03-04-2017, 10:40 AM
She can not break him, he only bends and she has learned to accept that.
It is completely new for her to be in the company of something that does not fear her, aside from her Mother. A reality check of sorts, because he was capable of far more than she would ever be. He could end her, he might end her. A sick part within danced with that outcome, gambled it because she was prone to addictive tendencies. It was part of her nature to tease at beasts and dance with death like a familiar lover. Knowing just when to say the safe word.
The smile that tugs at the corner of her pastel lips is small but does not go unseen. He meets her, he comes to her and that is a small victory that she grips firmly, afraid to let it go. Ecco had to take what she could get in the form of winning, it was likely she did not realize just how often she came in first. The misty grey mare would never ask him to solidify what this was, that left the opportunity for ‘no’s’ and ‘nothings’, games of chance were not her forte. Patterns, counting, she was a poker girl.
Everything around them turns to charcoal, black ash as he drains the life from it.
He spoke her language, is that not romantic?
His heat warms her, sending the cold away where he presses firmly to her flesh. The dark red eyes that settled themselves like rubies against his burnt skin looked out over her, towards the open field, towards nothing. You know what I am about, she nods, only the smallest dip of her regal head, trails of lavender blowing against her equally pale eyes. He goes on about the old wolf and she does her own hitching of breath, an inhale of air that leaves her in an intense hiss of excitement. Ecco adored when he spoke of dubious things, her ears turned intently to his brisque voice.
“Your patience pays off then,” she speaks, her voice a stream of honey and whispers, words meant only for him. “Best laid plans are better than precognition anyways. No one’s path is set, the future is relevant, it can change.” At times she could be serious, Potion would be so proud.
If only she had taken the time to bestow such qualities on her own child.
“Mmmm, you’d make a fine statue,” she comments as she takes him in, her rump stinging where his teeth had tasted her skin. “A lot less mouthy anyways,” she tossed her tail towards him as she slowly progressed down the slope of black ash, and wasted grass.
“So tell me puddin’,” she calls over her shoulder, turning her head a moment to catch him out of the corner of her eye. “When do we get to play?”
ECCO
[..we don't deal with outsiders very well..]