Albrecht

The little shit is swimming - again - gliding along the surface of the shallow water with nothing but sheer bliss in his head, nose tilted up and above the water to keep his upper jaw and the tiny pits lining it dry while the rest of his body undulates back and forth to propel him forward. He weaves repeating patterns between and around the four pillars of his bondeds legs, occasionally dragging himself against one and humming some nonsensical reptilian happy song in their heads. “Come on Strom.” The stallion begs sighs, exasperation draining the words of any force. “We’ve been here for hours.” The complaint is valid and he's not even exaggerating this time. The pair have been wading for hours, the python silently, psychically wailing his displeasure every time the stallion begins to leave without him, which he’s attempted to do in desperation several times now only to return in frustration with pinned ears and stomping hooves. “What is wrong with you?"

The python stops then, looping his body around the stallions right foreleg - in consideration of his wounded left shoulder, though the snake is sure in his wordless thoughts that the grumpy old man won't acknowledge it - and begins working his way upward by grasping with one coil and pulling the others an inch at a time. The elder stands tolerant of his companions antics until the young constrictor begins rubbing his nose up and down against his dirty shoulder. “Cut it out." He chides, but the snake only increases his dramatism by dragging his entire head along the stallions shoulder blade, first one cheek and then the other.

Patience exhausted, the stallion shakes himself, dislodging his distracted companion. “God! You are so fucking WEIRD!" He bellows at the snake, ignoring the clang of indignity reverberating through their bond as his companion plummets back into the water, his tiny head breaching and spewing a few mucus-y bubbles before turning away. "Itchy." He tosses behind him through the bond, succinct and confident - and angry. The stallion blinks. “You're talking? You can talk now?" There's nothing but offended silence in answer. Pride, concern, and annoyance all swell within the stallions chest at once, but as always, his temper wins out. “You've been pantomiming all day when you can talk?! UUGH!"

The pythons anger slips, revealing mirth beneath. He is not sorry, but he is itchy and if his huffing, stomping bonded won't stay in the moisturizing relief of the water or humor his needs as a scratching post then he'll find something stationary to rub against instead. He peers out along the disorienting reflections on the water, clouded eyes struggling to make out any detail in the blobs of color all around him. He spots a greyish mass rising out of the waters level surface and heads toward it, envisioning a boulder or stumpy cypress tree, but the stallion behind him sees otherwise. He sees ears, mane, eyes. “Strom!" He calls, rushing up beside him, annoyance forgotten in a surge of instinctive protectiveness.



OOC // Strom is preparing for his first shed. @Syrena