let the river run dry; mary

[kildare]

He isn't sure of Loess yet.

But then, really, there is no place in Beqanna that he is sure of. He has roamed from North to South, East to West - skirting the kingdoms, listening to the tales, learning what he can of this land that his ancestors once called home. Kildare appreciates some of the histories and even he has to admire the way that the island has rebuilt herself.

When Mary had boasted Loess as the strongest, as the best of all Beqanna's kingdoms, well that had struck a chord with him. Perhaps it is because he is still so young (and though Kildare would never admit it, impressionable), he allowed the silver mare to temporarily rein in his roaming heart with the prestige of the Loessian kingdom and the more.. immediate allure of herself. 

(The way his green eyes darken at the sight of her say which one is the first to cross his mind.)
He isn't sure of Loess yet but he is sure about this pull towards her and for now, this is all he needs.

When he rounds the corner and sees her with that daring grin on her mouth, a part of him becomes angry within himself. How had he taken so long? Why hadn't he come sooner? There is a tremor in his own bold gaze, the grin vanishes for just an instant. She draws herself to him, brushes up against him and pushes him in all the right places. How? he wants to know. For a moment, the world blurs around the edges of his vision and it is only the keen sense of Mary that remains. 

Oh, Goddess.

The rush of his blood, the way she brings it to life in his veins (wild and reckless, just as he sees her), draws a tempting grin on his dark mouth. "Why do I feel like you have all the fun here," he murmurs. He goes to reach for her but rather frustratingly, she pulls away (draws all that delicious, wonderful heat with her) and comes to stand before him. 

"I gave you my word," he says gravely, not enjoying the sudden distance between them. "So here I am."

@[Mary]