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02-08-2016, 05:50 PM
Nature's great masterpiece : an elephant ; the only harmless great thing.
He feels her move away from him as he disentangles from her silken coolness; he sees the flinch, the chagrin and emotion that flood her face before he can even voice words to bring her back to him. But then his words breach the air and her icy fortress, bringing her eyes to his and leave her mouth agape.
Black rimmed ears tilt backwards in uncertainty at the smarting effect of her scoff at his words— followed by a deafening silence. He aches to shift, to move closer to her, to turn and walk away; yet only manages to stand still and stare at her, waiting with a clenched jaw and deep breaths.
And then, after that eternity, she is stuttering words that boarded on bashfulness and hope. “What- what kind of more?” Teeth unclench as his tongue moves ahead of his thoughts, wanting to move quickly and rashly to assure her: ‘everything more.’ He traps the meaningless amelioration behind thick lips, not allowing it to take substance and meaning with his voice. Elsa, his Queen, the woman of both brokenness and strength, deserves more than his easy placations.
While he stops himself, and before he can give her the demanded definition of ‘more’, she is quietly saying his name— and he feels the three syllables rush through the base of his barrel as they come from her pale lips. She steps towards him, bringing closer the face he had so marked in their spar. He is still, rejection being beaten by a flare of hope behind navy eyes that study her face, her bruises, her scarred eye, her muzzle— all beauty marks of a life lived. Cream ears flick forwards, straining to be nearer to her, even though he does not allow himself to physically move closer (though his body, the sore and tired muscles, have leapt back to attention and are leaning towards her approach). “I can’t be temporary… What about everyone else?”
He blinks once, that is a question he can easily answer. “What of everyone else?” the quiet, husky rumble repeats her question, implying their unimportance, “You are not temporary. Everything about you is enduring,” an ear flicked sideways as his words failed to convey what he actually meant; what this actually meant. “Elsa, you, in the face of all you have suffered and lost, have remained both strong and just— so much so that a Goddess appointed you to lead a herd. I—I can only hope to be an equal beside you.” Indeed, for where she had been appointed by a Goddess, he had snatched Kingship from a dead daughter’s blood. Where she had been betrayed by a lover and left to find her children instead of revenge, he had destroyed lives in his vengeance.
“And that is what I mean by ‘more.’ You are beautiful, any man can see that. But there is more to this, more to our reign, more to us than figureheads and lust.” Finally his voice, which had grown deeper with his words, falls silent.
And she is there, soft muzzle moving against his right jaw. Cobalt eyes close and he leans into the comforting, compassionate touch— nostrils flare to inhale her closeness. His head shifts on instinct, broad muzzle seeking to return the caress in kind. Though his moving, seeking mouth pauses as she speaks, still against her skin. A long and low breath moves out in a rush of heat across her cheek while her lips tickle the side of his face with words that were spoken with a simple sincerity. “And that, my king, is nothing to be ashamed of.” Eyes, which had closed to fully feel her touch, open and stare downwards. Was he ashamed of the causing the Fall of Dorobo? Did he feel guilt? Is that where all this anger, this need of being wanted, came from?
This new light, shed by the simple phrases of Elsa, rocked his view of his past. Moved, he took a half step forward to try and close the little distance left between them. “My Queen, you do not know how good you are to me…” his voice trails as his ever-seeking muzzle reaches to trail down her neck and spine. But would she say these things if she knew his past? Perhaps that question— that uncertainty (that fear?)— is what drove his searching lips across her snowy skin. Part of him knew he should disentangle from her— so much had happened, so much shared. But he was a man, ’her king’, and his physical needs were so entwined with his emotional ones.
Black rimmed ears tilt backwards in uncertainty at the smarting effect of her scoff at his words— followed by a deafening silence. He aches to shift, to move closer to her, to turn and walk away; yet only manages to stand still and stare at her, waiting with a clenched jaw and deep breaths.
And then, after that eternity, she is stuttering words that boarded on bashfulness and hope. “What- what kind of more?” Teeth unclench as his tongue moves ahead of his thoughts, wanting to move quickly and rashly to assure her: ‘everything more.’ He traps the meaningless amelioration behind thick lips, not allowing it to take substance and meaning with his voice. Elsa, his Queen, the woman of both brokenness and strength, deserves more than his easy placations.
While he stops himself, and before he can give her the demanded definition of ‘more’, she is quietly saying his name— and he feels the three syllables rush through the base of his barrel as they come from her pale lips. She steps towards him, bringing closer the face he had so marked in their spar. He is still, rejection being beaten by a flare of hope behind navy eyes that study her face, her bruises, her scarred eye, her muzzle— all beauty marks of a life lived. Cream ears flick forwards, straining to be nearer to her, even though he does not allow himself to physically move closer (though his body, the sore and tired muscles, have leapt back to attention and are leaning towards her approach). “I can’t be temporary… What about everyone else?”
He blinks once, that is a question he can easily answer. “What of everyone else?” the quiet, husky rumble repeats her question, implying their unimportance, “You are not temporary. Everything about you is enduring,” an ear flicked sideways as his words failed to convey what he actually meant; what this actually meant. “Elsa, you, in the face of all you have suffered and lost, have remained both strong and just— so much so that a Goddess appointed you to lead a herd. I—I can only hope to be an equal beside you.” Indeed, for where she had been appointed by a Goddess, he had snatched Kingship from a dead daughter’s blood. Where she had been betrayed by a lover and left to find her children instead of revenge, he had destroyed lives in his vengeance.
“And that is what I mean by ‘more.’ You are beautiful, any man can see that. But there is more to this, more to our reign, more to us than figureheads and lust.” Finally his voice, which had grown deeper with his words, falls silent.
And she is there, soft muzzle moving against his right jaw. Cobalt eyes close and he leans into the comforting, compassionate touch— nostrils flare to inhale her closeness. His head shifts on instinct, broad muzzle seeking to return the caress in kind. Though his moving, seeking mouth pauses as she speaks, still against her skin. A long and low breath moves out in a rush of heat across her cheek while her lips tickle the side of his face with words that were spoken with a simple sincerity. “And that, my king, is nothing to be ashamed of.” Eyes, which had closed to fully feel her touch, open and stare downwards. Was he ashamed of the causing the Fall of Dorobo? Did he feel guilt? Is that where all this anger, this need of being wanted, came from?
This new light, shed by the simple phrases of Elsa, rocked his view of his past. Moved, he took a half step forward to try and close the little distance left between them. “My Queen, you do not know how good you are to me…” his voice trails as his ever-seeking muzzle reaches to trail down her neck and spine. But would she say these things if she knew his past? Perhaps that question— that uncertainty (that fear?)— is what drove his searching lips across her snowy skin. Part of him knew he should disentangle from her— so much had happened, so much shared. But he was a man, ’her king’, and his physical needs were so entwined with his emotional ones.
Tembovu
@Elsa BOOM :O
Please tag Tembovu.
