Her features visibly lift, her heart soaring when he breaks the foliage and her small steps kick up higher excitedly. A large smile appearing on her lips as she nears her mate. The woman moves to brush against the bay but instead se feels the clip of his incisors on her hide and she gives a small squeak in response. Chiseled crown swings to look to Mandan. Perhaps they should be filled with anger and irritation but instead they are playful, mischievous. Perhaps it's was the hormones (perhaps not!) but the mare liked the feel of his claim upon her. She likes being his mate, his love and even so, Ygritte would do the same with him if she should happen upon him and another woman.
She moves to stand side by side with her, footfalls a bit more labored now as her pregnancy advanced further. But Ygritte can see the flash in Mandan's eyes and even the restraint as he remains polite for her. With a gentle touch, she lifts her neck over his to rest her weight lightly on his withers as gentle breath fluffs bits of stray hairs before she moves back to a neutral position, always touching her mate.
Dark pools watch as Farren emerges from the water towards the couple. He seems enthralled with Mandan's horns, just as Ygritte was when they had first met. Farren is younger than Mandan and the world is still interesting and new and it shows in his wonderment. Ygritte presses against her mate as she chuckles gently, guilty of asking a similar question. She says nothing though and looks to her mate with velvet soft eyes when he answers. The conversation would be interesting to listen to.
COTY
Assailant -- Year 226
QOTY
"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
ruby red glow ; ygritte, any
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12-28-2015, 10:43 AM
01-03-2016, 01:14 PM
((so sorry this took so long to post! I have to use my phone's hot spot for internet to post. Thanks for being paitent guys. i love you both))
01-03-2016, 05:15 PM
He has no explanation for the horns; his mother could not explain them either except that they came from a strange beast in a land she will likely never visit in her immortal lifetime, but that his father had been a shaman of sorts, shaped of magics far stranger than Scalped could ever hope to understand and some of that magic had taken shape in her womb in the form of a foal and he was that foal. Farren’s voice pulls him back from the tantalizing thread of thought that he picks at - that being of his horns, as he had no idea why he was born different from the rest of them and it had never really bothered him, there were stranger things he supposed that lurked in these lands. He can hear the youth in the other stallion’s voice and realizes that he isn’t much older himself, but Farren’s bright-eyed enthusiasm is something that Mandan lacks, relying instead upon his boyish charm. He almost frowns, dwelling on his flaws but follows the goodnatured sidelong glance the other stallion gives his mate and smiles instead, chuckling a little at how happy Farran was to learn how to swim.
“It is rather fun,” he concedes, “Swimming that is.” Mandan remembers swimming the rivers that his mother easily walked across, wishing he was big enough to do the same because swimming was tiresome work for a big colt. He looks fondly upon his mate, nuzzling her cheek, “Sounds like she is a good teacher too.” It is easy to compliment his mate - she is the epitome of what a good mare should be: lovely and wise, generous and kind, and he is proud of her, prouder still that she has taught Farren a thing or two, for he knows she’ll teach their own foal well and he looks forward to that. His body shifts beside her so that he can trail his lips along her growing belly, knowing they don’t have much time to themselves for there will soon be a tagalong foal at their heels - well, mostly hers, he doesn’t remember stallions having much to do with raising their get, not to say he wouldn’t be involved or wasn’t excited, just that he doesn’t know the first thing about babies.
Mandan might even be a little afraid of raising his own son or daughter, what if he screws up somehow? He figures that must be a fear all parents have but his mother hid it well; briefly, he wonders if she has come back herself, if she knows her son is here in the Falls or that she’s about to a grandmother-mare again (he’s sure he’s not the first to give her grand-foals, but in Beqanna he is). Absently, he strokes Ygritte’s bulging barrel until she stirs and steps off from his side, giving herself a hearty shake that sent water flying everywhere though he didn’t mind the drops that splattered against his skin. Concern darkened his eyes further at her misstep but she righted herself quick enough, despite the strong urge to rush to her side and check her over - he knew she was fine, just more encumbered than she normally was and he knew he was mostly to blame for that.
In her own way, she circles back to his side and he doesn’t mind the belly-bump or the way she leans upon him. He noses her neck in a gesture meant to tell her to lean more heavily upon him because he could see how taxing this first (he’s sure there will be more, the thought is a tad arrogant but who could blame him?) pregnancy was on her. “That is an excellent idea,” he adds, trying to be encouraging as he smiles at Farren. The bay supposes he ought to do the same, to help his mate out since she was so easily tired these days and moving less. “Or maybe we could try the water again,” as it suddenly occurred to him that she could float between the two of them, if Farren was inclined to assist, and get a lot of that weight off her aching feet. their altars were made of earth | |
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