08-30-2021, 07:46 PM
He heard her, sensed her, and smelled her all at once, though he made no move to turn and gaze upon the one approaching him in the darkness. There was the crunch of delicate hooves upon the snow which sent his right ear to flicking momentarily as he took note of the sound. There was the telltale hint of her scent toying upon the frigid breeze -- a scent he drank in of deeply and carefully filed away for later perusal. And then there was something else entirely, an aura, a feeling that grazed against him as he stood, stoic and still, beneath the caress of the never-wavering azure fire. It was rage, a clear and palpable sensation, as though the mare's anger had taken on a life all its own.
And then there she was before him, scarred and dark and wreathed in crimson starlight. He looked down upon her, clearly unrepentant despite his intruder status. Hot and intense as it ever was, his molten gaze was unwavering as it skimmed the femme's countenance, her form, her wings, before finding her swirling eyes again.
Still silent, still unmoving aside from the rise and fall of his chest as he drew in breath and the puffs of fog which unfurled past his nostrils with each exhalation, the winged stallion continued to merely watch, to take her all in, for a few moments more before he finally breathed out a single word in way of answer to her question: "Curiosity." That collection of syllables was soft between them, as though he was confiding a great secret to her. Or perhaps it was something else entirely which brought his rumbling baritone down to an almost intimate volume on this particular occasion. Something about the clear scars this land bore -- so like the scars which littered the petite yet fiery creature before him -- which lent a hushed quality to his tone.
The Isle she had called this place. A fitting enough name he supposed, all things considered. Yet another piece to the puzzle that was Beqanna which he was slowly, so slowly, beginning to solve. But there were still so many questions he had yet to ask, still so many secrets which had yet to be uncovered. All in due time, he knew. But still. He hungered to know.
Looming over the other as was his general way, still the great brute broadcast a clear, relaxed sort of stance. No muscle was tensed. His body wasn't poised to strike. For all that he could have posed a threat -- a hulking stranger lurking in the darkness -- he did his best to showcase that he wasn't one. Not right now, at any rate. Not tonight.
"But," he spoke again, his dark, thundering voice a mere murmur. "Perhaps you can sate said curiosity in a small way." With his head canting ever-so-slightly to the side, he drank in again of the scarred femme's scent before asking quite plainly, "Are you the lady of these lands?"
And then there she was before him, scarred and dark and wreathed in crimson starlight. He looked down upon her, clearly unrepentant despite his intruder status. Hot and intense as it ever was, his molten gaze was unwavering as it skimmed the femme's countenance, her form, her wings, before finding her swirling eyes again.
Still silent, still unmoving aside from the rise and fall of his chest as he drew in breath and the puffs of fog which unfurled past his nostrils with each exhalation, the winged stallion continued to merely watch, to take her all in, for a few moments more before he finally breathed out a single word in way of answer to her question: "Curiosity." That collection of syllables was soft between them, as though he was confiding a great secret to her. Or perhaps it was something else entirely which brought his rumbling baritone down to an almost intimate volume on this particular occasion. Something about the clear scars this land bore -- so like the scars which littered the petite yet fiery creature before him -- which lent a hushed quality to his tone.
The Isle she had called this place. A fitting enough name he supposed, all things considered. Yet another piece to the puzzle that was Beqanna which he was slowly, so slowly, beginning to solve. But there were still so many questions he had yet to ask, still so many secrets which had yet to be uncovered. All in due time, he knew. But still. He hungered to know.
Looming over the other as was his general way, still the great brute broadcast a clear, relaxed sort of stance. No muscle was tensed. His body wasn't poised to strike. For all that he could have posed a threat -- a hulking stranger lurking in the darkness -- he did his best to showcase that he wasn't one. Not right now, at any rate. Not tonight.
"But," he spoke again, his dark, thundering voice a mere murmur. "Perhaps you can sate said curiosity in a small way." With his head canting ever-so-slightly to the side, he drank in again of the scarred femme's scent before asking quite plainly, "Are you the lady of these lands?"
cassiell
temperance is a virtue
@Ciri