10-07-2018, 03:58 PM
"You let me choose." I still remember the cold chill of the autumn wind against my fresh injuries when Wolfbane had asked me what I wanted and told me he'd wait for my decision. After a year without choices, he'd offered me one. Our conversation had not started well - few of my conversations did, in those days - but we have changed since then. Changed for the better, I think.
He is more patient, less likely to jump to action without the full truth of a thing. A fortunate thing, since I have been prone to testing his patience of late, and have heard the same is true of others. The striped stallion reminds me of this again as he promises that I am safe, and I reach out to him again, letting the emotion guide my actions. I push back a few strands of bent white mane that had not bristled back into place, tucking them into place with my navy lips.
"You never expect me to be someone I'm not." There have been expectations of me since the moment I took my first breath, and while there are limits to all things in life, Wolfbane hasn't asked more of me than I am willing to give and most importantly - he'd asked at all. I say the words as I pull away, but I don't return entirely. Instead I stay near, as though tracing the outline of the stripes the reach down his neck is also some attempt to groom his disarray.
The golden hairs feel cool in this semi-subterranean chill, and I realize that as I press against them the scents of the others are covered not so differently than how I rinse away emotions I do not want to feel. Emboldened by this and the darkness, I move to the next stripe and touch my mouth gently to the separation of blue and yellow.
"I've always been fond of the kings of Loess." I tell him, and the words might be flirtatious were it not for the reminder of my husband who does not wait up for my return. I'd hoped they might quell the fizzle of emotion, but without purposeful projection they have no power. Instead I'm left having made an admission that might mean many things, none of which are likely to be things that Wolfbane wants to hear.
It would be easy to make a joke of it, to nip at the skin of his shoulder as though this has all been a ploy to get close enough for a prank. That is my first reaction, and I've even drawn away to do it when I find myself admitting what I've never said aloud.
"I shouldn't have gone to Sylva. I should have stayed here, in Loess." My blue-grey eyes flick upward, seeking his even in the shadows. The uncertainty balls up within me, the sensation of dreading a collision that might never come. "But I don't think your queen would have liked it much. Or your...others." The urge to press myself against him until the last evidence of them disappears hovers at the back of my mind but I refrain, still poised at a precipice that I cannot see the bottom of.
@[Wolfbane]
He is more patient, less likely to jump to action without the full truth of a thing. A fortunate thing, since I have been prone to testing his patience of late, and have heard the same is true of others. The striped stallion reminds me of this again as he promises that I am safe, and I reach out to him again, letting the emotion guide my actions. I push back a few strands of bent white mane that had not bristled back into place, tucking them into place with my navy lips.
"You never expect me to be someone I'm not." There have been expectations of me since the moment I took my first breath, and while there are limits to all things in life, Wolfbane hasn't asked more of me than I am willing to give and most importantly - he'd asked at all. I say the words as I pull away, but I don't return entirely. Instead I stay near, as though tracing the outline of the stripes the reach down his neck is also some attempt to groom his disarray.
The golden hairs feel cool in this semi-subterranean chill, and I realize that as I press against them the scents of the others are covered not so differently than how I rinse away emotions I do not want to feel. Emboldened by this and the darkness, I move to the next stripe and touch my mouth gently to the separation of blue and yellow.
"I've always been fond of the kings of Loess." I tell him, and the words might be flirtatious were it not for the reminder of my husband who does not wait up for my return. I'd hoped they might quell the fizzle of emotion, but without purposeful projection they have no power. Instead I'm left having made an admission that might mean many things, none of which are likely to be things that Wolfbane wants to hear.
It would be easy to make a joke of it, to nip at the skin of his shoulder as though this has all been a ploy to get close enough for a prank. That is my first reaction, and I've even drawn away to do it when I find myself admitting what I've never said aloud.
"I shouldn't have gone to Sylva. I should have stayed here, in Loess." My blue-grey eyes flick upward, seeking his even in the shadows. The uncertainty balls up within me, the sensation of dreading a collision that might never come. "But I don't think your queen would have liked it much. Or your...others." The urge to press myself against him until the last evidence of them disappears hovers at the back of my mind but I refrain, still poised at a precipice that I cannot see the bottom of.
@[Wolfbane]
