03-10-2017, 12:34 PM
She bleeds for him. She remembers his face and scent, and lives to see him smile.
Carli does not remember the last time she saw a friendly face. The last smile saw was Djinni--and to be fair, the last smile she gave earned her a spot tied underneath a dark stallion...mare, thing. Gender bending magic. That heady scent of her abilities just barely out of reach. She had screamed her pleasure as much as she had screamed her pain, and had woken up used and alone.
But she knew where she needed to go.
The mountain.
Her body is sore and broken. Her pelt is a drab yellow, and her hair is in tatters. She is not sure how to feel about what has happened to her. Except that she is angry. And when she goes looking for her black, brooding cave man, she seeks the solidarity of a stone to rest against, to hide in his shadow and make the world go away.
Just so she could feel safe again.
She had made him smile. Could he do the same for her?
He breaks out of the bush and looks at her, alert and confused. His ears rotate forward and erect before recognition sets in--except it is not recognition. She is not as she was when last they spoke. She has been made different.
She realizes for the first time that she is alone, and so goes back to him. What has happened? he asks. Even Charlemagne is not quite sure. She flutters her burned wings on her back and hangs her head low.
"I was...not alone last night," she says, shifting her weight in the ashy dirt. A throaty cry builds up in the back of her throat, her thick black hair falling in front of her eyes as she allows the tears to begin to flow, all the while inwardly chastising herself for them. She never cries. Ever.
"It hurts so badly. Oh Gods, I am so alone."
Carli does not remember the last time she saw a friendly face. The last smile saw was Djinni--and to be fair, the last smile she gave earned her a spot tied underneath a dark stallion...mare, thing. Gender bending magic. That heady scent of her abilities just barely out of reach. She had screamed her pleasure as much as she had screamed her pain, and had woken up used and alone.
But she knew where she needed to go.
The mountain.
Her body is sore and broken. Her pelt is a drab yellow, and her hair is in tatters. She is not sure how to feel about what has happened to her. Except that she is angry. And when she goes looking for her black, brooding cave man, she seeks the solidarity of a stone to rest against, to hide in his shadow and make the world go away.
Just so she could feel safe again.
She had made him smile. Could he do the same for her?
He breaks out of the bush and looks at her, alert and confused. His ears rotate forward and erect before recognition sets in--except it is not recognition. She is not as she was when last they spoke. She has been made different.
She realizes for the first time that she is alone, and so goes back to him. What has happened? he asks. Even Charlemagne is not quite sure. She flutters her burned wings on her back and hangs her head low.
"I was...not alone last night," she says, shifting her weight in the ashy dirt. A throaty cry builds up in the back of her throat, her thick black hair falling in front of her eyes as she allows the tears to begin to flow, all the while inwardly chastising herself for them. She never cries. Ever.
"It hurts so badly. Oh Gods, I am so alone."