by a vicious paw that settled on her right flank as a staunch reminder of her narrow escape from a violent end. She would not and could not forget him, for the entirety of her life, for he had marked her without even meaning to.
Her laughter rings and echoes in the thick lining of the forest as she saunters along at the pace of her companion, her wings flexing now and then as a familiar ache settles into their delicate bones. It had been too long since she had last flown and outstretched her wings, and she made a mental note to allow the wind to weave its way through her glimmering feathers again soon. Though her mind is preoccupied, she has come to find she thoroughly enjoys Nymphetamine's company - he is charming, witty - with a scathing humor. He's different, she thought, but she did not have any time to linger upon it.
A voice broke her away from her reverie as her deep auburn eyes focused on the obsidian male that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He is damp, with thick trickling droplets of water dribbling down the length of his body, and it takes everything within her not to let her jaw slacken as he offers a warm, genuine smile. Her heart begins to hammer against her taut, tight chest and she swallows an unfamiliar emotion that leaves her entirely off-guard.
Hello, Misra. She knows that voice, and he knows her name.
"Siberian? Is that you? You're .. oh." She stutters; her usually casual and collected sultry facade faltering for a moment as she becomes thoroughly flustered. She is grateful for her dark pelt, as she would surely develop a deep hue of coral on her cheekbones without it. "It's been a while," She offers, giving a smile of her own, though a shy one. "how are you?"
She finds herself growing anxious, but she does not allow it to show in the direct lines of her expression. A deeper look into her soulful eyes told a different story - one of anxious thoughtfulness as she wondered if he would remember her at all; at times she wondered if it had all been a dream but there was a thin, lingering pair of scars left behind by a vicious paw that settled on her right flank as a staunch reminder of her narrow escape from a violent end. She would not and could not forget him, for the entirety of her life, for he had marked her without even meaning to.
Her laughter rings and echoes in the thick lining of the forest as she saunters along at the pace of her companion, her wings flexing now and then as a familiar ache settles into their delicate bones. It had been too long since she had last flown and outstretched her wings, and she made a mental note to allow the wind to weave its way through her glimmering feathers again soon. Though her mind is preoccupied, she has come to find she thoroughly enjoys Nymphetamine's company - he is charming, witty - with a scathing humor. He's different, she thought, but she did not have any time to linger upon it.
A voice broke her away from her reverie as her deep auburn eyes focused on the obsidian male that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He is damp, with thick trickling droplets of water dribbling down the length of his body, and it takes everything within her not to let her jaw slacken as he offers a warm, genuine smile. Her heart begins to hammer against her taut, tight chest and she swallows an unfamiliar emotion that leaves her entirely off-guard.
Hello, Misra. She knows that voice, and he knows her name.
"Siberian? Is that you? You're .. oh." She stutters; her usually casual and collected sultry facade faltering for a moment as she becomes thoroughly flustered. She is grateful for her dark pelt, as she would surely develop a deep hue of coral on her cheekbones without it. "It's been a while," She offers, giving a smile of her own, though a shy one. "how are you?"
she rules her life like a fine skylark
and wouldn't you love to love her?
and wouldn't you love to love her?