The young belle bounded forth at her mother’s touch, spindly limbs jutting out in an array of awkward poses, bottle-brush tail bouncing upon her rotund little haunches as she sang a sweet tune for her father. The flicka enjoyed the cooling shower that was triggered by the motions of her father’s generous wingspan, and stood before him with her head tilted back and her wings stretched out so that it might cool her down more efficiently. Rumbling chuckles continued to echo from the steed’s maw, he watched as the filly was bombarded with another fanning shower from her mother’s almost-as-large wings. The flicka shook her head then, back and forth, rustling the short, spiky mane atop her neck, staining her usually sky-blue pelt a deeper indigo where the drips of water ventured.

Azzuen drew the filly close then, whispering something in her ear. Whatever it was he said, the belle nodded excitedly, and took off from where she was standing, bolting out and away from her parents, her path etching tracks along the edges of the lake. “I asked her to bring me a palm tree leaf.” The steed said by way of explanation to his mate. The broad, pointed leaves only fell from a few rare trees within the Throat, one of which a little ways away, further into the lush oasis. The stallion was able to keep an eye on their daughter, especially if he enhanced his sights, and she was barely a few wingbeats away anyway, should they need to intervene any dangerous activities.

Brawny bulk crept closer to the roan femme fatale now, muzzle tracing the contours of her fine, strong bodice, nostrils breathing in her scent, cherishing it. “Do you miss your famiy, Cass?” He didn’t mean the family they had created, he would do everything in his power to ensure that she never felt like she was without him, and he was sure that the loyalty to one’s blood that ran through his veins ran thick in Cirrus’ also, and so the filly would also be a constant presence. Nudging her gently, he tilted a curved lobe in her direction as he stood close enough to her to be intimate, but not so close as to trap body heat between them and melt even more under this unbearable sun. His breaths were steady, and there was water dripping from him, likely falling upon her silken hide, and cascading down the voluptuous contours of her body that the brute had been admiring before.