Vines gripped and grappled for the dainty hooves of the saturated mare as she moved as quickly as she could through the multiple tanglevines. Months had passed since the birth of her first foal and she had sneered at the near dead colt and walked away. She had wanted nothing to do with the youngster and only wanted to be with the one stallion that seemed to get through her thick skin. The missus had gone to look for the stallion, chancing the dangers of Gastci lands to meet the stallion. She could have lost her place amount the Selisona for what she was doing. For months she searched for the gray stallion and nothing was found, not even a whiff of his scent. He was gone. Without a trace.
The two-toned femme was heart-broken. Her life was shattered into a million pieces by the cruel fates of the Gods. Her foal would grow up not knowing whom his real mother was and the one stallion she had loved was gone. Without so much as a goodbye. Rage had filled her heart and she quickly stole away to the Advent Dropoff, contemplating her death. But even then she had never been one for theatrics. After multiple arguments with herself, she had went into a state of depression. The eight year old mare wasn't sure what the depression had come from but it was there to stay.
After a month, she had headed back to the lands of Selisona and had let Grimore Heart know she was still amoung them before stealing off to the current place of Tanglevine Swamp. A snort escaped her nasals as she cursed her choice of residence of the moment. She was tripping and getting her normally pristine pelt completely dirty. The pure white of the majority of her frame was now a dingy color that was quite ugly. But Grotesque did not care as she pushed through the vines and suction cup mud. Her mind was racing with how shitty her life had been since coming upon Aeon. Her son did not know her and the stallion she loved left her. Upon returning to Selisona she had caught a glimpse of little Vallois and my had he grown. He was quite handsome. But he resembled his father more, at least in Tess's eyes.
Perhaps that was why she was here now, roaming the Tanglevine Swamp. She silently hoped one would tangle her up tight and drag her beneath the surface of the water and into the sticky mud below here her son would find her many years later, just a pile of bones and think of what a poor soul she was to get caught up in this hell hole but he wouldn't know who the bones belonged to. At the moment she didn't care and that lapse in thought tripped her up to where she landed on the bank, still stuck in the mud. Tess groaned and let out an all mighty snort in agitation.
The golden bay stallion picked his way carefully through the soggy land they called Tanglevine Swamp. Despite it's rather unsavory look and feel, the bog was so beautifully silent. Ever since arriving in this strange world called Aeon, the noise had been unbearable. There was a constant chatter between all the equines who went about their daily routines as if nothing changed. Predators yowled and growled at night, tempting and taunting their prey endlessly. Quiet was an unachievable idea, a dream, a hope, a prayer. A wish. Icarus longed from the comforting, noiseless nature he'd once been a part of. A grimace formed upon his ashen lips and his lean neck lowered slightly as his golden eyes spied every careful step he took, avoiding the treacherous footing that attempted to suck him down into it's depths. The further he ventured, the darker it grew, and with it came an inevitable silence. It was wondrous. For once in his time here on Aeon, his head stopped hurting, stopped spinning, aching, pounding. It was a relief.
But no silence lasted long. A nearby irritated snort made the leggy stallion freeze in his tracks, ebony tresses waving gently to his shoulder as he noiselessly peered around himself. Despite it's aggravated tone, the snort was no doubt feminine. Icarus tilted his head, black trimmed ears pricking to search for the source of the sound. It was be disrespectful of him to abandon a missus-- what if she needed help? This wasn't a safe place for anyone really. Dark brows furrowed, the athletic stallion pulled his hooves from the muck, stepping over several snaking vines and weaving his lengthy physique through the thick, damp foliage. It didn't take long for him to spot her, caught in the trap of the swamp. He hesitated several feet away, eyes tracing the pretty female's dingy figure. His gaze swung over her face, her electrifying blue eyes. Beneath the grime which coated her and him alike, she was stunning. A lovely example of a mare. And to top it off, she was utterly normal. Sure, she wore unique, pretty markings, vibrant turquoise feathers decorating her mane and tail forgiven, but she was otherwise refreshingly, stunningly normal.
But it was then Icarus caught himself staring, and the stallion averted his gaze immediately, a pit welling in his stomach. ”Are you okay, Miss?” He forced himself to speak, hoping she hadn't noticed his ungentlemanly gaze. Immediately, the shyness swelled within his chest, clogging his throat, and a gentle cough cleared it for him. His eyes flitted to hers just briefly and he offered a weak, respectful smile, not exactly sure of how he could help. But he wouldn't just leave her here.. How could he?
A harsh snort blew past the velvetine nasals of the mare once again. This was absolutely great. Her life had made a downward spiral since she had come upon, no, scratch that. She was picked up like a little bug and THROWN into this world known as Aeon. This weird, too colorful, obnoxious and blindingly fantasy-like land. Of course, she was happy at the prospect of no one knowing her and her back-stabbing ways but that ended real quick. Especially after her trial for Selisona. Yes, that god-awful trial. She couldn’t believe she had agreed to such a trial. But, then again, she couldn’t very well go around all willy nilly about her Magic she had obtained when she was thrown into this world.
Necromancy wasn’t highly looked upon in any world. It was a very dark magic. To bring one back to life after their untimely death wasn’t a good thing, if you had those types of morals. Grotesque did not. Her morals were much different than that. She was a cruel mare when she wanted to be. She was snobby and got what she wanted. Her foal, whom she had learned was named Vallois, he was never hers. She was to just nurse the foal and then the brute Jean-Paul would take him from her side. Now, she regretted her decision of leaving them. Leaving her little foal. She could imagine he was very handsome. His father’s genes probably over powered hers. She wasn’t exactly sure. She never got to see him when she went back to speak to Grimore Heart.
Now, here she was, moping about in Tanglevine Swamp like some soft-hearted little filly with her first heartbreak. Pft, those little mares didn’t know what heartbreak was. To have someone hold your heart in their hand and then completely smash it into a thousand pieces and then thrown them in a molten hot, ready to blow volcano. That was heartbreak. She was suffering from it. Hell, she had never thought she would have done such a thing. To fall in love was taboo to her before she met the one named Atlas. Now, the handsome and wise stallion was gone. Forever.
Grotesque moved her forelegs to a slight standing position when she heard the shuffles within the tanglevines. Her solid black face whipped around, all thoughts of why and when Atlas left her were erased as she narrowed her strikingly blue eyes at the direction of the noise. Someone was here, she could feel it. Almost feel their aura, thanks to her magic. Her torn lip pulled back slightly, revealing more of her dentals. She was in a vulnerable position and she NEEDED to get up. Her alabaster audicles pinned backwards in warning, her now soild brown tag flicked out of the mud as she attempted to heave her body form the sticky mud. Tess grunted as she found her footing, barily, on the bottom of the mucky mud and pushed forward with her hindquarters. Her white hooves slipped beneath her and she went tumbling back down into the muddy area with an unholy splash. During her struggle, the figure that had made the sound in the vines made itself known. What stood before her was a stallion. Grotesque’s orbs flew to him, looking the brute over with her aqua colored eyes.
He was a mightily handsome stallion, his legs looked strong and able. She could tell he was a nimble male. He was tall too. Perhaps as tall as she was. He definantly had some of the same breeding she had. Perhaps what her father had. She wasn’t sure. He had striking golden eyes that he seemed a bit shy to show her. She didn’t know why, they were beautiful. She even found herself wanting to see more of them, but the poor stallionwouldn’t show them to her. Mud forgotten, Tess studied the almost beige colored stag with the handsome long mane and tail. His words drifted to her and her auds came from the depths of her long black mane, to get a better hearing of his voice. Which was quite nice. Then his words actuall hit her. Was she okay? Did she look okay?! She was buried in mud and was slowly sinking down the damn bank. She was far from ‘okay’. In response to his question, Tess snorted, quite harshly and pinned her auds once again. She did not need this stallion’s help. She’s gotten herself out of here before, she just needed a little muscle power, which had almost completely disappeared due to her lack of interest in eating since Atlas left. In truth, she was a lot skinnier. She didn’t care though. ” For your information, I am quite alright. I’ve been in this situation before. “ She barked out and once again gave an almighty heave.
The stallion's gaze drifted back toward the trapped mare hesitantly, respectively refraining from looking at her too closely. He wasn't one to pry, Icarus. That wasn't really his scene. But he had to assess the situation, for if the pretty lady did in fact need help, he needed an idea of how to aid in her escape. Golden eyes trailed over mud encased legs, guessing how far down she was truly stuck. With the amount she pushed and shoved, he was sure she was only making her case worsd and worse. The key to evading such elusive traos was being quiet, calm, and both slow and precise in her movements. The time taken to work her way out would be worth it in the long run-- the longer she fought, the longer she would be stuck. But he couldn't help to admire the pretty mare as he studied her position intently. Made of fine blood, probably not much different than his, she was elegant, surely tall and lanky once her legs were unfolded and she was standing on solid ground. Marked of the most pristine white and most starless black, she was a fine example of any equine. He dared to bet half the mares in this funny place called Aeon longed to be like her. Not to mentiom those eyes. Those eyes which kept drawing his twin golds back to them. The lightest of ice blues, they were like glaciers at the point just before melting. Even the term 'sky blue' wasn'y enough to describe the hypnotizing color. No matter how.much Icarus adored the sunny, friendly blue skies, they were nothing compared to deep, intense light aqua that her eyes were.
But enough about being infatuated with her in less than ten seconds flat. She was in a bit of a sticky situation and no doubt required help. The light bay stallion was just beginning to pick his way closer to her when she spoke in response to his simple, polite question. "For your information, I'm quite alright." The words rang through his black edged ears, and his expressive brows drew together in surprise. Oh really? His stride halted, and Icarus took a step back in retreat, pulling a fore hoof from the clingy muck. He prided himself in being a gentleman, and not only that-- Icarus was intensely shy. He wouldn't dare touch a mare unless she willed it so. She told him she was fine, therefore he would lie in wait and allow her to fuss and fiddle with the uncooperative mud herself. He wasn't your typical knight in shining armor.. If you needed help, you could ask for it, and he'd come to your rescue thinking none the less of your request. But if you denied his helping hand, who was he to force it upon anyone? Towering ears flicked back with her words, perplexed and conflicted. Did she really think she was.. quite alright? A grimace crossed his handsome features, but before he could say anything, she was speaking again.
"I've been in this situation before." Was that so? Golden eyes rested in a sorry way upon the pretty mare. Shame she had to be such a haughty thing. Her looks told a different story all together. Still, Icarus gave a single nod to assure her he'd heard. He would keep his distance until requested-- if requested. One thing he knew, he wasn't leaving until her was sure she was out of harms way. In a bog such as this, it was easy to grow tired, and weak. One hour too many and your consciousness would begin to dip dangerously over the edge. A muzzle stuck in the mud and a frail horse meant only one thing, suffocation. The stallion was hardly a cold hearted being. He wouldn't leave her alone. "I see.." He trailed off, words slightly unnecessary to the world, but completely necessary to him. "Please do let me know if you need any help?" Je encouraged with deep, somehow charismatic lyrics despite his rather poor social skills. She gave another valiant heave, Icarus' grimace only grew in scale. He could help her, he really could. A gentle tug here and pull there-- and to top it off, if she was at all scraped up from her unusual encounter with the swamp, he had the means to instantly heal any minor wounds which may have occurred. He wasn't useless, at least. Not like he had been at home, during the raid. If only he'd possessed this power then.. Then he could have saved them. He could have helped. A distorted sadness welled within his chest before he shoved it away. He needed to be strong to help her. He wasn't weak. Maybe she would figure that out. Preferably before she wore herself out trying to overpower something with unfailing strength.
Grotesque snorted, her clarion beryl orbs focused on nothing but concentration. Her muscles strained and tugged, the mud had her almost completely exhausted. The last time she had been in a situation like this, it was within the perilous bog. They were both the same other than the vines that haunted this area. Last time she had managed to throw herself out but that was before she was weakened from child birth and lack of nutrients. She knew the stallion was still there, watching her struggle. She of course wasn't annoyed by his bystander position for she had blantantly refused his aid. She could do this. She wasn't weak. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
Grotesque gave a deep sigh, halting in her movements. Her chest hurt and she wasn't sure if it was from her physical excertion or from the pain of loss or a combination of the two. She really didn't care which it was at the moment, she just wanted the pain to go away. Her breathing came out in deep gasps, her muddied sides heaving quickly as she tried to catch her breath. The mud oozed around her submerged limbs, almost like a filler. It got into each groove and empty space, sticking to her pelt and taking away any ability to move freely. Tess's pride was still strong even after her abandonment. Her own and the abandonment she dished out herself. She did not need aid. But somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice sang: ' Yes you do you pompous bitch. ' Her brow furrowed at those words from her own mind. She really was a cruel witch, even to herself. This made the mare contemplate the stallion before her. He was handsome and kind. He offered help. But he only stood there after she refused his aid. She would have to ask.
Grotesque's orbs shot up to meet the gold of the stallion. He wanted to help her, she could see it in his almost pained expression as he watched her struggle. This made the mare pin her audicles into her thick mane. What was a lady to do? Thus began a power struggle within herself. Her pride and over all personality told her to shun this stallion. She didn't need help. Then there was that side that whispered softly, in the voice of Atlas no less, that she should accept this stallion's aid. There might not be another chance. Another chance at what? Redemption? For what? She wanted to see her foal. She was sure of that. Wanted to glower at the one named Jean-Paul and Stuller. She wanted to hate the world so completely. All but this stallion.
Grotesque grunted and shifted slightly within the mud to face the stallion a bit better. Her azure orbs focused on his form. ' This is not easy for me. But I require your assistance after all. ' There was clear pain in her voice. Pain of tainted pride. She even winced openly with each word. Oh how she hated to rely on another but she somehow knew that this stallion wasn't one that would take her pain of pride lightly and that comforted her if only slightly. ______________
SONG: MUSE: Good TAGS: Bailey's Icarus WORDS: NOTES: ^^
An uncomfortable silence fell over the light bay as he studied the mare stuck in the muck. His golden gaze roamed over her, subtly, lingering along her heaving barrel. It almost physically pained him to watch her struggle so violently. It was against his gentle nature to strike out, either physically or verbally, but staring down his nose the pretty, weakened mare fight a battle she wasn't going to win was beginning to tip off his temper. He could help her, yet she denied it as if he didn't even exist, as if he wasn't standing before her stunning, icy, but frighteningly weary eyes. She would never admit her weakness, her exhaustion. She wouldn't give in until she had to, until there was no choice left but to surrender to the aching darkness. Until her muscles screamed and her mind cried for rest. And from the little he knew about this black splashed ivory mare, he could tell that even when her body begged her too, chances were she would not give in. His only hope was that she would come to her senses and realize that fate didn't plan on her dying today. Icarus had no doubt he could pull the mare from the muck if she managed to lose consciousness-- sure, it wouldn't be the easiest feat, but he would manage, something about the idea of watching this strangers light slowly snuff out just wasn't appealing.
Her ribs exhaled and inhaled rapidly, rising and falling as if running their very own race, a warm steam rose from her overworked muscles, clouding her muddy exterior. A stockinged hind hoof cocked slightly, Icarus' head lowering a fraction as he watched her fight, soothing his temper with repetitive thoughts. But suddenly, all pent up anger was forgotten when her azul eyes drew up to his, fogged over with a mixture of conflicting emotions. An ebony brow drew up curiously with the look, though his gaze remained steady, waiting. Did she have something to say to him, or was that flare simply furious that he hadn't left when she'd first blown him off? Unfortunately, she planned to keep him in the dark even longer and instead remained silent, accusing stare bearing down on him. Her mind appeared to be whistling and whirring, wheels turning. It made him vaguely curious, and a familiar grimace washed over his face. He'd hurt so many in his short lifetime. Unintentionally, of course-- in fact, it wasn't truly his fault at all. The raid upon his herd at home was unavoidable. Still, the athletic bay blamed himself and only himself for the deaths that took place that night. With that experience, he had vowed to give his all to protecting those around him, strangers or not. And beneath her stone exterior, Icarus could see the hatred, the hurt which lurked within. It had nothing to do with him. It wasn't his business, and he most certainly hadn't caused it. But every fiber of his being wanted to make the pain within her stomach. It very nearly made him frantic, despite his calm, cool expression. He forced himself to remain stoic, fighting the frustration which threatened to shatter his composure.
"This is not easy for me. But I require your assistance after all." And with that, Icarus' inner conflict vanished, replaced by the devastating need for the stallion to smother a satisfied grin. Thank god! The golden bay straightened, weight evening out over his four hooves as he gave a simple nod and an encouraging, though faint smile. Carefully, Icarus eased himself over the pliable swamp, working his way around her. First order of business was to get rid of the vines. They were doing no good constricting around her limbs. Pearly teeth snapped around the wriggly plants and tugged them forcefully away from their victim. Though thick and they did not break, with some effort they pulled away from the muddy mare and left an open, though mucky couple of yards around the mare in every direction. Picking his way carefully, the white faced stallion made his way around Grotesque to face her. He edged closer, evenly distributing his weight along the perilous edge of the bog before leaning over her, golden gaze studying her position carefully. Now how exactly was he going to get her loose? Waves of information washed over his brain, and deciding he had no other way of helping, Icarus sauntered around the very stuck mare and positioned himself behind her. With slow, calculating steps, the lithely muscled stallion took a step forward. With the step, he sank. The mud gushed up to his left knee, and soon after his right. Icarus pressed close to the strange mare, silken hides gliding against each other with the sudden proximity, only the mud causing friction. "I'm going to count to three," The stallion began, bracing his hind legs against solid ground. "When I get to three, you need to put every ounce of your strength into climbing out. I'll push from here, okay?" The very real possibility of himself getting stuck didn't hit him until this second, and the stallion released a heavy sigh. Ah well. "You'll be out soon." Pulling in deep breath, the stud's muscles contracted tightly. "One, two, three." The words were even, though a grunt came with three, shoving his twelve hundred pounds into the mare and emptying every ounce of his strength into pushing her free. The mud made miserable sucking sounds as lengthy limbs were jerked free from its depths. Only once the mare was on solid ground did Icarus release a labored breath, tense muscles relaxing suddenly. After giving himself several seconds to breath and regain the exerted strength, Icarus set back his weight onto his haunches, hauling his front legs from the muck with a giant yank. He tumbled backward, ungracefully, yet free, and with a huff lifted himself to his hooves. Thickly crested neck swung around to view the mud free mare, and carefully though with less reservation than before, the handsome bay trotted to her, eyes scouring the length of her for signs of injury. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" The worried tone of his voice shocked even himself, expression wrought with concern. Why did he care so much? Immediately, the stallion shook his head, ebony forelock flying, attempting to clear his thoughts. It didn't matter right now. He could worry about his emotions some other day. Right now, all that mattered was the stranger who stood before him. He would never admit that it was the fact that she was all that mattered that terrified him.
She could feel herself sinking deeper and deeper. The mud seemed to grow fingers and tug and pull at her fine pelt, pulling her farther into it's depths. Her mind was warring with itself once again. Half of her wanted to just give up and become a skeleton in the grips of this swamp, to be there below the muds to trip up another poor soul. Her mind pictured the stallion Jean-Paul tripping over her bones and a smirk rose to her black and twisted kissers. She almost completely detested the stallion now. Perhaps it was because of his harshness to her? She wasn't sure but she didn't feel up to seeing him again but she knew, just knew that she would have to if she were to see her son. If she did see the stallion again, she would rather it be with his blood upon her ebony stained alabaster frame. But if anything along the lines with this stallion were to happen, she would need to remove herself from this current situation. And she had already decided that she needed the aid of the leggy stallion before her.
Her orbs began to focus once again, out of her thoughts as she moved slightly. The stallion was moving intricately and with precision. He was thinking. Tess snorted and tossed her skull when he began tugging the vines. She could feel some of them cut into her and she whinnied softly as the nastiness of the mud sank into her slight wounds. It burned as it sank into the damp bloody wounds. Though not much was allowed to ooze out due to the mud. Her mind instantly told her to snap at him for not being careful. " Watch - " She spoke but immediately quieted herself. She wanted so badly to give this stallion some lip and not in the good way. Since birthing Vallois, she had lost her luster in hiding her true emotions. Though, she was very confused about these emotions. It was a worldwind within her entire frame. Anger, depression, happiness, hope they all mixed around within her heart and mind and suffocated her lungs. Her orbs watched the stallion as he moved about her, she could feel him thinking. He was wondering what on earth he was going to do. She felt her hope drop a bit. Could this stallion really get her out? Or was she placing her hope too high on some stallion she didn't even know? A soft snort came from her nasals at the thought.
Grotesque dared to not move a muscle, in fear that she would mess something up and send the stallion plummeting into the sticky mud as well. Half of her would love to see that and the other half was devistated at the thought. Usually she would think nothing of this. Her pride was alreay ruined and she was shameful for being seen in this position. If she weren't the complete wreck she was now, she would try to seduce the stallion and use him to pry her ass out of this muck before throwing him to the curb. But she felt something akin to liking the stallion. She didn't even know his name yet. Was she that desperate? Skin met skin and Tess felt every muscle in her body contract and stiffen as each nerve was set on fire. That touch alone was enough to make her shoot out of the mud all by herself. The stallion's voice came to her then and her alabaster audits turned in their sockets to listen to him a bit better. Her heart rate began to beat rapidly and her body still tingled with his touch. Three? Alright, she could do this. Snorting, Tess readied herself, her mind completely focused on the task at hand. The stag spoke the word she needed and without a millisecond of hesitation, Grotesque pushed herself up onto her limbs. She pulled them from their sticky depths and situated her long legs into their proper positions and stepped forward onto solid ground.
Tess had never been so happy to be on solid earth again. She shook her entire messy frame splashing mud here and there and everywhere else. Her spirits were somewhat lifted as she stretched out her long legs and neck. Her mucky mane and tail stuck to her pelt and the feathers within her hairs wre thin and hidden within the tendrils. She needed a bath. But first.. Tess turned her frame to the golden bay, her azure orbs focusing on him as he examined her. So caring. So gentle he was. Her heart thrummed softly and the muscle twisted it seemed. Why would this handsome stallion care for her? She was an mean old bitch that hadn't a care in the world anymore. Her own son didn't know her. The father of said son most-likely hated her. Her one love left her...
Tess sighed softly and nodded her head, despite the cuts on various places of her frame. " I am fine. " She spoke in her accented voice. She looked at the stallion softly and continued pondering on him. " My name is Tess. " The nickname just slipped from her twisted lips. She had no idea why she didn't want him to know her real name. Grotesque. Who would want to be associated with someone with that name? This struck her. She had never been ashamed of her name. Why now?
SONG: Radioactive - Cover by Lindsey Stirling and Pentatonix MUSE: Shifty TAGS: Bailey's Icarus WORDS: 908 NOTES: ^^
His gaze swung over her now that she was free from her grave in the mud. She was still just as frighteningly beautiful as he'd assumed she would be. Legs that went on for miles, a lithe, nearly feline body. He was sure when she was not weighed down by countless pounds of thick, caked on gunk, she moved with a nimble, cat-like grace. Bones peeked from beneath a weary hide that, dulled by the impolite mud, still shined from their akin heritage. Golden gaze slid over her, though hesitated when it landed on the scrapes entwining her limbs. Surely caused by the vines, thick, slow running liquid oozed from beneath the muck covering the wounds, and the concern highlighting his features only deepened. With a quick thought, his neck twisted to gaze over himself. Nothing hurt, or ached really. His hind legs up to only his fetlocks were soaked in thick mud, but his torso was a different story. Forelegs up to his elbows was dipped in an earthy, natural brown, and spatters of wet dirt was splattered across his chest and shoulders. His head jerked back toward her, black mane swinging about his crested neck in a flurry. He'd certainly gotten off better than this stunning mare when it came down to cleanliness. Still his gaze scoured every inch of her. Was she alright? She had to be o-- Icarus' head snapped up with a shocking force, charcoal lined ears pinning to his poll. Why did he care?
They were both free of the muck, now his mind had time to work, and work it did. The last time he had loved anyone- his mother, his father, they died. And they didn't only die. They were murdered. Their carcasses crushed before his very eyes, rib cages snapped into pieces, lungs punctured, gasping breaths gurgling as their life drain from them, drowning in their own blood. How cruel life was to give him this gift of resurrection now, when he could have used it to save those who were important to him. Who meant something to him. But instead he'd sat by like a worthless piece of jewelry, watching his family die. Gold eyes slid closed against the images which assaulted his mind. Okay, so maybe that wasn't exactly true. Icarus had fought valiantly for the herd he belonged to. But he hadn't been enough. He would never be enough. Who was he to care about anyone else, ever? It was a death sentence. He was useless. He wasn't worth it. It was safer he just stayed away. He'd helped her free. He could go now. She wasn't dying today. She didn't need him. Nothing was detrimental, no wound was deadly. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, continuing on living her life. She didn't even know his name. He could leave here, vanish, and she wouldn't even have a name to put to his face. It was perfect. He could turn and leave. Be done with it.
But he didn't. His piercing gold gaze bloomed once more, flicking toward her blue eyes, mentally chasing away the hurt which lurked beneath his hardened exterior. "I am fine. My name is Tess." The words fell from her lips, though when his eyes met hers they were softer than before. Why? Had he done something to deserve her sympathy? Could she see how pathetic and weak he was beneath his wounded hide, scarred with memories and miserable fights. Could she tell he wasn't nearly the stallion he pretended to be? He wasn't calm, cool, collected. He wasn't strong and unwavering. He was broken, shattered into millions of rigid, shredded pieces that could never be fit back together again. There was no tape or glue strong enough to hold him together. He was nothing. Yet no matter how much he fought himself, how much he absolutely trashed himself, his emotions never changed. His expression was void of normal, complex emotions. Instead his brow creases. "I'm Icarus, and you're hurt." Sure, she wasn't dying. But she wasn't flawless either. "I can help you." It wasn't really an offer. In fact, it was more or less a demand. Without her consent, the light bay stallion stepped toward her, ashen muzzle stretching out simultaneously. Only once, he paused an inch from her shoulder. Should he really? Hah. As if that was even a question. Velveteen mug pressed against her skin, immediately a warmth rising within him. It built, first inside his stomach, and then flowing to his chest. There it stewed, boiled, building uncomfortably within his head. It ached. Throbbed, even, his temple pounding. His heart began to race, thrumming in his chest, blood pumping as if his life depended on it. And suddenly it left him. The aching subsided slowly as the heat flowed from him and into her. When the last of it drained from his body, a chill raced down his spine, and Icarus took a step back, eyes drifting to the wounds. The blood still matted with mud and fur was there, but the scrapes had vanished with his touch. Relief flooded through him and a heavy breath was released. She was okay. Icarus readily ignored the questions which plagued him. Why was he so concerned with her well being? Right. He wasn't going to let anyone die anymore. He wasn't going to let them hurt. It was his vow, his promise.
But even Icarus couldn't convince himself that that was truly why he cared. It was so much more than that.
As she pondered on why she hadn't given him her full name, the stallion had set into his little motions. Tess's mind was running full force. Why had she given her known nickname? He would surely find out her real name soon. Everyone knew Grotesque. The two-toned, twisted lipped mare with the deadly eyes. It was hopeless to lie. She didn't even want to lie to this stallion. Beryl orbs shot open and her long nape snapped up. What? She was the epitome of lying. Every fiber of her being screamed 'liar!' She manipulated and lied. That was how she lived. How she got what she wanted. She was a greedy, selfish and devilish mare. She cared for no one but herself and pushed others out of her way. But, as she looked up, her mind focusing on the golden stallion. She realized she didn't want to do any of that to him. Even with Atlas she was lying and weaseling her way in. Was that true love they had? Or was it one sided? Or was it just lust? Grotesque felt her heart ping at the thought of the rosey gray stag. Her beryl orbs looked upon the stallion once again. He was tall and built like her. He was a bit taller than she. But she wasn't as thinly built. Her orbs scanned him shamelessly. Oh yes, he was handsome. Though, she found that that didn't matter to her. As much as she loved to rake her orbs across his frame, her mind told her it wasn't what she found intriguing about him. As she watched him check himself for injuries, a small smile tugged at her black kissers, the torn skin of her lip showing a bit more of her dentals. The brute wasn't quite covered in as much mud as she but it amused her to see him dirty. All for her. Her smile faded briefly at that. He had saved her. No one had even thought about saving her. Hell, the last time she had gotten stuck, she had nearly been eaten.
Grotesque shuttered at the images of her ghastly incounter and closed her orbs momentarily. She was never one to be afraid of anything. But when her life had truly been on the line, it seemed her independence just faded into nothingness. Burned to ashes and drifted away on the breeze. She had felt worthless and useless. She wouldn't feel that way again she had decided. But, as she thought about it. She was exactly that. At this very moment. She was slowly killing herself with starvation. She was worthless and useless. Moping about every second of the day. All because a stallion she barely knew had left her and she was 'brokenhearted'. Atlas was a kind stallion, she'd give him that. Loyal and couragous. Honest. Everything a girl could ever want. But as she thought on it. She didn't want all that. She just wanted a stallion that wouldn't leave her. Her orbs drifted over to the golden stag then and could almost see the inner turmoil. It almost pained the missus to watch his facials contort in something akin to physical pain. What was going on behind those brilliant golden orbs? Something he didn't want. Perhaps a memory? Grotesque knew about painful memories. She had some of her own. Her mind traveled to her foal. Vallois. She would meet that little one one day. Even if it killed her.
Azure met gold and all her worries were chased away as she caught only a glimpse of the pain that laid behind. Behind the golden shields. She instantly vowed to be the sapphire spear that broke past those defenses. Why? She didn't know. She wanted to know this stallion. Know everything about him. She wanted to know the cracks and creveses. Every scuff and bruise. She wanted to doctor him like one would doctor an antique. Gently and precisely. That was funny coming from a Necromancer. She usually associated with death and decay but she found she wanted to raise him from his ashes. Like the phoenix he was. That was now her life goal. She would push aside her past and work towards meeting her foal but her first priority was this Golden Prince before her. He then spoke, his voice rich and accented, like before. But this time, she noticed. It sent a tingle up and down her spine and across the network of nerves in every inch of her skin. His name was Icarus. It had a ring to it. It struck at something in her memory. Something her owner had been obsessed with. Something in what humans called 'Greek Mythology'.
A movement caught her eye then and she realized she had missed everything he had said but his name and now he was stepping towards her. A harsh snort escaped her scarred muzzle as she shyed away slightly. She hadn't been one for being approached but her mind quickly corrected her and she stepped forward, meeting him in the middle as his muzzle touched her shoulder. A firework of sensations set off, exploding up her shoulder and tickling her back and ribs. That was simply from this touch but soon came the heat of magic. Healing Magic Oh could it get any worse? The heat spread through her body, stitching together the scrapes upon her frame and she instantly felt better. A sigh escaped her maw then as she felt him step away. For some odd reason, she wanted him to touch her again. Just to feel the senstation it brought on and to have him near. Her azure orbs focused upon him once again. She analyzed him as he stood there, seemingly in deep thought once agian. A small voice drifted in her mind. You said you weren't going to lie anymore... Tess's orbs pulled back. Her mind was right. Beryl orbs focused on golden as her lips parted once again. ' My real name is Grotesque. Tess is simply a nick name. '
Golden gaze dragged over her, his own nerves buzzing to life as the magic bubbling in his core slowly seeped out to the edges of his body, turning the uncomfortable heat into a gentle, nearly soothing warmth. Tense muscles hesitantly relaxed as his stare shifted to study her elegant face. She looked wrought with unspoken stresses and past hardships. Everyone had their own ghosts in their closets, haunting them. No one was safe in their own mind, no matter how much they pretended they actually were. Everyone was subject to judgement, whether they liked it or not. One's self was their worst enemy. Icarus was the epitome of that. And looking at this lovely piano accented mare made the golden bay stallion dare to believe she was just as harsh on herself as he. She put up a good front. She was stronger than him. Icarus could admit that. Not willingly, but he had to. He couldn't heal himself, better himself if he did not acknowledge his faults. He hated that she was stronger than him. It seemed backwards. The stallion was supposed to be valiant, a knight in shining armor sweeping her off her hooves with charming, smooth, well planned, witty words. Icarus was none of that. He was no fairy tale. His life was a nightmare. It was dark, miserable, wrapped in a rigid, sharp outer shell. There was no light left in his world anymore. Eyes swept over her icy gaze. Well, there had been no light left in his world.
' My real name is Grotesque. Tess is simply a nick name. '. Her words drew him from his internal mourning. Grotesque. The way she spoke it made it sound like a curse. Maybe to some it was. But to Icarus, it was nothing but a name. Many knew the definition of the word grotesque. Misshapen, hideous, absurd, bizarre. There were many synonyms. But what he was nearly sure Tess failed to realize was that it was not the only definition her name. Fantastic. Fantastic was a word used to describe grotesque. Extravagant. Remarkable, eccentric, exotic, intriguing. These were all synonyms to her name, and no doubt much more accurate than the aforementioned adjectives. It broke his heart, quite honestly. She held his gaze with a hard, unfeeling stare, void of any emotion. He was sure she equated emotion with weakness. She seemed like that type. His eyes searched hers, full of sorrow, this time for her, and not himself. Mind reeled, searching for the perfect words to say. Words were never adequate. You couldn't humanize such incomprehensible emotions. Not even those so akin to them understood them fully. "Grotesque.." The name rolled off his tongue in deep, warm lyrics, honey sweet. Suspense filled the air between them as he continued his wild goose chase for the correct words to say. He wanted them to be true, to be helpful, insightful, inspiring. How could he?
"It's a beautiful name, Tess." He began slowly, attempting to rid her of any doubt in what would follow. "But a name is just a name. It doesn't make you who you are, or who you'll be." Perhaps he was overstepping his boundaries. In the most respectful way, of course. He had always been the quiet one, who only spoke when he had something to say. But when he had something to say, he had a habit of saying it. He spoke his mind freely and completely, lacking censors or hesitation. A soft smile slid to his silvery lips, encouraging. "Don't let it define you." A step brought him closer to her. Every muscle in him screamed to stop. It went against every instinct, every gentlemanly, polite manner he'd written down in his how-to handbook. But his mind wouldn't win today. He wouldn't let it. Long strides, accurate form the seventeen two hand stallion dragged him toward her, paying no mind to the muck threatening to pull him down. "You're beautiful. Name and all." The words were shockingly honest. Coming from a different equine, they could have sounded cocky and charming. Not Icarus. It simply wasn't his nature. His muzzle stretched, brushing lightly against her wither before slipping smoothly up her neck, pausing at the crest. An affectionate amount of pressure was placed there, followed by a gentle nip. Oddly, it wasn't intrusive. But as quickly as he'd closed in, Icarus retreated. He'd pushed his limits far too much today. Light bay neck arched slightly, though he didn't shift away from her for the time being. He watched closely, searching for a reaction. Was she angry, sad, thrilled? He needed to know. Needed to know desperately. His heart began to pound faster as he awaited her reply. How bad had he screwed up? A pit of worry deepened in his chest, though he remained poised, if not cautious as he studied her. God, he hoped he hadn't messed up. He'd had enough bad luck as it was.. He couldn't afford to lose her.
What was he talking about? He didn't even know her. How could he need her so badly? A pang of unfamiliar emotion rushed through him, igniting a fire beneath his heart. How? His worry only increased. He couldn't answer how. He didn't know how, and chances were, he'd probably never know how. But he knew he did. And that was all that truly mattered.
A sharp and at the same time dull pain shot through her chest. Her azure orbs were facing the stallion but they had glazed over, unfocused. She had retreated into her mind. What was she doing? This wasn't mean't to be. He was water and she was oil. They didn't mix. They were death and life. What would that create? It would clash and break. A huge nuclear explosion. She could just see it. She was a pathological liar! He was good. She was bad. Opposites. Opposites attract... Her auds pinned at her inner self. Who's side was she on? She was a disaster. So is he.. Inner Tess said from a dark crease in her mind and Grotesque could have slapped her. I KNOW! She yelled back. her orbs opened then, at Icarus's words. She blinked softly, her torn lips lifting slightly, revealing more of her dentals. Beautiful? ha! She and her name were far from beautiful. Her auds pinned back as he continued to speak.
He was wrong, oh so wrong. She began shaking her head. Softly at first. You promised to raise him from his ashes....he's your phoenix. Do not fear the fire...for if you do, you'll only get burned..or maybe he will. There is a thin line between heaven and hell. Her inner voice spoke up and she felt tears spring forward and she shook her head a bit more, watching him through watery eyes as he moved forward. She made a step backwards, slipping slightly in the muck that surrounded them. She spread her limbs to stop her imminent tumble. She looked awkward, like a foal just learning to walk. Her long legs strained and almost screaming at the extension she had put them in. She immediately pulled herself up, her eyes frantic as she found the stallion again. By this time, he was in touching distance. Tess froze. His muzzle drifted across her withers and soon his neck was wrapped around hers. Feels nice, doesn't it. Tess shushed her inner voice and found herself pressing into him. Why was she so suddenly doubting herself and him? Why wasn't it a possibility?
He was gone in seconds. So was her heart. In this chance meeting. He had stolen her heart. When she thought she didn't have one. It was with him. " Keep it safe. " She whispered, a soft smile upon her frame. Instantly she began thinking of what this could be. What would happen between them. Could they love? Would they be known across Aeon as lovers? A snort broke from her nasals. Would they have children? She realized then that she despirately wanted a foal. Her first she had abandoned in hopes of finding the stallion she thought she loved. Then he was gone. No matter, he kept a special place in her heart. She smiled at the memory of the Mulberry grey stag but soon she focused upon the golden stag before her. Without a second thought, Tess moved forward. Her legs daintily carried her to the stag and she pressed her face into his chest, rubbing her cheek across it, to his shoulder and finally to where she rested her skull upon his back. " We have walked different paths. We are scarred, stained and definantly broken. But we can shine together. If you'd like to do so. " Her voice was gentle and she smiled at the almost girlish tone. She felt beautiful here. This close to him.
SONG: We are Glass - Thompson Square MUSE: good TAGS: bailey's Icarus WORDS: 577 NOTES: <3
He stood silent, stoic, motionless before her, gentle gaze roaming over her body in the least intrusive way possible. His heart thrummed in his chest, humming steadily to an unfamiliar rhythm. Her very gaze traveling to his was enough to send it leaping to his throat. Breath hitched in his chest, worry consuming him. How bad had he screwed up? She looked frantic, panicked, and utterly at a loss for how to react. What thoughts were streaming through her mind, setting her off like a firework? Icarus could guess. It was happening to him, too. With everything in him, he wanted to not care about her. To continue on his way as he'd been doing in the first place and leave the stunning Tess to go about her business elsewhere. But with that thought came the very real fear-- what if they ran into each other again? Would they regret their choices? Consider their parting ways a mistake? Something deep within the golden bay stallion told him it would be rash and quite frankly, stupid for him to leave. There was no denying the connection. The pull, the thread tangling them together. Even from a distance, he could feel the electricity pulsing between them. It shocked his heart, set his veins on fire. He was uneasy with the feeling, but in a morbid way, the unfamiliar anxiety was more than welcoming.. Was this what love was?
He stepped back to allow her space. He could see the wheels spinning in her head, the confusion, mistrust, worry sparking within her icy stare. It made him question himself. Was he doing the right thing, causing her such untold troubles. He should just apologize and leave. Yes, that's what he would do. Stance straightened and the stud gathered his own lanky legs, clearing his throat suggestively. Ashy lips parted to speak his farewell.. And nothing came out. Nothing. What the hell? Just leave Icarus. Go. Don't make the poor, pretty mare suffer. Set her free, love her from a distance, if that's what this truly was. He could live as a guardian over her.. Follow her every move from a football stadium away. Protect her, watch over her.. Eh, stalker vibes. Bad idea. Might as well be honest with his intentions. In such a short time, he cared so much about her that the idea of leaving the black and white mare on her own was appalling and quite literally unthinkable. She'd gotten herself stuck in the most obvious of places-- how did she expect to survive? Or at least, that was his reasoning.. His mind trying to compensate for why he truly wanted to stay. He wanted to stay because he loved her. Because he wanted her. Because he needed her.
”Keep it safe.” Gaze swung back to her, and it was then he realized that he'd been lost in his own thoughts, not hers. Somehow, this brilliant mare had come to terms with her wants. Unfortunately for her, Icarus had no idea what he was keeping safe. Maybe it was better that way. When he tried to keep things safe, somehow something always went wrong. Everything fell, usually at his expense. But this time it would have been worse. It would have been her expense. And he couldn't bare the thought of that. The distance between them disappeared with Grotesque's advance and regal neck lifted, arching just slightly at the crest to get a better look at her with curious, worried golden eyes. Her pretty head pressed feverishly into his chest, a softness he'd never felt before. He wanted so badly to return the gesture. He wanted to reach around her and draw her close. She obviously felt the need to be close to him, which meant it was his job to comfort her.. But for the time being, a thoroughly confused Icarus remained stock still, eyes drinking in the vision of her relishing in his presence. This was one for the memory books. And then she was moving again-- but not away as he had expected her to do. No, she was brushing against him, velveteen fur colliding with his own along his shoulder blade before coming to rest easily at his back. He could have been tense, and bothered. But one look at her and the obvious comfort which she felt, and he was elated. Quietly, of course. But a gentle smile slid to his white accented face, and daring to be the brave soldier he so claimed to be, the stallion relaxed and reached out, unfurling a lengthy neck to rest it lightly over her withers, peering around her to meet her gaze, words a sheer dream to him.
" We have walked different paths. We are scarred, stained and definantly broken. But we can shine together. If you'd like to do so. " And there went his heart racing again. Was he imagining things? Had she.. really, she had said..? He could not disagree with a single word, for as broken as she appeared to be, he was ten times worse. He was weak, shredded, torn.. But he was determined. He was good at being brave when the time called for it. And the sandman's clock was ticking, now. ”I would love nothing more, Tess.” He spoke softly to rid her of any possible doubt. ”Anything..” He began now, eyes flickering closed. He could stay like this forever, tangled with her, where he could feel her heart beating in her chest, feel ever rise and fall of her rib cage. ”Anything for you. Name anything in the world, Tess, and it shall be yours.” Obviously, not anything in the world. An earthly stallion, Icarus could only do so much. But he would strive, he would fight to do anything she could ever want.
Her orbs were closed tightly, to hide away the rest of the world around her. Her past. Her foal. Jean-Paul. Grimore Heart. Selisona. Her plan of a coup was gone. All in that one moment. Her back-stabbing ways would never go away, she knew that. She would never stop being the cruel mare she was. She would never stop watching and learning and then using it against the equine. She wouldn't stop being snobby but she would love this stallion. Her burnt out phoenix. Her wounded, unknown soldier. When it came down to it, she would turn the world around for him. She would do anything for him. The feeling of him wrapped around her in such a way made her smile, she felt save and protected. His words hit her auds and she opened her eyes. Anything? Did she want anything more than this? ' Of course you do. You always want more. ' Tess furrowed her brows at herself and tucked her face into Icarus's shoulder. ' What more could I have? ' It was a rhetorical question at the best but everyone tended to answer a rhetorical question. It was as if it was an impulse.
Grotesque pulled back, her gaze finding Icarus's yellow orbs. Her searched the golden depths, searching for a treasure much like the ones the shade of his orbs promised. Gold. She smiled softly up at him and touched her nose to his cheek and lapped beneath his jaw lightly in a loving gesture. Her torn lip made it awkward and creepy for anyone watching at a distance. As her torn lip made contact with his jaw, she paused. That was the ugly part of her. She was a grotesque creature, that was why she was named the way she was. She snorted, heated carbon dioxide blowing against his golden bay cheek. Would her lip and general appearance strike fear into her foal? Any of her foals? Would they run and scream at the hideous creature that is their mother? She looked down at her hooves. No they wouldn't. They would love their mother. Just as much as she loved them. The next foal she had, she wouldn't take for granted and leave.
Her skull darted back up to Icarus. Immediately her mind whispered to her. He could give you beautiful foals....He's strong and handsome. Kind.... Grotesque flicked her tail in contemplation. No! She would not use Icarus like that! This was her one shot at true love. This could turn into something beautiful! ' I recently lost my foal. He's not deceased. His father has possession of him and....I have not seen him up close after I abandoned him. " She siad, her eyes traveling downwards in shame. She had commited a sin. She had left her foal to die. He had been born near death and she had walked away. She smiled softly, she did enjoy being pregnant. It was a rewarding and annoying feeling. Her eyes shot back to Icarus and imagined herself carrying his foals. She smiled wider. "In time, I would love to carry your children. That and your love is all I ask..' She said, flicking her tail again, the blue feather in her tag sticking to her rump before falling back into its place.
SONG: a lot MUSE: okay TAGS: bailey's Icarus WORDS: ... NOTES:<3
' What more could I have? ' Oh dear, that was an extremely loaded question. To poor Icarus, he could answer that question all day, though he seriously doubted she wanted that. Or maybe she did? Jaws stayed locked shut. She'd have to pull an answer out of him did she intend to get one. She could have someone who wasn't a failure, who hadn't let his entire family die. Someone more valiant, handsome, and courageous than he. Someone better, who could give her a wondrous life which lacked no lows, only highs. Not him. She could have someone else. Someone safer, someone who could protect her. Shame crossed his stoic features, and gold eye shifted closed, against the cruel and undying hatred he housed for himself. Perhaps if he did not answer, she would not question him. She would not continue to wonder what more she could possibly have. Beautiful, she was. So much more, she could have everything she ever wanted with a nod of her head, and still she spoke as if he were the end all be all. As if he were all she could ever want. It was an incredibly overwhelming and heart warming sensation, to know she cared for him so, but at the same time, he felt so utterly undeserving of her affections. She was so much stronger than him, surely she realized that. She had to.
' I recently lost my foal. He's not deceased. His father has possession of him and....I have not seen him up close after I abandoned him. ' Her words stung his heart, all the while shock radiating through his body. He tugged back just barely to look her in the eye-- his warm golds meeting her electrifying blues, studying the hurt and disappointment which clung to her expression. It was so painfully true that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Through them he could see the want, the longing she had for her son. He couldn't even begin to imagine a loss that painful. He'd watched his mother pull in her last breath. Vice versa? There was no way. Neck stretched out, velvety, snip decorated muzzle reaching forward to affectionately bump hers, drawing in her scent over his nasal passages, logging it away in his mind and memorizing it ten times over. "I'm so sorry, Tess," He spoke so softly, as if it were his son whom had been taken away as well-- not just hers. A gentle breath fluttered over her muzzle as he placed a gentle lip upon her soft kissers. "We'll find him, my sweet, I swear to you. You'll see him again." If he could have crossed his heart he would have, but, instead he had to rely on his eyes to tell all and convince her he spoke the truth. He did. He would find the colt and bring him back to his mother, if it was the last thing he ever did.
But it was the next words that came as a complete and utter shock, sending the stallions golden eyes flying open wide in surprise. 'In time, I would love to carry your children. That and your love is all I ask..' Jaw could have hung open, touching the murky ground if he hadn't been a polite gentleman who was determined to maintain a calm, cool, collected demeanor. Children? Him, a father? He had to say-- he'd never been against the idea. He was quite fond of foals, in all actuality. But he had never considered himself a sire. Let alone to such an incredible mare. He felt unworthy and quite frankly uneducated on the subject. He was not afraid of the task. That's what instincts were for, guiding him through the most awkward of positions. But he did fear hurting her, and he did fear his own abilities as a father, and protecting his family. Golden eyes flitted over her rather petite frame, nerves suddenly singing to life, before returning to her gaze and holding there steadily. "You want my children?" He spoke nearly incredulously. And within seconds the fear was gone, dissipating like the summer wind. An overwhelming, heart warming joy bubbled within the depths of his chest. "You have it all!" A brilliant laugh sang from a radiant, beaming smile. "You have my love-- every ounce of it, and whatever else it is you wish. Children? If it makes you happy, my love." A second handsome smile was flashed in her direction, though black stockinged legs pushed himself forward, muzzle gently running down her spine. "Are you sure, Tess?" He spoke softly, words surprisingly encouraging, and confident. He politely awaited her answer before pushing back onto his hind legs.
It was instinctual, and fast. He was a gentle, his touch as tender as he could possibly manage. When his hooves splashed back into the muck, his white struck head rested delicately upon her rump momentarily, allowing a content smile to pass over his features before removing his elegant head and drawing up near her to press his light bay skull into her neck. "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I?" Concern etched deep into his lyrics, the stallion have a flick of his ebony tail, the coarse starless threads stinging his flank. "I love you, Tess." He spoke very softly, light cheek pressing just behind her alabaster ears. "So much."
Tess watched as his expression changed again. His golden orbs closed as he went into his own thoughts. He doubted himself, that much she could see. There was something in his past that drove this feeling. She wanted to know exactly what it was. Oh how she wished she had been gifted Foresight! To be able to see into her new lover's past would shed so much light on the subject that was Icarus. Her phoenix. Silently she began to wonder, was it her? Did she do something wrong? Did she move too fast for him? Seeing as they had only met moments ago and had already fallen in love. Was there such thing as moving too fast? For the first time in her lifetime, Tess began to doubt herself. Her alabaster auds pinned back slightly and she backed away. Her white and one black stilts moved backwards, the mud making a suction-cup sound and making a ninja-like escape impossible. Tess's bright orbs flitted to the right and to the left, thinking. Her powers of Necromancy weren't going to help her now. She halted in her attempt to get away, it would be impossible with the mud making those sounds.
Tess felt dirty and unclean with the mud on her. She needed a bath, bad. She was starting to smell herself. Despite her silent ramblings about her appearance and state of stench, she kept her orbs locked on Icarus, his orbs opening to look at her. His eyes saw through her and she shifted slightly. She loved and hated the intensity of his stare. She couldn't hide anything from him. There was a concern there, a want, a need. Love. He stretched out then and she didn't flinch away or tense up. She calmly and readily accepted his touch, the softness of his velvetine kissers was like a calming balm to her. His words washed over her and she then knew what he was speaking about. Her foal. Vallois. There was such emotion in his voice. Not the emotion of someone that simply said sorry to comfort you. His sorry was genuine and heartfelt. As if it was his foal that was lost to them. But she knew where little Vallois was. He was in the herd of Selisona. He didn't even know who his mother was. He thought that little healer Stuller was his mother. She snorted harshly against Icarus's muzzle as she wandered in her thoughts, catching his words faintly and they brought tears to her eyes. He wanted to help her find the foal that she knew the location of. Her clan, Selisona. Then it hit her, what clan was Icarus apart of? Or was he a loner? What would Grimoire Heart say?
Her mind was racing. What would happen to her? Would she get kicked out? Killed? Called a whore? No! She nothing like that would happen. She would stay at Icarus's side no matter what. He was her love. Her whole life now, him and her son. Icarus's voice touched her auds then and she came out of her mind, listening closely. He was astonished. Astonished that she wanted his children. Her brows knit together, what made him doubt himself all the time? She would have to fix that! He should be confident in himself, he was a handsome male and he was hers now. But as soon as this thought crossed her mind, he was overwhelmed with joy. The laugh that came from him was joyous and she couldn't help but smile. He spoke radiantly to her and she beamed up at him with her grotesque smile. She expected him to wait, until they were clean and freshened up but that thought was erased when he began easing back to her rump, his muzzle upon her spine the entire time. His question came and she didn't hesitate in her answer. She turned her skull to peer at him. ' I'm positive. ' She watched him as he positioned himself and then she turned her skull around to better prepare herself.
Soon it was over and she was releaved. He wasn't as heavy as Jean-Paul and that was a relief. There was much more affection in this as well. Her first time had been all buisness and it wasn't a good experience. She shuttered at the memory as she felt Icarus's skull upon her rump. She smiled back at him as he moved forward and she wrapped her neck around his skull as he spoke. A small laugh escaped her. " No, I am fine. You were flawless my love. She watched his facial expressions and she grinned softly. Her heart warmed at his words then and she nipped his forelock lovingly. ' I love you just as much and more, Icarus. '