02-11-2019, 07:35 PM
Jah-Lilah
listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise
The wild and windy night that the rain washed away left a pool of tears.
It was still so easy for her to slip into the dreamscape when she truly wanted to. That blurry plane of existence that dwells just above deep slumber had always been a welcome sanctuary for whenever she needed it. The red wytch meanders there now, searching for things that she cannot find while awake. Her breathing is steady, air filling her lungs evenly as she mediates, and although she’s not wholly awake or asleep, a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. The ground supports her like a pillow, welcomes her to it like a lover come back to bed after a long separation. Only when the muffled sound of hoofbeats cuts through the crisp early morning does she stir. First an ear flicks, then the rubbing of her cheek against the coarse grains of sand that she makes her bed on. The sorceress knows who it is long before she opens her jade eyes.
Wisteria. A plant out of place here, which means the odor piggybacks on the hide of one young male who she has come to know more intimately than most. Snorting groggily, she grunts as she raises her head. Particles of the shore cling desperately to one side of her face, and as a grin brightens her features she turns her head just as he comes into her line of vision. Chuckling as he all but piaffes over to her, she finds his mirth infectious and his presence reassuring. It seems as though she has made the right move at the right time once more, the Dragon-King has come before her again.
He slides to a stop and she peers up at him, finding her gaze lingering perhaps longer than it should on the muscles in his forelegs, the curve of his neck, but Jah-Lilah, before anything, is a mare. Her eyes dance impishly and she clucks back at him, his voice is like water to a man on the edge of dehydration. Oh how she’s missed companionship and the touch of another, even platonically. He curses, twice, and it still sounds so foreign coming from his mouth. Extending her neck, she nips at his knee, then gathers herself and prepares to rise. ”Alright, alright, I’m getting up.” Feigning old age, she grunts and groans exaggeratedly, heaving herself up to stand on all fours. Giving herself a vigorous shake she sends debris and sand flying. When she stops, her forelock is askew and she probably looks rather silly, but it doesn’t matter to her. The Dragon-King has come for her yet again.
Stepping forward into him, she’s more than happy to fulfill yet another one of his requests, and she tucks herself into him. Poll pressed up under his jaw, she then runs the left side of her face down his neck, muzzle raised to nibble her way along his crest, tugging his mane at the root and flipping it to her near side. His golden scales scrape along her smooth, coppery pelt and it causes a delighted groan to emerge from her throat. That spot had been itching for hours.
When finally she is pressed against him, chest to chest, she initiates a session of grooming by picking dust and grime from between his scales near his withers. All the while she makes little happy noises, sighing. ”Seems you’ve found me again, Dragon-King. What brings you to me this time, hmm?” A teasing tone to her melodic voice as she glances back at him, trying to hide a smirk.
I’m crying for the day. Why leave me standing here? Please let me know the way.
It was still so easy for her to slip into the dreamscape when she truly wanted to. That blurry plane of existence that dwells just above deep slumber had always been a welcome sanctuary for whenever she needed it. The red wytch meanders there now, searching for things that she cannot find while awake. Her breathing is steady, air filling her lungs evenly as she mediates, and although she’s not wholly awake or asleep, a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. The ground supports her like a pillow, welcomes her to it like a lover come back to bed after a long separation. Only when the muffled sound of hoofbeats cuts through the crisp early morning does she stir. First an ear flicks, then the rubbing of her cheek against the coarse grains of sand that she makes her bed on. The sorceress knows who it is long before she opens her jade eyes.
Wisteria. A plant out of place here, which means the odor piggybacks on the hide of one young male who she has come to know more intimately than most. Snorting groggily, she grunts as she raises her head. Particles of the shore cling desperately to one side of her face, and as a grin brightens her features she turns her head just as he comes into her line of vision. Chuckling as he all but piaffes over to her, she finds his mirth infectious and his presence reassuring. It seems as though she has made the right move at the right time once more, the Dragon-King has come before her again.
He slides to a stop and she peers up at him, finding her gaze lingering perhaps longer than it should on the muscles in his forelegs, the curve of his neck, but Jah-Lilah, before anything, is a mare. Her eyes dance impishly and she clucks back at him, his voice is like water to a man on the edge of dehydration. Oh how she’s missed companionship and the touch of another, even platonically. He curses, twice, and it still sounds so foreign coming from his mouth. Extending her neck, she nips at his knee, then gathers herself and prepares to rise. ”Alright, alright, I’m getting up.” Feigning old age, she grunts and groans exaggeratedly, heaving herself up to stand on all fours. Giving herself a vigorous shake she sends debris and sand flying. When she stops, her forelock is askew and she probably looks rather silly, but it doesn’t matter to her. The Dragon-King has come for her yet again.
Stepping forward into him, she’s more than happy to fulfill yet another one of his requests, and she tucks herself into him. Poll pressed up under his jaw, she then runs the left side of her face down his neck, muzzle raised to nibble her way along his crest, tugging his mane at the root and flipping it to her near side. His golden scales scrape along her smooth, coppery pelt and it causes a delighted groan to emerge from her throat. That spot had been itching for hours.
When finally she is pressed against him, chest to chest, she initiates a session of grooming by picking dust and grime from between his scales near his withers. All the while she makes little happy noises, sighing. ”Seems you’ve found me again, Dragon-King. What brings you to me this time, hmm?” A teasing tone to her melodic voice as she glances back at him, trying to hide a smirk.
I’m crying for the day. Why leave me standing here? Please let me know the way.
break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light