Morozko was not a stallion often given to marveling, and yet here he stood, amazed.
He’d never seen anything like the creature before him in his eight years in Veteris. It was huge, nearly the length of his body, and seemed to squat on stubby legs on a muddy bank. The beast almost blended into the leaf-litter around it, but unmistakable was the armor it wore: a plated shield over its back, ridged like dragon-spikes. It was battle-garb even a citadel guard like he could envy.
The beast was snapping turtle, though he didn’t know it. He would have nodded appreciatively at the name, though – scant moments ago he’d made the mistake of drawing too near, and it had opened a cruelly beaked mouth with an audible hiss.
Now he stood a respectable distance away, damp to the knees from his retreat through the muck, and waited for it to do something.
It nicely summed up the bulk of his existence in Novus so far: observing and waiting, trying to learn the customs and world of a place so like his, and just different enough to feel distorted.
This swamp in particular was one of the worst – it was so humid here. Morozko hated the way his skin felt constantly damp, and even the late-spring breezes in the open meadows felt too warm. It made him feel sluggish, unprepared; the unicorn missed the sharp bite of his home country, the kind of cold that forced you awake. The way the snow made everything stark and clear.
Not like this place, he thought, as his silver-eyed gaze combed the dark bands of trees. Everything was a muted green or brown; what sunlight filtered through the leaves and moss did so weakly, and provided scant illumination of the algae-slick water and mud below. Anything could be hiding here. Even the birds sounded like they were calling out warnings.
Perhaps it was time he heeded them. With a last appreciative glance at the squat little dragon (he could think of nothing else it might be), the unicorn turned back north, picking his way delicately through the boggy ground. His mouth made a slight curl of distaste, but that melted into a flat line a moment later, when he heard a splashing and a snapping to his right.
Pausing, Morozko turned his narrow head toward the source of the noise. He waited until the figure resolved into the shape of an equine before giving a wordless nicker – a sound both welcome and warning.
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
It's not so much that she blends in, camouflaged, as much as she just stays soft in the background, not moving or even practically breathing she is so still. She watches him, the pale unicorn. Though he is bigger, and certainly capable of fleeing, the stallion faces off with a snapping turtle. She stares, absurd amusement twisting her features. It's like he's never seen one before, and certainly doesn't know what to do with it. Her gold eyes watch him depart, and in near-silence she wandered along in the trees that provided shelter. Eyes watching -- then she moves out from shelter of the timber.
It's not like there were tons of trees. Just enough to hide her from wandering eyes. But now she's exposed, charcoal wings tucked against her body. The Friesian thinks she is silent as the grave but she snaps a twig with her gold hoof. Her hooves sink into the boggy mud, identifying not just her presence but her exact location. The mane-less stallion turns to look at her, his silver eyes piercing into her with curiosity - further identified by a welcoming nicker. There was a hint of warning behind it though, and she wonders what cause he has to be so defensive. (Although she shouldn't wonder, after this rather sad encounter with the turtle.) She steps forward out of the mire into more solid ground, nearing him. Her velvets part to release soft, rich vocals. "Easy there, boy. I'm a friendly enough face." A chuckle follows her words and she swishes her ink and gold tail. Her mockery is gentle, compared to normal, enough that he might not even recognize it for what it is.
She stops when she's within a few yards and tilts her head just a fraction to the side. "Saw you with that turtle back there. Is that what's got you worried about an approaching stranger?" She smirks, wondering if he'll provide some sort of excuse. Or if the reasoning will be worth listening to and be beyond a simple grasping for straws.
He ought to have seen her sooner - someone that striking. Once your eyes first caught gold she was unmissable, and his gaze did not stray from her again as she drew near. Morozko’s silver eyes find her gold ones and his expression softens, though the line of his mouth is still firm when he reads the amusement plain in her features.
At her laughter - and her use of the word boy, as though he is anything but a stallion grown and tried - he wonders whether he ought to have stuck with the turtle.
But she seems harmless enough, and he’s too new to Novus to jump into making enemies out of neutral encounters. “And a pretty enough one,” he says, and his expression does not give away how he might have meant the words. Let her make assumptions the same as he was.
The mare - more out of place than even he in this swamp, though he couldn’t have said why - makes mention of the beast he’d been watching, and the unicorn glances back over his shoulder. There is no sign of the creature now; only brown water with a sickly sheen and a claw-marked slope of mud. “Turtle?” he repeats, and the thoughtful way he shapes the word makes it clear it’s a foreign one to him. “Is that what you call it?”
There is nothing embarrassed in his features when he faces her again; Morozko is a proud creature, to be sure, but he has never seen shame in ignorance born of lack of experience. But he can still read some of the teasing in her tone, and his mouth shapes an easy smile. “I’ve never run across one before. I was simply impressed with its defense system - such a shield as I haven’t seen. It made me wonder if there’s something dangerous around, but…” he shrugs, dropping his angular head so that he’s looking at her slant-ways. “I guess there’s only you.” His quick grin, then, is a wicked little thing.
Here was another fascinating discovery - Morozko hadn’t expected to have fun out here in the swamp.
He can’t decide if it’s a blessing that she isn’t from the Dusk Court, or trouble.
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
"And a pretty enough one."
She's not sure whether he means the turtle or herself, but she's fairly sure that he means her. Stroking her ego, eh? It works and her lobes perk forward, her orbs glowing with pleasure at the compliment. Placated, she listens to him muse about the turtle without further mockery. It's strange to think that he's never seen a turtle, but perhaps they did not exist where he came from. It's hard to think that other lands may be so different from the ones she's been in. He smiles at her easily, letting her mocking tone bounce right off of him.
But then he slaps her back with words of his own. "It made me wonder if there's something dangerous around here... but there's only you." She snorts in derision, pinning her ears and eyeing him scornfully. She takes the bait of his jest much more easily than he to hers. Perhaps she's just a more emotional gal. But the initial reaction softens and she lends a small sneer his direction. "Ah, but I could be. It could all just be a grand deception." She coos softly then chuckles with amusement.
She steps closer to him, then begins to circle him, her mane shifting softly over her neck and shoulders. She doesn't really mean it in an intimidating matter, but her actions may be open to interpretation. She tilts her head at him. "So what's your name, stranger? Where are you from?" From which court or which land... either would be an appropriate answer. But his answers so far have been rather interesting, and her eyes burn with curiosity.
She takes both his compliment and his playful barb as well as he’d hoped, and Morozko is surprised at the pleasure it gives him. In Hiemsterra, most reactions came slowly as sap in midwinter, whether anger or joy. It was rare that he came across anyone such as she; rarer still that he was in a position to tease and test in the first place. Perhaps he was already suffering from the break in discipline from his soldier’s life.
He’d missed that routine since his arrival in Novus, the order in knowing what your day would entail. But he finds he doesn't miss it quite so much at the moment.
“Then the rose is a particularly good touch,” he answers, but his smile is softer, now, matching her laugh.
He doesn’t move when she nears, though he arches his neck and tips his horn, opening himself for inspection. It feels, strangely, like standing before his commander in the royal guard; still, his eyes follow her with more interest than they ever watched Borya. Only his ears move, tracking her, first one and then the other. The silver earrings glint in the weak sunlight that filters through the moss-hung trees.
“I’m Morozko. And I live in the Dusk Court.” It’s then that his posture loosens and he turns toward her, extending his dark muzzle toward her shoulder and the strong line of a wing. Not close enough to touch, just close enough to catch the scent of her over the humid foliage-and-water smell of the swamp.
“And you…” he might have taken her for a creature of the Night Court, but he remembers well the smell of their sovereign, the woodsmoke and witch-light in his eyes. The scent she carried was harder, brighter, and all that gold - but it was the necklace she wore that made him certain. “Solterra.” Perhaps he should have guessed it before — but then, she might have guessed where he was from, considering the swamp he stood in. “So what brings you this far southwest? You’re a long way from home.” And yet, when it came to home, he was far, far further.
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
His initial reply is soft and friendly, like her chuckle. And here you think Inkheart was devoid of friendliness and warmth? It's alright, it's a common misconception. He compliments the melted rose marking that decorates her flank. Despite the obvious display, she has found that it is rarely commented on. Her dark neck arches just a little more, mirroring his motion, showing subtle signs of pleasure at the compliment. He doesn't move as she walks around him, and a tingle moves through her skin like a small ripple, giving her chills. It's a submissive gesture and she's getting a thrill from the momentary high.
The grey stallion answers her question without any hesitation, but honestly and plainly. Morozko of the Dusk Court. His muzzle moves toward her feathered appendage and she hesitates, stiffening as he nears her. He doesn't make contact, but lingers long enough to inhale her smell. She wonders if he smells her strong feminine scent along with the Solterra sands.
She lifts her head and gazes at this Morozko. "I enjoy traveling." Proselytizing. Scouting. Learning. "And with the benefit of wings, traveling takes a lot less time than by hoof." A unreadable glimmer lights her eyes. A flick of her long, thick tail indicates a certain.. playfulness.
By now he’s withdrawn slightly, giving her back her space. But the stallion’s eye is caught (as was surely her intent) by the flick of her tail, the slight melodic jingle of the golden coins there, and before he answers her he allows his gaze to make its way back to her face languidly. It travels back over the rose on the curve of her hip, the scatter of gold like stardust on her wings, the necklace around the feminine arch of her neck. Perhaps, in a way, she is dangerous, but the thrill he feels is far from fear.
“I’m sure the view from up there is unparalleled.” Still his voice is level as a hand along smooth stone, but there is that faint curve on his lips, that glimmer in his silver eyes as they watch her gold ones. It is clear he’s enjoying their verbal exploration of one another, clearer still his words can be taken more than one way.
He’d thought his…assignment in Terrastella would mean the end of the types of relationships he’d enjoyed, on occasion, at the Winter Court. But Morozko was beginning to wonder if this might be one of the rare times where he’d be delighted to be wrong.
With some reluctance, he turns his attention away, back to the stillness of the swamp around them. He feels lazy as a cat in the thick heat, but he’s glad he came, gladder still he’d found something far more diverting than the turtle. Though he studies a sudden ripple in the bog some distance away, one black-edged ear remains trained on her, making clear where his attention truly lies.
“And have you seen anything of particular interest on your travels…?” He leaves a conspicuous pause after the question, a place where her name ought to go. It is only fair, after all, now that she had his. Otherwise, he’d have to come up with his own things to call her.
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
And just like that a simple insult, a simple rebuttal, a plain chat turns into a flirtatious interlude between two strangers. Or - once strangers. His words could (attempt) to melt her heart like the melted gold rose upon her leg. His gaze wanders over her almost lasciviously, and her chills continue. Not that she hasn't been eyed that way before but.. she's enjoying it. Her lashes flutter as she responds to his compliment. "Quite." She admits to him, her vocals rich and lush. "But there are other views that may come close..." The dark mare trails off, her meaning quite pointed and clear as she focuses her eyes on his trimmed, sculpted head.
She can't answer why she's flirting with him. There's nothing logical about it. It's just happening. He's obviously not a worshipper of Solis, and he's not a member of Solterra. She doesn't sense anything evil about him that might make her think him a devil worshipper. Perhaps she's just curious about his look, his intrigue at the world around him that is unfamiliar. There isn't a good explanation and, if she stopped to think about it, it would bother her. But it is easier to stay in the moment, to see where it carries her, them.
Anything interesting on her travels...? "Inkheart." She speaks her name almost with a purr. She takes a step, moving closer but not enough to touch. Just enough to increase the tension. "I have seen the tallest peak in Novus, and the cliffs by the sea. Not all walks of life, but a few. Yours is different, too. I'd be interested in learning... more." A feathered wing reaches out to stroke along his spine if he lets her, caressing his hide the way she hopes her last word caresses his mind.
His smile sharpens at her reply, turning almost vulpine. “Mmm. Is that so?” If she doesn’t know why she’s flirting with him, he’s just as helpless to name a reason, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t enjoying it all the same. Enough of his life was filled with orders and reasons and regiments; here, in this moment, he was only a man.
A man in the presence of a most intriguing stranger, though they were working on that point.
Inkheart. He likes the name, the way she rolls it off her tongue, the imagery it implies. She glides nearer, a whisper of darkness beneath the shadow of the trees, and Morozko shifts his stance, opening his posture to her. The mares of the Winter Court were traditionalists; he often found himself the pursuer. But there is something agreeable about the way she advances on him, the almost predatory tilt to her finely-shaped head. It’s easy to forget they’re standing on a rare patch of dry ground in the midst of swamp, with the drone of insects all around. Easy to tune out even the trilling calls of birds in favor of the low-throated sound of her voice.
He doesn’t reach out to close the space between them, but he imagines he can feel her breath stir the lilac hairs of his coat. At her words he draws in a long breath and wonders if her heart is having as difficult a time as his keeping a steady rhythm. It feels illicit, this game they’re playing; perhaps the long shadows, the gnarled, reaching branches, the slow and murky water is a setting that suits them, after all.
Oh, but he would like to see her in all sorts of settings.
“I’d be happy to share what I know with you.” His voice comes out rough and low as she strokes so lightly along his spine, and it is chased by a shiver deeper than any he’d felt in the depths of winter. For a moment he closes his eyes, giving in to the feeling alone - and when he opens them it’s to turn toward her wing, heavy with the scent of her. At first he glides his muzzle along it, each soft breath stirring the downy feathers there; then, gently as a kiss, he closes his teeth on a feather and tugs. To touch her was to taste ambrosia; Morozko is suddenly greedy for more.
It is an effort, then, to withdraw - even if it’s just enough to face her again, meeting those golden eyes like a dare. “I’m sure there are plenty more things you could show me. I’m new to Novus…but I’m a very fast learner.” And there were far more interesting things than turtles to acquaint himself with.
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
She wasn't expecting any of this. She wasn't expecting ANY of this. And yet here they are in the middle of this swamp of all things. She has certainly had no qualms using sex as one of her skills to proselytize or to slay the demons in the world. It's a tool in her toolbox, that she keeps sharp and uses whenever she needs to. But this is different. His lids close and raise again, his eyes devouring her. He's maintained his cool so far, his words as soft and seductive, as sly as hers. The dance they're playing is obvious but.. not in a sickly sweet way. She's getting swept up in the sensations on her skin, in her breast. Has she gone so soft that she is susceptible to his charm, to the touch and temptation of a man? Or is there something about him that weakens and dismantles her walls?
His words are like a slow tease, and were she prone to giggling, she might have then. Share what he knows? Oh, there's no doubt in her mind EXACTLY what he would like to share with her. His velvet lips trace along her shadowed wing, and a shiver that starts in her belly spreads outward through her entire body. It isn't until he tugs on a feather that she realizes she's been holding her breath. His gaze returns to meet hers, but as if enchanted, her eyes have glazed over, barely registering what he says. She could cut the fun short - take his words at face value and ignore the innuendo. She could pretend that all they were discussing was the topography of Novus, the history there. But she can't bring herself to do it. She's been swept away by the surprise moment, and now that she's stuck right in the middle of it, she can't imagine resisting the whirlpool that is dragging her so far down.
"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours." Her voice is gravelly, barely above a whisper. And just like that, her offer is laid on the table, plain as day. Her thick, luscious tail lifts and her nares flare. There's nothing about worship in this, knowledge, power.... This is carnal lust, fallen out of the sky like a forlorn angel, ensaring every fiber of her being in its bestial rage. She doesn't want to admit it - but she needs this.
WC: 401 | Tag: @Morozko
That's it, I'm showing my hand. We need to pair these two up in a match and see if poor Ink gets preggo. If you're up for it, or if Morozko is! O:-)
