paint it black; teal

[Lior]

dark son of gunsynd

The male is unnerved and more so annoyed that he had decided to use his time on this cripple creature. Pewter pools gaze at her with such a stoic capacity that he appeared to be a solid figure carefully chiseled out of onyx. The honey dipped woman is cautious (as she should be). She is flighty and fragile like a butterfly carved from wax so that if she were handled too long she would melt into a twisted and fractured shape. Lior watches her dance, high action and nimble, before she figures out that he is not here to harm her. In fact, Lior does not really know why he is even here. Typically he is alone and content but this mare, she needed him and it stirred something he was unaccustomed to. The snatch of her teeth at his shoulder does not feign a reaction from him but another simple grunt. Was she finished? Finally satisfied with the little 'love bite'? Long limbs take another two paces just as she gives a little, pleasant touch. Lior disregards it and waits for her to keep up with him. It is only ten or so minutes before he has walked her to fresh water. The moisture in the air causes the dark garnet tongue to dart between his own lips. Silver eyes are no longer looking at the woman but simply feeling her. If she were a smart girl, she would not attempt to prance off from his side again for the stallion had given her an opportunity to stay by him and would not offer it again. Thankfully, she seems to carry along with him till they reach the cool spring waters in which Lior begins to dip he head. "Water." One large feathered hoof paws at the water to splash the edges of the woman's nails in an almost playful gesture (it was playful for him!) before he begins to ingest the refreshing liquid. LIOR