08-29-2021, 02:15 PM
I can see through you, see your true colors
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
It is always easy to fall into his desire, the one thing he has never doubted is her enjoyment in these entanglements, that she likes it as much as he does. Over the course of two years he has familiarized himself with the curves of her body and he is an expert at finding those places that might illicit more from the small devious mare. She presses against him and he in return curves himself around her. As if nothing had changed, as if it never would.
She reads his thoughts effortlessly and he whicker’s softly into her mane with approval, teasing a loose strand of her wild blonde hair as she speaks the idea aloud. “Would an island please you?” He asks her quietly, a coaxing question meant to allure her in more ways than one. “Better yet, shall I bring you the redwoods on a silver platter?” A gift, for her loyalty and the hard work she had put in. He knows that the Pampas wouldn’t have risen nearly as quickly without her, a fact that he has never denied. Together they had turned the simple territory into something else. Something bigger than the both of them.
It only makes the uncertainty between them that much harder.
As for the situation in the East, there is not a doubt in his suspicious mind that Gale’s promise to leave the Pampas untouched is an empty one. It’s a thought she could easily pluck from his mind, if only by looking at the skepticism in his eyes. Only a fool would trust the words of the devil and he trusts the navy stallion as far as he can throw him. Which isn’t much at all. Holding on to Sickle is a dangerous path but a tempting one. Depending on what they find in Tephra, he wonders if information would keep the thing in Hyaline off their backs even more so than a child that Gale hadn’t bothered to take himself.
The plotting between them dies, for now, as topics change and he realizes that he’s missed quite a bit himself in his time away from her. The boy she shows him makes him still and that flare of jealousy baits the snake within when she calls the colt “hers” but it fades quickly beneath the confusion that floods in. The boy holds the same spots as his mother and for a moment he wonders…. No. He hadn’t been gone that long to notice if Aela had grown round with child. Besides, she had made her thoughts on autumn shenanigans quite clear. It takes him a second, past the shock of jaguar dapples, to watch the colt raise flowers of fire and he can clearly see the outline of the Den behind him. As the image fades, he doesn’t miss the pride in her gaze which is another new surprise to him. He hadn’t taken her for the motherly sort.
What else had he missed about his Seneschal?
“Well done.” He finally says (truthful enough for the child was obviously powerful and beautiful), still perturbed by the colt’s uncanny resemblance to his own family line as well as the way he wielded his fire so deftly. He makes a point to find this boy later and see him in the flesh, oblivious as always to the scattering of scales raising patterns along his midnight coat as his temper begins to churn and spread.
Speaking of Loess only makes it worse.
The fire is new. He’s sure he would have remembered it from before and perhaps he had thought it a trick of the light. But now it flares around them and he thinks he catches flames in her eyes even as she is quick to extinguish it. He is thoughtful as he considers her, despite the creeping tension, and wonders where those had come from. His father had once been wreathed in flames and where one might flinch from them, he only steps closer. He can feel the edges of contentment where he was sure there had once been anger and he frowns slightly as he looks at her. “If the North has a problem with your attendance then I will firmly remind them of the favor I did for the Isle.” He says quietly, still shielding her from the brunt of the chilly winds despite the distance that had grown between them. The healing of the star mare and her gruesome broken body still linger in the back of his mind, an image he recalls when he reminds himself how lucky he is to no longer be mortal.
And then they arrive to the inevitable, the conversation they had been beating around the bush for months if not longer.
When it came to Aela, he had willingly submitted to her whims and destructive whimsy time and time again. It had never been a problem before and in certain context he would continue to let her pull his strings. But he no longer wanted to be only her puppet. Over the course of their complex relationship she has worn many titles. Seneschal on the surface, friend and lover just below, and on a deeper level something more that he still couldn’t find the words to say. The blurred lines hadn’t mattered before but now they suddenly did. He had not missed the way his two elite would huddle close to each other the few times he had caught them scheming in the distance. And while the star studded stallion often kept to himself, he hadn’t missed that subtle connection between the two when he had first met the mimic. He had seen it from the very beginning. When he had looked at him and saw himself reflected back in more ways than one, his strengths and his weaknesses. The Pampas Champion seemed to easily fit against the pieces of her where he struggled to connect.
Neither had a right to claim anything on the other. Both were guilty of their own discretions (he much more than her) but the tentative truce that had somehow arisen between himself and the crystal Heir of Loess had hollowed something more in him. And the piece of himself that Cheri had managed to pry loose now left him exposed to certain elements that he hadn’t felt before. She speaks of Sickle and his gaze darkens. Yes, they were going to steal the girl but her deflection is duly noted and hangs heavy in his chest, wrapping around the shriveled thing that he assumes must be his heart.
And then she asks the question that brings it all to a grinding halt. What did he want?
“You.” He finally says, unwavering as he steps close to her again, his muzzle possessive against her golden cheek for a moment before he swings it away and brings it to his chest while arching his broad neck. “I would have all of you Aela. Not just parts of you.” He finally confesses, his crimson eyes blazing as he smirks at her and writhes with a new uncomfortable feeling that has nothing to do with the serpent within. “But that’s not possible is it?” He finally says as he looks past her to the expansive land of hill, stone, and dying flowers around them.
“How is Skandar?” He finally says (a little too calmly) when the pause becomes pregnant enough, when his knowing gaze falls back into the brilliant blue of hers. It hadn’t seem to matter before, each of them turning a blind eye to the blatantly obvious. He didn’t want to turn his head anymore. If anything Aela had done her job well on him after all. She had stoked his ambition, had made him see the possibilities of himself that had been submerged beneath a dark murky surface, had made him want just a little bit more.
Once he had thought the two of them would rule the world.
They still just might but not in the way he had originally thought or hoped for.
She reads his thoughts effortlessly and he whicker’s softly into her mane with approval, teasing a loose strand of her wild blonde hair as she speaks the idea aloud. “Would an island please you?” He asks her quietly, a coaxing question meant to allure her in more ways than one. “Better yet, shall I bring you the redwoods on a silver platter?” A gift, for her loyalty and the hard work she had put in. He knows that the Pampas wouldn’t have risen nearly as quickly without her, a fact that he has never denied. Together they had turned the simple territory into something else. Something bigger than the both of them.
It only makes the uncertainty between them that much harder.
As for the situation in the East, there is not a doubt in his suspicious mind that Gale’s promise to leave the Pampas untouched is an empty one. It’s a thought she could easily pluck from his mind, if only by looking at the skepticism in his eyes. Only a fool would trust the words of the devil and he trusts the navy stallion as far as he can throw him. Which isn’t much at all. Holding on to Sickle is a dangerous path but a tempting one. Depending on what they find in Tephra, he wonders if information would keep the thing in Hyaline off their backs even more so than a child that Gale hadn’t bothered to take himself.
The plotting between them dies, for now, as topics change and he realizes that he’s missed quite a bit himself in his time away from her. The boy she shows him makes him still and that flare of jealousy baits the snake within when she calls the colt “hers” but it fades quickly beneath the confusion that floods in. The boy holds the same spots as his mother and for a moment he wonders…. No. He hadn’t been gone that long to notice if Aela had grown round with child. Besides, she had made her thoughts on autumn shenanigans quite clear. It takes him a second, past the shock of jaguar dapples, to watch the colt raise flowers of fire and he can clearly see the outline of the Den behind him. As the image fades, he doesn’t miss the pride in her gaze which is another new surprise to him. He hadn’t taken her for the motherly sort.
What else had he missed about his Seneschal?
“Well done.” He finally says (truthful enough for the child was obviously powerful and beautiful), still perturbed by the colt’s uncanny resemblance to his own family line as well as the way he wielded his fire so deftly. He makes a point to find this boy later and see him in the flesh, oblivious as always to the scattering of scales raising patterns along his midnight coat as his temper begins to churn and spread.
Speaking of Loess only makes it worse.
The fire is new. He’s sure he would have remembered it from before and perhaps he had thought it a trick of the light. But now it flares around them and he thinks he catches flames in her eyes even as she is quick to extinguish it. He is thoughtful as he considers her, despite the creeping tension, and wonders where those had come from. His father had once been wreathed in flames and where one might flinch from them, he only steps closer. He can feel the edges of contentment where he was sure there had once been anger and he frowns slightly as he looks at her. “If the North has a problem with your attendance then I will firmly remind them of the favor I did for the Isle.” He says quietly, still shielding her from the brunt of the chilly winds despite the distance that had grown between them. The healing of the star mare and her gruesome broken body still linger in the back of his mind, an image he recalls when he reminds himself how lucky he is to no longer be mortal.
And then they arrive to the inevitable, the conversation they had been beating around the bush for months if not longer.
When it came to Aela, he had willingly submitted to her whims and destructive whimsy time and time again. It had never been a problem before and in certain context he would continue to let her pull his strings. But he no longer wanted to be only her puppet. Over the course of their complex relationship she has worn many titles. Seneschal on the surface, friend and lover just below, and on a deeper level something more that he still couldn’t find the words to say. The blurred lines hadn’t mattered before but now they suddenly did. He had not missed the way his two elite would huddle close to each other the few times he had caught them scheming in the distance. And while the star studded stallion often kept to himself, he hadn’t missed that subtle connection between the two when he had first met the mimic. He had seen it from the very beginning. When he had looked at him and saw himself reflected back in more ways than one, his strengths and his weaknesses. The Pampas Champion seemed to easily fit against the pieces of her where he struggled to connect.
Neither had a right to claim anything on the other. Both were guilty of their own discretions (he much more than her) but the tentative truce that had somehow arisen between himself and the crystal Heir of Loess had hollowed something more in him. And the piece of himself that Cheri had managed to pry loose now left him exposed to certain elements that he hadn’t felt before. She speaks of Sickle and his gaze darkens. Yes, they were going to steal the girl but her deflection is duly noted and hangs heavy in his chest, wrapping around the shriveled thing that he assumes must be his heart.
And then she asks the question that brings it all to a grinding halt. What did he want?
“You.” He finally says, unwavering as he steps close to her again, his muzzle possessive against her golden cheek for a moment before he swings it away and brings it to his chest while arching his broad neck. “I would have all of you Aela. Not just parts of you.” He finally confesses, his crimson eyes blazing as he smirks at her and writhes with a new uncomfortable feeling that has nothing to do with the serpent within. “But that’s not possible is it?” He finally says as he looks past her to the expansive land of hill, stone, and dying flowers around them.
“How is Skandar?” He finally says (a little too calmly) when the pause becomes pregnant enough, when his knowing gaze falls back into the brilliant blue of hers. It hadn’t seem to matter before, each of them turning a blind eye to the blatantly obvious. He didn’t want to turn his head anymore. If anything Aela had done her job well on him after all. She had stoked his ambition, had made him see the possibilities of himself that had been submerged beneath a dark murky surface, had made him want just a little bit more.
Once he had thought the two of them would rule the world.
They still just might but not in the way he had originally thought or hoped for.
obscene
@Aela
![[Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fTkjKh9Q/Obscene-Pixel.png){kind=tracking}