01-19-2021, 06:21 PM
In these woods, I feel no fear. Which is foolish, of course. The trees creak and murmur, their usual sounds that harmonize so nicely with the insect-like Voices that whisper and scream between them. Whisper and scream, whisper and scream, no one speaks in a normal tone, do they? Either you're skulking in the shadows, or you're letting the world know it wasn't enough to save you.
Calavera lingers by my side, hesitant and ethereal where the dark eyes of my champion track her. I do not move to shield her, but nor do I shift and allow him access. Not yet, not yet. The daughter of a ghost, and she is a wispy thing. But not meant for Balto's teeth. Not yet.
What I have said draws his attention, and the rage that forever simmers beneath his skin dulls a moment, placated by my apparent forgiveness. I touch his skin, soft as a lover, and nod against the hollow of his throat. Yes, we will do better next time.
He describes in the vaguest of terms his interactions, and my mouth tightens. I do not care about the mare. She is another loser, and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. A new magician, though, born of victory. A sigh flutters through me. Would that it had been my Balto who had emerged the winner. I could scream with disappointment, but that will get us nowhere. I content myself with a steady grinding of my forefeet into the loam. Unseen, but near enough to know they are watching, the Voices chitter with shrilly laughter. Mocking the failure they could have prevented.
"We will simply have to work harder," I comment, mostly to myself. Sweat and tears would get us so far, and blood... I think that just might carry us the rest of the way. Speaking of which... I feel him, his muscles hard and tense beneath my touch, stretching, stretching away from me. Reaching.
My lips were soft on his neck. My teeth are not. The base of his throat is velvet, and I seek to sink my dull bite into it, snarling as vicious as any lurking monster. "She is not yours," I declare sharply, half rearing. Calavera, with more sense than I typically credited her for, darts away and off into the pitch of the woods.
@[Balto]
Calavera lingers by my side, hesitant and ethereal where the dark eyes of my champion track her. I do not move to shield her, but nor do I shift and allow him access. Not yet, not yet. The daughter of a ghost, and she is a wispy thing. But not meant for Balto's teeth. Not yet.
What I have said draws his attention, and the rage that forever simmers beneath his skin dulls a moment, placated by my apparent forgiveness. I touch his skin, soft as a lover, and nod against the hollow of his throat. Yes, we will do better next time.
He describes in the vaguest of terms his interactions, and my mouth tightens. I do not care about the mare. She is another loser, and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. A new magician, though, born of victory. A sigh flutters through me. Would that it had been my Balto who had emerged the winner. I could scream with disappointment, but that will get us nowhere. I content myself with a steady grinding of my forefeet into the loam. Unseen, but near enough to know they are watching, the Voices chitter with shrilly laughter. Mocking the failure they could have prevented.
"We will simply have to work harder," I comment, mostly to myself. Sweat and tears would get us so far, and blood... I think that just might carry us the rest of the way. Speaking of which... I feel him, his muscles hard and tense beneath my touch, stretching, stretching away from me. Reaching.
My lips were soft on his neck. My teeth are not. The base of his throat is velvet, and I seek to sink my dull bite into it, snarling as vicious as any lurking monster. "She is not yours," I declare sharply, half rearing. Calavera, with more sense than I typically credited her for, darts away and off into the pitch of the woods.
@[Balto]