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06-06-2017, 05:57 PM
Kianzo
Stars hide your fires. Let not light see my black and deep desires.
Black-rimmed ears flicked backwards as the ashen heart’s head quickly rose in response to the hum purr the slides through the marshy air. His chest thickly arched in response to the action—though his nostrils flared as a familiar scent hit them. Then, slowly, his white-striped neck curved to the side, gilded skin slipping over newly found muscles as intensely blue eyes sought the source of the sound.
Though vanity is not exactly one of the dark prince’s flaws, he certainly was one to compare himself to others (strengths, weaknesses, powers). And, in his many comparisons, he had not found himself lacking in physicality against other colts. But he also hadn’t found himself as the recipient of such open, unabashed staring—his own gaze not yet leaving the pale blue ice of the gargoyle roving eyes.
Bright blues narrow slightly, almost questioning, as his chiseled head tilted slightly from its height—much grown from their last meeting. And, he does not fail to note, higher than the impressively tall greyfilly mare.
Only when she speaks does his gaze leave the cold heat of her gaze, instead tracing the vivid scars that leap out from the darkness of her skin. Though the colt knew it generally was considered impolite to stare at such things; however, the way his gaze traced those jagged lines was not out of the taboo morbid curiosity; but, instead, out of earnest (and slightly carnal) interest—besides, if she had such an easy with with his body, then he was allowed such a small stare, was he not?
That’s not to say he was left unchanged by her arrival; oh no, the newfound muscles (grown taut beneath his skin by burgeoning testosterone) swelled slightly, as if excited to be admired. And then, as he turned, perhaps there was too much gliding of gilded skin over sinew… but the young stallion’s head remained high, gaze now slipping over the bold grey hide that bulged over the woman’s strength.
Again, the dark prince was struck at how opposite this mare was from the others in his life. She was bold, stocky; thick and strong; there were no sweeping lashes or sidelong looks—no, there was an appreciative and unapologetic purr. Even her face—it is filled with strong features and only underlined by a whispered touch of effeminate beauty.
And it fascinated him in a way that he has not been fascinated before.
His gaze both began and ended its own, unabashed and entirely unsubtle inspection on her tri-horned face. A slow, small, lopsided grin crosses his pale muzzle and dark lips, greeting with questioning thoughts from Keusi— ‘dubu,’ he thinks back to his hunting companion—still unfruitful as told by the continued and distancing porcine screams.
His dark brows raised slightly, shifting the black lines around his eyes and on his face as his deep voice rumbles in response to her, “’Your favorite’?” he echoes her, “You have more than one?” And, though the substance of his words is playful, his burning eyes and deep voice are anything but.
He pauses, still studying her face, before continuing, “I didn’t get your name, last time?”
dubu = bear
Though vanity is not exactly one of the dark prince’s flaws, he certainly was one to compare himself to others (strengths, weaknesses, powers). And, in his many comparisons, he had not found himself lacking in physicality against other colts. But he also hadn’t found himself as the recipient of such open, unabashed staring—his own gaze not yet leaving the pale blue ice of the gargoyle roving eyes.
Bright blues narrow slightly, almost questioning, as his chiseled head tilted slightly from its height—much grown from their last meeting. And, he does not fail to note, higher than the impressively tall grey
Only when she speaks does his gaze leave the cold heat of her gaze, instead tracing the vivid scars that leap out from the darkness of her skin. Though the colt knew it generally was considered impolite to stare at such things; however, the way his gaze traced those jagged lines was not out of the taboo morbid curiosity; but, instead, out of earnest (and slightly carnal) interest—besides, if she had such an easy with with his body, then he was allowed such a small stare, was he not?
That’s not to say he was left unchanged by her arrival; oh no, the newfound muscles (grown taut beneath his skin by burgeoning testosterone) swelled slightly, as if excited to be admired. And then, as he turned, perhaps there was too much gliding of gilded skin over sinew… but the young stallion’s head remained high, gaze now slipping over the bold grey hide that bulged over the woman’s strength.
Again, the dark prince was struck at how opposite this mare was from the others in his life. She was bold, stocky; thick and strong; there were no sweeping lashes or sidelong looks—no, there was an appreciative and unapologetic purr. Even her face—it is filled with strong features and only underlined by a whispered touch of effeminate beauty.
And it fascinated him in a way that he has not been fascinated before.
His gaze both began and ended its own, unabashed and entirely unsubtle inspection on her tri-horned face. A slow, small, lopsided grin crosses his pale muzzle and dark lips, greeting with questioning thoughts from Keusi— ‘dubu,’ he thinks back to his hunting companion—still unfruitful as told by the continued and distancing porcine screams.
His dark brows raised slightly, shifting the black lines around his eyes and on his face as his deep voice rumbles in response to her, “’Your favorite’?” he echoes her, “You have more than one?” And, though the substance of his words is playful, his burning eyes and deep voice are anything but.
He pauses, still studying her face, before continuing, “I didn’t get your name, last time?”
dubu = bear
@Oizys I got so descriptive in this, idk why? have 100000 extra words. sry :c I hate it when that happens
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