haze like a fever
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
The haze of summer sits against her mahogany body like a purring tiger, first winding against one flank before moving to caress the other. Wishbone revels in the bliss of the heat, enjoying the thickness of the humidity. It reminds her of Tephra, with their endless summer days and ashen skies, and her thoughts are nostalgic as she stands beneath the shade of a sycamore.
Although her eyes are closed to the light of the sun, they flicker open at the sound of someone falling heavily to the ground. Wishbone’s amber eyes take in the shape of a mare sitting among the emerald of the summertime grass. There’s no breeze to stir the blades around the mare, yet the bend against the slope of her shoulders and the curve of her belly.
First a sable mouth moves out of the shade of the large tree before the rest of her slender, lithe body follows. Wishbone’s long legs bring her easily into the sunlight and in front of the other mare, mingled expressions of amusement and concern caught in the sunset of her eyes.
“Damn, honey, are you alright?” Although she’s a heiress to a kingdom and daughter to a king of a different kingdom, Wishbone’s never been one with a clean mouth. Polite, maybe — instilled from the manners her parents taught her — but the polite mouth of a sailor. “You look like you’ve been traveling for years.”
Although her eyes are closed to the light of the sun, they flicker open at the sound of someone falling heavily to the ground. Wishbone’s amber eyes take in the shape of a mare sitting among the emerald of the summertime grass. There’s no breeze to stir the blades around the mare, yet the bend against the slope of her shoulders and the curve of her belly.
First a sable mouth moves out of the shade of the large tree before the rest of her slender, lithe body follows. Wishbone’s long legs bring her easily into the sunlight and in front of the other mare, mingled expressions of amusement and concern caught in the sunset of her eyes.
“Damn, honey, are you alright?” Although she’s a heiress to a kingdom and daughter to a king of a different kingdom, Wishbone’s never been one with a clean mouth. Polite, maybe — instilled from the manners her parents taught her — but the polite mouth of a sailor. “You look like you’ve been traveling for years.”
@[SaphiraG1rl]