05-29-2021, 03:55 PM
She’s reluctant, her scowl deepening, and his smirking fattening. Irisaen slithers out of his mane, weaving in and out of a few chunks of black tendrils before pooping her white lipped face out into the open, peering at the stranger. The python then descended gracefully down Chem’s shoulder and onto the wet ground, disappearing without a sound into the underbrush – off to hunt small things hiding from the chilly spring rain.
The stallion moves into the tight grove umbrellaed from the rain, well, a little. She was soaked, as was he, but he didn’t mind. She, on the other hand, seemed miserable about it. Or, perhaps, about life in general. There was a time in his life when he would have poked at that, scratched at her obvious irritation and relished in any reaction she would give, especially if it were big and violent. Not now though, nowadays such a thing sounds like such a hassle, and bringing bearing no fruit. He’d rather make friends, or lovers, or at least know who to avoid; or who to keep in mind.
“Well, thanks.” he looks over to her, eyeing a few scars across her otherwise perfect hide. He’s always loved the sunburnt buttery color of buskin, accented with black – and like himself, she’s painted in milky white patches. She’s quite beautiful, he muses, even with the grimace.
“I know somewhere we can go to get out of the rain.” he exhales through his nostrils, looking out into the stormy landscape. “We would have to travel in the rain, but afterward, we could be warm and dry in a cave – at my home, Silver Cove.” he’s not pushy about it, leaving the quiet between them alone for a little longer. He thinks about the small shallow ‘caves’ of the Cove. It seems like they’ve been carved or worn into the sides of the cliffsides. They’re not deep, like small domes in the stone. It is a perfect place to watch the sea under the bright light of the moon each night (except new moon nights, of course), as well as escape the cold rain.
@[Melia]
