GARETH

The festival had been an exhausting, if fulfilling venture. Gareth had stayed late to help the last of the Deluminian hosts load things into caravans to be taken away. The work had been simple, but after having helped to disassemble more tents than he had cared to count, pulling heavy poles behind him, his body ached terribly. Pangaea had not been able to coax him any further in their journey home than the distinct river that ran through the Dawn Court territory. While they had usually spent the night chatting away until sleep overtook them, the stallion had succumbed almost immediately once they had bedded down. 

It was only the uncomfortable breeze that came with the dewy spring morning that pulled him from his slumber. He groaned, turning to bury his muzzle into creamy, curly locks, only to be met with flattened grass, still warm. The stallion blinked his amber eyes open, taking in the now familiar scent of the saurian woman who had, until recently, been sleeping at his side. Swallowing the rising panic in his chest at her absence, the medic lifted his heavy head and looked around, twisted locks tumbling from barely maintained buns and falling loosely to his thickly muscled neck. She couldn’t have gone far, and it had to have been very recent if the ground still clung to the warmth she left behind.  

Weary, the medic pushed himself to his hooves, pelt shaking off the morning chill as he listened to his surroundings. The sound of birds in the trees above him played a melody of lovers, singing sweet nothings as they passed between leaves. In the distance he heard the sound of the Rapax River, and logic dictated that Pangaea likely made her way to the waters for a morning drink before they started the long journey home again. At least, that is what he had hoped. There was still a part of him that believed she might disappear one day, without so much as a goodbye. 

It was a foolish thought, he knew. Considering how the first night of the festival had gone, it was absurd to believe that she would leave him without a trace. Still, with the hurt of Salome still so fresh in his heart, there was little he could do to soothe those fears save to look upon the mare’s face and be reassured that she was there. He didn’t want to admit it, but the sorrow he felt at the loss of his childhood love dictated much of how he had approached this connection with the saurian woman. His conversation with Luvena when he had come down from the mountains after his last meeting with the vampire woman had been a disheartening one, though it had been what he needed to hear. Salome had been dipping in and out of his life, and in the deepest recesses of his heart he knew that things would never be as simple as they had been when they were children. 

Nothing is ever as simple as that. Nothing is so pure, so free, so unburdened by life as the wishes of children. He’d wanted to believe that she would return to him, having finally spoken aloud her love, but there had been doubt. Noor had voiced it to him then, but his pride had prevented him from seeking guidance in his bonded. The elk had understood, and when Gareth had returned from his visit to Luvena, he had not said a word about Salome. He could be brash, sometimes cruel with his words, if he felt it was for the better, but Noor had never wanted to see his friend crumble at the hands of a woman in the way he had done under the repeated offenses of Salome. 

If the elk had been honest with Gareth, he would have told the stallion that this was part of why he had distrusted Pangaea. Perhaps the medic knew this, too, even without his friend having to say anything. Nearly being eaten had played a bigger role, naturally, but they had seemed to be on better terms at the turn of the season.  While the elk likely would never approve of the stallion’s affections, this was certainly an improvement, and the mountain man would take it. 

Still, that lingering fear and heartache sat in his chest, and so whenever he woke to emptiness in his bed, there remained a sinking sensation that Pangaea had finally wisened up and moved on. The tumult quieted as the stallion pushed his way beyond the foliage surrounding the river and saw a familiar face. 

Well, not so much her face, anyways. The gold-coloured woman  was floating in a sea of cream, the pull of the river tugging her curls away from her body in various places. If Gareth hadn’t recognized her lyrics or the distinct structure of her wings, her supple body, he would have hardly believed it was her. Upon reflection, the stallion was fairly certain he had never seen Pangaea’s hair unbound, and the raging torrent of curls was something to behold. It obscured her vision as she tried to separate the tangled strands to create a window, causing quite a bit of fuss. 

A deep rumbling laugh erupted from his chest, before the equally deep colour of red rushed to his cheeks.  Though it was no secret that equines roamed the lands “baring it all” as it were, and he’d had plenty of opportunity to explore all of the more… delicate regions of the mare when he had been aiding her hind limb, to stumble upon her in the middle of a bathing ritual felt incredibly lecherous. 

He stumbled over his words. “I… ah… how?” Gareth averted his gaze, watching the river caress the furthest strands of her tail. 

By Caligo’s Night, her hair was lengthy. No wonder she kept it bound the way she did. The woman wouldn’t have been able to walk two feet before getting caught up in a tangle of locks. He couldn’t even imagine trying to brave the air with tendrils streaming every which way and catching every known bug in existence along the way. 



"Speech." | @Pangaea

GARETH

The stallion swallowed hard, his audits pressed back against his own fallen locks as his embarrassment deepened. Despite the saurian woman’s claims to look like a wet dog, she most certainly appeared to be some kind of goddess to him. The medic had seen some beautiful mares in his lifetime; hair meticulously maintained, flowing, the picturesque image of a fair maiden. He could acknowledge their grace and glamour just as any young stud with eyes would, but it had never drawn him in. Salome had been the exception, but that had been her mind and talent in equal measure to her delicate frame. His own grandmother, whom he loved deeply, had an incredibly long silver mane that she kept pulled back. It was her influence that led him to maintain his own in a similar manner. 

They all paled in comparison to Pangaea, though. Her wild curls falling about in every which way filled him with a feral excitement. The curve of her neck was more pronounced now that the unruly plumes of cream were laden with water, the true strength and structure of her tail sparking curiosity and awe. She had told him somewhat of her less equine features when they had sought shelter when passing through the Arma that winter, but she had kept the thick muscle shrouded in the way she had bound her hair to it. Now that he could see clearly, the way the tresses grew from the soft underside to culminate in an artisanal brush at the tip, he understood why she had wrapped her hair this way. 

It was also apparent why she had asked for his assistance. The sheer length of the hair was striking, but with how dense he knew it to be from his gentle touches, to see it soaked in water, he could begin to imagine how unmanageable it would be on her own. Even now, the river struggled to keep the locks afloat, stretching and curling around her body in an attempt to pull debris from the coarse fibres. 

The woman’s commentary pulled Gareth from his wandering thoughts and his eyes met hers once more. His maw gaped, opening and closing much like a fish pulled from the water. Pangaea had a way of bringing dark colours to his cheeks, and at the mention of Amare Creek, he could do nothing but stare openly, unable to speak, stuttering over unintelligible words as he tried to start the gears turning in his head again. Though the invitation to help the mare with her bath had been as open as she could possibly get, there was still a part of him that hesitated, clinging to the idea that he was a medical professional, and she was a lady, and as a gentleman he shouldn’t be intruding on something so intimate. 

Except that is exactly what she wanted. As she reached for him, a seductive tease on her tongue as she called him ‘doctor’, a shiver ran through his dark earthen coat. He’d never been much for honourifics like that, but Pangaea made it sound exciting, alluring, and it stirred the sleeping beast in his belly just as it had done that night of the full moon at the festival.  The stallion swallowed, hard. 

“Alright,” Gareth agreed, the low, husky rasp of his response surprising him. His lyrics rumbled deep in his chest as his heart raced, stepping forward to join her in the cool waters. The dirt and debris from their travels were pulled from the feathering at his hooves by the river in the same way the Rapax had done with the smoke and ash from the mare’s curls, his one sock brightening from a dingy dull brown-grey. 

His expression shifted, moving to her side, pressing his muzzle to the woman’s neck, moving the unruly locks of hair out of the way to whisper against her skin. “I make no promises other than I shall try to behave myself. As a gentleman tasked by a lady to help tame her beautiful mane.” 

It felt like his heart was going to leap right out of his ribcage and drown in her. He had tried not to think too much about the implications of the mare choosing to bring up the famed creek where lovers were often found reveling in each other. There were other parts of him that had very different ideas, but he would swallow those instincts. After all, if Pangaea truly meant to stick around, there would be plenty of time for that in the future, and he had no intentions of rushing things. He would not amble as he had done with Salome, for that had been a hard lesson he felt that he had learned, but he would not push things with the saurian warrior. If he were going to share affections, he would court her properly, as a man should. 

Gareth moved then to help her separate the front half of her mane from what he could only assume was her forelock. “I can help you keep things separate, and perhaps we can divide the sorted locks to one side of your neck so then it is clear which areas we have already gone over.” 



"Speech." | @Pangaea

GARETH

“Come hither, Gareth,” the smoky familiar tones spoke to the young colt. A strong woman who wore her age like a cloak of wisdom stood in the running water, motioning for him to move closer. Her silvered hair, normally bound with leather, flowed freely now, curls tangling in wild waves.  “These old bones don’t hold up to hair washing like they used to.” 

The boy tilted his head in confusion, his own mane bound in small braids. “Why not cut it, then, MawMaw?” He wrinkled his nose a bit, thinking about how heavy it must be to have so much length gathered up on her crest all day long.  Still, he did as was asked of him, as he always had, and moved to his grandmother’s side. 

“Because, child,” she said, mirth in her lyrics and a bright twinkle in her eyes. “Our hair holds all of our experiences. Every thought you’ve ever had from the day of your birth to the day you return to the earth. There is nothing so much entirely you than the hair that grows from you.” The crone spoke as if that were all the explanation he would need, though the colt was still bubbling with questions. 

The feeling of Pangaea pressing her muzzle to his cheek pulled the stallion from his reverie. She thanked him softly, gratitude wrapped in each word. It was no small feat for the warrior to ask for assistance, and to do so as eagerly and openly as she had done with him in this moment meant the world. He returned the gesture, gentle with his touch. 

“Of course,” he purred, baritone lyrics rumbling through his chest. “Ask the world of me and you shall have it.” Though such words could have been flights of fancy or beautiful dreams, Gareth spoke them with sincerity. He had decided that if he were going to pursue the mare, he would do so with every ounce of his being. No expense spared, no stone unturned. Dedication at its finest, if she would let him. 

He worked diligently, letting the saurian woman take the lead on how to handle her hair. The thick layers of cream were not so much unlike the hair his grandmother once had, save for their length and colour. Somehow, the warrior before him had managed to maintain a length that seemed impossible for any one creature to have. Perhaps that was just part of her lineage- Saurians must have continued to grow their locks all their lives. Most equines had a point in which their manes and tails would grow no longer. Gareth had reached that point some time ago, and had since found comfort in the weight of his thick locks.  

The crisp spring morning provided beautiful music, the melody of birds in the surrounding trees, the sun against his dark pelt a blessed warmth against the frigid chill of the river. He would be grateful for when they finally finished their trek home and he could settle before a fire and rest properly. Noor would be pleased to have his friend home again, he was sure. 

Though the elk still held his reservations about Pangaea, he no longer spoke ill of her, and that had been a vast improvement to their living situation. The medic wondered briefly what would be waiting for him at home, once his bonded companion knew that Pangaea would be staying. He supposed the cervidae had been holding out for the time when the warrior would be on her way, but he perhaps would not be so surprised to find that she would not be moving on, nor did Gareth have any intentions of pushing her out the door. 

The brute chuckled, continuing to pull small debris from the maiden’s locks. “How long has it been since you last were pampered?” he teased, lipping at the crest of her neck and tickling her with his whiskers. 



"Speech." | @Pangaea

GARETH

The stallion focused on the task at hand, carefully weeding through the bits of debris still wound in her hair. Goodness, how had she managed to get so much foliage and various insects tied up in there when her hair was bound? It must have been an age since she last felt comfortable and safe enough to detangle her mane. Her next words confirmed as much to him, about her life being not the most courteous to those who decided their health went beyond just basic survival. He deliberately chose to ignore the admission that his actions had been the closest to pampering that she had experienced, though his mind filed that away for later with the determination that he would show her what true pampering was in the future. 

His audits flicked as she spoke about the place she lived when she left her home. No, not where she lived.  Where she ‘ended up’. The way her lyrics quieted, the hesitation that trembled in her voice told him that this was not a good place. Wherever she had gone clearly left an impact upon her, and he felt the pang in his chest, the desire to protect her from those memories and to make sure she knew those days were over, whatever they were. 

He gently pressed his muzzle to the base of her spine where he had been detangling, trying to offer his presence as she curled into him. They stood for a long moment like that, the chill of the river pulling at their limbs and the light trill of morning birds as the rest of the forest began to awaken. Summer would be here soon and the pleasant mornings like this would soon be a distant memory, replaced by muggy heat and lazy insects. 

Gareth arched his neck and pulled Pangaea in closely, teasing her only slightly with the seriousness of his tone. “Forever is a long time, I hope you know, because I do not see us parting any sooner than the end of time itself.” The smell of the saurian woman enveloped him, and he knew that those words held a ring of truth to them. He wasn’t sure how he knew them, but he did. 

Noor of course would tell him it was the certainty of puppy love, and perhaps there was an element of that. After all, his heart was still aching from the loss, the betrayal of Salome. In contrast, Pangaea was like a spring bloom, a breath of the freshest mountain air. Though Gareth wouldn’t quite admit it yet, she had brought life back to the medic. She had given him a clear purpose when he most needed one. The brute was determined to keep her near him for as long as she was willing. 

Amber hues watched as she parted, moving to the shore to collect the various trinkets that were utilized to keep her curls contained. A soft smile spread across his muzzle as he watched her carefully wrap up her hair into several fashions, though he figured it was more for function than looks, and bind them back with delicate gold bands. No sooner had she finished this task did her gaze turn to him, a devilish glint in her eye. 

A booming laugh rumbled from Gareth’s chest as she nudged him along the riverbank towards an overhang of trees, pressing him into deeper waters. “Fair, fair,” he remarked. “I never considered pampering for myself. Too much work to do, you know. What with beautiful women swooping down from the skies to gobble up beloved companions and in need of medical attention, herbs to be mixed and courts looking after.” 

He bumped her playfully with his muzzle so that Pangaea might know that his words were a gentle thing, and he held no grudge against her. His thick tail flicked back and forth as he smiled. “I think you’ll find my hair is quite different to yours, but you are welcome to try to tidy it up as best you can.” 



"Speech." | @Pangaea