G A R E T H
Gareth had always been a rather single-minded fellow, in that when he was involved in his work the rest of the world around him disappeared. It had seldom been a problem, as most of his clients preferred to keep idle chatter to a minimum. Pangaea, however, was curious about everything he did, and he struggled sometimes to keep his wits fully about him, often missing questions until his mind finally caught up with him. He worried that she might think him rude, or forgetful, or worse. Still, if the mare was bothered by it, she didn’t show it.
The binding of her flight appendages had caused discomfort, as he had suspected. The woman leaned into him, trying to calm herself. The stallion was grateful for the contact, though he would never say as much aloud. That she sought comfort in him stirred long buried feelings of his protective nature, and the fact that she had put so much trust in him only fueled his desire to make sure that such trust was not misplaced.
Pangaea was a strong woman, and after only a moment she had steadied herself, walking about the cave. He might need to tighten one or two of the straps to keep it fully secured once he added the weight of the fruit jars, but overall he was satisfied with the way things stayed in place as she tested the contraption.
He grinned, giving her a light chuckle. “Marvelous. And even more so now that I know you aren’t going to lose your balance. That’s a large part of what I was worried about. I imagine you use your wings to steady yourself and if they’re bound you don’t have that additional stability.” He nodded, more to himself than to her. “It looks like so long as we take it slow, you should be fine.”
The stallion approached, nuzzling the hide as it draped over her shoulder. “How does the bear feel? Do you think it will be warm enough or do we need to layer it with another blanket?” His words were soft, whispered to her flesh as he lingered, tasting her scent as it mingled with his own. It was pleasing, the mix of their two essences and it was particularly strong where the fur was concerned. They had been sleeping and resting on the hide for the last several days and their combined smells clung to the fibres particularly well.
Gareth passed his muzzle over the thick muscle at Pangaea’s shoulder as he admired her. “Maybe I can fashion you a satchel that accommodates the structure of your wings,” he mused, though the comment was just a fleeting thought. The saurian woman would have to stay for a long while in order for him to draft and redraft patterns to find the right fit and comfort.
The binding of her flight appendages had caused discomfort, as he had suspected. The woman leaned into him, trying to calm herself. The stallion was grateful for the contact, though he would never say as much aloud. That she sought comfort in him stirred long buried feelings of his protective nature, and the fact that she had put so much trust in him only fueled his desire to make sure that such trust was not misplaced.
Pangaea was a strong woman, and after only a moment she had steadied herself, walking about the cave. He might need to tighten one or two of the straps to keep it fully secured once he added the weight of the fruit jars, but overall he was satisfied with the way things stayed in place as she tested the contraption.
He grinned, giving her a light chuckle. “Marvelous. And even more so now that I know you aren’t going to lose your balance. That’s a large part of what I was worried about. I imagine you use your wings to steady yourself and if they’re bound you don’t have that additional stability.” He nodded, more to himself than to her. “It looks like so long as we take it slow, you should be fine.”
The stallion approached, nuzzling the hide as it draped over her shoulder. “How does the bear feel? Do you think it will be warm enough or do we need to layer it with another blanket?” His words were soft, whispered to her flesh as he lingered, tasting her scent as it mingled with his own. It was pleasing, the mix of their two essences and it was particularly strong where the fur was concerned. They had been sleeping and resting on the hide for the last several days and their combined smells clung to the fibres particularly well.
Gareth passed his muzzle over the thick muscle at Pangaea’s shoulder as he admired her. “Maybe I can fashion you a satchel that accommodates the structure of your wings,” he mused, though the comment was just a fleeting thought. The saurian woman would have to stay for a long while in order for him to draft and redraft patterns to find the right fit and comfort.
"Speech" || @Pangaea |
