stranger in this land; colby pony

[sochi]

Sochi

darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
maybe you need me or maybe you don't

He is interesting enough as a conversation that she dismisses the possibility of him as a meal—although there are worse things than working your jaw on bones and sucking out the marrow. Still, she lets the hunger subside, working its way down from a rolling boil to a mere simmer as she tucks her chin closer into her chest, her silvery eyes considering him from beneath the swath of smoky black forelock.

“She has decided to spare you for now,” she corrects, although there is no malice in her words. After all, who is he to say that this conversation would not go sour? Who is to say she would not change her mind? And, if she was not to bring his demise, there are other dangers out in the world still.

It would be foolish to pretend otherwise.

She lets it slide though, whether he agrees with her correction or not, and instead watches as he inches slightly closer. Her lips peel back in a quick warning but she settles again, not upset by his proximity but not willing to let him domesticate her in his view. “I had no specific prey in mind,” she says easily, rolling a muscled, scarred shoulder. “I am able to find all types of game during evenings such as this.”

Some smaller, like wild rabbits, and other times larger.

She eyes him for a moment.

Much larger.

“What of you?” She realizes then that it sounds like she was asking him what he was hunting for and the thought curls a corner of her lip in sardonic humor, amused with her own joke although she doesn’t bother to voice it aloud. “What brings a…horse?” her voice tilts slightly up in question, “like you out here?”

playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf

@[Nightlock]