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Her apprehension was plain to see—this delightfully slender little woman did little to hide her emotions (which, he knew, could lead to incredibly exuberant and rewarding relations between the two). But, alas, this fear of him, his size, or his wings would likely keep either of them from experiencing that.
So the colossal stallion stopped his leisurely walk into the water, the cool liquid lapping gently at his massive knees. But she didn’t run—no, her lovely amber eyes were still glued to his wings, tucked loosely at his sides. Yellow and red eyes sharpen on her face, crafty thoughts darting through his surprisingly cunning mind (he often kept his shrewd intelligence smothered, for women like to feel that they are smarter than the men they sleep with; which, truthfully, was fine with the vulture).
His starkly white face dipped in understanding as she answered his question, his rough voice sounding to answer the question of her own, “Yes, I reside in the World’s Edge. The fancy name drew me in,” he winked in jest, “Yourself?”
He paused for a moment, still watching her close inspection of and darting gaze to his feathered appendages. And then—slowly— he partially unfurled his right wing, massive feathers carefully spreading, the tips of his primaries brushing the surface of the water and sending ripples across the pool. “You can touch it, Elspeth,” a roguish grin crossed his muzzle, “I promise I don’t bite.” At least, not unless you want me to. But he kept that thought to himself, for he didn’t want to scare off the pretty little woman. In fact, just the opposite.
So he stood as still and unassuming as he could, offering the woman an opportunity to physically inspect the wing that she seemed equal parts terrified by and fascinated with.
So the colossal stallion stopped his leisurely walk into the water, the cool liquid lapping gently at his massive knees. But she didn’t run—no, her lovely amber eyes were still glued to his wings, tucked loosely at his sides. Yellow and red eyes sharpen on her face, crafty thoughts darting through his surprisingly cunning mind (he often kept his shrewd intelligence smothered, for women like to feel that they are smarter than the men they sleep with; which, truthfully, was fine with the vulture).
His starkly white face dipped in understanding as she answered his question, his rough voice sounding to answer the question of her own, “Yes, I reside in the World’s Edge. The fancy name drew me in,” he winked in jest, “Yourself?”
He paused for a moment, still watching her close inspection of and darting gaze to his feathered appendages. And then—slowly— he partially unfurled his right wing, massive feathers carefully spreading, the tips of his primaries brushing the surface of the water and sending ripples across the pool. “You can touch it, Elspeth,” a roguish grin crossed his muzzle, “I promise I don’t bite.” At least, not unless you want me to. But he kept that thought to himself, for he didn’t want to scare off the pretty little woman. In fact, just the opposite.
So he stood as still and unassuming as he could, offering the woman an opportunity to physically inspect the wing that she seemed equal parts terrified by and fascinated with.
graasvoel
@Elspeth
Please tag Graasvoel in all posts.
