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My demons are blocking out the light
And my mind is about to lose the fight
And my mind is about to lose the fight
Libertad stares down the older male, his eyes roving over him quickly and mentally takes notes. Then his eyes fixate on the red staining his face. Amusement flickers in his eyes and he can only guess he tasted of his roses. For the moment the man doesn’t appear to be a threat but he still doesn’t let his guard down. His tail twitches and he listens to the stallion and the self detriment that pours from his mouth. For a long moment he maintains his neutral expression before he shakes his head.
“I’d save such strong adjectives for a corpse,” Libertad speaks finally after a prolonged pause. “Though you do exude a certain type of odor that I will not deny.” He almost coos as he lets his eyes wander again over the stallion. That insatiable appetite he’s felt since adolescence stirs for a moment. No.. He hisses internally. Don’t soil yourself.. Not with such aged rabble. There is a reason for his maintained maidenhood, he is far too picky for his own good. Though how can he not be picky? He entered the world beside perfection and he will never settle for less.
A question breaks the air and then Libertad tilts his head down towards his roses. “Not at will,” he says. “They simply bloom and die wherever I tread.” A smirk passes over his features and then he gestures at the older creature with his head. “I see that you have been blessed with their kiss.” He says with almost some teasing and then lifts his hoof and more roses burst into red but once he places his hoof down more bloom in their place. “Now… I gave you an answer so you must return the favor.” He states with such a tone that won’t permit argument. “Who are you?” He then catches a better scent from the stallion and familiarity washes over him as he remembers a stallion of red from the north.. His father.. “Though I can already smell the Basin on you,” he says. “My father once was a warrior there.” Whether the stallion lingers or not remains unknown to him and he doesn’t particularly care. Déodat had always been an absent figure in his life, scarce much like his mother the latter end of his youth.
"Talk?"
“I’d save such strong adjectives for a corpse,” Libertad speaks finally after a prolonged pause. “Though you do exude a certain type of odor that I will not deny.” He almost coos as he lets his eyes wander again over the stallion. That insatiable appetite he’s felt since adolescence stirs for a moment. No.. He hisses internally. Don’t soil yourself.. Not with such aged rabble. There is a reason for his maintained maidenhood, he is far too picky for his own good. Though how can he not be picky? He entered the world beside perfection and he will never settle for less.
A question breaks the air and then Libertad tilts his head down towards his roses. “Not at will,” he says. “They simply bloom and die wherever I tread.” A smirk passes over his features and then he gestures at the older creature with his head. “I see that you have been blessed with their kiss.” He says with almost some teasing and then lifts his hoof and more roses burst into red but once he places his hoof down more bloom in their place. “Now… I gave you an answer so you must return the favor.” He states with such a tone that won’t permit argument. “Who are you?” He then catches a better scent from the stallion and familiarity washes over him as he remembers a stallion of red from the north.. His father.. “Though I can already smell the Basin on you,” he says. “My father once was a warrior there.” Whether the stallion lingers or not remains unknown to him and he doesn’t particularly care. Déodat had always been an absent figure in his life, scarce much like his mother the latter end of his youth.
"Talk?"
@Albrecht
* tag me in all replies please
*force is permitted at all times
*pixel by padarii@dA
