He comes to her just as she had expected. There is a magnetism, an intoxication of his scent and the caress of dark lips that brings a shiver to her skin. Epithet could be anything, anyone. There is not limitations to her abilities but instead of wielding the mask of illusion, she chooses to remain as the pale porcelain of her skin, the tangle of grey locks, lips and limbs darkened with inky blackness.
She is her true self beneath the dark green gaze of his eyes.
The mare leans against his touch as she feels the coolness quench the glowing embers in her soul. The flutter of her heart beats like a bird in a bone cage. She welcomes the feeling after so many long years of vapid absence. The black blue of her eyes are hooded as she shuts them away beneath dark lashes, breathing him in, consuming his essence and allowing herself to become heady in his embrace.
She can hear words, feel the way his lips part to murmur against her skin but she ignores them to remain in this moment. The silence is deafening and if they exploded into a million stars in this very moment...well, Epithet would define that as a perfect end.
But-
But instead she opens her eyes to meet his gaze, the spot where she touches her already begins to cool and she can feel the hungry hound howling for more. "And I thought you were a pompous idiot." The mare teases as a smirk mirrors his. She speaks low for him, guarding their conversation with the shift of her hips so she may keep him close. She falls quiet now as she looks up to him. He is magnificent against the early sky, the sun beginning to streak like a halo behind his head and the flakes slowing so they rest in the thickness of his mane.
"I want you, Wyrm." The woman does not know of any other mare. She knows she is a woman with a man in the midst of something strong and powerful. She knows she wants this talented, crazy, angry, ruthless, savage creature in her life and would not settle for less. Epithet steps closer so she may glide against his sharp edges, tracing them with the darkness of her lips before stopping to press against him, her mouth tracing the curve of his neck, savoring the feel of him and the feral emotions that he draws out of her.
Epithet