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The mare was cold. She did not touch him, and her body twitched at his touch. Was she disgusted in him for leaving? He did not blame her, for this was his second act of abandoning her. First, while ranked under the Windtossed Foothills, the once General had gone off to scout the north--for reasons unknown to all but him and his commander of the time, Ktulu. He had returned for her and her alone, Circe, and now he was with her again.
But was this enough to bridge the gap that he had thoughtlessly created?
Archibald was a beast of duty--bred and born to be a leading vessel of combat. He damned his mother for this. Damned her, wherever she was in the afterlife that he had so dutifully bestowed upon her. He damned her for not teaching him what he needed to know in this area. He knew how to communicate his ideas and plans, his orders, but not how to negotiate with his wife. What was wrong with him?
Mares are a distraction, Archibald. Do not lose your mind for pussy. His mother's words rang in the back of his mind and bile lifted in his throat. The words were harsh, and they rang the opposite of what this was before him, before Circe, before the gods. This was love.
She finally spoke, her words soft and choked. It was when her voice was swallowed by his ears when he understood--Circe was not angry at him, she did not hate him--she was scared. Closing the distance between them roughly, the Dauntless arched his neck and pulled the mare in close to him, into the crook of his neck, protected by the bulging muscle that she did enjoy so much. "Shhh. They are safe. Abraham has his dragon, and Reginald just sought me in the Edge in search of you. Be still, my darling, they are safe." His voice was taught, full of emotion he dared not spill.
The clouds, the clouds he had ridden to the Insula, where he was returning to when he stumbled upon his mate, seemed to grow more active as the pair connected.
@[Circe]
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.
please tag me
