you could break my heart in two, but when it heals, it beats for you
She does not lean into his touches but lets them drift across her skin like leaves upon the water, savoring the variation of pressure, the places he chooses to linger, the paths he chooses. Kensa herself lingers, her lips pressing a moment to the curve of his neck as he bends it to draw his lips along her shoulder. That kiss then carefully smoothed into his skin by the brush of her muzzle, the press of her cheek.
Kensa is a force of nature and time spent with Brigade should be like a clash of storms over dark water. He frightens her still-- in this moment he is so open to her, and there is this feeling of being suspended and very in danger of breaking something. This exists alongside another sensation. It is like falling, a bit into sleep or a bit off a cliff, both of these somehow the same sweet inevitable feeling.
The deep rise and fall of Brigade’s voice paints a picture of the sister he loves and the home to which he was born. She pulls back now and then just to look into his face, catch the edge of a rare smile or a sad wistful glint in his gray eyes. She knows Magnus, remembers that once she might have chosen differently and fallen for Tephra instead of her Hyaline. “I might have lived in Tephra myself, Magnus invited me once.” She does not say that she had been sillier then or that she had believed that someone in Hyaline had needed a friend like her. That a princeling had tripped her up and then forgotten about her entirely. These are old and far away things that she does not think of often anymore, though she can pull the image of handsome buckskin Magnus to mind upon hearing his name once more. Kensa smiles at the idea of a pair of red children running in tandem with wolves of black and gray and sable through a wet green Tephra. “Why did you leave?” Is her whisper, his shoulders having rolled to push down an emotion that she is not able to easily read. Brigade is ever a mystery but at last that does not frustrate her. She reaches out to brush his forelock gently across his brow, many leave behind the homes of their youth but not always happily.
Brigade’s kisses, the bite at the corner of her mouth, make her laugh even as a thrill sings through her belly. Her head angles quickly to nip once at his lower lip, and because she cannot resist Kensa presses a kiss to his mouth, tasting the sweetness of his breath. Her pulse quickens a fraction but she pulls herself back just enough, trying to turn her thoughts to the question. “Something just for you…” Muses the gold trimmed woman as her thoughts try to linger on the strong lines of his features instead.
She has many secrets, but nearly all of them belong to someone else too. She could tell him about places she likes to go when she wants to be alone, or what she was about to do right before she found him in her line of sight, the nickname given her by the dappled mare who nursed her… That however does give her an idea, and she smiles and says. “My name means first, and when I was little it was always important to me to be the first one everywhere my family went. I was always in the front, racing ahead. Its hard to be like that as an adult but sometimes, when I feel like I can be someplace all alone I pretend I’m the first one to ever be there. Like an explorer or a lone heroine coming upon a new world.” Embarrassed Kensa ducks her face against his neck before continuing. “There is a place in Hyaline, a ridge in the mountains that takes hours to reach on foot. Sometimes I go there and look west and pretend I’m the first to see Beqanna that way, laid out before me, ageless but somehow clean and honest and brand new.” She doesn’t laugh at herself in the end. Only pulls back a little, waits for him to think she’s ridiculous. Giving Brigade a sideways glance, breathing in the smell of him while her heart quietly beats out a rhythm for this reckless attraction, Kensa grows quiet again and just watches him with soft ochre eyes.
Kensa
@[brigade]
