I can see through you, see your true colors
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
The Loess visit had proven… interesting.
However there was one more stop on this political train, one more place to visit, one more person to inform of his “ascension” to the wildflower throne.
The dark Fae did not trust Sabra as far as he could throw her. To say that he didn’t particularly like the pastel mare with the large stick jutting out of her chest would be an understatement. He still remembers the magic crawling over his skin and sinking into his brain, the haziness that followed her hypnotic gaze, the way he became pliable under her spell. There is also a small part of him that’s loathe to admit that he had been pleased to be seen by her, she had found something past the mortal shell of his existence and stirred a little kernel of thought that maybe he wasn’t such a worthless fool after all. She had seen something in him that he couldn’t see himself. For all her flaws and danger, he couldn’t shake that.
It is always autumn here, he is reminded, as gray clouds hide the blue in the sky and the red and yellow leaves dangle off the tangled limbs of wide trees. It had been Spring when they had visited Loess but he waits till the last signs of summer to step foot in the eternal autumn lands. He had thought to send Wherewolf here but thinks better of that idea. There’s a time for pranks and this isn’t one of them. Instead he travels with the Pampian Seneschal who had proven so useful on the last trip.
When he had last been here he had been just a mortal but handsome young stallion. Now he was Fae, now he held the Pampas in his grasp, and now he had those like Aela at his side. He moves past the heavy woods of oak and maple until he finds one of the few clearings, avoiding the thick thorny briars that threaten entangle them in their thickets. He loosens a call and cocks a hind hoof, his expression as unreadable as ever despite a small flutter of nerves, and glances at his companion out of the corner of a fiery red iris. “Don’t look her directly in the eyes.” He mutters to her under his breath as his finely tipped ears swivel forward and await the arrival of the javelined mare.
However there was one more stop on this political train, one more place to visit, one more person to inform of his “ascension” to the wildflower throne.
The dark Fae did not trust Sabra as far as he could throw her. To say that he didn’t particularly like the pastel mare with the large stick jutting out of her chest would be an understatement. He still remembers the magic crawling over his skin and sinking into his brain, the haziness that followed her hypnotic gaze, the way he became pliable under her spell. There is also a small part of him that’s loathe to admit that he had been pleased to be seen by her, she had found something past the mortal shell of his existence and stirred a little kernel of thought that maybe he wasn’t such a worthless fool after all. She had seen something in him that he couldn’t see himself. For all her flaws and danger, he couldn’t shake that.
It is always autumn here, he is reminded, as gray clouds hide the blue in the sky and the red and yellow leaves dangle off the tangled limbs of wide trees. It had been Spring when they had visited Loess but he waits till the last signs of summer to step foot in the eternal autumn lands. He had thought to send Wherewolf here but thinks better of that idea. There’s a time for pranks and this isn’t one of them. Instead he travels with the Pampian Seneschal who had proven so useful on the last trip.
When he had last been here he had been just a mortal but handsome young stallion. Now he was Fae, now he held the Pampas in his grasp, and now he had those like Aela at his side. He moves past the heavy woods of oak and maple until he finds one of the few clearings, avoiding the thick thorny briars that threaten entangle them in their thickets. He loosens a call and cocks a hind hoof, his expression as unreadable as ever despite a small flutter of nerves, and glances at his companion out of the corner of a fiery red iris. “Don’t look her directly in the eyes.” He mutters to her under his breath as his finely tipped ears swivel forward and await the arrival of the javelined mare.
obscene
@Aela @Sabra
![[Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fTkjKh9Q/Obscene-Pixel.png){kind=tracking}