06-07-2020, 01:49 PM
never thirsty, ever drinking
Steel-blue eyes dance brightly, reflecting sunlight and a hint of laughter at her dismayed reaction to the soaking, every inch of him claiming ownership of the watery attack but his voice, which says nothing. His tail flicks heavily, laden with water, to slap against his hindquarters noisily, tendrils wrapping themselves around his legs and staying stuck until the current they trail in finally tugs them free. As the mare uplifts her sinuous dragon tail in a shower of diamond droplets, Dace lowers his nose to the water's cool surface and whispers a slightly bubbled farewell to the trio of minnows that indulged his whims, releasing them back to the questionable safety of their home. They dart back among the rocks, joining the shoal of silver-flanked fish with tales the others will not care to hear, and the stallion strains his ears as if to hear the conversations, but they are too quiet, too distant in the rolling rush of water. He loses himself for a moment but the feel of her scales against his damp skin brings him back, the creases between each plate catching wet hair and brushing it the wrong direction so it stands out from against his ribs and sets the skin to jumping. Like a fisherman casting a line, he deftly tosses his head up and out, his muzzle at the extent of his reach grazing her side with the rasping whisper of scales against his lips.
It's a thoughtless, casual, caress, mimicking the unintentional way she rubs against him as she leaves the water and Dace watches, interest piqued by the leading way her words trail into silence.
Maybe?
He follows her to the bank, fine river rock crunching under their hooves, to watch her lure the thin grass to greater heights. It doesn't grow well here, the gravel too loose, the mud too dense, and the river too prone to flooding its banks, but under her spell, the blades grow thicker, taller, darker green. He draws up beside her, head low once again to skim the tops of it, letting the sprays tickle his nose.
"That's amazing," he says, as if he has not so fully ignored the ways she drifts between horse and dragon, as if this is common, expected. He finds delight in these smaller, secret things, an offshoot, perhaps, of his time spent with fish and their forgotten world.
"What's your name, Plant Dragon?"
It's a thoughtless, casual, caress, mimicking the unintentional way she rubs against him as she leaves the water and Dace watches, interest piqued by the leading way her words trail into silence.
Maybe?
He follows her to the bank, fine river rock crunching under their hooves, to watch her lure the thin grass to greater heights. It doesn't grow well here, the gravel too loose, the mud too dense, and the river too prone to flooding its banks, but under her spell, the blades grow thicker, taller, darker green. He draws up beside her, head low once again to skim the tops of it, letting the sprays tickle his nose.
"That's amazing," he says, as if he has not so fully ignored the ways she drifts between horse and dragon, as if this is common, expected. He finds delight in these smaller, secret things, an offshoot, perhaps, of his time spent with fish and their forgotten world.
"What's your name, Plant Dragon?"
@[saint]
