05-20-2021, 06:01 PM
a bright and dangerous spark
For once, Cheri was grateful for the privacy Loess’ hot springs offered. The steam rising from the clear blue bathing pools curled around both her and Targayren, trickling down her neck in tiny rivulets of condensation and gathering in her hair until it curled. Both of them were obscured from sight and the scene felt surreal; she laughed prettily at him, understanding perfectly what he meant about getting lost (though she disagreed about the dumb part.) Targaryen had a wanderer’s soul from what she knew of him, and though he never lingered on his past Cheri knew that he had a family member outside of Taiga that he sometimes liked to visit. She felt silly for ever having thought there might’ve been someone else in the picture, though her heart twisted a little bit at the idea of herself tangled up with Obscene.
Yenny didn’t deserve it.
“Believe it.” She smiled into the crook of his cheek, adoring the way he made her feel alive and womanly beyond her paltry three years of life. He had told her she was dazzling, had leaned into her touch and accepted that this was happening despite the youth they’d spent together, and Cheri believed him wholeheartedly. With him, everything felt easy. “I had a strange sort of feeling from the moment we met.” She tried to explain through her shortness of breath.
It was the way he was kissing her. Cheri could hardly keep her eyes open.
“Do you remember?” She murmured, reaching up to grasp the bright tendrils of his spring-colored mane with the very edges of her teeth. Cheri tugged and pulled them backwards, trying to guide him into the warm waters at her heels. One of her hooves tipped back and slipped into the pool so she let go, allowing Targaryen to make the final decision. Her eyes fluttered open weakly, a strange sort of heat flooding into her veins when she caught sight of him and the kink in his hair from her efforts.
This was her stallion.
A well-built horse, no angle left to soften on him. He was brawn and clean-cut, holding himself well and sporting a loveable sort of personality inside that attractive head on his shoulders. His wings, part white and partly the color of springtime grass, were magnificently curled against his sides. She’d never seen him angry - save for that instance during the Eclipse when a monster had knocked her off her hooves intending to kill her - but right now there was an aching ferocity to him that made Cheri weak against any reservations she might’ve had.
She wanted him, badly.
“Come.” Cheri tossed her wet curls as a silent invitation, backing further into the warm springs where all the world was quiet around them. If he couldn’t figure out by the demure curl of her smile or the way her eyes flashed, then she’d tell him outright if he asked: Cheri had waited long enough, Targaryen even longer. She’d never been more certain of anything in her life.
Yenny didn’t deserve it.
“Believe it.” She smiled into the crook of his cheek, adoring the way he made her feel alive and womanly beyond her paltry three years of life. He had told her she was dazzling, had leaned into her touch and accepted that this was happening despite the youth they’d spent together, and Cheri believed him wholeheartedly. With him, everything felt easy. “I had a strange sort of feeling from the moment we met.” She tried to explain through her shortness of breath.
It was the way he was kissing her. Cheri could hardly keep her eyes open.
“Do you remember?” She murmured, reaching up to grasp the bright tendrils of his spring-colored mane with the very edges of her teeth. Cheri tugged and pulled them backwards, trying to guide him into the warm waters at her heels. One of her hooves tipped back and slipped into the pool so she let go, allowing Targaryen to make the final decision. Her eyes fluttered open weakly, a strange sort of heat flooding into her veins when she caught sight of him and the kink in his hair from her efforts.
This was her stallion.
A well-built horse, no angle left to soften on him. He was brawn and clean-cut, holding himself well and sporting a loveable sort of personality inside that attractive head on his shoulders. His wings, part white and partly the color of springtime grass, were magnificently curled against his sides. She’d never seen him angry - save for that instance during the Eclipse when a monster had knocked her off her hooves intending to kill her - but right now there was an aching ferocity to him that made Cheri weak against any reservations she might’ve had.
She wanted him, badly.
“Come.” Cheri tossed her wet curls as a silent invitation, backing further into the warm springs where all the world was quiet around them. If he couldn’t figure out by the demure curl of her smile or the way her eyes flashed, then she’d tell him outright if he asked: Cheri had waited long enough, Targaryen even longer. She’d never been more certain of anything in her life.
@[Targaryen]