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01-30-2014, 01:36 AM
Lakota
The Poisoner Silence lingers as she hides from the world in the warm fur of her bonded. He is her everything, the only one who has stayed by her side through it all, who loves her for every flaw. In all her years, she could never imagine amounting to a state worthy of ever deserving him. Aodaun gave a soft sound, a hazed growl, and pressed his wet nose to her breast. Love washed over her, and her tears were swept back into the caverns where they lay once more, ready to be released when the time was more fitting. A voice draws her attention- in fact it startles her, but she's too prideful to admit it- and she lifts her head to turn white-marked eye towards Locket in surprise. He had been awake the entire time? And she had been idly speaking out of turn...had she known he was conscious, she'd never have revealed so much. The mildly affectionate word tagged onto the end of her name is something she's not used to, and she awkwardly turns her head away, ears flickering in embarrassment, perhaps shyness. Love...was it not supposed to make them strong? Was it all just a lie to get them to fall for its facade? "The only love to make me strong is that for my kin, and for my blood siblings. Perhaps it is only romantic love that weakens us so," she mused softly in reply, violet eyes sliding up to the inviting green with a bit of hesitation. Had he not been the one to speak of love in his flirtatious actions, when they had met in the forest, though? She watches him from beneath the fringe of her forelock, studying him. Perhaps he was deeper than she'd anticipated, had secrets tucked inside that she knew nothing about. Or maybe he was just a fantastic actor. Lakota was used to doubting all she crossed, but at least Locket could boast that he was closer than most when it came to the Poisoner. His next words cause her to give a soft, embarrassed sound. Turning, she buries her face in Aodaun's fur, hiding away as she feels the heat of her face increase drastically. Was he seeing correctly? Or even seeing the right mare? Lifting her maw only enough to speak without mumbling, she replies, a flustered mix of words. "I must have poisoned you with hallucinations, too, for you are surely seeing things that are not there." It is a weak defense, not a desire for more compliments. How is she to handle such things? The only compliments she'd received were either from family, sarcastic, or from yellow-bellied subordinates who sought only the favor of the crown on her head. How was she supposed to suddenly answer such a sincere display of appreciation for her form? |
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