06-05-2018, 06:52 PM
the secret of our world is written in the stars
He strides through the darkness confidently and without hesitation, as if he had known the forests of Sylva his entire life. There is no look of caution that marrs the sharp angles of his face, which remain in an expression of seriousness (and anger?) that look almost out of place in the tersity of his jaw or the spark that glimmers darkly in his cerulean eyes. There is no introduction, no grand entry as he forces himself into the group of Sylvans, ears hidden beneath streaks of ivory and blue.
Wishbone is forced against the tree, with a golden mare at her side (the one whispering sweet and delicate words into her ears) while the obsidian woman keeps her in place, despite her short stature.
“Ladies, ladies,” comes Svedka’s voice, sultry and honey-thick as it leaves his lips and falls into the forest’s air. His eyes flicker to Wishbone for a fleeting moment, brows lifting in slight amusement, before settling on the buckskin. “Surely she shouldn’t have all the fun? There’s enough of me to go around.” A charming grin splits the ivory of his lips, despite the air of caution that swathes itself around them, the tension palpable and lurid. The stallion is poised and ready; muscles growing taut beneath his milk-and-honey flesh, nostrils wide and flaring with anticipation and adrenaline. It was an adventure, despite the danger that they have found themselves in; and though Svedka will try to use his silver tongue and charm to allow their escape, he has a feeling that the two women will not allow him to do that so easily.
He prowls closer, set on bringing the buckskin away from Wishbone. She is tall and thin, willowy in the darkness of the forest. Svedka comes to stand at her shoulder (where Wishbone is not), curving his neck and encouraging the nameless woman with a bold swipe of his mouth against the sleekness of her shoulder. He immediately throws his head back, just in cause the woman would try to bite him for the intimacy. A single ear is trained towards the darker female, listening for any movement that might occur now that his back is to her, muscles in his flank jumping at the sheer idea of her trying something.
Perhaps he could talk their way out of this. Part of him hopes that he can, but another part of him isn’t sure he wants this delectable game to end just yet.
And if he cannot talk their way out, he is more than willing to fight his way out.
Wishbone is forced against the tree, with a golden mare at her side (the one whispering sweet and delicate words into her ears) while the obsidian woman keeps her in place, despite her short stature.
“Ladies, ladies,” comes Svedka’s voice, sultry and honey-thick as it leaves his lips and falls into the forest’s air. His eyes flicker to Wishbone for a fleeting moment, brows lifting in slight amusement, before settling on the buckskin. “Surely she shouldn’t have all the fun? There’s enough of me to go around.” A charming grin splits the ivory of his lips, despite the air of caution that swathes itself around them, the tension palpable and lurid. The stallion is poised and ready; muscles growing taut beneath his milk-and-honey flesh, nostrils wide and flaring with anticipation and adrenaline. It was an adventure, despite the danger that they have found themselves in; and though Svedka will try to use his silver tongue and charm to allow their escape, he has a feeling that the two women will not allow him to do that so easily.
He prowls closer, set on bringing the buckskin away from Wishbone. She is tall and thin, willowy in the darkness of the forest. Svedka comes to stand at her shoulder (where Wishbone is not), curving his neck and encouraging the nameless woman with a bold swipe of his mouth against the sleekness of her shoulder. He immediately throws his head back, just in cause the woman would try to bite him for the intimacy. A single ear is trained towards the darker female, listening for any movement that might occur now that his back is to her, muscles in his flank jumping at the sheer idea of her trying something.
Perhaps he could talk their way out of this. Part of him hopes that he can, but another part of him isn’t sure he wants this delectable game to end just yet.
And if he cannot talk their way out, he is more than willing to fight his way out.
(be my escape)
Svedka
@[Wishbone] @[Abra] @[Jackel]