Nova Peak pen-channas

she found herself openly musing at his cloudweft crest, the proud crescent of his neck, the masterful masonry of his breast, traveling downwards—

remembering herself, she shied the azure ellipse of her indiscretion away and cleared her throat. ”ná sï manan tyë lendë mbairmma? híres, ahm ... vessë" she slid her eyes towards him, a soft and enigmatic listlessness to her gaze. 

in the fells of ana-andúnë, after the méaras’ violent severence into western and eastern nations, culture in the west had changed from the long-established conventions of mearas to less dignified praxes. stallions were lords unto themselves and their thralled mares and sowed discord amongst one another in the name of covetous aphrodisia. 

lopsi. not wives. mearas only by bloodline.

her own poll tipped at his courtly display, forelock curtaining the leadening of her lids. he regally professed his filiation with such proud gravitas of his bearing, it instilled a great rigor within her. in her best efforts to conceal her sentiments (the memory, just a filly she was, of her sister relating "don't show weakness, they will avail themselves of it!" hissed in her ear) she levied deferential genuflection upon him, "san alassenya nás ar laitië, felaróf, gonbrasseneth ar aegros, aryon-ana calenardhon, a ar rie ... amanya valaron."
 
she rose back into the fading cream of light as evenfall softened the sunglow behind them. for a moment she appeared translucent in the lighting, but shifting from the column revealed her and she bid with a tilt of her head for her eldritch lodestar to proceed in showing her down the mountainside. she sidled him, thoughts languid. ”essenya almárëa ná -o lothlórien,”  she offered, foregoing her title in full: aranel-o lothlórien, in self-effacement and an unspoken worriment arrowing through her. 

”indi -o  lothuial ar silivrenor.”

she stripped her queen mother and king-regent father of their titles as well, fear in knowing there was a false king of the mearas in her homeland, and it was his erroneous decrees that had them all in gyves of despair. it was he she fled from, and her sisters! o! her poor sisters; he requisitioned carnal knowledge of them often ... and with her maidenhood— he nearly— 

”nyarni -o coiviernya ndo-o brasseneth ar aegros.” she bantered with the suggestion of a smile, and so briskly after returning formalities. feigning fatigue, she lingered behind him a whit, appraising the bob of his untarnished buttocks before prancing up to flank him, tongue shorn of any interesting observations made privately in her mind. 

leading them away from titles and assigns and coats-of-arms, she brushed her alabastrine shoulder against his, allowing ambrosian tresses to drape across his withers with the featherlight weight of a woman’s gentled fingertips accidentally skimming the hands of her beau as they saunter intimately side-by-side.