“I'm not ashamed of heroic ambitions."
Tonight it was Fable that wanted to go to the markets.
Isra, unable to deny him a thing, soon found herself wandering through the press of bodies and the veils of smoke. The whispers dance around her, awe and wonder, fear and loathing. When a whisper rises to a angry pitch she always pauses to look behind her for a flash of white. It stills feel strange to her, to be the hunter and watch the darkness with eyes unafraid and angry. Even Fable feels the tightness of this night through his hunger and his swooping joy as he twists and twines in strange patterns with the pygmy dragons.
Can we go to the sea after? Fable asks, diving low to brush his wings across Isra's mane. Through the bond she can feel a little of his sharp hunger and her own stomach moans in echo.
Of course. Isra looks away from the darkness only long enough to trace his serpent curves fondly. Tonight even Fable cannot keep her from staring a little harder in the places between market stalls and faded silks. She's so distracted by her hunting (how strange, she thinks, that she is a unicorn that hunts) that she doesn't even notice the golden glow of Noctiilucent until they are brushing shoulder-to-shoulder.
Like two dark ships passing in the night--
“Oh!” Isra startles, at once fearful and brave to feel the brush of skin against her shoulders so soon after the attack. “Noctiilucent, it's wonderful to see you again.” It feels like a blessing, to breathe deep and settle her skin. And for the first time of the night, as Fable lands across her back, Isra stops her hunting.
This time when she softly sighs, into the silence between them, it rings with contentment instead of fear and sadness.
@Noctiilucent
