08-19-2019, 10:43 PM
Were a flame ever to turn solid, Pteron suspects it would not be much different from Reia. She is all sharp angles and stark beauty, close enough to touch but sure to draw blood if he dared try. The sheen of her scales seem almost to glow with an internal light in the dim green light of the deep forest, and Pteron finds himself reaching towards them for just a moment. Just long enough for him to realize what is happening, just long enough for him to feel a wave of cold guilt wash away the matching fire he had felt growing within him.
When she says his name again, it is with a flatness that causes his belly to tighten uncomfortably. She is disappointed in him, it seems, expects him to be better at speaking to women. He wants to argue with her about that; he is quite charming when it comes to women – and to men. It is Reia that is an exception, Reia who is terrifying and beautiful and royal. Reia who could easily rend him limb from limb and feast upon his roasting flesh, and who keeps a cold line of fear always dancing down his spine with her presence.
So instead of arguing he just looks down. He wants to embrace her and exalt her and ensure she keeps her distance from him all at once, and the resulting turmoil keeps him stone still, like some marble effigy of a young pegasus in front of her.
The soft sound of her ruffling feathers reaches his ears, but not until she asks ‘Why Taiga,” does he look up, and not until she mentions visiting all she wants that he begins to frown. That she might want to visit is puzzling – why not remain in her kingdom, attended by Pteron and her other followers whenever she desired and no more often than that? He considers her a friend in the same way he considers the roving wolves friends. Striking things deserving of admiration, respect, and a good distance kept between them. She is also more than a friend, and it was not until today that she was something other than the violent daughter of his leigelord.
She brings that up again when she speaks of his courting ability, and his olive gaze once more finds the thick carpet of pine needles.
“I could,” he tells her – and the ground at his feet - “But I don’t want to. I don’t like logs.” It’s a rather ridiculous argument, and he knows it even as he says it. “Or lizards,” he adds with an unexpected bolt of courage. It’s barely enough to lift his head to meet her fiery gaze, but it is all the resistance he has. Perhaps if she is angry with him, that will make this impossibly tense situation end. She can kill him or expel him from the protection of Loess, but either way he won’t be here, alone in the woods, all-but-frozen in indecision and uncertainty.
@[Reia]
When she says his name again, it is with a flatness that causes his belly to tighten uncomfortably. She is disappointed in him, it seems, expects him to be better at speaking to women. He wants to argue with her about that; he is quite charming when it comes to women – and to men. It is Reia that is an exception, Reia who is terrifying and beautiful and royal. Reia who could easily rend him limb from limb and feast upon his roasting flesh, and who keeps a cold line of fear always dancing down his spine with her presence.
So instead of arguing he just looks down. He wants to embrace her and exalt her and ensure she keeps her distance from him all at once, and the resulting turmoil keeps him stone still, like some marble effigy of a young pegasus in front of her.
The soft sound of her ruffling feathers reaches his ears, but not until she asks ‘Why Taiga,” does he look up, and not until she mentions visiting all she wants that he begins to frown. That she might want to visit is puzzling – why not remain in her kingdom, attended by Pteron and her other followers whenever she desired and no more often than that? He considers her a friend in the same way he considers the roving wolves friends. Striking things deserving of admiration, respect, and a good distance kept between them. She is also more than a friend, and it was not until today that she was something other than the violent daughter of his leigelord.
She brings that up again when she speaks of his courting ability, and his olive gaze once more finds the thick carpet of pine needles.
“I could,” he tells her – and the ground at his feet - “But I don’t want to. I don’t like logs.” It’s a rather ridiculous argument, and he knows it even as he says it. “Or lizards,” he adds with an unexpected bolt of courage. It’s barely enough to lift his head to meet her fiery gaze, but it is all the resistance he has. Perhaps if she is angry with him, that will make this impossibly tense situation end. She can kill him or expel him from the protection of Loess, but either way he won’t be here, alone in the woods, all-but-frozen in indecision and uncertainty.
@[Reia]