Half of my heart knows just what it wants of me
She is suddenly giggling over an imagined slip of the tongue. He is happy though, that it is her high songbird tone instead of her wolfish howl. Her loves her in both forms, but horse is easier for him to understand. An uncertain grin quirks the corner of his mouth, as he tries to figure out just what is so funny?
"Feeling okay, Nyx?" He asked, bemused. Confusion is immediately replaced with regret when he hears the tone of anxiety in her next words. He had just been joking, but her words show her genuine concern nonetheless. "I know you wouldn't, dearest. I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me." He apologized, pressing his face back where he felt hers. It felt so warm, where their skin met. He enjoyed the sensation, the mingling of their forelocks while he caught the briny scent of her. It was that scent that had first drawn him to her, that frozen night, not so long ago.
Just like that, the contact is broken. An impish laugh bubbled from the water sprite, and she darted away towards the water source after one final rub against his nose. A dopey smile grows there, as the grey lad starts after her. She is bounding ahead, steps lighter than they've been in weeks. A little more cautiously, he trails after, trying to weave around the more robust plants as she does. Vaguely hungry again, he pulls a cluster of leaves from a plant as they cross the field, munching contentedly.
His head is light as a feather as they reach the edge. The earth is harder here, more treacherous. Reflexively, he reaches forward to where Nyxa stands, but missing his mark. His head was not so high after all, as he realizes that instead of her croup, his nose is currently pressed into the curve of her thigh. Moving slowly, oh the ground feels soft and squishy, he drags his nose up her thigh and rump, not daring to break contact for fear of losing her. Now, now he is back where he belongs. His soft dark nose is resting on the small of her back. "Sorry about that..." He murmured, giggling nervously.
She asks for a story. They did that sometimes, trading tales of their lives before each other. He knew he had been born outside Beqanna. It wasn't a place he'd been given a name for, all he knew was that he and his brother had traveled extensively before their journey had brought them here. But that journey had brought them many adventures. He paused to think for a moment, muzzle resting against the fluffy surface of her back. So soft, so comfy... They started walking forward at a leisurely pace, and he began his tale. "Did I ever tell you the one about the evil squirrels?" He asked, already smiling at the memory.
@[Nyxa]