10-14-2016, 12:56 PM
It didn’t take long before heavy footfalls broke the relative silence. Pyre’s all-too-cheery ears, one a bright dandelion yellow and the other white, swiveled to catch the sound as a stranger approached from behind and a bit off to the side. Spared from the dull drudgery of eating enough boring grass to fulfill his body’s energy needs, he raised his head and turned to eye the approaching stallion. Tall, heavily muscled, well-built and drafty, though he’d been lucky enough to be spared the ridiculous hair that came with Pyre’s own drafty shape.
Lucky bastard.
He was white, with a bit of red topping his head and sprinkled throughout his mane and tail, and blue-green eyes that were pleasant enough as they wandered Pyre’s body the way his own mismatched gaze perused the stranger’s form. Taking measure of the man, noting the height and breadth of him, the strength in his limbs, the casual air about him, the hint of humor beneath some kind of...off-ness. Irritability, a sheen of sweat, Pyre found himself cataloguing his symptoms and felt...discomfort. Somewhere in his chest. A strange frustration, like a quiet nudge to do something when there was nothing he could do.
He twitched the skin on his shoulder, dislodging an imaginary bug as if he could shake the unnameable sensation so easily. He would have offered up a greeting of his own, but the strange stallion beat him to it, his voice deep and slow with just a hint of gravel despite the smooth flow of his words. And those words sent a shiver of warmth flowing beneath Pyre’s skin, unexpected and confusing and all too familiar. If he only knew why. Something in the cadence of those words, in their shape and their rhythm and that lovely lilt, it did delightful things to his insides even if they were the wrong shape.
Puzzled, Pyre nodded a greeting, searching the stranger’s eyes for the cause of such an inexplicable reaction. He could almost feel words like that crooned in his ear, could almost remember--but it was gone just as fast, slipping away before he could grab ahold. “As well as can be expected, given the circumstances,” he replied, mirroring the larger man’s casual pose and trying for a friendly smile instead of the sultry look that seemed to want to take its place, all because of that voice. “Which is to say, it could certainly be better. But the company’s welcome. Maybe we can distract each other for a bit.”
Lucky bastard.
He was white, with a bit of red topping his head and sprinkled throughout his mane and tail, and blue-green eyes that were pleasant enough as they wandered Pyre’s body the way his own mismatched gaze perused the stranger’s form. Taking measure of the man, noting the height and breadth of him, the strength in his limbs, the casual air about him, the hint of humor beneath some kind of...off-ness. Irritability, a sheen of sweat, Pyre found himself cataloguing his symptoms and felt...discomfort. Somewhere in his chest. A strange frustration, like a quiet nudge to do something when there was nothing he could do.
He twitched the skin on his shoulder, dislodging an imaginary bug as if he could shake the unnameable sensation so easily. He would have offered up a greeting of his own, but the strange stallion beat him to it, his voice deep and slow with just a hint of gravel despite the smooth flow of his words. And those words sent a shiver of warmth flowing beneath Pyre’s skin, unexpected and confusing and all too familiar. If he only knew why. Something in the cadence of those words, in their shape and their rhythm and that lovely lilt, it did delightful things to his insides even if they were the wrong shape.
Puzzled, Pyre nodded a greeting, searching the stranger’s eyes for the cause of such an inexplicable reaction. He could almost feel words like that crooned in his ear, could almost remember--but it was gone just as fast, slipping away before he could grab ahold. “As well as can be expected, given the circumstances,” he replied, mirroring the larger man’s casual pose and trying for a friendly smile instead of the sultry look that seemed to want to take its place, all because of that voice. “Which is to say, it could certainly be better. But the company’s welcome. Maybe we can distract each other for a bit.”