12-20-2017, 10:01 PM
Quite frankly, Wound is surprised to find her new friend has the love she desires. His blue form appears from the shade of the thick foliage, handsome and suave. At first there is the thrill of curiosity (her eyes dance along the edges of his muscles, the flash of wilderness in his eyes, and the bantering smile that tugs on his lips) and then the sharp tang of disappointment.
Femur moves to greet the stallion, her lips pressing a kiss to his cerulean cheek. Wound feels the hot wind of shame twine through her body. She covets them with their delicious admiration for each other — the way they sneak sly looks, the way they curl close to each other, the way his firm muscle comforts her soft curve — and Wound hates herself for those thoughts.
She tries to pay attention to their words, as they banter with each other and then with her, but Wound’s head is a patch of quicksand drowning her in shame and innocent lust. Ombre locks shift against her neck as a rare swath of a breeze meanders its way along the trail. The sensation draws her away from her foggy thoughts.
“Oh!” She limps forward with her exclamation, embarrassment burning through her like a hot fire. The walk seems unbearably long (with the pair of them watching her with their happy, lovey eyes as she lurches along) although it is merely a short distance. Wound is struck by how handsome the man is closer up and her heart flutters despite her shame and guilt and embarrassment.
For the second time she introduces herself, although more meekly than the first. “I’m Wound.”
@[Femur] @[Longclaw] This is hecking short, I apologize.... Wound's starstruck LOLL
Femur moves to greet the stallion, her lips pressing a kiss to his cerulean cheek. Wound feels the hot wind of shame twine through her body. She covets them with their delicious admiration for each other — the way they sneak sly looks, the way they curl close to each other, the way his firm muscle comforts her soft curve — and Wound hates herself for those thoughts.
She tries to pay attention to their words, as they banter with each other and then with her, but Wound’s head is a patch of quicksand drowning her in shame and innocent lust. Ombre locks shift against her neck as a rare swath of a breeze meanders its way along the trail. The sensation draws her away from her foggy thoughts.
“Oh!” She limps forward with her exclamation, embarrassment burning through her like a hot fire. The walk seems unbearably long (with the pair of them watching her with their happy, lovey eyes as she lurches along) although it is merely a short distance. Wound is struck by how handsome the man is closer up and her heart flutters despite her shame and guilt and embarrassment.
For the second time she introduces herself, although more meekly than the first. “I’m Wound.”
@[Femur] @[Longclaw] This is hecking short, I apologize.... Wound's starstruck LOLL