He is silent - too silent, and she frowns at that.
Then he is quick to amend his silence and give her the kind of answer that isn’t an answer at all but another question - she ignores it; focusing intently upon the way his wing rests over her. It was the tenderness in his smile that was her downfall;
She starts to offer him a rare smile of her own, small and tender too, until she feels his eyes on her again. It thoroughly unnerves her but unlike the way it always has, this time it is different. She thinks that he might see the way her own eyes drift back to him, to look and linger on the very shape of his muscles beneath his skin, taut and hard, but giving - she imagines, if she were to lean against him, tucked further up underneath the wing he so casually offers her like it was the most natural thing for him to do in the world. Riva is quick to look away first. It is better that way, she decides. Neither of them can handle the things that start to simmer between them, slow and good.
He breaks the spell that held them both in thrall to the things beginning in each of them, or begun that fateful day in the field the first time they laid eyes upon each other. Riva nearly frowns again; he is quick to state his demand (that is how she sees it!) to be taken to the Queen and she is altogether entirely too happy to oblige. Better to get him out of her hair now, she thinks, none too pleased that he does not wish to be shown more of the Jungle’s secrets at her side. “Fine, I’ll find Lexa. You wait here,” she says none too kindly as she slips out from underneath his wing and takes off into the Jungle proper to find the spotted Queen.
What she finds instead, is turmoil.
The Jungle starts to quake and quiver; terrified, she turns back and begins to herd Phaedrus away. Which is quite comical to see a thin angry mare nipping at the black flanks of a stallion larger than she is, trying to get him to move his lumbering butt away from the impending danger. “RUN!” she yells at him, sprinting ahead and hoping that all the sisters make it out safe before the Jungle is swallowed up in a shroud of mist. “Phaedrus?” She has lost sight of him, but can still smell him nearby, as she calls out to him. Her voice is small and subdued, as she calls again - “Phaedrus, are you there?”
The mist starts to clear up, and she is standing in the meadow. She blinks the dampness back from her eyes, some combination of tears and mist that have pricked the corners of her eyes with sadness. Riva chokes it back down as she spots him nearby, just like she had smelled him. She sighs, relieved. “I thought I lost you there for a minute,” she admits, terribly shy as she strides closer and close enough to duck her head beneath the shelter of his wing but she pulls up short, stricken with shock. “Oh Phaedrus!” she cries, he is just a blue-black stallion and his beautiful wings are gone! “Oh no. No, no, no. What on earth has just happened?” She babbles, tucking herself into his side anyway because he’s the only thing she recognizes on this bleak earth.
(and where is her baby half-brother that she rescued from their pathetic mother?)
09-02-2016, 10:50 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-04-2016, 04:12 PM by Phaedrus.)
 PHAEDRUS He is gazing at her reluctant to get to business, but then she looks away from him. A regretful sigh escapes, but he knows their time together has once again come to a close. He doesn’t want to push her, doesn’t want to push himself. Yet here they stand at the edge of the kingdom with her looking away from him, looking for anything but him. He attempts to ease her out of her discomfort, but as soon as she is stepping from his wing something yanks in his chest. As much as it had been an offer to her, he can’t help but feel the sudden chill of her missing warmth. Even in the heat of this kingdom it still feels cold without her there. His ears perk at her words and his eyes strain with worry. I can’t accompany you? the words are tentative and soft, his tail flicking. It was a visible sign of his mental kick to himself, he didn’t want her to leave, he didn’t want to offend her, and yet in his stumbling gawkiness he had.
It was too late, just as she had been there a moment before she disappeared again. The enormous leaves swallowing her whole. He turns looking around him, trying to find his bearings, attempting to distract his mind from the sinking feeling in his gut. But then she is back, screaming something at him, biting at his muscle. A smirk slides into place Well I might be a bit of a prude, but really dear if that’s what you want all you have to do is…. Chocolate pupils gloss over in shock as the jungle suddenly begins to be sucked from under them. Instead of running though he stretches bending around her frame wrapping her up in his body, lifting her into the sky just as the ground slips from under them.
As it slips the trees snag at his wings sending his body into a tumultuous whirl, forcing him to let her go. As soon as he recovers mist floods his eyes and the pain of slashed wings sends him barreling to the ground. With a groan he gets to his feet shaking his head in attempt to recover from the fall. His first thought is of Riva and if she was safe. Riva? His voice choked with the fear that his heart kept pounding into his ears. He raises his head looking for her, something distant but familiar calling to him.
It only takes seconds for them to find one another, but those seconds feel as years to the stallion. When he sees her, he quickens his pace attempting to reach her before anything else could separate them. I couldn’t be more grateful than now to see you, his nose brushes against her hide checking to make sure that she is uninjured. And before he can reach to swath her in his wing, she brings his attention to the fact that there is no wings for him to fold her up in. Shock had stricken his face, but now it was drained of all luster. I wonder if this is what death is like? He murmurs more to himself, they were dead right? He had never seen a dead horse before, never died before, no one was there to tell him that he was still alive. Well I guess I will have to find another way to sneak in a few gropes. in He winks at her attempting to smile and offer her some comfort. He uses his neck to wrap her up as best he can, Well apparently I can’t wrap around you anymore either. He nuzzles her with his maw, attempting to comfort both of them, something tangible, something familiar, something that wasn’t enveloped in mist. His fear drove him to be brave and reach out to her in ways that he hadn’t had the courage to do before. Staying there for a few more moments couldn’t hurt anyone. He would find them a safe place in a bit, but right now all he could think about was taking care of her. i'll carry this flag, to the grave if i must
@[riva]
She still cannot shake the strange feeling of him going all elastic on he.
Riva hadn’t known he could do that, even if it had saved both their lives.
Her eyes close as he says all the things that a mare could ever want to hear, but Riva is not that kind of a mare even if a tiny part of her is glad that he means them and they are meant only for her. Riva’s fickle heart holds fast to the way he nuzzles her skin, checks her over for injury. Granted, he’s fussing like a mother-mare over a foal that strayed too far from her side, but she allows him his moment to fuss and look her over. “Phaedrus, I’m fine but your wings…” her laughing voice trails off, dies into a momentous silence as shock hits him then dims, and she is a little afraid of the way he starts to talk afterwards.
“No - no, this is not what death looks like.” she assures him, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. Riva has seen death, has caused it even and this - this is not death, merely loss, something wholly different from death. She supposes that for him though, it is a loss as much as it is a death too - the death of his ability to fly and she sympathizes as best as she can. Riva never had anything to lose, except him (excluding Lagertha, Lexa, and Lauchlan that is).
Her eyes are sad as they come back to him, but there is the ghost of a grin on her lips. Even stricken as he is, he still makes his jokes and does his best to cheer her up when it ought to be the other way around. She cannot help the hiccup in her heart at the thought of that - he cared more for her than he did his wings, his elasticity, and Riva is secretly glad of that. Riva found herself leaning more into his side, his nuzzles, his overall attentive care that she might otherwise have begged off from however she could but right now, he was the only thing she knew and she wasn’t about to leave him behind for anything.
“You still have your humor and your touch,” she teases him; reaching out to nip at his straying muzzle though she would never wholeheartedly discourage him from stroking it down her skin, it felt entirely too good to be loved by someone. Ew, Riva just thought of love!
09-21-2016, 09:46 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-21-2016, 09:47 PM by Phaedrus.)
PHAEDRUS He couldn’t say that he is a fan of the elastic effect, but it sure does come in helpful on many occasions. Part of him worries that she would be revolted by the thing, or that she would be scared, possibly angry that he hadn’t been completely open about it earlier. Another part of him is shocked at the vulnerability that he finds himself experiencing. Sharing feelings? Telling her stuff that he couldn’t admit to himself? What the hell?! Even as he thinks it he still can’t stop himself. He can’t mold his body to hers, he can’t wrap her securely in his wings, he has to resort to the last thing possible sniffing out any injury. He would be sick if him dropping her had given any discomfort for her.
At the sound of her voice again he smiles at her. Could think of a few cliché’s for that, he wouldn’t torture her with those though, he isn’t that much a fool, okay maybe just a grinning fool. Yes, he had seen death, but it had been battlefield death, the kind that is bloody, and stinks of adrenaline. The kind where you never see their eyes, only hear the thick crunch of their skull before proceeding to the next one, listening for the snapping bones, screams of agony, the deathly silence that follows. You keep moving, you don’t stop, no matter what. Any pain you feel, there is always time for it later. For Phaedrus he had NEVER been on the running side, fearing death for himself. Death seemed like a distant hazy thing that is just there, never fully recognized until it corners you, and stares you in the face. Never had he thought on it, never had he thought about any deaths he had caused in the name of war.
He sees her turn her face away, and just as she feels the weight of her past, he does as well. For a moment the heaviness of life sinks in, worries, and woes, they were nothing compared to the losses that many were experiencing that day. As much as others have lost, he has gained, namely the realization of something more than just duty and honor. It flickers, and burns until something clenches in his chest, making his knees want to give. She looks back to him and he knows there is something, something that she isn’t quite ready to discuss. Something he wouldn’t push for just yet. But the look in her eyes has him practically on his knees, at least he is inside his head. He can’t help it, touching her that is. He needs it, he needs to give it, he’s afraid that he is smothering though, in beginning to pull away she tugs him back, and he concedes burying his muzzle into her mane, closing his eyes against the overwhelming need for her scent in his lungs. He stands there as close as he can be to her, toying with her mane enjoying the moments that he has. Yes, he could live without his wings, if he could stay here with her forever, then yes living without the skies would be perfectly fine with him.
Its then that they appear just as if they had never left, he wraps her up in the blue sheen of feathers. (They after all had changed in their newness. Taking on the color of his mane, and filling out where the old scars had shown where he had holes ripped through them.) For the moment pulling her closer to himself, spreading them over her back and sides its all he wants to do. As this happens he unknowingly whispers into her mane, stay with me, let us not part again. His throat husky with the depth of his thoughts, he does not realize the reality of the situation. Believing that he is imagining holding her close, imagining the moments when he had stroked her with his feathers. i'll carry this flag, to the grave if i must
I'm sooo sorry this took so long D':
@[riva]
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