12-26-2017, 11:06 PM
Autumn is one of his favorite seasons. There are many things he enjoys about it (the decay of life around him, the undoing of personalities, the wild chaos the world becomes for a few months) and he thrives in the cooler season. He does loathe the way winter should follow (with its bitter temperatures, deep and chilled snow-banks, and general mood of lethargy) but he holds autumn to high standards before the frozen season comes.
She saunters by, all hips (which are altogether lustfully appealing to any stallion who is led by their balls even slightly) and estrogen (her scent swathes him in a bath of delicious intention and he must be careful that it does not remove his mind of thought). He is pleased when she calls his name, so he easily slides from his hiding place to greet her. His steps are long and rhythmic as he ambles forward, a hint of a smirk twitching at his lips.
“Queen of Ischia, so I’ve heard.” He’s never been one to beat around the bush unless he’s looking to play a game. The trickster lowers his neck toward the ground, allowing his head to sweep down in a grand (condescending, playful, sarcastic) gesture to acknowledge her authority. As his raises his silvery head, his bruised eyes meet her own gaze. “Thrones and royalty never did suit me, but I gotta admit, you look sexy as hell.” Maybe it’s just the season or maybe he’s always though it and just never spoken aloud.
“So tell me about Ischia… I’ve never been here before.”
She saunters by, all hips (which are altogether lustfully appealing to any stallion who is led by their balls even slightly) and estrogen (her scent swathes him in a bath of delicious intention and he must be careful that it does not remove his mind of thought). He is pleased when she calls his name, so he easily slides from his hiding place to greet her. His steps are long and rhythmic as he ambles forward, a hint of a smirk twitching at his lips.
“Queen of Ischia, so I’ve heard.” He’s never been one to beat around the bush unless he’s looking to play a game. The trickster lowers his neck toward the ground, allowing his head to sweep down in a grand (condescending, playful, sarcastic) gesture to acknowledge her authority. As his raises his silvery head, his bruised eyes meet her own gaze. “Thrones and royalty never did suit me, but I gotta admit, you look sexy as hell.” Maybe it’s just the season or maybe he’s always though it and just never spoken aloud.
“So tell me about Ischia… I’ve never been here before.”
LOKII
@[Krone]
