03-16-2016, 06:44 PM
The first thing that pierces her awareness is the strange whoosh of air that accompanies the intruder. Blame her dozing, but before Xocolatl can gather herself to move, she finds a wing wrapped around her like a stranger flirting at a sleazy bar. Her head jerks, and she lets out a snort of surprise – and not just at the sudden contact. In the Andalusian’s experience, wings have always belonged firmly on birds.
She is utterly bewildered. So much so that the flash of blue on the stallion’s mane and tail hardly register, let alone the red of his scars, visible as she shuffles backward.
“Ph- ph- phaedrus,” she repeats, rendered doltish in her shock.
But she is young, still new to the ways of the world, and the possessive touch of the stallion riles her enough to move forward.
The weariness of her body is lost behind her sudden spike of adrenaline, and when she drags her eyes away from the wings, her head rises to meet the stallion’s gaze proudly.
“My name is Xocolatl. I suppose you’re making a claim on me?”
She knows enough about the world to think that, at least.
She is utterly bewildered. So much so that the flash of blue on the stallion’s mane and tail hardly register, let alone the red of his scars, visible as she shuffles backward.
“Ph- ph- phaedrus,” she repeats, rendered doltish in her shock.
But she is young, still new to the ways of the world, and the possessive touch of the stallion riles her enough to move forward.
The weariness of her body is lost behind her sudden spike of adrenaline, and when she drags her eyes away from the wings, her head rises to meet the stallion’s gaze proudly.
“My name is Xocolatl. I suppose you’re making a claim on me?”
She knows enough about the world to think that, at least.