He is painted with a grey shimmer over an otherwise golden coat, and his horns sprout and arise from the sides of his forehead in carved spiral. She ignores him at first, returning her attention back to the other equines around her and listening to the distant hum of chatter.
Her wings adjust to relax at her side, loosening their grip along her rib cage.
Though her eyes do eventually drift to the masculine scent still lingering to her side, seeing as he meanders casually to the rocky side of the creek, his neck lowering with muscular definition into the water below him. He feels almost too close—her stomach tightening at the thought—like a creature with no sense of size, unaware of the heat she can feel radiating off his skin.
Brine does not hide her expression well as he side eyes her with a grin, before returning his gaze forward as if to challenge her curiosity. She scoffs, and if physically possible would have followed with an eyeroll, before again turning her attention another direction.
She feels his head raise, but yet no words fill the silence. Irritation boils deep into her chest, as if a fire is lit in aggravation. Why does she need to be the one to initiate the conversation he is waiting to have? Normal socializing is not her strong suit, but games?
Games are for children.
“You’re a little close,” she finally lets out as the air began to feel thick with an uncomfortable weight. Her darkened eyes do not shift from the empty treeline across from them, her tail swishing against her flank with annoyance. She does not meet his coy smirk with approval, instead she meets his eyes with a face empty of expression.
Brine
find yourself, then come find me
@[bruise]