09-20-2017, 10:12 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-20-2017, 10:19 AM by Magnificent.)
Magnificent
Gentle is the spring breeze that spirals up her dark legs, winding a whirlwind path through the obstacles they made. The flies that once rested, nipping at the tender skin, took flight and she twitched, acknowledging their departure. Her weight shifted, from resting on her left to her right and her body swayed with the movement- a dance of sorts but nothing beautiful or graceful. Nothing like the simple artistry of the vivid green grass that folded like ocean waves, brushing her fetlocks.
Relieved is the sigh that leaves her sooty lips, as though she breathed him out and left him to the wind. For now she was stilled, content with what was at hand, the burning ache that had momentarily filled her now dissipated into a whisper of a thought.
Perhaps that’s why she did not turn to the guest with venom, this seemingly delicate creature that approached her.
It’s all very hard to say what sort of greeting one might receive from the dark woman. Magnificent could have easily coiled like a serpent, displaying a very reptilian nature, something to mirror the scaled wings that clung to an ebony back. However, the self-willed sense of euphoria had not bled from her just yet. She regarded this fawn (unassuming like a deer the dun was) with her bright jewel toned eyes and something that might mimic interest. A touch, a brush of velvet skin that accompanied a warm breath, solicited a curl of her lip. The membraned wings at her sides lifted inches from her ribs, stretching in response to the unexpected proximity.
Did she just touch me? she asked herself, and something else unexpected occured.
She laughed, a quick chuckle that was foreign to her ears, something equally unusual to otherwise clenched lips. It felt like hard butter, her vocals like a hot knife separating the dense yellow margarine with ease. How long since that unusual flutter of happiness gave itself life, granted itself a vessel from which to escape the cavity of her lungs?
“Do I?” a question, not one necessarily needing an answer. “I suppose I am- was..” she corrected herself, answering her own inquiry. “You seem…” pausing to pluck an ample adjective from her mind. There were many she could have ushered from her brain, instead she dug in the dirt, instead she chose a truth and offered the broken root to the child. “You seem fragile,” she revealed, dropping the offering in the dun’s proverbial hand.
Magnificent did not often give and so she was tempted to snatch it back, to latch her crooked fingers around the gift and return it to herself. “Keeper?” she wondered out loud, though the namesake was not so unusual really. “I’m called Magnificent. Tell me, why are you so far from your herd little beasty?” By herd she imagined the spotted, frolicing pelts of juvenille doe because in her mind’s eye (the one that would rest where a spiraled black horn pierced the sky) she pictured deer. This girl was sunshine and sipped wine, twinkling fireflies and murmured magic, she was soft and practically sickening.
Yet the dragon harbored an unexpected warmness to her, bold as she was...for poking the bear.
Relieved is the sigh that leaves her sooty lips, as though she breathed him out and left him to the wind. For now she was stilled, content with what was at hand, the burning ache that had momentarily filled her now dissipated into a whisper of a thought.
Perhaps that’s why she did not turn to the guest with venom, this seemingly delicate creature that approached her.
It’s all very hard to say what sort of greeting one might receive from the dark woman. Magnificent could have easily coiled like a serpent, displaying a very reptilian nature, something to mirror the scaled wings that clung to an ebony back. However, the self-willed sense of euphoria had not bled from her just yet. She regarded this fawn (unassuming like a deer the dun was) with her bright jewel toned eyes and something that might mimic interest. A touch, a brush of velvet skin that accompanied a warm breath, solicited a curl of her lip. The membraned wings at her sides lifted inches from her ribs, stretching in response to the unexpected proximity.
Did she just touch me? she asked herself, and something else unexpected occured.
She laughed, a quick chuckle that was foreign to her ears, something equally unusual to otherwise clenched lips. It felt like hard butter, her vocals like a hot knife separating the dense yellow margarine with ease. How long since that unusual flutter of happiness gave itself life, granted itself a vessel from which to escape the cavity of her lungs?
“Do I?” a question, not one necessarily needing an answer. “I suppose I am- was..” she corrected herself, answering her own inquiry. “You seem…” pausing to pluck an ample adjective from her mind. There were many she could have ushered from her brain, instead she dug in the dirt, instead she chose a truth and offered the broken root to the child. “You seem fragile,” she revealed, dropping the offering in the dun’s proverbial hand.
Magnificent did not often give and so she was tempted to snatch it back, to latch her crooked fingers around the gift and return it to herself. “Keeper?” she wondered out loud, though the namesake was not so unusual really. “I’m called Magnificent. Tell me, why are you so far from your herd little beasty?” By herd she imagined the spotted, frolicing pelts of juvenille doe because in her mind’s eye (the one that would rest where a spiraled black horn pierced the sky) she pictured deer. This girl was sunshine and sipped wine, twinkling fireflies and murmured magic, she was soft and practically sickening.
Yet the dragon harbored an unexpected warmness to her, bold as she was...for poking the bear.
the space between, the wicked lies we tell
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