He no longer feels quite like an equine. At times he can nearly catch and decipher the whispers at the edge of his sleep. He feels his blood boil and cool in a single breath. After his discovery that he could move as a full blooded Dragon God to that of a fog and then to a lightning strike, he attempts to discover what else lay dormant. Could he read minds? No. Teleport? No. Communicate with the dead? No. Yet he is satisfied. He finds himself grinning darkly after the sun sets deep into the embrace of Beqanna's curved hip and nearly dares his father, the mighty Gunsynd, to show his twisted face and challenge him. Lior has waited decades to regain the power he once possessed. He is no longer the shy colt his maker had made him into. There would be no more fear, no more humiliation.
He emerges high in the sky as a dark blemish against an early spring morning. The dew still clung to sharp grasses and velvet flower petals. Bees busily pollinated and hummed their worker's songs. The onyx dragon drops from his altitude to better find a place to settle. Many places hid sleeping spring foals or fawns that he did not wish to crush under his weight, so the meadow was the easiest choice to find footing into the damp soil. Lior moves downward slowly, the sheer bulk of his mass is engulfing as he nearly blots out the sun. The glass of his black eyes narrow and scan with heightened senses as he proceeds to descend. There be hardly any others roaming the early dawn and he finds this enticing to explore what world Beqanna had become while he dreamed.
Slowly, the long nails rake into the ground but he is well practiced to take care not to destroy the meadow. He settles easily enough, graceful and with a tenderness of his surroundings before slipping into his dull form of a simple inky black stallion with tangles in his hair. Silver-white eyes peer beneath the long fore lock, giving it a slight toss from his whiskered lips and long lashes. Each hoof falls solidly, the roll of his hip heavy as the scars that stitched haphazardly over his male form. He breathes deep to taste the virgin morning's scent. The dewy dawn was intoxicating and he is instantly pleased to have dared leave his chilly cave in Nerine.
The smell of others has softened and scattered as it has been some time since most others bedded down. Bird song is all that greeted him and a small smile toyed on his dark lips. The squirrels and robins watched him curiously from the safety of their nests thought the nasty horseflies already grew brave enough to bite at the tender points of his hips (though they were soon greeted by the lashing of his burr ridden tail). Lior eases enough to drop his head and pull at the tender spring grass, their flavor sweet and bright on his dry tongue. He soon finds himself famished and tears at the greenery with a savageness of a starving man, unaware others could be watching and judging the primal stallion with disapproving eyes.
but i can still remember just the way you taste