i never said that i would be your lover
i never said that i would be your friend
i never said that i would take no other
She doesn’t come here often, prefers her own alpine meadows, or the dark forest depths that twist out from the river. It is a thoroughfare more than anything else, she’s been to the field more times that she can count but does not recall ever just lingering in the meadow that stands between that place and The Mountain looming above. Stopping today is a whim, the grass is tall and autumn gold, beyond the rustle and whisper in the wind there isn’t a soul in sight. In autumn there is a ripeness to the world that easily hypnotizes the sensitive Primarch who so willingly grows drunk on her own senses. It’s not a special ability bestowed by the magic of a fairy or the land, she simply opens the floodgates and savors the world in a way others forget to.
So she wades among the high grass and its heavy seed heads, it trails against her pelt and leaves foxtails in her flaxen locks. Topaz eyes trace the waves of gold, rolling hills stirred to life in the breeze. Dropping her muzzle down to absently lip at the fringe before her Kensa shivers at the coiling desire to trample all that lies before her, to roll and destroy, and make a vast nest for herself to hide in the meadow like a child or a fawn.
The desires to enjoy and to rend are so close at times that one becomes the other.
Lost in these musings and the lull of sensation she does not take note of anyone approaching, or the sound of anyone speaking to her if they do, only drifts absently over amber waves until she can be startled from her reverie...and which point she snaps to an alertness and intensity that makes her particular beauty into a kind of electricity conducted through her gold-veined frame.
“Oh… I’m Kensa.”
Because she isn’t sure if the stranger she has so rudely failed to notice has asked...and she has mastered this strange introduction in which she uses her name as a hello in a way both bold and innocent.
@[Jassal]
