Larksong Grotto illuminate

if they strayed, he had not known it. stallion esconsced with moonmaid, and the horselord saw little reason to depart. he strode now from the peak into a greener rampart, and here he kicked heels against the cloying summer air, shook out his silkweed mane. no wolves here, only he and the lady of the silver spires. it was how he would wish it always, the taste of sweetgrass in his mouth and summertime in his senses.

100 for u<3

yet he is not so free from the plight of wolves as he so believes, for peering curiously from the grass is a svelte, fanged dove with dancing eyes. the gossamer gleam of the sun kissing fine hairs had shone a beam through the eddying shadows of her wayward mind, drawing featherlight paws forth through intertwining grasses to catch sight of the brazen figure in all his magnificent glory. utterly enthralled, the dragging chains seem to lift slightly from her chest as if they too find intriguement in the coruscating specimen and she relished in the release for that moment as her breath stills for fear of startling him and losing this flashlight piercing the gloom. 

marvelling unabashedly, she remains crouched close to the steady earth but dares a few steps closer. and what she feels stir within at the sight of this pure beauty is...

envy. 

strength radiates from each proud stride he makes, the wind toying hopefully with the silky sheen of his cascading mane. to be able to indulge in such guiltless amour propre for such a pure form of strength, a sacred gift from the earth herself...for wolves had vague beliefs of superiority and brawn in regards to themselves but that was a fool's idea. this before her was what strength was, not the predators that stuck tight to the shadows and relied on the robbing of life from other's to live themselves. blinking ruefully at this pale sentry, her own stomach twists with bitter disgust towards her own kind. if he is the blazing rays of the sun, the vibrant carpet of flamboyant flowers defying the world and living in proud beauty...then they are the slinking shadows, the circling vultures snapping greedily at their heels...some may try and fight on the side of good and justice but in order to live a life at all, they would always fill the role of the villains in the world's cruel stories.

and quite rightfully so.

congrats! <3

no king could forever remain free. the horselord paced forward once, and then drew up sharply. nares flared; he stamped one silverblack hoof a single time and tossed out his satin mane. "speak," came the low voice, an accented demand spoken in common but with the meaning of the mearas behind it.

the creature's eyes were ascertaining — felaróf trudged forward, shivering skin at the flies that sought to collect in the hollow of his flank. he said nothing more, merely gazed down toward this leggy warg who appeared to watch him with a mixture of thigs, disdain foremost. 

or so it appeared to felaróf.

"speak"

she starts from wondrous marvels at the deep command to spin the breeze tickling at ears that fluttered forth to catch what coudn't possibly be true. had she fallen to the greedy clutch of insanity without having even realised it herself? was that how such a thing worked? yet the truth was a tenacious thing and as willowy limbs pushed her to a stand, she was acutely aware that this creature of mythos adornment had in fact spoken the common tongue. utterly discombobulated, she holds only onto the sense to remain vigilant as wary eyes follow the hooved falls of an unyielding march.

and yet she is at the mercy of wicked curiosity, rooted to the spot by need to goggle at his regal beauty. never had she met someone who was both not a wolf and yet could communicate with them in the same tongue, was it the same for all of his kind? or had he somehow learned the ways in which they spoke, did that mean she too could learn how to communicate with the other various fauna that roamed the vast world? but perhaps...no, it would be a foolish yearn. why would a wolf, after all, wish to interact with what it would inevitably have to slaughter?

yet the lustre in wide eyes did not falter as she breathed with lame honesty "i am sorry you...you are very beautiful..sir" she could admit without a scrap of shame that this creature before her deserved to be utterly venerated and yet..guilt snags on such a thread of thought. just because his beauty snarls forth with brazen determination did not mean he deserved more than the subdued allure of dainty deer and swooping birds but...the idea of a wolf trying to tear at him with tainted fangs made her stomach twist in ways she could not even begin to decipher.