P a n g a e a
i wish it was cooling me, but so far, has not been good
it's been shitty and i feel awkward, as i should
There was something about the stallion, that always had Pangaea wanting to reach towards him. Something that hummed to her through her bones. That desire to keep him close. But . . . suddenly this felt like another obstacle, another monumental moment in their relationship, her muzzle touched to his cheek, and his acceptance to assisting her with something so simple as ensuring her hair was once more in proper order seemed to weave that red thread even tighter around them - connecting them with stronger, and stronger knots. Entangling their lives together.
The soft purr of his baritone seemed to rumble straight through her, and it took all her own self control to not say screw it to bath time, and instead screw . . . no, bad thoughts, bad thoughts. Though, not really bad, just at the wrong time . . . wrong moment. Instead, she gave into the desire to lean into that rumble, nuzzling her muzzle against his neck, smiling softly at his promise of offering her the world, "The world sounds a lot to handle . . ." She replied softly, shaking her head, before brushing her muzzle briefly against his as she pulled away, "I'm certainly not so demanding as that . . ." But if she was being honest, all she would ever want to ask of him, would be for him. Him for forever. To never leave his side, to stay in Denocte, into his home that had also become hers over the course of the last few seasons.
But focus, focus; onto her hair. She let him assist with those curls, carefully untangling the long curls, separating the finished sections to the other side of her neck once they were done. With the two of them working together, it was certainly moving far faster than if she was doing it alone, as he assisted in pulling small pieces of missed debris from the locks, even as she carefully worked each curl into a perfect, clean ringlet. She pauses at his question, smiling at the softness of his touch, before thinking on her answer.
Pampered? There's a moment's of pause, of uncertainty on her face. What did it actually mean to be pampered? She had the occasional quick bath, to clean and retie her hair back . . . But to truly be pampered. "I guess that would depend on your definition of pampered. My people aren't the most . . . demonstrative . . . The most pampering I've ever had . . . has likely been these past few months with you." She admitted after a moment, her head ducking faintly, embarrassed to admit it. "Prior to that . . ." She hesitates, she really does. "Back home, it's a much more dangerous world . . . no time for pampering, really. I was considered silly for even caring about my appearance beyond making sure my mane and tail where bound back. That I would wash it regularly to try to keep it clean was considered too time consuming, too much time out in the open, for a predator to see me."
This is the part where she really hesitates, "First leaving my home world . . . the place I ended up . . . . " A ripple, a shiver carries down her spine, remembering the chains, the cold touch of steel. The tranquilizers when she had to be moved from her containment unit. While the unit itself was nice enough - enough space, and natural with real grass, and trees . . . it had been a cage to disguise the experimentation, the tests . . . the pain when she was deemed 'behaving dangerous. "There was . . . nothing pampering about that place." Duellum, she was certain; had met his own end in that location. His own death. The remaining raptor from her and Rex's pack. She turned her head, burrowing her head against his neck, the damp, now clean curls moving more easily, now that they were no longer tangled together.
She breaths in his scent, finding that sense of grounding, of comfort, of safety in him that she'd started associating with him for so, so long now. "No, I'd say the most pampering I've ever received has been with you . . . I suppose my only option is to stay as close to you as I can from now on." She teased gently, breathing those words against his neck as she leaned into the steadiness of his muscular built, "For as long as you'll have me of course." Maybe she did need the world . . . after all, Gareth had become the center of her world many, many moons ago.
She pulled her muzzle away once more, turning towards the shore to collect one of the gold bands, carefully clipping it back into place against her neck, containing those long curls. The next section was very loosely braided, or twisted, helping to draw up the length more, before being clipped into place by the next couple of bands, until her mane was once more contained in her usual style. Turning towards her tail, she repeated the process, wrapping her tail hair around the long tail base itself, the bands clipping the hair properly into place, so that the locks wouldn't come loose from their confinement. Once her hair was back in proper order, contained with only the long curls of her forelock left out to frame around her face and jaw, did she turn back to the stallion, playfully poking him in the chest with her muzzle. "Your turn. You've got enough muck being removed by the water to prove you're just as caked in the smoke from that bonfire as I was. When was the last time you were pampered, dear Gareth?" The mare teased, moving towards him to nuzzle herself up against his body, picking at his mane playfully from where it was bound up. "Even a fair bit of your white markings look more grayed out than ivory." She added, before playfully using her weight to push him deeper into the Rapax River, careful to make sure he would fall into the shadows, but still deep enough that the waters moving past would strip more of the dust, and smoke from the fur of his body, playfully following him into the deeper waters.
Compassion was a two way street after all . . . and if he was willing to pamper her, she'd return to the favor . . . How else would she make sure he remained aware that the devotion went both ways. She might not be able to give him the world, so she'd done the next best thing; and she had given him all of her heart so long ago.
since i thought you and me
i am imagining, a dark lit place, or your place or my place
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Gareth
Notes:
well i'm not paralyzed, but i seem to be struck by you
i want to make you move, because you're standing still
if your body matches what your eyes can do
you'll probably move right through, me on my way to you.
