he laid low the warriors of old; wishbone

[Wishbone]

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

“Wishbone is just fine.”

Her words drift into his ears on the smoke of her exhale into the wintery air. The bitterness of the air clings to the tissues of her lungs on the inhale, stinging faintly at the linings of her chest cavity. This is Wishbone’s second winter in Nerine now, among the hardy cliffside kingdom and its equally-as-hardy residents. While she still dreams for Tephra’s everlasting warmth and sweat-inducing humidity, the thickness of her winter coat has grown in well this year and the chill of the season is less daunting.

Her intense amber eyes roam across the stallion’s body, curiously pinpointing the shape of his paws against the snow and the signs of flexibility that rest along the slopes of his muscle. Although Wishbone mentally frowns at herself for this behavior, she cannot deny that her mind is already finding a place for him among Nerine’s ranks. The color of his body and the dappling of his spots too would be easy to conceal in a summertime forest, but he stands out well against the backdrop of the white snow-drifts and the dark green of the pine trees.

A fierce smile dances on Wishbone’s mouth as he moves right to the point. She can appreciate someone who isn’t willing to waste time. “If you insist.” There’s a laugh in the back of her throat, but it has concealed itself into a teasing expression that tugs one sloping corner of her mouth upward. Although she is a queen, Wishbone tires easily of the language of a diplomat. Her own words — with the mouth of a sailor and a sense of humor that doesn’t fit with the most rigid — are much more comfortable. “What should we talk about?”

wishbone

@[Rome] / sorry this took me actual years to respond to :/