[private] love from the west; wolfbane

[Wolfbane]

No one says his name the way she does. Wishbone liked to hold onto the ‘a’, caressing the vowel a bit with her tongue to give it that warm, peppery tone he’d missed these few years past. Even as a child she spoke like a rough sailor - a bit too elderly for her own good - habitually making words sound dirty and sweet at the same time. Now (just like when they’d been children) it makes him smile; Wolfbane’s hesitant expression flourishes into a broad, half-quirked smirk at the sound of his nickname on her lips. I’ve missed you so much, he wants to tell her, watching curiously as she unwound from the shadow of her cover before edging closer.

The awkwardness of his youth fled a long time ago and took so much with it. Dreams they once shared, his desire to make her fall in love with him every single day, the way he used to hate his father … those things have evolved or disappeared altogether. He laughs hearing her comments now, acknowledging them through the twinkle of his eyes while moving forward over the scrubland. “You’ve never apologized to me before, don’t start now.” The pegasus tells her, kissing away the frown at the corner of her mouth. He doesn’t fear being this close or this open, not when she’s been gone for so long … not when he assumed she was going to be gone forever. Bane desires nothing more than her company and her time, as long as he can manage to steal it away from her.

“I thought you were dead.” He admits quietly, the soft folds of their noses pushing against one another while he explores her scent and the sharp lines of her wild, cognac-colored face. His lips can feel the tangible pressure of her bone structure, they adore the sensation of her honeyed fur as it shifts underneath his touch. Why did you ever leave me?

“Went out looking for you. Came home empty … things have been different since.” Her friend explains, closing his eyes as he reaches the apex of her forehead (just where the ebony widow’s peak of hair blends into the swirl of skin) and there he remains, frozen. “Will you stay?” He whispers, beginning to feel the pain of her loss that he’d kept at bay up until this moment.

King of Loess : Leader of the Southlands

Wolfbane

@[Wishbone]