Oh, she was on dangerous ground now. He could feel her breath as she leaned in close, the warmth of her laugh against his face. A tremble ran through his legs, and he fought every urge to open his eyes to gaze upon this damned seductress in her guise of a innocent. By the time she spoke again, he regained control of himself, although within his mind he was muttering rather irritably at the lure. Forcing himself to focus on her words, his ears pricked. As she spoke, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and focused on the rhythmic thumping, a tenseness leaving his body that he did not realize was there.

Then... she began to sing. And for the first time since he arrived in Helovia, the stallion went still. Frozen into place as her lyrics wrapped around his mind, stilling every normal motion he held, until one could almost mistake him for a statue of onyx, marble and gold.

On the hills the fires burned at midnight,
Superstition plagued the air,
Sparks fly as the fires burn at midnight,
the stars are out and magic is here...

He moved. It was small, a sway to his left, a hind foot lifting slowly and grazing the sand. Then his head swung low, each movement slow, drawn out in rhythm with her song. He was not thinking. No, there was no thought. Just song and movement. Hooves barely left the ground, leaving trails in the sand as he shifted, his body inching to the side until his trail left a semicircle.

When the chorus ended he went still for a mere heartbeat, then his wings unfurled slightly, the golden tips shifting, caressing the air as once more he slow-pranced in place, a hoof only touching the ground when her voice fell, lifting back up when her voice grew higher. He was only aware of her as a voice, the melody that controlled his body.

By the second chorus, he picked up on the melody, and his throat rumbled as he added in his deep voice in a wordless hum, their voices twining together. He was the music and she was the voice. The combination drew the stallion together, and his movements remained slow, repeating the steps for every section of the song; semicircle shuffle for the chorus, slow prance for the verses. Near the end of the third chorus, he opened his eyes to gaze at her, golden irises practically aglow with a mixture of wonder and joy. It was not the same, no. But it was song, it was dance, and it was bringing him to life. He arched his neck as the melody began to grow faster, his steps increasing with hers. But he nearly faltered; the song was unknown, and he did not know how the rest of it would unfold. So his gaze locked on Morrigan for guidance. He did not want this dance to end so soon.


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Word Count: 466 Tags: @[Morrigan II]