12-19-2017, 12:34 PM
I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
Femur is a mirror; every weakness and every strength is reflected upon her and she throws back only the strengths at him because these make him who he is - not his weaknesses, none of which she would allow him to admit to. (They all have weaknesses, known or unknown, but she prefers to build him up and she’ll eat his weaknesses like spoiled fruit full of worms to keep them from himself.) Femur is thread - she holds him together. She is memory - reminds him that he is Longclaw, fierce and favored. This is just one part of her purpose on this earth, she realizes - to love him and remind him that he is more to her, their son, and others, than what he thinks he is. If it is possible, she falls more in love with her mate in that moment. She can feel the love and pride inflate her heart until it feels like it might float right up her throat and away to lodge itself somewhere in the midst of the stars. Femur realized then that she was so hopelessly and irrevocably lost. The more she looks at him, less biting involved and just looking, she can see how impressive her mate is - has always been, even from the first time they laid eyes on one another in the Forest. Granted, she had been teasing and invisible and he’d been tracking her nonetheless. Their game had become something more and she’d given up all of herself - every pound of flesh, every square inch of her once-thought unconquerable spirit but he had come, had conquered, and Femur loved it.
(Loved him!)
He reciprocates; commanding and biting back in sharp moderation that makes the breath hitch in her throat. Femur chokes back a chuckle as he growls, the wolf ever present in the stallion. She loves the wolf as much as she does the stallion despite the instinctual sense of mind to fight or flight. Truth be told, that other shape never bothered her much because she knew it was Claw in there, looking back at her with the same set of mesmerizing green eyes that held her more in place than fear ever could. But that was the love talking nonsense in her ear because she knew it was the love in her heart that would forever hold her still in a rabbit’s freeze-frame for him to hunt her down and take from her all the things he’d ever need. Femur would always give freely to him. Always.
She grins at his praise, as he states how the name is suiting to the boy and to them. Femur had thought so too, the moment she’d seen him nestled in the grass and if it had not been for those eyes so like his father’s, she might have kept going. But she stayed, turned invisible, looked on as the mare moved farther and farther away to graze thinking her little one safe from all predators until Femur had materialized right in front of the day old colt and called him to her, beckoned with not-quite-full teats and the promise of milk and endless love. She’d known she had to have him, as Claw had his small assortment of playthings.
Femur arches her neck, practically preening like a damn peacock in front of her mate as he tells her she did well to bring him here. Of course she had! But she is a might modest and does not throw back a casual retort to her beloved Claw. She’d known a son like this needed to be not with some daft mother but with his fierce cunning father who could teach him the ways of the world better than some random mare could. Part of Femur had longed too, for just an instant, that this had been their colt but the moment had passed because she knew it would happen one day - his seed would stick, her belly would round out, and from her thighs would slip his sons and daughters fashioned after them.
“Thank you,” she breathes, happier than Femur thinks she has a right to be. Their kind, fierce and dark and odd are not given much to the purer things in life like the simple happiness of being told she can bring more of them home, as she has done and will continue to do. She glides her plush lips over his neck then steps back to give father and son a chance to bond better without her interference between them.
Wildling receives one single look from her - mother, that tells him it is okay to further inspect the stallion that towers over him. He tilts his head back and looks up, so tall! So commanding! But he feels no threat from him, none at all and he thinks that is curious because shouldn’t he be afraid? But it is as if blood recognizes blood, a song that he hears and responds to, making him stretch out his thin little muzzle to the proffered one of what he has heard rumor of from mother, is his father. This then, is acceptance? Must be, he thinks as he gives a little snort-sneeze from his own nostrils that try to flare and suck in father’s scent.
Eventually, he tires of inspecting father. The stallion is imprinted on his mind and stamped all over his skin but he doesn’t know that yet. He skirts around them, skedaddling about on his long spidery legs as Femur chuckles in the background. Claw’s question does not quite stun her but it has almost the same effect. She throws her head up and looks him dead in the eye, “Of course I want one.” How could she say she thought she ought to have had one last year? Until she realized how late in the season it had been when they’d danced that particular dance that made her yearn for him all the time? He was fire and ice, heating and cooling all parts of her until her brain seized on nothing short of sheer ecstasy?
Wildling is content to play around his parents, so Femur creeps back closer to her mate. She knows he’d oblige her and more than happily. Half their fun was had in the clambering of him on her back and all the wicked things that came from two horses mating. It roused the lust in her, made her black eyes glitter more as she kept them centered on his face. “Do you, is the question?” but the unasked part was - given that you already have one?
Femur
@[Longclaw] that post was not poopy! but mine sure is lmfao, it's so all over the place. i blame cbox for distracting me at the time which means next post shall be heaps better! <3