10-27-2018, 01:12 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-27-2018, 01:13 AM by Tindalos - Tithe.)
In all the wild truths of the world, of the deeply chaotic space around them, there were undeniable facts that penetrated a layer of being so sharply and burrowed well within both skin and soul- that in those precious second Tindalos and Tithe were forced the accept the reality of all of it. They traveled together, in a pair, entwined and side by side: bodies never absent one another’s touch long and every so often there were stops wherein they would nibble and groom- fuss and fidget over hair and body. Perhaps it was their supposed time alone and together that prompted it, affections and kisses spent without the company of or prying eyes; but the forest before them offered that sort of privacy.
Both recalled the ancient Taiga and the first steps into Sylva, and both recalled the vast land of Pangea; but neither cared much for now to return to those- instead they walked along paths that were carved by the many hooves of those before and chattered away about this and that: about their soon to be born son and the woman who provided them an opportunity to possesses what they wanted: a family.
Such it was they minded the illuminated floor and patterns of light created by the thick canopy, and they enjoyed the breeze that ran wild through the trees and brush. The scent of loamy and mouldy earth was heavy, and more so was the metallic-mineral smell of rock and wild. Nettle and free growing herbs carried a spiciness that tangled with floral fare, and Tithe mimicked the sounds of birds cooing and singing through the branches.
Tranquility, of course, did not end when they caught sight of of the patchy white and black in the brush and nettle. Instead Tindalos was the one who came forward first, bulkier and taller than Tithe- and more silver to his lover’s ruddier and golden body. Those his eyes were red, he looked sobered rather than malicious and he gestured his head to bring Tithe closer as the other stallion crept and slunk behind him cautiously. They observe the small injuries from things like thorns and splinters, and note the boniness of his body and whatever physical development had been slowed as a result of his life.
“Shush, shh, quiet- he seems to need rest.” Tithe speaks, calm and already maternal. Like a peacock his chest puffs and the beautifully curled tail sways as he peers at Tindalos with almost pleading eyes.
Unmoved by what sentiment, it is Tindalos whose muscular neck is curved to bring his soft velveteen maw towards the sleeping strange. Low and with a grumbling in his throat he tries to calmly wake the other, pulling back and offering him a weak smile when the eyes opened. “Open your eyes, slowly, you’re sleeping in ivy and nettle: neither of those can be terribly comfortable. I am sorry to wake you, but, if you need I can show you a lovely patch of clover and moss. Much softer and less painful.”
Patient and slow, he steps back to give Anani room, and Tithe- worried and fretting, does the same but with a sort of hesitation. “Forgive his rudeness,” the more androgyne of them speaks. Tithe’s expression softening and his voice almost cooing. “He is Tindalos, and I am Tithe. We saw you and worried that you might be harmed.” truth and genuine intention, he continues fretting where Tindalos is more together and cautious.
@[Anani] they love him already.
Both recalled the ancient Taiga and the first steps into Sylva, and both recalled the vast land of Pangea; but neither cared much for now to return to those- instead they walked along paths that were carved by the many hooves of those before and chattered away about this and that: about their soon to be born son and the woman who provided them an opportunity to possesses what they wanted: a family.
Such it was they minded the illuminated floor and patterns of light created by the thick canopy, and they enjoyed the breeze that ran wild through the trees and brush. The scent of loamy and mouldy earth was heavy, and more so was the metallic-mineral smell of rock and wild. Nettle and free growing herbs carried a spiciness that tangled with floral fare, and Tithe mimicked the sounds of birds cooing and singing through the branches.
Tranquility, of course, did not end when they caught sight of of the patchy white and black in the brush and nettle. Instead Tindalos was the one who came forward first, bulkier and taller than Tithe- and more silver to his lover’s ruddier and golden body. Those his eyes were red, he looked sobered rather than malicious and he gestured his head to bring Tithe closer as the other stallion crept and slunk behind him cautiously. They observe the small injuries from things like thorns and splinters, and note the boniness of his body and whatever physical development had been slowed as a result of his life.
“Shush, shh, quiet- he seems to need rest.” Tithe speaks, calm and already maternal. Like a peacock his chest puffs and the beautifully curled tail sways as he peers at Tindalos with almost pleading eyes.
Unmoved by what sentiment, it is Tindalos whose muscular neck is curved to bring his soft velveteen maw towards the sleeping strange. Low and with a grumbling in his throat he tries to calmly wake the other, pulling back and offering him a weak smile when the eyes opened. “Open your eyes, slowly, you’re sleeping in ivy and nettle: neither of those can be terribly comfortable. I am sorry to wake you, but, if you need I can show you a lovely patch of clover and moss. Much softer and less painful.”
Patient and slow, he steps back to give Anani room, and Tithe- worried and fretting, does the same but with a sort of hesitation. “Forgive his rudeness,” the more androgyne of them speaks. Tithe’s expression softening and his voice almost cooing. “He is Tindalos, and I am Tithe. We saw you and worried that you might be harmed.” truth and genuine intention, he continues fretting where Tindalos is more together and cautious.
@[Anani] they love him already.