05-30-2018, 07:47 PM
The snake-like manner of his tongue sends a thrill through her body, telling her she ought to get away. But he tucks it away as if in politeness and she tosses her small head to shake away the fear. It’s as if she shakes her mind free of the thoughts, the fears, and whatever else is telling her she should be afraid of the scaled stallion before her.
She cannot help but be drawn to him, the way his scales glitter and the very way he carries himself. She wants to lip at his skin, to test how it feels, but she resists because he is a strange still, so she clacks her teeth instead as she speaks. He responds as if befuddled and she snorts softly - was he unaware of his beauty? “Yes!” she pipes when he questions her about his appearance.
“Vulgaris,” she repeats, and the name seems so heavy on her mouth, not at all befitting of the man she sees before her. “My name is Pond.” Her voice is still light, gentle like a stream over smooth stones, like a breeze through the leaves of trees. She is fascinated by him and it is obvious in the gentle tremor of her knees, the tumble of her heart.
And then he steps nearer to her… and somehow she is not afraid. If he had not hurt her already, he would not hurt her now. She twitches and shifts, watches him, but then he bows his great head toward her and she braces - he was a stallion, and she was not his offspring. What if he meant to kill her? So she braces her small haunches and fixes him with her gray eyes… but he only huffs at her withers and comments on the shadowy wings she bears.
She laughs gently… the wings were not her choice and she is still unaware of how they might work. She can control them - flex, flap, preen… But she does not know how else to use them. She streteches them up into his face, but she doesn’t quite know how she does it. Pond dares to turn her head and lip at Vulgaris’s scaled skin gently, curiously. “You are curious too… I like the way your skin feels.” She isn’t aware that she should be afraid of snake scales at her young age, but something about him does feel softly comforting.
She cannot help but be drawn to him, the way his scales glitter and the very way he carries himself. She wants to lip at his skin, to test how it feels, but she resists because he is a strange still, so she clacks her teeth instead as she speaks. He responds as if befuddled and she snorts softly - was he unaware of his beauty? “Yes!” she pipes when he questions her about his appearance.
“Vulgaris,” she repeats, and the name seems so heavy on her mouth, not at all befitting of the man she sees before her. “My name is Pond.” Her voice is still light, gentle like a stream over smooth stones, like a breeze through the leaves of trees. She is fascinated by him and it is obvious in the gentle tremor of her knees, the tumble of her heart.
And then he steps nearer to her… and somehow she is not afraid. If he had not hurt her already, he would not hurt her now. She twitches and shifts, watches him, but then he bows his great head toward her and she braces - he was a stallion, and she was not his offspring. What if he meant to kill her? So she braces her small haunches and fixes him with her gray eyes… but he only huffs at her withers and comments on the shadowy wings she bears.
She laughs gently… the wings were not her choice and she is still unaware of how they might work. She can control them - flex, flap, preen… But she does not know how else to use them. She streteches them up into his face, but she doesn’t quite know how she does it. Pond dares to turn her head and lip at Vulgaris’s scaled skin gently, curiously. “You are curious too… I like the way your skin feels.” She isn’t aware that she should be afraid of snake scales at her young age, but something about him does feel softly comforting.