10-23-2019, 04:32 PM
Waiting for her to react feels like waiting to fall from a cliff. He balances precariously, torn between the safety of the ground on which he stands and the pale eye girl that beckons him closer to the edge. His feet are planted firmly though, and grinds one front hoof into the forest floor as though to remind himself of this. He suspects that Reia enjoys toying with others the way a cat bats at a string. She wants to see what they will do, how they will react. Before today though, he’s only been an observer in her games, only ever watched her as she bent the world in her favor.
With bated breath, he watches as she process his words, and as she begins to smile, the weight inside his belly grows heavier.
He can’t just order her away – she is his princess, after all – and there is ever the danger of angering her too much, enough that she might decide to destroy him rather than just ignore him for a few days. So instead he stands as still as he can, even as she comes closer. The playfulness in her gaze is familiar, and even the danger strikes a chord he knows well. One does not befriend dragons without coming to accept that there will always a little bit of danger in the friendship, after all. Even the taunt and tease is something he can look right through, though he feels the blood rise as she stalks toward him.
‘Prove it’, she says, close enough that he can feel the heat of her breath against his cheek. When she snakes her head toward his shoulder, Pteron forces himself to remain steady, to not flinch away from the bite of her teeth. But it is not a bite, not even a nip like a moment ago. It is something much softer, yet the adrenaline still courses through him as though she’d struck a blow. It’s not her dare that keeps him from bolting, nor the threat of having to kiss a fish. She’d find one, too, he knows. Nothing is too much for the wild-eyed girl who is still inching closer.
“I don’t want to.” He tells her, his voice tight. The heat of her breath and her skin and her flaming mane are all very close now; he need lean over barely an inch to touch her. This close, he can smell the fire, as much a part of her as the scent of Loess and dragons. “And your father would burn me alive for being this close,” Pteron reminds her, trying not to sound as breathless as he feels. His heart is thrumming in his chest, a confusing blend of terror and uncertainty and desire.
With bated breath, he watches as she process his words, and as she begins to smile, the weight inside his belly grows heavier.
He can’t just order her away – she is his princess, after all – and there is ever the danger of angering her too much, enough that she might decide to destroy him rather than just ignore him for a few days. So instead he stands as still as he can, even as she comes closer. The playfulness in her gaze is familiar, and even the danger strikes a chord he knows well. One does not befriend dragons without coming to accept that there will always a little bit of danger in the friendship, after all. Even the taunt and tease is something he can look right through, though he feels the blood rise as she stalks toward him.
‘Prove it’, she says, close enough that he can feel the heat of her breath against his cheek. When she snakes her head toward his shoulder, Pteron forces himself to remain steady, to not flinch away from the bite of her teeth. But it is not a bite, not even a nip like a moment ago. It is something much softer, yet the adrenaline still courses through him as though she’d struck a blow. It’s not her dare that keeps him from bolting, nor the threat of having to kiss a fish. She’d find one, too, he knows. Nothing is too much for the wild-eyed girl who is still inching closer.
“I don’t want to.” He tells her, his voice tight. The heat of her breath and her skin and her flaming mane are all very close now; he need lean over barely an inch to touch her. This close, he can smell the fire, as much a part of her as the scent of Loess and dragons. “And your father would burn me alive for being this close,” Pteron reminds her, trying not to sound as breathless as he feels. His heart is thrumming in his chest, a confusing blend of terror and uncertainty and desire.
-- pteron --
@[Reia]