11-29-2017, 04:05 PM
the night is my companion, and solitude my guide.
‘Why don’t you come see it?’
His voice is gentle and soft in her ear, warm against the delicate white hairs.
Leave the forest? she muses to herself, gaze falling downcast as thoughts swirl in her mind, staring into the crystal clear waters that ripple delightfully between their legs. She had never thought about it before, and for a moment her heart aches for her shadow - what if he cannot find her? He is surely to return and be searching for her in the copse of trees that she calls her home, not in Loess. She presses her lips together firmly - torn between the longing of being with another, and her loyalty to her shadow.
‘You’d like it.’
She does not know why, but she believes him. Augusta barely notices the firmness of his voice (or perhaps perceived it as confidence or that he has taken a liking to her), or the way that his embrace tightens ever so slightly. She lifts her head from beneath the strong curvature of his muscular neck (though she did not care to realize he allowed her to do so) to view him with her storm-grey eyes. A soft curve of a smile appears on the charcoal of her lips, a bit sheepishly, and she gives him a tiny nod. “I want to see it, Ivar.”
Once again she finds herself enveloped with him again, her eyes closing as he lips at a few stray locks of her dark mane. Her own muzzle traces the black and white marbling on his chest delicately, quietly, almost secretly - as if no one was to know she was with another.
“I’ll follow where you lead.”
Maybe always.
His voice is gentle and soft in her ear, warm against the delicate white hairs.
Leave the forest? she muses to herself, gaze falling downcast as thoughts swirl in her mind, staring into the crystal clear waters that ripple delightfully between their legs. She had never thought about it before, and for a moment her heart aches for her shadow - what if he cannot find her? He is surely to return and be searching for her in the copse of trees that she calls her home, not in Loess. She presses her lips together firmly - torn between the longing of being with another, and her loyalty to her shadow.
‘You’d like it.’
She does not know why, but she believes him. Augusta barely notices the firmness of his voice (or perhaps perceived it as confidence or that he has taken a liking to her), or the way that his embrace tightens ever so slightly. She lifts her head from beneath the strong curvature of his muscular neck (though she did not care to realize he allowed her to do so) to view him with her storm-grey eyes. A soft curve of a smile appears on the charcoal of her lips, a bit sheepishly, and she gives him a tiny nod. “I want to see it, Ivar.”
Once again she finds herself enveloped with him again, her eyes closing as he lips at a few stray locks of her dark mane. Her own muzzle traces the black and white marbling on his chest delicately, quietly, almost secretly - as if no one was to know she was with another.
“I’ll follow where you lead.”
Maybe always.
@[Ivar]