.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
05-27-2013, 11:09 PM
|
Old instincts called the flirt-made-warrior to return the smile he saw drifting across his new companion's features, but new urges were what brought meaning to each new action. Fence found himself stepping closer to Emerson, reaching out tentatively with a grey-tipped muzzle to brush against the bare, spotted neck of the older stallion. Fence enjoyed being told, even if it was in a roundabout manner, that this new stallion, Emerson, was his friend. And so he told himself that the strangely personal and perhaps even invasive gesture was one of newfound friendship. And even though he found the solid curve of Emerson's bare neck fascinating, even though he found himself captivated by the rugged dusty and sweaty musk that on so many other mares drove him straight to the river for a bath, he told himself it was nothing out of the normal. It was just a stronger feeling, brought on by a sort of manly, brotherly bond. For if the authority in the grey deemed Emerson worthy (and why wouldn't they—such a seemingly strong and handsome warrior,) Fence knew he would see much more of the appaloosa soldier. Fence pulled back and away from Emerson; he had lingered too long, perhaps made the dark unicorn uncomfortable with his presumptuous manner. Still, old habits died hard. The grey boy turned from Emerson and almost pranced as he stepped so lightly away. Ahead lay before them the path back home, to The Foothills and The Grey that inhabited it. He struck the earth confidently with a jet black hoof, letting the cold wind stir the thin ribbons in his mane and propel him forward. "Very well then, Emerson. No need to delay," he nickered faintly, casting his blue gaze back to catch the older stallion's honeyed one. His own voice dripped with pleasantry and a strange sort of innocent kindness. Once he would have been sharp with wit and the intention to further himself by taking advantage of another. Now, what more was he than a witless, charming messenger boy? "It is, by the way," he said, softly and half to himself as he began to wander off, somewhat dazed, somewhat lost in a delicately tuned and crafted desire, "a pleasure to meet you." [[Awful post. :x]]  |
