08-26-2016, 07:44 AM
Ooc: does this have the same first few paragraphs as my other post? Yes. But I was writing that one to be an “any” post and then I felt it turning into a “find ygritte post” so basically I did it both ways and I’m not sorry :|
Though the wounds from his battle with Killdare have long since scarred over, Kreios still festers with the loss of his family. Perhaps that is what had driven him (at least momentarily) from Ygritte. He had needed to be alone for a few days, but those days turned into weeks, and by the time he had been willing to return she has grown cold herself. He will wait for her, of course; he will always wait for Ygritte.
As the stallion stands beside the non-magical falls, the sweat drips from his neck and into the lather on his chest and legs. He has been pushing himself for months now, building up his stamina, his endurance – and it shows. Always a tall and impressive figure, the draft horse is in better physical condition than he has ever been before.
He is ready, but there is nothing to be ready for.
Beqanna has accepted the loss of the Desert, and the kingdoms that he had once considered allies – or at least not enemies – seem filled with traitors and danger. Their untrained diplomats had been only part of that; the majority of the blame lies with himself. He refuses to pin it on Ygritte as well, because for all her cleverness and dedication, she is still a mare, and the stallion is ultimately responsible for all of the wrongs that might occur within a kingdom.
He wants to find the bay mare; he is tired of this rift between them.
So he does, locating her in a copse of trees where they are shielded from even the mild winter Fall winds. Their youngest son is a weanling now, off to play, and Kreios wastes no time as he approaches.
His touch is somewhat rough and rather possessive as he comes up beside her. The way he breathes so heavily beside her, the way he rests his thick neck across her delicate one as he nibbles at her ear, it is clear that were the season right he’d have her beneath him instead of beside him. They have always had more than sex between them, but Kreios finds that it is her physical nearness that he has missed most. He has never felt distant from her emotionally, even when they barely talked, but her warmth beside him in the cool nights has been absent for long enough.
“I miss you,” he says with a quiet exhalation, “Come back.”
Though the wounds from his battle with Killdare have long since scarred over, Kreios still festers with the loss of his family. Perhaps that is what had driven him (at least momentarily) from Ygritte. He had needed to be alone for a few days, but those days turned into weeks, and by the time he had been willing to return she has grown cold herself. He will wait for her, of course; he will always wait for Ygritte.
As the stallion stands beside the non-magical falls, the sweat drips from his neck and into the lather on his chest and legs. He has been pushing himself for months now, building up his stamina, his endurance – and it shows. Always a tall and impressive figure, the draft horse is in better physical condition than he has ever been before.
He is ready, but there is nothing to be ready for.
Beqanna has accepted the loss of the Desert, and the kingdoms that he had once considered allies – or at least not enemies – seem filled with traitors and danger. Their untrained diplomats had been only part of that; the majority of the blame lies with himself. He refuses to pin it on Ygritte as well, because for all her cleverness and dedication, she is still a mare, and the stallion is ultimately responsible for all of the wrongs that might occur within a kingdom.
He wants to find the bay mare; he is tired of this rift between them.
So he does, locating her in a copse of trees where they are shielded from even the mild winter Fall winds. Their youngest son is a weanling now, off to play, and Kreios wastes no time as he approaches.
His touch is somewhat rough and rather possessive as he comes up beside her. The way he breathes so heavily beside her, the way he rests his thick neck across her delicate one as he nibbles at her ear, it is clear that were the season right he’d have her beneath him instead of beside him. They have always had more than sex between them, but Kreios finds that it is her physical nearness that he has missed most. He has never felt distant from her emotionally, even when they barely talked, but her warmth beside him in the cool nights has been absent for long enough.
“I miss you,” he says with a quiet exhalation, “Come back.”