My, how his composure stood against mine! The tension, nearly visible in the thick dark between us kept me from snapping my teeth at his spotted jugular. His murky, ice eyes seemed to contain as many musky secrets as the muddy depths of the Spectral Marsh. There was no proving what he was hiding; it was mostly that his use of a tongue intrigued me by the familiarity. How dare he hold the superiority against the beautiful deceit of a chancellor? How could he contain that kind of recklessness? It made my skin curl like a stallion’s lip and a chill tingle its way down my legs. The sensation was new to me. I’d been in many tight conversations, but this, it was a daunting collision of unknown worlds – they were coming together fast and I could already see the sparks igniting against the pale moon. He terrified me as much as he drew me into his mocking grasps.
He was a tease as far as I could guess. Teases unfolded my exterior and shot missiles into my softer spots, eroding my own game. I could feel confusion break through as my ear twitched. He was challenging.
I didn’t know much about feelings, but I liked it.
I enjoyed his attempts, if they were attempts at all. He slowly evolved into an abundance of intrigue. The way he looked was sure ragged; however the tensely throbbing muscles between silky, spotted skin spoke of someone powerful. His eyes, they were the blue that would glow in the dark, and their color seemed irrelevant for such an illusory spitfire. In the very details of himself he didn’t make much sense, as if he’d simply made the wrong choice between bringing fire to his vital wound rather than ice. In two words I could sum him up but I felt something deeper in his eyes, there was something beyond just the fire in his mouth and thigh. I could nearly taste the mysteriousness that broke through in his decorative spots, clinging to their pallid owner like leeches, sucking the dark out of him for everyone to see. Something about him put a stain over the clarity in my mind; it was too dark to see though it anyway.
I thought that I would relax on the way. There would be a breeze. I could wake Sumä and pour colors into her brain, watch her react to the ones she liked. Now she was dreaming badly. Our flight home was black and I clipped her bag on a tree and she crushed like a twig sculpture. I shivered inwardly to break the black blanket between us and she slowly rose, tweeted, and stretched her wings. She looked up at me but I couldn’t look back because I was intensely occupied on Dreven who dropped his own words into the air.
“Well, I’ll be heading home soon,” I spoke, finding his lower tone replicated into mine. “It seems that I never get the right amount of rest I need to open a day like tomorrow.” I lifted a forehoof, and swung my haunches, facing a wing towards the Throat. It was an attractive place, certainly a place for a spitfire. “The Dragon’s Throat is an awfully bad place to find water; it wouldn’t make sense to go in that direction. However,” I paused, and my eyes snapped up at his, “the Dragon’s Blood is where most warriors soak after training, and where our citizens relax and drink. If you’re willing to give away your reckless outcast living, you’re welcome to join us.” My voice was soothing, it felt good to talk. I turned a lifted my head over my shoulder, folding a wing so I could see him clearly. I had no idea what kind of decision I was making.
Sumati the Sinbird
there's no thunder to warn you that I'll bring you to your knees |
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[P] I died a long time ago, in that worn out war
