08-14-2016, 01:14 PM
the cure for anything is salt water:
sweat, tears or the sea
sweat, tears or the sea
The feeling in her gut after having met the hulk of black sends it spiraling. The way his face crinkles, the etch of scarring, the curl of lips over sharp teeth makes her shiver. She feels as though she has placed herself in the viper pit. Slender limbs are drawing her to a halt as she can feel the crawl of inky eyes coiling and slithering along her skin.
Sea can feel him entering her without touching her, stealing away her essence. Sea can not say anything but thankfully the spell is broken by the approach of Topsail. Lashes flutter over her eyes, flicking away the fog that had confused her so.
Topsail's words break the silence with fine cracks. She is unnerved by the dark stallion. Unwavering. Strong. The filled roundness of her belly does not sway the respect she commands and Topsail edges closer to her. Dark eyes observe the exchange of her name then a retort of him asking what had happened. Seastory feels, small and out of place. She wants to leave the gathering but she would not leave Topsail on her own with this stallion. A roll of her shoulders straightens the young mare, he gaze fixing and hardening as she eyes the dark male.
The soft sound of hooves catch the bay's attention. A stallion, unnamed, is approaching and Seastory moves to make way for him. The words 'He is Gunsynd' slides into her brain and her attention meets the gaze of the darker bay, she remains wordless as she listens to the deep tones of the winged equine. It was best for the young mare to remain quiet but aligned with the others. The dark walnut stallion talks of Topsail and her efforts and energy given to Valley. There is pride in his voice as it roils like thunder on a hot summer sky.
The soft cocoa pools slip from Eight to Gunsynd while her sister stays steeled, unmoved by the rippled that the black stallion was attempting to make.
Sea can feel him entering her without touching her, stealing away her essence. Sea can not say anything but thankfully the spell is broken by the approach of Topsail. Lashes flutter over her eyes, flicking away the fog that had confused her so.
Topsail's words break the silence with fine cracks. She is unnerved by the dark stallion. Unwavering. Strong. The filled roundness of her belly does not sway the respect she commands and Topsail edges closer to her. Dark eyes observe the exchange of her name then a retort of him asking what had happened. Seastory feels, small and out of place. She wants to leave the gathering but she would not leave Topsail on her own with this stallion. A roll of her shoulders straightens the young mare, he gaze fixing and hardening as she eyes the dark male.
The soft sound of hooves catch the bay's attention. A stallion, unnamed, is approaching and Seastory moves to make way for him. The words 'He is Gunsynd' slides into her brain and her attention meets the gaze of the darker bay, she remains wordless as she listens to the deep tones of the winged equine. It was best for the young mare to remain quiet but aligned with the others. The dark walnut stallion talks of Topsail and her efforts and energy given to Valley. There is pride in his voice as it roils like thunder on a hot summer sky.
The soft cocoa pools slip from Eight to Gunsynd while her sister stays steeled, unmoved by the rippled that the black stallion was attempting to make.
Seastory
