04-20-2017, 01:39 PM
The breeze tousles his white and ginger locks, a whisper over the warmth of the sun that kisses his ivory back. A blissful kind of happy has him standing tall, chin tucked inward with a touch of a smile on his pink lips as he watches Kylin and Kharon playing together a short ways away. They've had fun while their mom has been away and for once Reilly feels rooted. Needed. Wanted. What an amazing concept. To feel important and to have the responsibility of these children's happiness and safety. He toys with the idea of being their guardian, maybe their dad, and a partner in raising them. The feeling of being a dad, even if not really their dad, is a completely new and surprisingly thrilling prospect.
Just one thing is left to question.
He knows where he stands with the kids. It's easy with them. Innocence shines bright in their eyes and they know not truly how yet to lie. The look in those two little pairs of eyes as they beam up at him gives all he needs to know about how they think of him. Their mother, though, is quite a different and more complicated story. Giving himself completely to her twins would be so easy, and is so tempting. But he hadn't been able to promise them forever because of one very important thing.
Her.
And here she comes. With the sunlight gleaming off her coat and illuminating the easy way she moves. He wonders if she knows just how beautiful she really is. Such a petite thing, with all that wild hair. And man, the wind sure has her hair awfully ruffled, doesn't it. He doesn't mind, though, thinks (albeit secretly, because he wonders if he should have such thoughts) that she looks bloody hot with this disheveled appearance as she makes her way to him. He greets her with a warm smile, his eyelids lowered and cocked hind leg conveying his contentment. He is happy to see her. Wants to greet her more personably, but for the question burning in the back of his mind that has him holding back. She finally comes to stand by him, though notably not too close. "Thanks, Reilly. Guess I'll take over from here." So sad, shut off, and not even looking at him. God, how he wants to take all that from her. But hell, if her simple statement didn't sound like a dismissal. He frowns. Does she expect him to just up and take off now that she's back? Oh, Jaysus, yer home! I'll be on mah way now, lassie. Enjoy yer kids, tura'lu! Inwardly, he rolls his eyes. Outwardly, he shakes his head and smiles before taking a step toward her.
And stops. Frozen. Stops breathing, even. All expression drains from his face. All former carefree contentment bleeds out from his body, to be replaced by tension. Shocked and disbelieving. "Wallace? What happened? What..." He stares, wide eyed at her for a moment, still not bloody looking at him. Takes a step closer, sniffs, eyes her whole body once more as it all clicks in to place. He'd been a fool not to realize it the moment he saw her. It's a look he's all too familiar with, really. Her bed head, the sweat stains in her coat, the reeking stench of sex. And not just that. The male's scent is familiar, although he can't even fucking begin to believe it. She doesn't look the same tragic broken mess as the day he'd found her in the woods, but that smell is the very same.
Heart sinking to the back of his chest, guts twisting with turmoil, he lowers his head passed the level of hers and fixes her with a shocked stare. This is what she needed time to deal with? Not just to get her head on straight, but to get the head of the bastard who'd left her broken in a heap?! "What happened?" And then because he realizes what he sees in her face isn't guilt, but something else. Something worse. She'd consented this time. He just knew it. It was written all over her fucking body. "What did you do." Deeper now, shrinking back from her. A haze settles over his vision. Emotions he's never felt before rising to the surface and rendering him unable to fight them. Jealousy, rage... And a deep sadness. Hurt. He shakes with it, shakes his head. Confused, shocked. His breath expels in an exasperated huff. "Why, dove." Not but a whisper, still shaking his head.
His heart races, thumping painfully in heavy dull thuds, his breathing comes faster, nostrils quivering. Somewhere deep down he knows he might be overreacting. She is not his. But goddammit, why did this have to hurt so bad. That she would choose to go back to the filth that scorned her instead of recognizing what's been here for her the entirety of the time since.. well since he's been around. He turns from her, pacing, throwing his weight around while he spits out what's on his mind. "Why. Why would you.. Jaysus, Lace, and to think I've been waiting to be able to touch you. Fucking hell." Oops, said that out loud, did he? Well, hell, too late to take it back. And he had. Been waiting for the moment she might ask him to touch her. Because he wanted it to be her choice. He wouldn't force it on her, not when so much had already been forced on her. So he'd denied himself from touch, from comforting her, from loving her. And for what. For her to turn around and go fuck the same scum he should've been comforting her over. He could've erased him from her mind. But no, that was never even possible, was it.
He groans, quietly, so as not to attract attention from the twins playing not far off. However, unable to contain the tension, he punches the ground beneath his right front hoof with enough force to leave an indentation, rattling his very bones. Blue-green eyes return to her, searching her face. Knowing she's already so damn bent, but not caring. He was done hiding behind the protective shroud. She needs to know how her actions have consequence. "Dammit, Lace! Are ye so goddamned blind? Yeah. Too fucking blind to see what's right here in front o'ya. Bloody hell, woman, d'ya even fucking care? Does anyone matter outside that pretty little head o'yers?" UGH, he's never been so mad before. Not a day in his carefree, easy-going life. Back before he'd discovered there were things he could have. Things so much better than wandering and getting boozed up and having a good ride with just any woman he could charm. Back before he realized it was something he wanted. Now, as he stares into the face of the only woman to ever affect him- to effectively change him for what would probably be forever, now he just doesn't know what to say. The pain of this giant slap in the face was just too much. Too much to just stand here and take. So angry he was that his string of curses melted into his native tongue as he backs away and turns. It's like everything inside him was ripping apart and bursting into flames. He can't think straight. He can't bear to look at her. He just. Can't. Now was best to walk away. Just walk away before he says more to hurt her. But damned if he didn't feel like killing someone.
Time to go and do what he does best. Get away and get good and rightly shit-faced. Fuck all the rest.
Just one thing is left to question.
He knows where he stands with the kids. It's easy with them. Innocence shines bright in their eyes and they know not truly how yet to lie. The look in those two little pairs of eyes as they beam up at him gives all he needs to know about how they think of him. Their mother, though, is quite a different and more complicated story. Giving himself completely to her twins would be so easy, and is so tempting. But he hadn't been able to promise them forever because of one very important thing.
Her.
And here she comes. With the sunlight gleaming off her coat and illuminating the easy way she moves. He wonders if she knows just how beautiful she really is. Such a petite thing, with all that wild hair. And man, the wind sure has her hair awfully ruffled, doesn't it. He doesn't mind, though, thinks (albeit secretly, because he wonders if he should have such thoughts) that she looks bloody hot with this disheveled appearance as she makes her way to him. He greets her with a warm smile, his eyelids lowered and cocked hind leg conveying his contentment. He is happy to see her. Wants to greet her more personably, but for the question burning in the back of his mind that has him holding back. She finally comes to stand by him, though notably not too close. "Thanks, Reilly. Guess I'll take over from here." So sad, shut off, and not even looking at him. God, how he wants to take all that from her. But hell, if her simple statement didn't sound like a dismissal. He frowns. Does she expect him to just up and take off now that she's back? Oh, Jaysus, yer home! I'll be on mah way now, lassie. Enjoy yer kids, tura'lu! Inwardly, he rolls his eyes. Outwardly, he shakes his head and smiles before taking a step toward her.
And stops. Frozen. Stops breathing, even. All expression drains from his face. All former carefree contentment bleeds out from his body, to be replaced by tension. Shocked and disbelieving. "Wallace? What happened? What..." He stares, wide eyed at her for a moment, still not bloody looking at him. Takes a step closer, sniffs, eyes her whole body once more as it all clicks in to place. He'd been a fool not to realize it the moment he saw her. It's a look he's all too familiar with, really. Her bed head, the sweat stains in her coat, the reeking stench of sex. And not just that. The male's scent is familiar, although he can't even fucking begin to believe it. She doesn't look the same tragic broken mess as the day he'd found her in the woods, but that smell is the very same.
Heart sinking to the back of his chest, guts twisting with turmoil, he lowers his head passed the level of hers and fixes her with a shocked stare. This is what she needed time to deal with? Not just to get her head on straight, but to get the head of the bastard who'd left her broken in a heap?! "What happened?" And then because he realizes what he sees in her face isn't guilt, but something else. Something worse. She'd consented this time. He just knew it. It was written all over her fucking body. "What did you do." Deeper now, shrinking back from her. A haze settles over his vision. Emotions he's never felt before rising to the surface and rendering him unable to fight them. Jealousy, rage... And a deep sadness. Hurt. He shakes with it, shakes his head. Confused, shocked. His breath expels in an exasperated huff. "Why, dove." Not but a whisper, still shaking his head.
His heart races, thumping painfully in heavy dull thuds, his breathing comes faster, nostrils quivering. Somewhere deep down he knows he might be overreacting. She is not his. But goddammit, why did this have to hurt so bad. That she would choose to go back to the filth that scorned her instead of recognizing what's been here for her the entirety of the time since.. well since he's been around. He turns from her, pacing, throwing his weight around while he spits out what's on his mind. "Why. Why would you.. Jaysus, Lace, and to think I've been waiting to be able to touch you. Fucking hell." Oops, said that out loud, did he? Well, hell, too late to take it back. And he had. Been waiting for the moment she might ask him to touch her. Because he wanted it to be her choice. He wouldn't force it on her, not when so much had already been forced on her. So he'd denied himself from touch, from comforting her, from loving her. And for what. For her to turn around and go fuck the same scum he should've been comforting her over. He could've erased him from her mind. But no, that was never even possible, was it.
He groans, quietly, so as not to attract attention from the twins playing not far off. However, unable to contain the tension, he punches the ground beneath his right front hoof with enough force to leave an indentation, rattling his very bones. Blue-green eyes return to her, searching her face. Knowing she's already so damn bent, but not caring. He was done hiding behind the protective shroud. She needs to know how her actions have consequence. "Dammit, Lace! Are ye so goddamned blind? Yeah. Too fucking blind to see what's right here in front o'ya. Bloody hell, woman, d'ya even fucking care? Does anyone matter outside that pretty little head o'yers?" UGH, he's never been so mad before. Not a day in his carefree, easy-going life. Back before he'd discovered there were things he could have. Things so much better than wandering and getting boozed up and having a good ride with just any woman he could charm. Back before he realized it was something he wanted. Now, as he stares into the face of the only woman to ever affect him- to effectively change him for what would probably be forever, now he just doesn't know what to say. The pain of this giant slap in the face was just too much. Too much to just stand here and take. So angry he was that his string of curses melted into his native tongue as he backs away and turns. It's like everything inside him was ripping apart and bursting into flames. He can't think straight. He can't bear to look at her. He just. Can't. Now was best to walk away. Just walk away before he says more to hurt her. But damned if he didn't feel like killing someone.
Time to go and do what he does best. Get away and get good and rightly shit-faced. Fuck all the rest.
