she’s got jumper cable lips
she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death
The sky is moody in Nerine when she leaves, the early autumn morning shrouded in heavy rain-clouds. There’s an angry whisper in the wind as it kisses along her spine, but it provides only electrification in her bones. Wishbone knows where she’s going and who she’s going to see and that in itself is enough to ignite the thrum of excitement in the depths of her body. Frost has already begun to cap the hardy grass of the northern kingdom and it proves that their swirling, snow-blown winter is fast approaching. The grass crunches beneath her weight as the Khaleesi departs from her kingdom’s border and it becomes a steady noise as she moves into a casual lope.
The bitter weather gives way to a partly cloudy sky (cotton-candy puffs of white against watercolor blue) as she skirts around Hyaline’s mountains. The ocean is running along her left shoulder as she moves, having slowed to a traveling jog, and already the sun has warmed her shoulders. Wishbone doesn’t mind its rays, certain she will painfully miss them when Nerine’s sky becomes eternally overcast. Although during any other day the mahogany might pause to toss herself among the waves playfully, she’s hellbent on her purpose for this journey and thus her feet never stray from their path.
It isn’t long before she finds herself in Loess’ patchwork of a kingdom. The clouds have officially left the skies, leaving behind a wind-scrubbed blue that fully allows the sun to shine on Wishbone’s lithe body. The rays highlight her curves and accentuate her angles, lightening the auburn in the color of her tangled locks and darkening the sable of her long eyelashes. She halts on the border, habitual manners from her childhood over-riding her desire to see Wolfbane’s handsome face.
No call rides to her mouth — she’s a Khaleesi now and she would prefer this meeting to be one that is not riddled with politics and battle-tactics — but instead Wishbone finds a rocky outcropping to stand beside, able to slide into the shade should an unwanted suspect dance by. She’s content to wait for the perfect someone to waltz by.
wishbone
@[Wolfbane]