she’s got jumper cable lips
she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death
Although the fresh knowledge of his coronation brings about some darker thoughts, Wishbone also feels relief wash over her shoulders like Tephra’s warm southern ocean. A portion of Sylva’s threat has disappeared and the weight of the potential war on her shoulders begins to lighten, a slab of heavy concrete breaking apart and sliding off. The autumnal kingdom won’t stand a chance against the Allies without Loess at their side and, with the way Wishbone knows the new king, perhaps even against them.
The thought eases her previous concerns about the war, but her mouth still frowns at Wolfbane’s comment. The words might be partially true — they hadn’t discussed just how involved he had been with his newfound kingdom in those moments among the artificial light — but Wishbone knows his potential for greatness has been just as prominent as her own. She just hadn’t noticed it before, both into adulthood and in their days of infancy. She doesn’t respond, nor does she have to when the gold-and-blue stallion moves on quickly.
“Will you join us against Sylva?” Wishbone is certain he must know of the Allies and their plotting… Whether he is a wise king or not a king at all, Wolfbane would seek out that type of knowledge for himself. Although these thoughts press in her mind (and the weight of them is a familiar pain at this point, forming to the curves and valleys of her brain like a well-molded torture device), the mahogany mare moves easily to follow Wolfbane with a subdued smile.
Her mood improves when she hears of all the plans he has for Loess. They’re bold moves, but Wishbone is certain he will put them into motion effortlessly. Wolfbane will spin his kingdom into something vibrant and unique among Beqanna’s royal landscape, turning it into something desired among the other kingdoms and perhaps even into the common lands. She listens with both her sun-dipped ears twisted toward him among the tangled mess of her dark mane. “You’re going to be a great king, Bane.” Although she could be trying to heal the pain from her earlier — unintended — slights, Wishbone means every word.
Thankfully, the tension disappears between them as quickly as it had come. A carefree smile tosses itself against her smooth lips when Wolfbane teases her, and it’s a look much more welcomed and familiar than her previous ones. As they walk, Wishbone bumps her shoulder warmly against his and tosses her head. Her forelock lands across the bridge of her face, strands of dark hair falling into the amber of her eyes. “I was expecting you to raise the prices for me,” she jaunts back and the words are honey-whiskey in her throat.
wishbone
@[Wolfbane]