G A R E T H
Doctor. Noor snorted, rolling his eyes just a little bit. He understood the implications, though obviously Gareth did not.
The medic knew that the comment was in jest, but there had been an edge of something more that he was unsure of how to place. Flirtation was not something the man would consider to be one of his fortes. Far from it, in fact. Case in point, his failed childhood romance. He’d been oblivious to all of Salome’s subtle returned affections for years. Clearly, the stallion wouldn’t have known true interest if it came up behind him and bit his flank. Which, apparently, Pangaea was open to doing; she might just have to anyway to get her point across.
As the small company began their journey back towards home, the stag made a point to try to tune out the conversation of his companions. He didn’t want to know anything about bites when asked, or about the kind of bedside manner in which his friend conducted himself. Instead, he cast his gaze about the scenery. Despite the run-in with the wolf pups, the lake was still a beautiful sight to behold and provided something more interesting to look at beyond the copse of trees they had been spending the winter in.
Deep red hues rose to the surface of Gareth’s cream splashed features. He tried not to think too hard about what that would feel like. To have her teeth on his skin; or vice versa. The stallion quickly cleared his throat, averting his gaze so that it was easier to push away the images of his muzzle at her shoulder, her neck, along her spine.
At the mention of the Delumine Spring Festival, his audits pricked at attention. The brute nodded. “It should be officially starting in a week or so. As for what it will be like, I have no idea. This cross-court festival is the first of its kind. There have been inauguration celebrations, sure,” he explained.
“When new Sovereigns are placed on the throne so to speak, the court is often open to any who desire to pass on well wishes or otherwise acquaint themselves with the new leadership. But a festival showcasing the different artisans and court members is new, at least within my memory, which is admittedly lacking in most areas regarding court politics.”
The way she spoke about attending together threw his gut into a tizzy, like he had swallowed a bucket of snakes without remembering. “Well,” he started slowly, “I offered my services to the medic tent, so I will be going regardless. If you feel that you are up to the days long journey there, I would be delighted to have your company.”
He cast his gaze ahead to his bonded companion, continuing. “Noor has already told me he has no interest in any kind of crowded event and has elected to stay home.” He glossed over the added benefit that traveling alone together meant being able to rest next to each other without feeling the hot gaze of his friend judging his life choices in the early morning. It was certainly a perk he would be looking forward to, as it sounded like Pangaea was intent upon joining him in the upcoming festivities.
The medic knew that the comment was in jest, but there had been an edge of something more that he was unsure of how to place. Flirtation was not something the man would consider to be one of his fortes. Far from it, in fact. Case in point, his failed childhood romance. He’d been oblivious to all of Salome’s subtle returned affections for years. Clearly, the stallion wouldn’t have known true interest if it came up behind him and bit his flank. Which, apparently, Pangaea was open to doing; she might just have to anyway to get her point across.
As the small company began their journey back towards home, the stag made a point to try to tune out the conversation of his companions. He didn’t want to know anything about bites when asked, or about the kind of bedside manner in which his friend conducted himself. Instead, he cast his gaze about the scenery. Despite the run-in with the wolf pups, the lake was still a beautiful sight to behold and provided something more interesting to look at beyond the copse of trees they had been spending the winter in.
Deep red hues rose to the surface of Gareth’s cream splashed features. He tried not to think too hard about what that would feel like. To have her teeth on his skin; or vice versa. The stallion quickly cleared his throat, averting his gaze so that it was easier to push away the images of his muzzle at her shoulder, her neck, along her spine.
At the mention of the Delumine Spring Festival, his audits pricked at attention. The brute nodded. “It should be officially starting in a week or so. As for what it will be like, I have no idea. This cross-court festival is the first of its kind. There have been inauguration celebrations, sure,” he explained.
“When new Sovereigns are placed on the throne so to speak, the court is often open to any who desire to pass on well wishes or otherwise acquaint themselves with the new leadership. But a festival showcasing the different artisans and court members is new, at least within my memory, which is admittedly lacking in most areas regarding court politics.”
The way she spoke about attending together threw his gut into a tizzy, like he had swallowed a bucket of snakes without remembering. “Well,” he started slowly, “I offered my services to the medic tent, so I will be going regardless. If you feel that you are up to the days long journey there, I would be delighted to have your company.”
He cast his gaze ahead to his bonded companion, continuing. “Noor has already told me he has no interest in any kind of crowded event and has elected to stay home.” He glossed over the added benefit that traveling alone together meant being able to rest next to each other without feeling the hot gaze of his friend judging his life choices in the early morning. It was certainly a perk he would be looking forward to, as it sounded like Pangaea was intent upon joining him in the upcoming festivities.
