Awakening [Any/All]

[Longclaw]

LONGCLAW

-I close my eyes, ignore the smoke-

He has all the time in the world to give the attention she’s been longing for. (Knows, too, that it’s what she longs for because he seeks it out himself) So when Zephyr becomes like supple leather beneath his warm touch, Longclaw feels the thrill of winning her to his side. A touch is a claim, is a win - it can be anything you want it to be - but for him, it’s a start. Already there’s an absence of knowledge where there should be boundless tomes of it; Zephyr is nearly a woman grown and should understand the feeling of being wanted, of being a woman.

He can sense that she longs for it, why else would she succumb to his feverish affections?

“There’s so much I can teach you…” He thinks as they pull apart, “So much for you to discover.” But she’s beside him now, the shimmering angles of her silver-lined body rolling with every step she takes until, at last, she’s outpaced him and found her stride leading. Longclaw can’t say that he cares all that much (His craft is more subtle, almost unnoticeable) and the pleasant curve of her hips as she sways down the beach is a most welcoming image to follow.

Above them, the countless stars stretch across the curve of the sky and the quiet lull of the ocean gives them noise to contemplate silently over. Claw appreciates the break in the monotony when her voice filters over the lapping waves to reach his upturned ears. I’ve never gotten a clear picture, she’s saying and the blue-toned stallion tries hard to suppress a bitter laugh. Blind or not, you could never get a clear picture of another Beqanna inhabitant from first glances.

Coyly, her head curves over her shoulder and for a moment, Longclaw stops in his tracks.

“Was that compliment for me?” He teases, stretching forward into a brief trot so that they might become parallel again. His shoulder takes liberties, choosing to brush casually against hers every now and then while they stroll. “Because I like it.” He murmurs, a wide grin mirroring her own. “Tell me another one, Zephyr.” He demands playfully, reaching aside to tug gingerly on a strand of her shadowy mane.

“My compliment to you is that I can’t decide which end of you looks nicer - the front half, or the back.” The devilish rogue flirts.

@[Zephyr]