G A R E T H
The sharp, nearly panicked response tore the stallion from his spiraling thoughts. His audits pricked towards the mare, his entire being alert to her words. She stumbles over herself, and it’s only then that he realizes that he may have accidentally offended her, or caused some measure of distress. His misunderstandings of her featherlight touches, her wish filled glances. The stallion had been applying his herd rules to her being, and those rules did not apply. The friendliness with which he had casually interacted with her meant something else entirely. His stomach roiled as he tried to pick apart her meanings, going over each of their interactions in his head.
The mare said she hadn’t minded his touch, seemed to almost crave it, in fact. But was that true? Was her need for the contact as she said, a pack mammal who did not know how else to be? Was her loneliness eating away at her insides in the same way that his had hollowed out his bones? Her laugh was nervous as she attempted to explain again, this time with more clarity.
She was worried about encroaching upon him. Startled by the revelation, Gareth boomed a hearty laugh, the sound reverberating throughout the cave. “As the man who had been rooting around inside your joints, I think it’s safe to say that you aren’t encroaching upon my space.”
The fire crackled and popped, a log splitting and sending a shower of embers into the air. Radiant motes of light reflected in the stallion’s brandy eyes as he watched the mare intently, the orange glow softening the cream splash that dominated his facial features into a golden honey. His heart had been aching, and it was as if her lyrics spoke the permission he so desperately sought.
Brazenly, he reached out to bury his muzzle in her mane, the cream locks curling around his nares as he breathed deeply her scent. His lungs began to fill with her, and his limbs trembled, though no longer from exhaustion. He crooned, rolling her heady perfume over his tongue.
Pangaea tasted like the heat of summer, warm rains pounding against rich earth. She tasted of canyons and desert sands, a blend of warrior musk that promised strength and nobility. Curled deeper to her skin there were notes of delicate blooms, wild and exotic. Deeper still there sang a chorus of honey and the thrum of ancient blood far more distinguished than any creature yet to walk the lands of Novus. Hers was the scent of ages, of creation’s greatest riches held close like the oaths sworn by the oldest of gods.
He desperately wanted to fall into her, to be consumed by her scent and made whole by it. The stallion shifted his girth so that his chest pressed against her, his heart pounding a steady rhythm as his lips moved further down the froth of her crest, coming to a stop at the top of her spine to drink deeply once again.
His vocals rumbled low and husky, his lips pressed to the delicate flesh between her shoulder blades. “Allow me to comfort you, then.”
The mare said she hadn’t minded his touch, seemed to almost crave it, in fact. But was that true? Was her need for the contact as she said, a pack mammal who did not know how else to be? Was her loneliness eating away at her insides in the same way that his had hollowed out his bones? Her laugh was nervous as she attempted to explain again, this time with more clarity.
She was worried about encroaching upon him. Startled by the revelation, Gareth boomed a hearty laugh, the sound reverberating throughout the cave. “As the man who had been rooting around inside your joints, I think it’s safe to say that you aren’t encroaching upon my space.”
The fire crackled and popped, a log splitting and sending a shower of embers into the air. Radiant motes of light reflected in the stallion’s brandy eyes as he watched the mare intently, the orange glow softening the cream splash that dominated his facial features into a golden honey. His heart had been aching, and it was as if her lyrics spoke the permission he so desperately sought.
Brazenly, he reached out to bury his muzzle in her mane, the cream locks curling around his nares as he breathed deeply her scent. His lungs began to fill with her, and his limbs trembled, though no longer from exhaustion. He crooned, rolling her heady perfume over his tongue.
Pangaea tasted like the heat of summer, warm rains pounding against rich earth. She tasted of canyons and desert sands, a blend of warrior musk that promised strength and nobility. Curled deeper to her skin there were notes of delicate blooms, wild and exotic. Deeper still there sang a chorus of honey and the thrum of ancient blood far more distinguished than any creature yet to walk the lands of Novus. Hers was the scent of ages, of creation’s greatest riches held close like the oaths sworn by the oldest of gods.
He desperately wanted to fall into her, to be consumed by her scent and made whole by it. The stallion shifted his girth so that his chest pressed against her, his heart pounding a steady rhythm as his lips moved further down the froth of her crest, coming to a stop at the top of her spine to drink deeply once again.
His vocals rumbled low and husky, his lips pressed to the delicate flesh between her shoulder blades. “Allow me to comfort you, then.”
"Speech" || @Pangaea |
