GARETH
There's some kind of light at the end
When touching the edge of her skin
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.”
