G A R E T H
It’s only after the woman provided her stuttering, stunned response that the beast pondered if his investigative technique had been questionable. Sure, he could have eyeballed the distance, but he had always been a more ‘hands on’ learner, and measuring her with his muzzle had seemed to be a simple and efficient solution. His audits flicked, answering flatly, “Just measuring, to make sure it would fit.”
His other suggestions clearly made the mare nervous, her eyes flitting about and shifting her weight uneasily. He had expected her to show resistance to the thought, and the stallion couldn’t blame her for the hesitation. It would have been like asking him to hobble himself, or remove his sight. Her flight was a valuable part of who she was, and how she had survived. Gareth had gained her trust, but perhaps he had not fostered enough for her to truly place her life in his hands. She’d confirmed as much, reiterating her reliance on the appendages, her worries about not being able to defend herself or to escape.
The agreement had surprised him, though. If he promised she would be safe; that was her stipulation. If the brute could make sure that she was protected, that no harm would come to her, she would chance it. He couldn’t help but grin, mirth colouring his vocals. “You must really love my peaches, then,” he teased.
As he moved past the mare to collect the fur from the bedding he pressed his girth to hers in a sign of comfort and support. “I can also take a look at extra wrapping for your leg,” he agreed. “It will probably be more comfortable to you with the cold, too.”
When he returned with the bear hide he draped it across her spine so that it would almost appear like the animal was giving her a particularly flat hug, the limbs of the beast dangling down the length of her own pistons. He carefully unbuckled his own satchel, arranging and rearranging where it would sit in an effort to make sure that it would not rub too uncomfortably against the delicate leather of her wings underneath. He was quiet in his work, the fire providing an intimate glow as he pulled and adjusted the straps under her belly and across her rump.
“There,” he said, nudging the ridge of her spine where it extended to her tail as he finished the last buckle. “That should hold, and keep the hide from slipping, too.” The stallion stepped back, providing her ample space to become accustomed to the feeling of both the large bear fur and the strapping across her wings. If she panicked he was right there to reassure her and they would explore other options.
His other suggestions clearly made the mare nervous, her eyes flitting about and shifting her weight uneasily. He had expected her to show resistance to the thought, and the stallion couldn’t blame her for the hesitation. It would have been like asking him to hobble himself, or remove his sight. Her flight was a valuable part of who she was, and how she had survived. Gareth had gained her trust, but perhaps he had not fostered enough for her to truly place her life in his hands. She’d confirmed as much, reiterating her reliance on the appendages, her worries about not being able to defend herself or to escape.
The agreement had surprised him, though. If he promised she would be safe; that was her stipulation. If the brute could make sure that she was protected, that no harm would come to her, she would chance it. He couldn’t help but grin, mirth colouring his vocals. “You must really love my peaches, then,” he teased.
As he moved past the mare to collect the fur from the bedding he pressed his girth to hers in a sign of comfort and support. “I can also take a look at extra wrapping for your leg,” he agreed. “It will probably be more comfortable to you with the cold, too.”
When he returned with the bear hide he draped it across her spine so that it would almost appear like the animal was giving her a particularly flat hug, the limbs of the beast dangling down the length of her own pistons. He carefully unbuckled his own satchel, arranging and rearranging where it would sit in an effort to make sure that it would not rub too uncomfortably against the delicate leather of her wings underneath. He was quiet in his work, the fire providing an intimate glow as he pulled and adjusted the straps under her belly and across her rump.
“There,” he said, nudging the ridge of her spine where it extended to her tail as he finished the last buckle. “That should hold, and keep the hide from slipping, too.” The stallion stepped back, providing her ample space to become accustomed to the feeling of both the large bear fur and the strapping across her wings. If she panicked he was right there to reassure her and they would explore other options.
"Speech" | | @Pangaea
