[mature] wont be coming to church on sunday; ashhal

[Kensa]

for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle

Her nostrils flare and pupils dilate as she takes in the stranger. Tall, lean, but rippling with corded muscle. She might have a type.
Kensa looks ordinary, genuine, and sweet. For the most part she is. Of course maybe should be more careful about her honest looks and open interest. In the summer heat she doesn’t have the mental energy to overthink this. Kensa is neither shy or easily threatened and she draws closer to the shore and to the dapple grey confidently, though out here in the heat it's like moving through thick geothermal mud.  His eyes are on her, spotlighting her curves without any of the boring discretion she usually endures.

Topaz eyes flare to meet his, drag away again to follow the track of cold clear water colored brown by the muck and stones below. Kensa lets herself appear contemplative, dons the very apparent pretense of hesitation. Tilting her blazed face back toward him she replies primly, “After me.” And twists towards the water, muscular haunches bunching as she drops her hocks and slides down the muddy edge to splash into the river. Silts swirls around her white limbs but she doesn’t go further. She waits, almost in the way, leaving him room only all but collide with her unless he chooses another way down. Turning her chin back to her shoulder she watches the taller dappled beast from below, letting him look down on her chestnut curves from above.

kensa

for every dreamer, a dream. we're unstoppable with something to believe in.

@[Ashhal]