• Logout
  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [private]  I can't repair the damage done, [{Wishbone}]
    #1

    Wolfbane

    Without scrutiny from his father or the threat of tumbling into the unforgiving sea, flying seems  … easier. Loess is perfectly suited for practice, and after about a week of prolonged hopping/soaring Wolfbane believes he’s starting to get the hang of things.

    High time for a journey elsewhere, he thinks.

    Not that Loess was boring. Leilan was interesting company if nothing at all, and Arthas kept to his own business for now so Bane had ample time to circumnavigate the nooks and crannies before finding that the only real undiscovered place in his new home was the stretch of beach just beyond the short range of mountains to the West. He could travel along at their base and doing so had prompted him to look North.

    North was Hyaline and even further than that, Nerine. Wishbone’s home, they seem to remind him. At first he’d considered telling Arthas or someone else his intentions (diplomacy could be in order here) but then, in young adult fashion, he throws caution to the breeze and decides to just make the trip on his own, privately. Wishbone could vouchesafe his safety and there wasn’t any need for him to keep tabs open in Loess. Arthas wasn’t his father or mother, after all.

    Winter is a bitter season for travel, and his flight is only hindered by the fact that Wolfbane can’t rise too high for fear of his wings freezing over totally. It’s an overcast sort of day - grimy, he’d call it, and Nerine’s position on the map only causes the weather to grow more sour as he flaps his way to the border of the cliffside kingdom. When he finally does touch down, it’s with relief because the sky seems to threaten snowfall at any moment. I’m missing the hot springs and Volcano right about now. The young man thinks, shivering away the cold as he folds his matching, white wings across his back.

    The new Loess recruit isn’t thinking so much about the obvious things like, Had she changed? Will she remember me? As he lifts his two-toned head to call out for Wishbone; he’s more so curious to hear if her new home was a comfortable fit. When his childhood companion had told him the news - that she was being more or less traded for alliance reasons - Wolfbane had been furious. He hadn’t understood her absence and spent many nights thereafter plotting rescue mission after rescue mission.

    And then, it seemed that a year had passed and childhood had gone with it. “Wishboneeee! Anyone?” He tries again, hoping that his voice won’t be lost amidst the distant, crashing sea and wailing winds.



    @[Wishbone] finally <3
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #2
    haze like a fever
    i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
    This time, when a call reaches her sun-dipped ears, she’s swimming. The Nerinian ocean is angry today, crashing loud waves against the granite cliffs, but she’d found a place to sneak down a thin trail to reach a small, rocky beach where the waves are less threatening. The water was stinging on her skin when she started out, but by the time she’s beckoned out of the ocean her flesh has numbed from the sensation.

    She’s still wet when she reaches the border. Her dark mane sticks to the sinewy muscle along her neck and a few delicate droplets drip off their tips. Spring had shone its bleary face the day before, thawing the earth and crafting mud puddles to dot Nerine’s landscape. While winter pushes through once more, the puddles remain and Wishbone’s long legs are splattered with mud in traditional Wishbone-fashion. The swelling and pain from her mocking injury has gone down, but a purple-hued bruise still blossoms against her left flank.

    In summary, Wishbone still looks every bit the rambunctious, fearless girl she had been as a child — though she is definitely grown up. When her eyes land on Wolfbane, she cannot help that those are also the first thoughts reaching her mind: he has grown up. It awakens a piece of her she is only just beginning to understand (a piece of her she will grow to cater to) but her delight upon seeing her best friend dims the confusion that ties itself to the awakening.

    “Wolfbane!” Her vocal chords still hold the smoke of Tephra, giving her a honey-whiskey tune to her melodic call. While she had been trotting quickly toward the border before, when she recognizes the two-toned boy her legs stretch into a gallop to close their distance sooner. Just when it might seem Wishbone could run into her friend’s (equally as developing) chest, she darts to Wolfbane’s right and makes a circle before slowing to come up on his left shoulder.

    Her sable nose buries itself first in the thick of his cream feathers, inhaling the scent of her best friend. She blows a teasing snort into his left wing, hoping to tickle the thin nerves there, before pulling her face away to mouth at his unique mane. “Where the fuck have you been?” She might be a princess — and now an heir — but she certainly doesn’t have a lady mouth. A laugh is in the back of her throat, but Wishbone’s mind suddenly registers the new, thickly-slathered scent on Wolfbane.

    “You’ve been to Loess?” There’s a pinch in her gut, thinking of the updates Scorch has been bringing her as the political climate of Beqanna shifts, but then she forces her worries aside. Wolfbane is here and that’s what matters. The politics of their separate lives can wait. So the girl slides herself closer to Wolfbane’s side (and with that action she is suddenly, brutally aware of the way their bodies are no longer those of children) and presses a tender, dainty kiss to the slope of his jawline. “Did you come all this way to see me?”
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[Wolfbane] omg omg omg <33
    #3

    Wolfbane

    Appearing like a vision on the horizon, Wishbone’s entrance clears the visitor’s thoughts entirely. Bane had certainly been expecting her - the girl who stubbornly ran with wolves and played with fire - but instead he’s greeted by her: Wishbone grown up.

    The Loessian stallion shifts on his feet, taking in the sight of her mud-caked legs and loving the fact that at least this part of her remains unchanged. But his eyes are restless and as they roam, they notice nearly everything of the girl he considered almost a sister was simply … gone. The bay mare favors her mother, especially in the lines of her shoulders or the soft dip in her back. Bane notices a feminine charm to her that would strike anyone dumb on first appearance, and then she calls out his name and he remembers. Wishbone was just as much Warrick as she was Wound.

    “You remembered me!” He bellows out in reply, laughing amidst the awkwardness of their reunion. Here was someone who knew him, knew his life and all the problems that’d come with it, and she was rather gracefully racing forward to meet him as if nothing between them was lost. This new woman couldn’t be more alien to him, but she feels wholly like the Wishbone he said goodbye to, especially when her dark mouth touches him in all the same spots his Wishbone used to love.

    “Impressive,” He chuckles (meaning her leg work,) and then, “I’ve been a little bit of everywhere lately - especially Loess.”

    The sound of her laughter! It seems so unreal and yet, his own mouth reaches gingerly for the black length of forelock situated between her ears. He’d known what his Wishbone liked, or preferred, but this new one he’s still unsure about. “I came all this way to see a Wishbone from Tephra, yea …” He teases, flames spreading across his cheeks at her easy kiss, “But you can’t be her.” The stallion affirms with a shake of his glimmering head.

    There - she’s worked him up now. Wolfbane’s lips have transformed into a wildly attractive smirk, one that exposes a single fang and seems to give him a devilish personality. “Are you going to keep me here all day? I expect a grand tour, you know.”



    @[Wishbone]
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #4
    haze like a fever
    i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
    The reunion gives her the same feeling as she would have if she were a human (with smudged, bruised hands and soft lips and salt-curled hair and sunkissed skin) and her fingers had slipped the last piece into the puzzle. Relief and security, comfort and victory — the emotions tangle within her chest like writhing snakes in a way Wishbone cannot begin to unravel. They’ve been away for nearly a year now, where before they had been inseparable.

    His laugh brightens the expression in her amber eyes even further. “Of course I did, silly,” she calls back. It’s true, her face presses into the corners and crevices and planes of him just as she had done as a child. She’s not totally ignorant of their maturity, but her mind neglects to remind her that they’ve both changed and the things that used to be might not be the same now.

    Her hips twist, allowing her back half to dance around him until she can fully see his rugged face. Wishbone can’t deny he looks delicious with the backdrop of Nerine to grace the angle of his jawline and the bright blue of his markings. He holds the same devilish looks as his father, physically suave even while his maturing mind might not feel the same way. The mahogany heiress forces her amber eyes to focus on his own hazel ones before her thoughts get too clouded with sultry shadow and alluring smoke.

    “Well, you’re no childhood-best-friend Wolfbane either,” she banters back. His mouth catches her off guard (that one fang poking through his careless smirk) and she feels heat spread against her face and down her lithe neck. “I’m going to keep you here forever.” Oh how little does Wishbone know of how true a statement that might be, but her head is tossing and, before either of them can speak again, she is pivoting on her heels and careening back the way she had come.

    Her dark mane has dried by now and the Nerinian wind tosses her tangled locks against her shoulders and the slope of her withers. Wishbone casts a look over her shoulder to make sure her friend is following — perhaps even flying above her — before racing toward her favorite spot in Nerine. It’s tricky to get to and she’d actually found it by chance, investigating the depths of a cavern.

    They reach the beachfront quickly and Wishbone slows to a brisk trot once her feet touch the gray sand. She doesn’t stop there, but rather splashes loudly into the waves with a delirious laugh. The water is chillier here than in Tephra, where their home-land’s waves are warmed by the strength of the volcano and the southern ocean, but the girl enjoys the sting on her skin. “We’re going to have to swim,” she tells him. It’s a statement and never a question — they have both grown up bathing in hot springs and splashing through high tides.

    The beach turns into a sloping, granite cliff to their right with outcroppings of hardy beach grass clinging to the dark rock. With a dark (not in the sense of evil, but laced with something equally as dangerous) look over her shoulder, Wishbone plunges into the briny waves and pushes off into the immediate drop-off the ocean provides. Her hooves can’t touch the ground yet — she’s not sure if they ever will — but they only have to swim around the corner of the cliff before the mouth of the cavern yawns like a sleeping lioness.

    The girl steps onto the mouth of cave, where a foot of water still quietly laps onto the rock. Darkness looms where the sun cannot reach, but Wishbone has been in this cavern enough times to dive right into the shadows with a “It’s this way” to her two-toned friend. The walls of the cave rise on either side of them, narrow enough that she can sense the chill of the rock just past the touch of her shoulders. Wolfbane might touch his wings against their length, but there’s enough room for them both to pass without injury.

    About six horse-lengths ahead of them, the cavern opens into a mighty grotto. No light reaches this place, so deeply-set into the cliff’s face, but there is an ethereal glow regardless. Thousands of glow-worms illuminate the grotto in hazy blue light and the radiance casts itself upon Wishbone’s feminine face. In the darkness, the worms become an underground starry sky with blue constellations set against rugged rock. Stalagmites hang precariously from the ceiling, some reflecting in the pool of seawater that lies in the center of the grotto.

    Wishbone walks deeper into the opening, turning her gaze upon Wolfbane’s to catch his expression. Her head gives a quick toss to rid her eyesight of her waterlogged forelock, but once her eyes land on him, she becomes as still as a doe sensing danger. The blue glow highlights the darkness of her body and brightens the already-warm colors of her figure, but she’s more focused on how Wolfbane looks in the illumination of the glow-worms.

    Her voice is a whisper in the dim light, heard only barely above the hush of the waves behind their backs and the drip of moisture running off the stalagmites into the pool. “Welcome to my favorite place in Nerine.”
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[Wolfbane] i imagine it to look something like this but without the hole in the ceiling and more space for them to walk around the pool of water
    #5

    - Are you thinking of me when you love him? -

    It’s growing increasingly hard to keep his eyes off of Wishbone, the more she twists around him like a sultry wildcat. Bane admits to himself that this environment suits her, with its perilous cliffs and occasionally harsh climate. He watches the way she carries herself, how when she speaks her gaze demands centerstage and the rest … falls away. Confidence always suited her, the flashy Loessian thinks, bursting into raucous laughter at her comment on keeping him here forever. Would she laugh the same way, though, if their roles were reversed?

    The streamline curves of her maturing body, all working in graceful tandem with one another, are a glorious thing to watch when Wishbone careens away. Everything inside of her seems to be at its brightest, its best, and as Wolfbane unfurls his wings to take flight above her, he cannot help but begin to adore this Wishbone as much as he did when they were both younger. Still, the odd-looking pegasus manages to playfully jut his tongue out from between his jaws while the mahogany mare turns to look for him; there would be time to explore these new feelings later.

    A draft catches him, sending the bicolored stallion up over the first waves his companion crashes so eagerly into, and then he’s diving down again at full tilt: one wing extended towards the choppy waters while the other turns itself to the hazy sun. The white tips of one feathered wing dip into the water, spraying a fan of gem-like droplets in its wake and then he’s turning, curving his legs beneath him and leveling out to glide, swan-like, into the ocean beside her.

    “Lead the way.” He encourages her, unphased in the least at the prospect of water aerobics when he had a perfectly good pair of tickets to sky travel. It was ten times more enjoyable to watch her leap into the depths, undaunted and daring just as she’d been on land.

    Together the two make good time, Wishbone leading with Bane positioned shoulder-to-hip at her left, and as they round the bend of Nerine a sudden anomaly appears. A littoral cave, pitch-black and yawning wide, welcomes both horses when they push themselves into its depths. “You would be the one to find something like this,” Bane chuckles breathlessly, wading cannon-deep in the inky waters behind her while his head turns side-to-side, “Fuckin’ incredible, Wishbone.”

    She leads them deeper. His own eyes discern nothing so he’s glad she seems to know the way, but he can still smell her wild aroma (nutmeg and warm, windblown and earthy) and so he follows closely while the clatter of their hooves cover up the need for conversation. However, there are questions piling upon each other in his mind while they walk, so much so that Bane opens his mouth to speak only to lose his voice when the soft glow of artificial light gleams ahead.

    With one step, they’re transported into an entirely different world. The stallion can hardly believe it, even as his eyes roam the walls and ceiling while his mouth hangs agape. Wishbone walks ahead - he tilts one ear to hear her - and then she says something that turns his head in her direction. There she stands: a vision cloaked in warm blue, the proud rise of her cheeks and her lovely nose glimmering. In contrast her angles are darkened; she looks nearly feral. His mouth closes shut and he swallows, hard. “Simply beautiful.” He breathes, unable to tear his gaze away from her. The brute moves closer instead, each step deliberate and suddenly … heavy.

    “Tell me what I’ve missed, this past year.” He asks simply enough, nose reaching out to brush against her own, “Nerine really fits you.”

    WOLFBANE



    @[Wishbone] This gave me all the muse <3
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #6
    haze like a fever
    i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
    The sound of wings against air tells her that he has chosen the sky for his path and, when her head turns to spot his tongue playfully poking between his lips, she lets out a laugh so loud and carefree it should reach his golden ears high in the sky. Jealousy presses cold, bitter fingers against her throat for a brief moment — she’s spent her childhood watching her father pinwheel in Tephra’s wind scrubbed skies and Wolfbane test the strength of his feathered appendages. The brisk chill of the seawater cleans her mind from these gritty thoughts, though,  and soon her jealousy is forgotten.

    He’s teasing her, moments before she dives into the darkness just as she had dove into the high waves. Their banter is as familiar as the trails of Tephra, but the atmosphere it provides is different from their childhood. It tastes smooth in her mouth, smoke and honey mingling with gunpowder and chocolate. Wishbone aims a low kick at his chest as he walks behind her, putting enough weight behind it that it might burn for a moment but easily fade away into nothingness. “Shut the fuck up, Bane.” Despite the severity of her words, there’s a laugh in her throat and in the look she tosses over her shoulder.

    It’s all worth it for his reaction.

    At first, she nearly laughs — his olive eyes are wide, the glowing blue twinkling in their depths, while his fanged mouth hangs open like a flytrap. But she is caught off guard — for the second time in the span of their reunion — by the expression hiding beneath the surprise on his face. And the way the light hits his body nearly unbalances her as well, which should be worth mentioning.

    If the blue on his golden skin hadn’t been obvious before, it is now, highlighted by the underground stars. So too does the glow point out the definition of muscle along his body, sinewy cords that Wishbone hadn’t noticed in their youth. The contrasting darkness pulls attention toward his angles (just as it does hers), shadowing the wonder in his face into something more seductive (though such a word wouldn’t dare trespass her mind at this point in time).

    Wishbone swallows hard and her heart seems to jump into her throat when he walks closer to her. She’s drowning, drowning, drowning, drow — “Tell me what I’ve missed, this past year.” Memories of the past year drag her from the depths of her submersion, a buoy to rescue her from the sea of him. “I… uh…” Damn, he’s caught her off-guard again, pinning her to a scuffed, chipped wall with his intense olive eyes. She swallows again, forcing her quivering mind to steel itself against her sudden bewilderment.

    Before she can prepare either herself or him, her mouth opens to spill her news in sliding, quickening words. “I’m going to be queen of Nerine.” Chilly realization swarms the sunset of her eyes and she closes her mouth with a snap as her lungs exhale. But just as quickly as her mouth closes, it opens again. “Oh, shit.” She’s scrambling, feeling so entirely like the first time she stepped on ice with her legs sprawling under her body and ending with her ass in the snow. “That wasn’t supposed to come out that way.” There was going to be more, an explanation, a calm way of saying it, something more than what it ends up being.

    This is totally not cool. Her ears pull themselves into the mass of her tangled, wet mane, a look of disappointment cloaking her face. What will he think? Will he be happy for her, for being able to break away from Tephra’s grasp and make a name for herself? They’ve always talked about it — her to run away into discovery and reckless adventure, him to run away from the wrath of his father and the disappointment of his childhood — but now that it is happening, Wishbone wonders if he will shy away from it. Will he storm away, bent on simmering in the heat of jealousy?

    Her mind — still recovering from the trauma of drowning and the sudden outburst of her news — goes with this last option and she pivots suddenly, racing to block the dark entrance of the glowing cavern. The shadow of his body blocks the blue light from her face, casting her in darkness. “Please don’t leave me.” A whisper, too loud in the quiet of the cavern, that is coated in guilt and appeal. She’s out of character, completely thrown off-balance by the significance of him, and her insides coil away from this fact… from this fear.

    But her gaze holds his strongly, amber eyes touching upon olive eyes.
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[Wolfbane] i started this as one thing and it ended as something completely different, oops <33
    #7

    - Are you thinking of me when you love him? -

    There’s something about being here, in these dark cavernous depths, that sends a shock of total awareness through the budding stallion. It might have been the moment his mouth ghosted overtop Wishbone’s dark nose, much the same way his father had done to his mother so many times before. Or it could just as easily be her reaction; that she pauses, that he makes her take pause. One thing rings true: Bane is all-too floored with the fact that once they depart from this space, neither of them will be as they were before.

    The shape of her mouth is unseen and still it seems to bite him; what his childhood friend says causes him to take a clattering step backwards. Queen? he thinks curiously, all the while Wishbone is spouting profanities and fumbling for an excuse. Half of him could explode - just outright burst into low hoots of laughter - but the other is half is cautious, observant. What was once excitement on the mahogany curves of her cheeks now seemed like apprehension, and Wolfbane watches her without much in the way of a reaction.

    All of their lives he’s been around her, at first annoyed and then grateful, especially when his siblings had decided to fly the coop. A thing like this … becoming Queen of the Leviathans … he knew that nothing could possibly make her happier. So what made his once closest confidant suddenly afraid to share that happiness, especially with him?

    Had the bay girl already become so untrusting as to think he might even disapprove of this news?

    Bane’s blue-barred face turns along with the sharp sound of her rushing to block the only entrance or exit, and he can feel the pressure of a smile threatening to break when her uncertain voice echoes towards his upturned ears. “Look I knoooow that me being a Loessian is a lot to take in and all,” He drawls, tilting his eyes up where the pale light gleamed, “but you don’t have to go around trying to convince me you’re amazing as well.”

    The stallion smiles. He re-adjusts both wings and resumes a casual pose, quick to find her again and lock eyes. “You’ll always be Wishy to me. Even if I can’t formally say that outside of here.”

    WOLFBANE



    @[Wishbone] how does one deal with crippling anxiety ... humor
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #8
    haze like a fever
    i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
    The silence that drapes across his face and the thick absence of oxygen in her lungs pulls a memory into her mind.

    The summer water is clear, a vivid reflection of the endlessly blue skies above. Humidity lays thick across Tephra, dampening their skin and suffocating their lungs in a strangely familiar way. The waves are smooth and happy against her young legs. The sun is warm, spreading across her shoulders and back in a delicious blanket of light.

    In the near distance, close to the shoreline but too far to be shallow, the surface of the ocean shatters to reveal the dark back of a humpback whale. Droplets arc into the air, glittering when the sun’s rays catch them, and the sound of a powerful breath is faint above the rush of the tides. Two more whales surface alongside the first and Wishbone watches as their tails flick above the surface before they dip below the southern sea’s waves.

    “I want to swim with them.” Her voice is young and husky, melting perfectly with their ashen surroundings. When her eyes turn toward Wolfbane, he is just as young as she — the angles of his face are softened by youth and the shine of childhood immaturity is in his olive eyes. He was probably expecting her to remain on the shore yet her feet move swiftly deeper into the water before he can say anything.

    It isn’t long before she realizes her mistake, but it is only when the sand gives out beneath her and the ocean sweeps her further out. The whales are swimming away as well, lost in the daily habits of searching for food, and never even glance at the slender little filly nearly-drowning to reach them. Wishbone starts choking as exhaustion swarms her and a startled cry slips between her water-doused lips. “Wolfbane!”


    He’d rescued her, as he always has when she runs headlong into trouble, but the expression on his face when they’d finally crawled onto Tephra’s shore again is akin to the one he carries now in the artificial glow of the cavern. It feels as though every muscle in her body is poised to run, though she’s not sure where (away from her favorite place with her favorite person or toward his broad chest or into the sea where she will surely drown herself once more). Then a smile shatters the stoic expression on his face and she feels her entirely body relax with relief.

    She has always trusted him to get her out of anything, even when it is her own mind.
    This time is no different.

    Wishbone secures herself around the steadiness of his olive gaze. It centers her and she realigns around the strength she almost always holds. A deep breath pulls into her lungs, stuttering toward the beginning but smoothing out quickly. “God, I don’t know what I was thinking,” she says. “Of course you would never leave me.” Her feet are stepping closer to him, the memory that had just dripped through her mind resurfacing the fact that this is her Wolfbane, the very same one that found sea glass with her, saved her from drowning, played tag with her in Tephra’s jungle, and often complained about the agitation of his father.

    This last thought brings her closer to him even further, enough that her lithe chest nearly presses against his deep one. She’s been around Femur and Longclaw to recognize the touches of lovers and her own sable mouth reaches forward to softly touch the tender skin along his withers, just below the line of his bright-white mane. Blue and black connect, delicate and hesitant, but Wishbone is forcing herself to finish her thought process before she gets lost in the suddenly-manly scent of him.

    “How’s Longclaw doing?” She knows this is a tender subject for him, one that has plagued him all his life, but her voice is its normal strong honey-whiskey tune once more. She’s always been startlingly straight with him (even when she’d announced becoming queen just now) and she doesn’t plan on stopping. Nor does she pull away from him, choosing to say the words against the smooth navy and gold of his skin. “Have you visited him recently?”
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[Wolfbane] <33
    #9

    - Are you thinking of me when you love him? -

    They make memories. It’s what they do. Wolfbane knows the smell of her salt-soaked skin, the tune of her thick, passionate voice. Everything that had been so commonplace before was suddenly so obviously striking now, and he marvels at how instantaneously the entire span of a lifetime intertwined with this exciting, daringly exquisite mare had come into focus.

    There had always been Wishbone and Wolfbane, and there always would be.

    The careful blue smile he’s constructed doesn’t falter when she edges nearer; this is natural to him, having her close. In fact it all seems natural - the way his lips reach for her poll at the same instant her own touch the high point of his shoulder - and Wolfbane is more willing to let whatever was happening simply happen, rather than debate the merits or drawbacks anymore. There would always come a time when she needed him and, even if he can’t be the one to hold her every night, he’ll be the one who holds her when it matters most. Fuck the rest of them, whoever they are that’ll slink in and see what he’s seeing.

    He’ll outdo them all.

    Of course you would never leave me, the bay mare sighs; a breathy gasp that sends his gut writhing into a coil of nerves. This was no ordinary woman, no creature who could be won over by talk and flattery. If what he feels is real, (and it is, more real than anything he’s ever experienced before) Bane knows he won’t be the first or the last to desire her. What he knows for certain is that no one will fight for her like he will, and no one will ever understand her needs or heart the way he does.

    All this time …

    “Probably worse.” He answers her, trying hard to cover his disappointment with nonchalance. “No, I haven’t. I’ve thought about visiting Femur but -” He drops off, unwilling to say the final words I can’t bear to see him again. Instead the blue striped stallion grows quiet, letting his mouth drift to the shadowy curve of her throat instead. “You realize how important you are to me, don’t you?” The Loessian tries, wanting - needing her to know this above all else.

    WOLFBANE



    @[Wishbone]
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #10
    haze like a fever
    i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
    She smiles when his mouth finds her poll. All of Wishbone’s previous worries — becoming queen, his reaction, the quickness of their maturity — melt away when he touches her and she is grateful for it. Where before their actions had been awkward and surprising (the newness of his muscle and the curve of her body had become unfamiliar aliens on a used-to-be-familiar world), there is only ease and comfort now.

    It is simple and it is perfect.
    It is Wishbone and Wolfbane.

    She isn’t thinking of her other suitors, like he might be; her thoughts are twisted and knotted within the aura he carries with him. He captures her like a dainty butterfly and pins her to a collector’s wall with that olive stare, only to release her back into the wild with the slide of his mouth against her mahogany skin. Wishbone revels under it for a moment, thriving in the familiarity he carries with him. He is her security amid the danger. Nerine and her future queenship might be unfamiliar, but Wolfbane provides the comfort she longs for in the chill of the night.

    Her face pulls into a frown at his words. “I think it would be a good idea if you did. At least visit your mom, Wolfbane.” Femur has always been kind to her children, Wishbone included, and the girl is certain the fanged mare could grow lonely with all her children racing away from their father. Wolfbane has never had the type of father Warrick is. Although the girl rarely admits it aloud, she is thankful for the character her father is — she is, at the very least, glad her father is not Longclaw. While Wishbone had grown up alongside the blue warg and his family, when the edge of a blade sharpened his tongue or the threat of darkness swarmed his pupils the girl was able to run home to her mother or along some unexplored beachfront. The gold and blue boy hadn’t been able to run so easily from his own father, especially when Tephra offered little places to run to.

    It reminds her of what Wolfbane had said when they first reunited (“I’ve been a little bit of everywhere lately — especially Loess”) and an infiltrating thread of concern floats among the rose of her contentment. The concern is lost as his lips drift from her poll to her throat, where her pulse beats. The rhythm of her heart is quicker now, as he nudges against the soft and vulnerable pieces of her, but Wishbone does nothing to stop it. She doesn’t want it to stop.

    The mahogany almost wants to tease him for his words, but there’s an ache in his voice that silences the amusement before true words even formulate in her mind. They’ve always cared for each other in their youth — there had been several nights toward the end where they had slept wrapped against one another while Longclaw raged into the darkness — but the way Wolfbane says it now brings a different light. A light she is willing to step into.

    She grows unnaturally still under him, though it isn’t with fright. His fangs could reach and tear her esophagus from her throat but Wishbone feels no danger in his presence. In fact, she leans into his touch while her response flows out. “I believe I have a good understanding.” Dammit, she can’t even keep just that little bit of good-natured teasing out of her voice. Wishbone thinks she understands what he’s saying, but the whirlwind of their reunion and everything that follows leaves her partially guessing.

    There had been a look in the olive of his eyes the first time they had entered the cave — a look she will be dreaming about for days to come — that helps guide her.

    “Bane, I don’t know what I would do without you.” She’s tender now, moving her face away from his shoulder and toward his own blue-lined one. Her sable lips press a soft, lingering kiss against the plane of his cheekbone. “If you got hurt…” There’s a bitter chill in her stomach at thought, one that tingles against her skin in a way she hates. Wishbone’s rarely experienced fear before, but this is certainly it. “... I’d have to come and kill you.”

    She presses her face against the strength of his neck, expecting some sort of sassy retort. Wishbone is melting into him, a feeling that isn’t her normal state of mind but she is moving with it regardless. It isn’t a bad feeling, falling into a tender mess at Wolfbane’s feet, and a breath of a smile finds her mouth as she touches another kiss (this one perhaps slightly more heated?) into his skin.
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[Wolfbane] this post is titled: wishbone becomes a sap




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)