06-21-2016, 11:38 AM
"How can I do both?" She breathes, knowing how impossible it is to sate him, how difficult it is to lure his attention away from the others. Yet in this moment, her heart pounds, thrumming against her rib cage as he draws himself closer to her. She can feel the heat of his body radiating into her own, and she finds herself suddenly speechless. Her mind draws a momentary blank as his breath lingers across her silvery pelt, causing her to bristle and press against him in turn.
She knows what he craves, what he seeks, but she has little idea of what is to come. He is altogether a two-faced coin; at times violent and in others, gentle. He is as unpredictable as the weather that laps heavily at the coast, even now, as a soothing fog floods the sands in which they stand. Her thick lashes close over her doe eyes as he presses his cheek deeper against her, inhaling the scent of salt and sand that linger betwixt her feathers and along the nape of her slender neck. She whuffs softly, pausing to gaze uncertainly as he pulls and preens along her thick, magnificent wings, which still are dwarfed by the glory of his own. His pale lavender skin presses against her, and she surrenders, terrified and quaking to the very depths of her bone, and yet trusting him inexplicably.
She has seen the way he has taken to others - there were a certain few that he would caress and preen, adoringly (albeit possessively). She has seen the way she has destroyed others, crushing their skulls beneath the weight of his manipulation by the very blunt hooves of their own children. He knows the danger he possesses, and yet still, she surrenders, crooning softly to him as he quietly begs of her what she has never been able to give him. He pleads for what he has taken from so many and would be given by many more. She is nothing special, this she knows, and yet, for a moment in time, she is foolish enough to believe that she could be.
"I am yours, Kirin." She murmurs with a tremble to her voice. If only for tonight.
She knows what he craves, what he seeks, but she has little idea of what is to come. He is altogether a two-faced coin; at times violent and in others, gentle. He is as unpredictable as the weather that laps heavily at the coast, even now, as a soothing fog floods the sands in which they stand. Her thick lashes close over her doe eyes as he presses his cheek deeper against her, inhaling the scent of salt and sand that linger betwixt her feathers and along the nape of her slender neck. She whuffs softly, pausing to gaze uncertainly as he pulls and preens along her thick, magnificent wings, which still are dwarfed by the glory of his own. His pale lavender skin presses against her, and she surrenders, terrified and quaking to the very depths of her bone, and yet trusting him inexplicably.
She has seen the way he has taken to others - there were a certain few that he would caress and preen, adoringly (albeit possessively). She has seen the way she has destroyed others, crushing their skulls beneath the weight of his manipulation by the very blunt hooves of their own children. He knows the danger he possesses, and yet still, she surrenders, crooning softly to him as he quietly begs of her what she has never been able to give him. He pleads for what he has taken from so many and would be given by many more. She is nothing special, this she knows, and yet, for a moment in time, she is foolish enough to believe that she could be.
"I am yours, Kirin." She murmurs with a tremble to her voice. If only for tonight.
No reply needed. Bow chicka.