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Parading masculine grace and smooth rhythmic movements spurred by the company of the prized mare alone, Hector led the way briskly into the east. His large skull bounced square atop the swing of his well-proportioned, sinewy neck; silken copper tresses swished heartily across both, the forelock veil sweeping backwards and forwards across shrewd eyes. He watched carefully the world through which they passed, keen to avoid confrontation, yes (although an opportunity to flaunt his prowess would not be shunned); but more so determined to keep Morana to himself, to evade the company of most everyone else if they lurked in waiting. Veci remained none too pleased, trailing the pair like a sullen child- respectful, but resentful. He would have liked nothing more than a chance to pull from her mind a fear, anything to send her careering away through the lush scrub surrounding. He didn't like her; something was amiss.
They’d passed first by the southern Helovian cliffs, frothing angry ocean lashing beneath as he had guided her safely (deliberately), across the precarious terrain. Fire-look flecked wings were flung apart in a display of confidence, proficiency and fine majesty, and before long they were slipping away through the wild coastal winds and towards the rushing river rapids in the lower part of Thistle Meadow- also an opportunity to impress. The relentless snows across the steppe up north melted constantly through Tallsun, and the water course was flowing strong towards the sea; a churning, surging body that would undoubtedly tug hungrily at her meek, feminine frame. He approached without hesitation, sound hooves crunching, grinding the withered, sun-baked grass beneath, and turned to flash a smile her way, thoughtful,
haughty...
Hector arranged himself beside her, finding for himself a worthy reason to touch the loveliness and mysterious womanliness that she embodied. Morana felt warm,
alive, and his skin crawled reactively as they came together. The engrossed stallion pressed the naked bulge of his barrel against her, wings lifted to balance throughout the swim, and steered her into the soup. He was downstream, pedalling hard, determinedly, to maintain a straight course through; keeping safe her much smaller mass, so that it did not slip away into the ravenous froth nearer to the seaboard. Though it was strenuous work (even for one so fit, so large and so charged), his stoic, mannish soldier’s expression was unyielding. They made it across in good time, and he emerged appropriately after her, shaking the excess water from his coat in a shimmering cloud of moisture- afterwards he allowed her a quiet moment to rest.
As midnight washed deep blackness upon them (streamer clouds, invisible to his day-loving eye, drifting over the moons pale face), Hector turned to lead her on- the final leg of the journey, lazily northwest. He saw mainly the ivory of her coat; the darker accents were lost so that when she moved, she appeared unnervingly to drift in and out of their dimension. A good while afterwards, his steady stride breeched the first sands of the beach, their slippery surface a vague comfort like home. Finally he spoke, daring to press his lips near to her shoulder.
"Endless Blue." His tone was deep and exclusively sultry and while he lingered so close to her, thirsty nostrils guzzled her tantalising aroma.
[ooc: minor power-play, let me know if you would prefer it gone]
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