Ygritte
09-09-2016, 01:48 PM
BETTER BEWARE, I GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE
DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE
Amber gaze is fixated upon the small creatures that dared to scurry during the winter. Little souls driven by basic necessities of food or water. They braved the elements to gorge themselves on the tender root of frozen vegetation or dig up stashes made during the fire of autumn. But the small rodents and birds freeze in fear and Ygritte looks puzzled till he is practically upon her. In a blur of contrasting white and black, like snow atop the mountain and a drumming of heavy hooves, rolling like thunder.
In the instant as the woman is looking over her finely formed haunches, he is already passed. He. The scent is strongly masculine and and dominate. Ygritte could not mistaken it for any other way, yet as he touches her, the caress is surprisingly gentle and delicate on her shoulder. She should have cried out in surprise if she were any other but instead the woman simply laughs! It tolls like silver bells as the words, 'Tag, you're it', follow after the stallion.
The laughter quiets rather quickly when a snowy mare approaches Ygritte. Her eyes are large and glassy (like doe's eyes) they are haunted, cautious as she whispers if Ygritte is hurt. Where had this mare been? She had appeared out of nowhere. "No, no, join us!" There is a girlish delight in her usual serious tones. Honey pools peer outward, shaking the splatter of snow left in the stallion's wake before her own nails dig against the soil, find purchase, and she is launching after him.
The former queen does not know his name (though she would if he had spoken it) but she revels in the carefree fun that he has conjured up. She would gladly accept any distraction from the recent shock of changes. A playful war cry whinnies from her lips, obviously this was a game, but still it produced itself anyway.
Pink-orange limbs grip against the frozen mud and decaying leaves as the mare pursues him. He is a bit taller, well versed in the ways of the forest. Ygritte wishes she still could manipulate the plant life to trap him but most of her life she had spent like every day normal equines. Over downed trees, through thorny bushes, down slick paths and sometimes to no path at all, she chases him down.
Now it could be debatable, perhaps he slowed for her or she suddenly found a second wind but she is in reach of of his hindquarters after some spent energy, the coral hued muzzle bumps against him. Another laugh follows as she breathes heavily before managing- "You're...it!" Amber pools look for the white mare, hoping she hadn't been frightened off. With the hammer of her heart in her ears and practiced movements, the woman in peeling away to the left of the male, her eyes are wide, excited and she laughs and lets the cold wind burn her lungs and tangle her mane.
In the instant as the woman is looking over her finely formed haunches, he is already passed. He. The scent is strongly masculine and and dominate. Ygritte could not mistaken it for any other way, yet as he touches her, the caress is surprisingly gentle and delicate on her shoulder. She should have cried out in surprise if she were any other but instead the woman simply laughs! It tolls like silver bells as the words, 'Tag, you're it', follow after the stallion.
The laughter quiets rather quickly when a snowy mare approaches Ygritte. Her eyes are large and glassy (like doe's eyes) they are haunted, cautious as she whispers if Ygritte is hurt. Where had this mare been? She had appeared out of nowhere. "No, no, join us!" There is a girlish delight in her usual serious tones. Honey pools peer outward, shaking the splatter of snow left in the stallion's wake before her own nails dig against the soil, find purchase, and she is launching after him.
The former queen does not know his name (though she would if he had spoken it) but she revels in the carefree fun that he has conjured up. She would gladly accept any distraction from the recent shock of changes. A playful war cry whinnies from her lips, obviously this was a game, but still it produced itself anyway.
Pink-orange limbs grip against the frozen mud and decaying leaves as the mare pursues him. He is a bit taller, well versed in the ways of the forest. Ygritte wishes she still could manipulate the plant life to trap him but most of her life she had spent like every day normal equines. Over downed trees, through thorny bushes, down slick paths and sometimes to no path at all, she chases him down.
Now it could be debatable, perhaps he slowed for her or she suddenly found a second wind but she is in reach of of his hindquarters after some spent energy, the coral hued muzzle bumps against him. Another laugh follows as she breathes heavily before managing- "You're...it!" Amber pools look for the white mare, hoping she hadn't been frightened off. With the hammer of her heart in her ears and practiced movements, the woman in peeling away to the left of the male, her eyes are wide, excited and she laughs and lets the cold wind burn her lungs and tangle her mane.
Ygritte.