06-23-2018, 10:35 PM
'I hope you are settling in well', he says. I smile at that, at the simple fact that he cares enough to hope that.
"I am." I tell him. The nightmares have grown less frequent in the weeks since my return, though I fear that this nightfall will bring them back afresh. I tilt my head to rest my chin across Arthas' dapple back and the bruised muscles protest. "I've missed Loess," I add, because that is also true.
The rolling hills are my home, familiar silhouettes against the starlit sky. There are no vistas like this in the closed woods of Sylva, there are no crisp breezes that blow unencumbered for miles. For a moment I close my eyes, and the quiet of the kingdom rolls over me. There is only the wind and the water and the steady rise and fall of Arthas' breathing. It is familiar and comforting, and I feel some of the tension leave me.
Not all of it though; I suspect that there will always be some.
It does not occur to me that Arthas might blame himself for what had happened to me. He must have known what would happen to any female gift given to Modicum Mortem. I had certainly known. I'd gone anyway, because that is what Arthas requested and a woman must always do as her king requests. I would not dream of holding it against him.
His dark muzzle trails down my spine and my blue eyes flutter open. I bite down the tension, the memories his touch summons. This is Arthas, I remind myself. He will not hurt me. See, he even asks again what I really wanted to say. He cares. He does.
"I didn't really want to talk," I tell him, flicking my navy tail suggestively against his nose. If there is an upside to my time in Sylva (there are certainly a plethora of downsides) it is that I have no doubts on how to appeal to a stallion. I know there are other women, I can smell them on him and he had told me of them, but tonight it is just us. He might have just come from another mare and might leave me after for one, but in this moment I have him.
"I just wanted to see you." I repeat, drawing my head back from where it lay across his neck. I trail my navy muzzle down the curve of his ribs my teeth nibbling gently at his dapple hide. I circle him, pressing my left side against his, no space between us. Like a cat in heat, I pressed my shoulder to his, and murmur into his ear: "I just wanted...you."
A pace ahead, I curve my neck back to look at him over my shoulder. My eyes are dark with an invitation, and my navy tail flicks to the side as I take a step backward, pressing my hindquarters against his neck in a move that is more of a demand than a request.
"You want me too, don't you?" I ask, and while I'd meant the words to come off as seductive, there is much more of a question in them that I'd intended. Does he still want me? Or am I too damaged? The thought is too much and I am suddenly grateful for the nightfall that hides the glitter of unshed tears. "Please?" I add, unable to keep the shaking from my voice.
"I am." I tell him. The nightmares have grown less frequent in the weeks since my return, though I fear that this nightfall will bring them back afresh. I tilt my head to rest my chin across Arthas' dapple back and the bruised muscles protest. "I've missed Loess," I add, because that is also true.
The rolling hills are my home, familiar silhouettes against the starlit sky. There are no vistas like this in the closed woods of Sylva, there are no crisp breezes that blow unencumbered for miles. For a moment I close my eyes, and the quiet of the kingdom rolls over me. There is only the wind and the water and the steady rise and fall of Arthas' breathing. It is familiar and comforting, and I feel some of the tension leave me.
Not all of it though; I suspect that there will always be some.
It does not occur to me that Arthas might blame himself for what had happened to me. He must have known what would happen to any female gift given to Modicum Mortem. I had certainly known. I'd gone anyway, because that is what Arthas requested and a woman must always do as her king requests. I would not dream of holding it against him.
His dark muzzle trails down my spine and my blue eyes flutter open. I bite down the tension, the memories his touch summons. This is Arthas, I remind myself. He will not hurt me. See, he even asks again what I really wanted to say. He cares. He does.
"I didn't really want to talk," I tell him, flicking my navy tail suggestively against his nose. If there is an upside to my time in Sylva (there are certainly a plethora of downsides) it is that I have no doubts on how to appeal to a stallion. I know there are other women, I can smell them on him and he had told me of them, but tonight it is just us. He might have just come from another mare and might leave me after for one, but in this moment I have him.
"I just wanted to see you." I repeat, drawing my head back from where it lay across his neck. I trail my navy muzzle down the curve of his ribs my teeth nibbling gently at his dapple hide. I circle him, pressing my left side against his, no space between us. Like a cat in heat, I pressed my shoulder to his, and murmur into his ear: "I just wanted...you."
A pace ahead, I curve my neck back to look at him over my shoulder. My eyes are dark with an invitation, and my navy tail flicks to the side as I take a step backward, pressing my hindquarters against his neck in a move that is more of a demand than a request.
"You want me too, don't you?" I ask, and while I'd meant the words to come off as seductive, there is much more of a question in them that I'd intended. Does he still want me? Or am I too damaged? The thought is too much and I am suddenly grateful for the nightfall that hides the glitter of unshed tears. "Please?" I add, unable to keep the shaking from my voice.
