07-25-2015, 09:36 AM
drink the poision lightly
there are deeper and darker things than you
I feel the cold fingers of jack frost weave between my creamy locks and my golden skin. He touches me in places that makes me quiver; my flanks, my loins and my shoulders. All parts of me that shook with memories. Those memories are what had brightened my eye recently. I'd seen him scouting, he walked with a purpose, a keen eye. Nothing escaped her dear Killdare. One out of place pinecone, I was sure he would push it back and bury it beneath the piles of deadened leaves. As always, I see him, weaving the pines. That very image concocts memories in my memory chamber, like a big black cauldron I stir them, and the scent of ash (even though it is much less prominent now.) still clings to my nostrils, and the quiver of Atrox's heart beats underfoot. I remember that night well. We taunted, we teased. He was not somebody I would have pictured ever sending the chill along my spine, or the quaver of moths in my gut. In all earnest, I had never expected to fall. But alas, even the angels fall, sometimes.
I whicker for him, my tone is husky, low. It is the chill in the night air that coils and acts like curling fingers, beckoning him to me. A waver of breath and he is there, here. My gilded neck snakes out and my head presses into him, nose nestling in the nook between jaw and neck. His warmth, his solidity, his beating pulse. He is a familiarity that I need, that I lust for even now. My blossoming frame, it grows ever more. I feel a burden, a large monstrosity. Before, a lithe creature of the night, weaving around the trees with a certain grace. Now, now I had as much hassle as that first evening when I fully met Killdare. But now, now I had fully met him, he had become ingrained in me, parts of my heart, my soul.
'Just what a lady needs to hear, when she is feeling as inconspicuous as a crow in a flock of doves.' I pressed my salmon touched nose deep against his skin, feeling his rigid pulse, as alive as my own. My sapphire eyes sweep over him as I pull my crown back, to admire, to simply stare. 'I don't even know what to do with these... emotions. I feel elated one minute, sinking in the pit of despair the next. But you, oh you, my earthen knight. You are here.' My tone slips from a woven black magic spell, to barely a whisper. My creamy plume glides over my hocks absentmindedly, I catch a look at the corner of my eye, feeling the life shift within, delicate at first, but now, now spring is but a season away, it swells with an impatience. 'It is impatient. I am positive it's a he, you know.' my lidded eyes turn back to the bay steed, and my teeth pull at his ebony mane, moving to gently caress his withers. 'I do feel useless though. A wading mass.' My tone is an eerie, haunting call of an owl, before a twist of a smile, a real, real smile. No mask is worn around him no longer -- he paid heed to that, that very night. 'Oh, and congratulations, my Lieutenant.' my smile is smooth in a transition to a smirk, as I nip at his shoulder. He works hard, to build the chamber, to keep things in check. He warrants so much more, so much I wish I could give, as a thank you, as a gift. I have a slither of hope, that at least I could give him a strapping son.
I whicker for him, my tone is husky, low. It is the chill in the night air that coils and acts like curling fingers, beckoning him to me. A waver of breath and he is there, here. My gilded neck snakes out and my head presses into him, nose nestling in the nook between jaw and neck. His warmth, his solidity, his beating pulse. He is a familiarity that I need, that I lust for even now. My blossoming frame, it grows ever more. I feel a burden, a large monstrosity. Before, a lithe creature of the night, weaving around the trees with a certain grace. Now, now I had as much hassle as that first evening when I fully met Killdare. But now, now I had fully met him, he had become ingrained in me, parts of my heart, my soul.
'Just what a lady needs to hear, when she is feeling as inconspicuous as a crow in a flock of doves.' I pressed my salmon touched nose deep against his skin, feeling his rigid pulse, as alive as my own. My sapphire eyes sweep over him as I pull my crown back, to admire, to simply stare. 'I don't even know what to do with these... emotions. I feel elated one minute, sinking in the pit of despair the next. But you, oh you, my earthen knight. You are here.' My tone slips from a woven black magic spell, to barely a whisper. My creamy plume glides over my hocks absentmindedly, I catch a look at the corner of my eye, feeling the life shift within, delicate at first, but now, now spring is but a season away, it swells with an impatience. 'It is impatient. I am positive it's a he, you know.' my lidded eyes turn back to the bay steed, and my teeth pull at his ebony mane, moving to gently caress his withers. 'I do feel useless though. A wading mass.' My tone is an eerie, haunting call of an owl, before a twist of a smile, a real, real smile. No mask is worn around him no longer -- he paid heed to that, that very night. 'Oh, and congratulations, my Lieutenant.' my smile is smooth in a transition to a smirk, as I nip at his shoulder. He works hard, to build the chamber, to keep things in check. He warrants so much more, so much I wish I could give, as a thank you, as a gift. I have a slither of hope, that at least I could give him a strapping son.
engelsfors
minister of the chamber