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Mare. He. Smells. Mare. His upper lip elevates, tasting the air like a snake as the delightful odour flickers across his muzzle. It is young mare, as well; not the dried-up reek of the crusty old hags who forsake him because of his age. She is young, like him, nubile, just waiting to be introduced to the wicked ways of the world and roughly, delightfully serviced. When she comes into view, his lust-darkened eyes turn to her and devour her body greedily; unicorn, of a similar age to him, all curves and newfound, beautiful womanhood. A guttural, carnal growl escapes him and he lifts himself away from the tree, staring at her hungrily. Even the hideous ooze escaping her facial orificies cannot dampen his desire, and his tail arches and hooks frantically against his heated thighs. She is inflicted with the same disease he has recently been cured from, and he wonders what quirky side effect she's been blessed with. The hearing of a bat and smell of a snake, like he had? Or the ability to see heat, like Isopia had? Perhaps she can see, smell, taste his desire as he takes a lumbering step forwards, muscular neck arched and magnificent to display his virility. "Mare," he rumbles, his voice like hardest gravel. "Why are you here?" He fixes her with his intense, dark red gaze, his nostrils flaring to inhale the deep scent of her combined with the musky stench of his own piss on the tree he'd so lazily claimed as his own. Perhaps that's what's drawn her - perhaps she wants his attention, answering his scent beacon like a moth to a flame. He likes that thought a lot. PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, PREPARE TO BLEED |
@Mirabella
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
