10-20-2018, 06:00 PM
Since the first taste of a world without my magic, I have embraced each opportunity to be entirely mundane. It is not possible in Sylva; it is only possible here. Here in Loess. I had thought that it was only possible alone or in the presence of a god, but as my king caresses me I feel the desire pooling inside me and seeping from every pore. I hold it tight, a reassuring bit of non-magical comfort and lose myself in the soft green of his eyes.
I can’t imagine anything more perfect.
This is perfect.
His movements are enthusiastic but I do not freeze, and least not for more than a moment. ‘I can manage’ that he says, as my pale feathers weave into his. I recall our daring plummet down a cliff, the joy in his expression as we’d pulled up above the water at the very last moment. My grin must be foolishly wide, but I don’t even care.
The silly grin fades only into something equally pleased, a soft smile and the sensation that I am melting.
A step backward presses my rump more firmly against him, my long navy tail lifted high and to the side and the white ends flicking against where he touches my heel. There is a hunger for him that is overwhelming, a need to feel him in every possible way, and I spread my own wings beneath his, the edges of blue just visible in the coming dawn. For all that I am focused on us – just us and the way I fell – there is some part of me that finds it symbolic: the creation of my own family with the rising of the sun.
"The sooner you start," I tell him with a wicked grin thrown over my welted shoulder: "The sooner we can try again."
I imagine him, just for a moment, that child that does not yet exist. I wish, quite fervently, for a boy that looks just like his father – like Wolfbane. That image fades quickly to be replaced by the striped stallion’s face, just behind me, the blue face I know so well. I swat the white tips of my long tail against his ribs, a reminder of my enthusiasm apparent at the twitch of muscles along the base of my tail.
I meet his eyes and the wicked grin is replaced by something warmer. The sun is just starting to lend color to our features, and I give him a navy smile that is encouraging and almost certainly besotted.
@[Wolfbane]
I can’t imagine anything more perfect.
This is perfect.
His movements are enthusiastic but I do not freeze, and least not for more than a moment. ‘I can manage’ that he says, as my pale feathers weave into his. I recall our daring plummet down a cliff, the joy in his expression as we’d pulled up above the water at the very last moment. My grin must be foolishly wide, but I don’t even care.
The silly grin fades only into something equally pleased, a soft smile and the sensation that I am melting.
A step backward presses my rump more firmly against him, my long navy tail lifted high and to the side and the white ends flicking against where he touches my heel. There is a hunger for him that is overwhelming, a need to feel him in every possible way, and I spread my own wings beneath his, the edges of blue just visible in the coming dawn. For all that I am focused on us – just us and the way I fell – there is some part of me that finds it symbolic: the creation of my own family with the rising of the sun.
"The sooner you start," I tell him with a wicked grin thrown over my welted shoulder: "The sooner we can try again."
I imagine him, just for a moment, that child that does not yet exist. I wish, quite fervently, for a boy that looks just like his father – like Wolfbane. That image fades quickly to be replaced by the striped stallion’s face, just behind me, the blue face I know so well. I swat the white tips of my long tail against his ribs, a reminder of my enthusiasm apparent at the twitch of muscles along the base of my tail.
I meet his eyes and the wicked grin is replaced by something warmer. The sun is just starting to lend color to our features, and I give him a navy smile that is encouraging and almost certainly besotted.
@[Wolfbane]
