and all the quiet nights you bear, seal them up with care
no one needs to know they’re there, or i will hold them for you
Pretty, she thinks, tilting her head and flashing those daring golden eyes. The river washes Brunhilde’s companion’s filth off, revealing a coat somewhat shinier than before. It is still dull and dirty, the water insufficient in its job, and the little flame wants to nibble at the mud until Lo’s coat is gleaming.
“Brun,” she answers, voice falling into a throaty cadence she does not mean to take on. She could have answered “Hildy,” but the nickname her mother gave her is not something she wants to hear out of a striking woman’s lips (at least, she does not think so).
The water tumbles and rolls around them while the ombre mare’s wings grow tired. She strains to keep them level, as far from the water as she can, but soon her burning muscles will give out and the water will take her lifeblood. Brunhilde gulps at the thought, casting nervous eyes down at her warped reflection. She sees her mother’s fierce want in the sharp edges of her face, even while fearing the dousing of her wings. The way Kensa’s eyes stare back at her force her face back up, and she smiles, wondering if the punk woman will notice her strange blip of emotion.
“No, I’m not done, actually,” she replies and then plunges her wings into the water. The immediate sizzle causes her to gasp, and she is surprised to find no pain when the fire burns out. While she is distracted, she loses her footing, and stumbles directly into her companion’s chest. A devilish smile twists her mouth as she finds her face slamming into Lo’s neck, a sensation strong enough to distract her from the strange impulse of before.
Ever bold and daunting, Hildy pinches the cremello’s skin between her teeth before forcing her hooves down and struggling to shallow water. Her impossibly long mane hangs to below her chest in wet, dripping locks - a look that would be dazzling if the genuine innocence on her face was not so charming.
“I didn’t mean to do that. I mean, the stumbling. I did mean to nip you. Do you like girls?” She tilts her head and finds an honest vulnerability in how blunt her question is.
@[Leokadia] this is why donald trump hates the gays