A lover not a fighter on the frontline with a poem
trying to write yourself a rifle, maybe sharpen up a song
to fight the tanks and drones of you being alone
December wasn't the only one of them with nothing but their past. But the worst part is, Miykael had been in Helovia longer. He hadn't moved up in the ranks, hadn't done anything really to help his herd or make a name for himself. All he had ever done was live for Alysanne; to keep her safe and happy. And that was all for naught. No matter how many times he had saved her or healed her. No matter how many times he had been there to dry her tears and hold her at night so that she could sleep. None of that mattered to her. Not a damn single one. Maybe she had grown so accustomed to him always being there that she couldn't see what was right in front of her nose. Deep down, in the depths of his soul where pessimism reigns, he knew that wasn't the case. He was, at best, a brother to her; nothing more. The pessimist in him firmly believed that she wouldn't even notice if he left. Hell, she'd probably feel lighter without him weighing her down. Perhaps that was why he felt so drawn to December. They weren't all that different. They were noticed or known for anything in particular. They simply exist. Though Miykael is willing to bet she's done more than she would ever give herself credit for.
Maybe he suffered from the same disease.
His instinct is to seek the best in others, to embrace the flaws; finding beauty in the imperfections of each individual. Perfection isn't beautiful. Even Alysanne wasn't perfect. She couldn't find her way out of a shallow ditch and even if she did, she'd probably trip over her own hooves in the process. Alysanne has always had the worst sense of direction and she's quite uncoordinated - especially when flying. He always adored that about her. It was adorable, endearing, and it made her... special. The dirt clinging to December's feathers, the messy and tangled mane, the dull finish to her dappled gray coat, the aloof manner she interacted with him - her imperfections made her just as special. She is different, unique and it draws him in. She isn't a puzzle to be dusted off, fixed, and solved. There is a desirable challenge in breaking through that tough exterior, finding out who she really is; that's all he wants. The difference, however, is that Miykael won't simply drop her and walk away afterwards. He's dedicated. He's loyal. Once he is let in to another's heart, he doesn't let go easily.
There is comfort in the silence that surrounds them, though he can't help but watch her curiously. If he had truly demolished whatever they had with what he said, she would have been gone by now; wouldn't she? Of course, the fact that she stayed gave him hope. Suddenly she shifts enough to press her side to his. His heart leaps momentarily, and then he relaxes. His expression tender when her gray eyes find his again. Her stoic barrier had slipped, falling away to reveal something far more tender. There was a fear in her eyes, a fear that possibly stemmed from inexperience. Her slightly parted lips escape his notice, though, with his focus so heavily on her eyes. The gray mare's gaze drifts then, sliding down his neck to his chest and back up again. She gazed at him through long lashes for the briefest of moments. That look filled him with warmth, biting back a groan he offered her a soft smile.
Then her head met his chest with a stronger force than either of them were expecting. Managing to hold his ground, for it hadn't been that strong of a bump, he grunts softly with the impact. The dunskin tucks his head to brush his muzzle over the side of her neck. His touch is soft, delicate; a tender caress. She stood there, frozen and uncertain, before she finally spoke. Her words only widened his smile for a moment. He shifts just enough and reaches down, placing his nose beneath her neck. He then turns and steps back slowly, sliding his nose up her throat until he reaches her cheeks. There he attempts to gently raise her head, so that he may look into her eyes. "Try not to over-think it." he offers, gently touching his lips to her forehead. "Just... what do you feel?" he asks, lowering his head and moving towards her again, just enough to be cheek to cheek with her though he doesn't touch, he just lingers near for a moment. After a moment, he touches his lips to the tender flesh of her neck, just past the line of her jawbone. He steps forward, slowly, soft lips trailing down her neck, his warm breath blowing onto her flesh. He moves to press his chest to hers, gently, sweetly. Lowering his head to her shoulders, he embraces her - her scent sending a small shiver down his spine. Her presence provided more comfort than he could have ever imagined. More comfort than he had felt with the black and white pegasus since they had first met again in Helovia. Whatever this is, it's powerful and the gray mare is pulling him in.
@[December]
I love them! :D
Miykael
At war with love |
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![[Image: mikey_by_moonstone_designs-d9dgnba.png]](http://orig02.deviantart.net/51ca/f/2015/290/e/5/mikey_by_moonstone_designs-d9dgnba.png)
