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Most often his crudeness and vulgarity are met with disgusted offense or astonished disbelief, a negative response by any measure, but the battered old nag pushes back with her own brand of surliness and sarcasm, the tone and cut of her voice drawing both of the stallions ears forward in a rare display of nicety from his sour features. He likes her immediately, and when her wicked tongue goes on to lash him further he grins appreciatively at her humor.
"You'd like to see me all glimmering and wet wouldn't you? It'd almost be worth it if you promised to warm me up after. I hear skin on skin is the best way to transfer heat." One gleaming green eye winks suggestively before skimming down the sides and thighs of the mare. She's not bad looking, despite her state, but those razor edged hip bones would probably impale him instead of feeling full and solid against his own. He grins even wider. "True love is blind anyway, or so they say. Don't bother primping for little ol' me. I take what I can get." Another wolfish grin, this one sharper than the last, a slight emphasis placed on the word take.
He steps closer to the mare, reaching out toward a stick lodged in her snaggle of mane. Strom noses his tiny head out of the folds of his scarf, stirred by the not-so-undertones of the conversation. He's unlikely to ever find another python of his type to pair with, but the increasing escapades of his bonded are almost as fulfilling as he imagines the actual act to be, having never performed it himself. His tiny forked tongue races in and out, tasting the mixed odors of horse and filth around him, confused by the lack of physical excitement behind the stallions mental elation.
Some pleasures aren't physical, the black tries to explain, much to the snakes disappointment, so he adds that it doesn't mean it won't become physical, which seems to brighten the companions spirits some while simultaneously making the stallion wonder what ill effects his bonding with the snake has truly had on his once innocent soul, but then again, snakes aren't known for their moral uprightness. 'Kettle.' Comes the silent reply as the python slips back into the safety and warmth of the wool garment tied at his bondeds neck. He doesn't believe in heaven or hell, though they're rather large concepts for a snake, and mostly because the stallion doesn't either, so lamentations about judgements and souls mean little to him.
"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Sheba
"You'd like to see me all glimmering and wet wouldn't you? It'd almost be worth it if you promised to warm me up after. I hear skin on skin is the best way to transfer heat." One gleaming green eye winks suggestively before skimming down the sides and thighs of the mare. She's not bad looking, despite her state, but those razor edged hip bones would probably impale him instead of feeling full and solid against his own. He grins even wider. "True love is blind anyway, or so they say. Don't bother primping for little ol' me. I take what I can get." Another wolfish grin, this one sharper than the last, a slight emphasis placed on the word take.
He steps closer to the mare, reaching out toward a stick lodged in her snaggle of mane. Strom noses his tiny head out of the folds of his scarf, stirred by the not-so-undertones of the conversation. He's unlikely to ever find another python of his type to pair with, but the increasing escapades of his bonded are almost as fulfilling as he imagines the actual act to be, having never performed it himself. His tiny forked tongue races in and out, tasting the mixed odors of horse and filth around him, confused by the lack of physical excitement behind the stallions mental elation.
Some pleasures aren't physical, the black tries to explain, much to the snakes disappointment, so he adds that it doesn't mean it won't become physical, which seems to brighten the companions spirits some while simultaneously making the stallion wonder what ill effects his bonding with the snake has truly had on his once innocent soul, but then again, snakes aren't known for their moral uprightness. 'Kettle.' Comes the silent reply as the python slips back into the safety and warmth of the wool garment tied at his bondeds neck. He doesn't believe in heaven or hell, though they're rather large concepts for a snake, and mostly because the stallion doesn't either, so lamentations about judgements and souls mean little to him.
"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Sheba
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