Young Boy, You Done Me Bad [PG-13]

[sibber-chow]

It wasn't unusual for Char to find herself lost on the island - she dearly hated having to ever wander a foot off of the safety of Rocas. But, it was her herd, and her responsibility to see to it that it flourished again as it had beneath her mother's rule. Thoughts of her mother quickly burdened the young mare. Fiana had ruled as an authoritarian and was far from what her naive and bubbly daughter had turned to be. Despite, her usual optimism, it was easy to be discouraged when she was plagued of her mother's memory. Fiana had expected so much more of Char, and she was well aware of this.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she tried to released the heavy burden from her shoulders. Inheriting Rocas had been a handful for the mare, and she wasn't sure she'd ever truly be ready for it. She couldn't even navigate this forsaken island without getting lost at least thrice over! Maybe, it would have been better that her half-brother had taken the reign...

But, Phantom and Zandarkand had fought so hard so that she could maintain power- who was she to let them down? The pressure kept her in control of the lands despite how dearly she wished to squirm away from the role. When the mare inhaled again, the scent that filled her nostrils made her stomach twist and her heart ache - the breeding grounds. She had been here once before, only to be rescued by a dear old friend who had long since passed away. This place was trouble, and she needed to get out. But, which way was out? Her eyes scanned the treetops for sign of a raven to guide her home, but there were none. She wondered if she should call to the air for help - no, then she might attract unwanted company.

The more she stood in place, the more her thoughts grew to burden her. This was but a reminder of how far she'd fallen from her mother's expectations. Fiana had always stood that the lead mare had first right to breed, yet every other mare in her herd was pregnant or just had child. She didn't necessarily want a child now, but it went against every rule that her mother held that she not have one. And, she! oh, she was too much a coward to even tell Zandarkand how she felt, and now she had not seen him in months. What kind of lead had she become? Or, had she ever truly been one? Scoffing, the mare stomped her hoof to try and clear the thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time to feel pity for her condition, now was the time to get out of here before someone else found her. She wasn't the fighter her mother had been just as she was not the lead she'd been.

OOC| Title is from Ryan Adam's To Be Young (is t be Sad, is to be High.)

[Storeh]

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[bg=#000000] The shadows from the lowly strung trees playing patchwork patterns across the brilliant hues of his pelt, casting lasting colors on the surroundings as the brute wandered through the forests of Allevare Mettono. A bitter and otherwise rank odor tinged across his muzzle, laying heavily into the flaring pools of his nostrils, something which he instantaneously regret doing, shaking his head to rid himself of the foreign aroma of 'playful' equines. The lingering scents of other stallion was what was bothering himself the most, keeping his head low to avoid scenting them in particular. It was rather bothersome, trekking through the breeding grounds, especially considering the stag had little reason or want for such things. Greymarch would inevitably kill his son if he knew he had been raucous, like other colts his age. Ears flickered with the hinting of audios, a composed sound that drew his mind and attention, the pulling quality of his thoughts familiar. The odd colored male eased himself into a fractured halt, allowing thus to give grace to the wondering. A mare alone, lost in a place that was unsuited to idle moving. With the newest of his sought powers, the stag stirred at the air laying stale beneath his hooves, trying to summon the breath of the fea. Any sort of indication of where she would be. Lead mare, something told him, her aura nearly shimmering at his grasp and beckoning, a trick he had learned from a certain Konjou. The ghost of a smile pulled at his lips as the stallion turned on his heel, pacing into the trees to see if he was too late to help the damsel in distress. Not yet did she have company, for he was to stumble upon her before another would find her. A new snatch of information stalled him still, making his eyes widen and his heart jerk. He dismissed with the shake of his head, not allowing his powers to pry any farther into the future. It could change, for the future was like an ever shifting plate, sands, each grain divided and always moving amongst others. Only the past was cemented and set apart with finality. His nostrils flared once more, the wind singing to call in his ears, beckoning him forth. As he neared the pacing of her chosen spot he knew her name. Char. She was the lead mare of Rocas, one of the mortal herds on the isles, that was suffering form the loss of the late lead, and her mother, Fiana. His ears flickered slightly, drawing more information as he caught sight of her standing amongst the trees with a curious expression. She wanted a foal. But she didn't. His eyes narrowed and head tilted slightly. She needed a foal so she could prove her legitimacy to the hierarchy. Amazing what some equines could need. He shook his head slightly once more, casting his eyes downward. Who was he to judge? No one, he was but the messenger, and could only pray that the news would be received with even temper and kindred heart. She was a pretty thing, that was for sure, but Call Me Jack tried not to get hung up on that little fact. Beauty could be found when looked for. 'You looking for a guide?' He said it clearly enough, with composure to grace his expression as he stepped into her line of sight from the trees, not wishing to farther her apprehension or have her willfully attack him. Of course, it was hardly a question, but most equines found it unsavory when they learned of his...poweress. 'Please, don't be alarmed, for I shall not harm you. I am but here to offer you service.' He took another measured step forth, both head and neck lowered in submission least he scare her off. There were far worse things she could encounter in this land than himself. Far worse. For he would do to her only what she needed. What he future held. Would that paint him to be the bad guy? Maybe. In the end it might just happen upon perspective and the faith put into either side of the story. A haunted sort of smile curved the edges of his lips. What was his appearance to her then? Unsavory, perhaps, but he could learn to live with that. Her past was like a flood washing over him. The unrequinted love, or supposure then of, snagging on the way down. What are the consequences to my actions?

[/color]

Muse: ...
OOC: .....
Music: St. Jimmy :: Green Day

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[sibber-chow]

An unsettling tension overcame the mare as she heard the footfall of another approaching. Her heart raced inside her chest, legs prancing in place as if she might run, and yet she remained in her original locale. When the brute finally became visible to deep blue opts, her anxieties were slightly lessened by his composure. And, naive mare that she was, Char instantly found relief when he offered her no harm. She took his words at face value and delved no deeper than that; she wanted to believe the best would happen and so she did.

The mare's white dipped tiara looked around, wary of the place although not the stallion. "I am not certain which way is which on the island," she admitted quite flustered. Eyes finally met the stallion again, and she couldn't help but pay notice to his odd markings - the speckled spots, the mask, and that bright hair, goatee, and mane. The goatee itself was reason enough to spark curiosity. What was the brute? Obviously of some elemental bloodlines, and this caused a slight ripple of angst to flood through her mind. She knew little of elementals, but what her mother had taught - they were dangerous. Her mother had died at the hooves of one, but this bloke didn't quite seem the threat she'd expected of the odd creatures of the island. Well, he'd said he wasn't a threat...

She took a few paces back as she contemplated the matter. Should she allow him to help her? What other choice had she? Risk being caught by a brute that didn't even try to suggest he meant no harm - she decided prejudicing him upon his breeding just wasn't in her best interest. Perhaps, her mother had been wrong? She'd wondered that more and more oft these days, though she dare not utter such things.

"Thank you," she offered a smile of sincere gratitude, unbeknownst of what the future held as he was aware. Closing the range between them, too friendly of nature to realize she might be invading his space by her proximity. "Oh, excuse me, my name is Char, by the way!" She chirped with an innocence, unaware that his powers had already granted such knowledge. She did not bother to give her rank on a day where she certainly did not deserve it.

[Storeh]

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[bg=#000000] The cushioning of thoughts parading from the chambers of her mind into his own, snagged from the lines like an open book, each word a consequential nature, each memory something to be taken as sentences marched from the chamber of her mouth to cascade to his ears, which flickered forth to catch such things. There was neither an illusion nor ploy of innocence, such things fabricated seen so easily through, for she was not in such a way. Indeed, to the stallion, it would seem as though she was as she said she could be, in the mind spirit and otherwise, the aura the palest of natures, a trusting hue marked nor tainted by the seeds of neither truth or doubt. The swimming of composure, of offered smile with the steps she took, as though the brute were already influencing the natures of his meeting, his mind concentrating slightly at the flexible borders that cornered the chamber of her will. With was flimsy, something that seemed to farther encourage her naive states as well as doubts to the skills of her own leadership, the words continuing to fall from her tongue without the guiltless of care. Her scent, the smell of the mare consuming him with the closing of such things, a need burning within him like a flame unsated with desire. Yet for the moment he ignored such temptation, farther pulled at the strings of her willful abandon, twisting her into a state of dire restfulness, a bliss and comfort without anxiety or apprehension. Breathing to life the nameless wonders, willing into existence the cushioning of home, the welcome of open embrace as he ignored the playfulness of gesture, pushing so harmlessly against the defenses of her whimsical mind. Beckoning her farther toward him, inward to the need, outward to the gestures of faith and understanding, the smile on his lips to seem genuine and caring. Favors to be tempted with, consuming her with longing as well as trust. Trust me, he tempted, insinuated, and all your dreams and wishes will become reality. I shall save you. Fall forth, concentration at ease. 'Call Me Jack....at your service,' Lower in tone on the breath of submission, tempting in nature to draw her farther into his arms, into his mind, across the borders. There was time not to waste with the pulling, the deepening. Symphonies to play in mind, the crescendo of the music on the high, the playing of notes wrapping around her head, the projection of images. Calming to soothe without abandon, he wished her without pain or malice of production. Happiness and composure, smooth with the hinting. Preparation for the future in his mind, yet he was closing in on all sides, cornering her mind with his own, easing the blockade backward, tasting the natures of her past, feeling out the easing of it all. Unrequinted love be eased away with the natures of this meeting, the feeling of lost time smoothed over with the tolling of timeliness. You know all you need, without the aid of another. Time be pressured without the faultering sands. He needed her to understand, to fall under, to make this less hard on herself. When finished it would be a fond memory rather than painful experience, something he knew they both needed to heed. On his head to be placed a bounty would be spite, with buisness as usual on the line for the price. He was giving her something to taste and remain. She would one day have a hard time recalling this place. For now, he called, come to be slowly. Feel the pressuring of a mind at order. Calm and collected, this place is your own. Fall in with me, fall in with my heart and my breath. There is nothing waiting for your outside of this place, there is something for you to say. Keep your will, but forget of malice and hate. You look at my face and all is in place. Serenity and idle time, there is no rush. He farther pressured, but nothing too swift, allowing her thoughts as well as measure in the space they occupied. Her breath was slowly poisoning his blood, tainting his wanting, but he would not be bold. Patience had been forcefully shoved into his being, for he could not afford to be swift. Greymarch was already watching with his mind, and the brute would not allow himself to slip. Genteel natures and peaceful crooning. Her mind was a book that he wished to read between the lines of, very carefully, for this was his first experience of such admittance. Her mother was a topic he tried to ease away, that and the pain of the stallion Zandarkand. Pushing and easing was all her wrote, all he gave an none he took. Trust me, his intention begged. Cushion blows without the spending of blood on the lands. Good intentions.

[/color]

Muse: ...
OOC: .....
Music: St. Jimmy :: Green Day

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[sibber-chow]

The mare found herself attentive as the stallion spoke, her head bobbing with eager zest at the knowledge of his calling. The phrase, the name, it swirled in her head, lingering and perplexing the young mare. She seemed unable to get it, him, out of her thoughts. Call me Jack, Jack. His lyrics rang through her mind several times over, and she caught her eyes gazing with unfaltering focus at the stallion to which the name belonged. There was a longing to feel flustered and unnerved by the overwhelming devotion and faith she felt entrusted in the stallion already. She'd always been easy to trust others; naivety at it's finest, but this time... it was more than simply that. She could comprehend that something was different, off even, by the warmth she felt at the sound of his simple calling, but it never crossed her mind that it was his workings or a sort of foul play. Had she known such powers existed even, it was never like her to suspect malice in anyone's ways first. Embarrassment crossed her as she wished to scold herself for being so easily wooed, for that is all she could logically assume was happening. And, yet, the vile sting of embarrassment, the heat from her face and the twisting of her stomach could not prevail for long.

Before she could give it a second thought, her body found itself at complete ease as if the flustered thoughts had been washed from her. Too, were the thoughts of incompetence and the past. She couldn't think of anything else but the oddly marked, though certainly charming stallion before her. She didn't want to think of anything else.

A sudden realization came as she felt his warm breath caress her cheek, and she began to ponder at what moment she had wandered so very close. Her mind reeled to try and retrace the movements, but she was unable to focus entirely on anything aside from the very moment. Another step, this time hesitant. Without thought for the action, her head was nestled against the brute's neck. She tried so severely to feel ashamed or rash, but it became hard to focus on the feelings whether they were there or not.

"I-I'm not bothering you... am I?" She whispered with an overwhelming weakness, almost desperation in her tone.

She didn't want him to say yes, nor did she want to move from his touch, his warmth, his comfort. And, while she wondered, consequential thoughts intertwined with his silent reassurances. Char held tightly to these frets, the fear of being a bother. She refused to let her comfort in the situation completely blind her to others - it wouldn't be just or respectful. But, it was immensely hard to cling to such negative thoughts... harder with each passing moment.

[Storeh]

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[bg=#000000] It was working as cleanly as though breathed into life by fate in itself, which may have been the consideration if faltered an action by one. There was the tightness of grip, the running of mind's tides through his own, the murmuring of an idle forgiveness, giving faith to this cause. A sharpened edge of mind when their pelts to touch, the ending action as to push him across the line, swimming without fear for the actions ahead, for it was the fondness and not of the dread. Kneading and sparking at these littlest of comforts, breathing wonder into trust and the smoothest of turmoils over the cross. She was at ease, that which he could tell, enough that even the devil couldn't bring her to a hell. Yet even if by appearance it was all just a game, there was the breathing to life the unspoken of shame. Giving her what she needed though never passing of her lips, the fire under her skin when the contact within. As though sparks could fly, the insinuation muttered, the passing of pleasure as his muzzle set to wander. Gently across the skin of her shoulder, lips grazing skin and mind not to wonder. It feels good to us both. There is something very right in motion, nothing wrong. The burdens you felt lifted like leaves in the wind, heart to soar with the feeling of my skin. Trace my features, remember my name. He spoke to her without even giving a voice to the command. Wishing for her to believe was always enough, the pushing of conscious to remove the veil of pain. The past has subsided, the embarrassment erased, gone are the feelings of worthlessness and hate. The drawing lines of thoughts cascading from the chasms of her sheltered mind into his own, bringing to light the sparking of fears. 'You shall never bother,' Speaking without lie, the hushed tones of pronounced truth, the breath on her neck, the warmth as it hit. The seeds of trust dug under to bloom, the speaking of composure as to whisk her farther into the a state of evenness. Love is the name of an emotion posed to control, the desire something that blossoms and turns to the sun for light. Warmth at the grazing of my lips on your skin, the flesh of your back feeling the pressure. Against the borders collapsing, he willed once more for her to swim with mind intact, not forceful or harsh. Heartbeats in time, breathing like easing the nagging of kindred kind. With another little push towards the fateful begin, whispering desire of nature into her head, sweetly to remind, unwanting to leave. There is something to ground without fear of me. No fear in mind, harshness or ploy. Just the joy of warmth across your back, the rippling of skin as it touches with mine, out bodies pressed tightly head then to tail. The teasing of warmth, the drawing of the string, yet all Call Me Jack did was speak it within, colors but not pictures, the calling of a spring. She needed this, he reminded, he was not taking the edge of the sword. Fate was weaving a complicated story, just as the brute was making a memory to share between the threads, silks of a different color to blind the eyes of Char, to show her a different picture, one without the pain or pressure. Salvation was to be given, with consent then signed, and the future would wear on without the reckless of plight. Shushing the calamity spoke on the edge, hushing the desperation that one would have felt. Destiny was lucky on this day, this innocent mare to be given another path, one with lest ruts and filling of cracks. Easing of tears as he continued to coax. Fall in with me, and all shall be all right. We are okay. This is how it should feel, the whimsy of a day on the highs of euphoria. Taking what needed to replace that which remained. Remindng that she needed this, the giving with the taking. Call Me Jack was taking nothing from the beauty. Yet it was wrong to weave lies and he did not slip up. Love, he begged with the clinging fabrics of her mind, allowing them to bend and stretch to make the thoughts her own. Suggestions to be brought to light by the breath of her lips. Slowly, he beckoned once more to her with the pressure of their skins. The fire inside him was sweltering, but again he swallowed the flames. Eager was he to bathe in the fires of sin, yet from the ashes he would give a life something worth to live. He would not back down, for this is the path to be woven. He lipped at the base of her tail, softly, gently, not allowing the demon to win. You want this, he pleaded with the tattered straying of mind. You love me, if only for today.

[/color]

Muse: ...
OOC: .....
Music: St. Jimmy :: Green Day

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[sibber-chow]

Whatever fret that her mind so feverishly clung to had disipated with those simple words. That was all she truly needed, well, that and a some gentle mind persuasion, to feel at complete ease and trust with this stallion. And, so, her body and mind were wooed into the very belief that she wanted more than just his touch. She wanted, too, to breed with the stallion. To bare his offspring even- something that the mare would have, should have felt shame over but could not. It was not just want but a necessity...

Even with this overwhelming pressure to succumb in the very moment, the mind still in tact warned against being too rash - once again as if not willing to offend the stallion. Each time the thoughts of scaring him away came to mind, his words recalled smoothly in her head, and she was unable to entertain such thoughts for long. The touch of his maw across her shoulders, her back, the base of her tail sent shivers of ecstasy through the mare's small bodice. She could never recall having felt a touch that deemed so much pleasure, she could hardly recall another touch at all. It was becoming as if there was nothing more than this very event - no past, no future, simply now. And, so it should be lest the mare might be tempted again into feelings of fragility and unworth.

Without thought besides the pleasure of his touch against her own flesh, Char's maw moved from point of rest. Gentle nibbles traveled the side of his leg as her nostrils flared at the joyous scent of the stag who seemed much less like a stranger now. She knew him far less and still far more than any other equine. Her tail swished to the side as her body and mind stilled. There was no rumble of doubt in her mind for once. Instead, and odd confidence in wanting this and no fret lingering over what he might think. She wanted this with him. There was no one else, nothing she required more, and not a single doubt or fear to be held within the once tangled mind.

[Storeh]

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[bg=#000000] A rolling or a pull as the smallest of sensations to be gathered and reverted to numbness, or something that could be twisted into more so, rather than less. Inflicting harm was not with the right justification, the circling of thoughts like the stirring of arsenic into the drink for the trusting to down. Despite the calmed essence and air, it was a struggle to suppress the complete collection of memories from pooling around the edges of his mind as hers became clear. The bypass had been warranted without reaction, the smoothness taken with care, transforming into the need that he had so woven and wished. Yet there was never time to take a step outside of oneself and admire the handiwork when such things were still in progress, heedless to the caution propping without cease in mind. Her thoughts were digging into his own, as he allowed them to, measuring her spectrum as he continued to whisper his own into her subconscious, eyes focused. Was this a prize for him to capture, like a pretty bird sighted in a tree? No, this was like the taking of an injured bird, trusting to heal instead of harm. What damage could he do with the sharpest edges of the bluntest of thoughts. He would not, however, as he cared to remind, feeling the rush of foreignity as she lifted her tail aside. It was at the eye of the storm, the battering of her mind's defenses reaching a spiral of giving. Inward, they tilted, pressing into his own, as though to lap at the pleasure so sweetingly savored there, stored for such purposes as he imagined such things. A sigh worked from the chasm of his throat, the tenseness draining from his muscles, the expression so held now maintained. Temptingly, desire reached from the hold on his mind, choking the sensibility as though to strangle away all sense to leave as is. Without lingering traces of thought, his tool slid from its sheath, his muzzle feeling slightly, wondering. Call Me Jack was not a fool, for he knew what he must do, such things that allowed for his genteel natures to shine through the smog of lustful wanting, or needing. His teeth grazed the base of her tail once more as he rightened himself into position, swinging his body so he was directly behind. Mentally, he checked once more, watching her body language though it was rather an unneeded precaution, inconsequential though he muscles wished so to act on instinct alone rather than the murmuring of his mind to adjust. Careful, with a mind so to matter, he lifted himself from the ground, forelegs braced on either side as he tottered for the balance that was so easily claimed. Ears flickered for a moment, nostrils flaring with the hotness of breath as the young stag recalled for the time. His digit pressed for the moment, and then with the sparking of fireworks on the backs of his lids, he entered. The constitutional memory of pleasure was altered then, pressed farther still as he wondering if he even needed to broadcast such feeling. Again he pressed, whispering everything yet nothing with the swelling rise of emotion, lips moving with the gentle murmur of his heart, pulling at the light strands of her mane, plucking so gently, delicately. Heart to give wings, the insinuation of guiltless praise, goodness to gracious with the power of elemental magic. Was that what it took to save? Love was an illusion he would rather not discuss.

[/color]

Muse: ...
OOC: .....
Music: St. Jimmy :: Green Day

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[sibber-chow]

As the stallion's ivories grazed across the base of Char's tail, the slightest bob of her white-dipped crown revealed the mares eagerness, nearly an impatience present in her mindset. Such impatient quality was duly rewarded rather than chastised, as the young brute's bodice moved behind her own. Anticipation trembled through her being. And, her tail remained tossed to the side despite the urge to slap at the flies that pestered her bodice beneath the evening sky. Yet, her eagerness to please and be pleased refrained inky tresses from daring to budge in the slightest from position against her flank.

Her bodice wobbled slightly beneath the pressure of his own, but composure was regained as quickly as it had been lost. Her mind reeled with the most pleasant of anticipations, still no fret, dread, or worry to be found in Char's being. Kissers parted to allow a light gasp to take air as she felt his tool pressed to her. Her pelt began to shiver upon entrance although not of fear or pain, rather sheer ecstasy. Her head turned to gaze at the brute mounted upon her, deep blue orbs taking in his every feature in a moments time. Her mindset could not escape anything but sheer joy, love it even felt, in the company and touch of the stallion. She found her mind trying to rationalize - to understand when in the short time she had fallen for him. Nothing came of the venture - moments blurring and not a single concept of time, place, or other creature able to squirm its way into the process.

Eyes set back ahead of her form, a quiet sigh of contented nature passing her lips. As she focused on nothing in particular yet everything about this moment and this feeling, her bodice gradually pressed against his mounted form, allowing not even the smallest gap of space to breech their entangled silhouettes. Her mind longed for the moment to last, and yet thirsted for it to continue on - to bare his seed as she seemed to believe whole-heartedly was all she wanted or needed.

[Storeh]

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[bg=#000000] Contagious aspects of introspected meddling leeched to then stem from the wading pool of consequential actions that had such breathed life into the plans that acted as cogs in this machine of salvation. Dreams woven like fabric into seemingly flawless masterpieces with the artist still in claim, draining the fears from nightmares now lost over the edge where they once tottered. No longer was there the threat of fallen outward of this state of asphyxiated bliss that captured the heart in a lock that could not be shaken. Power was a hungry demon never sated with the barest of minimal needs, and it reared its head inside of the stag, covering his mind's eye with a welcome shroud, as though he was divulging in the greatest of sins. Char welcomed his intrusion without jest, jubilation a word for the wise unspoken on her parted lips. Shivering with an engine of euphoria, his strokes became labored with the seemingly insatiable quivers of lust. Warmth basking across the places where their skins dare to brush with the most innocent of gestures, the staking of claims with the pressure to continue without the faltering of beat. A crescendo as the parting of his own velveteen muzzle, the twisting of expression with the exhale, sweat beading to drip down his pelt. Not once did the need arise for the whispering of his mind, though the way the thoughts where dancing, it had become a mad spiral of thinking, wanting bending to the expert hand of the masters. Proclamations of an undeniable affection so close to passing from his maw, instead he pressed it faster still, as though to chant this so arcane of feeling into action instead of word. Faded backgrounds without respect, for it was just the moment within, sparks to fly without idleness, for the salvation might just be saving him. Lungs to gasp for needed air, ears to swivel with the sounds. Heartbeat racing against his own, teeth not biting but giving the love that he could never own. Believe it, he wanted to sob into the warm tresses of her mane. I love you. I have to. There was not a slip in the cracks, the showering of exaltation he measured her to feel. Pleasure was the devil's coin with love a useful errand. Muscles clenched with deepening lunges until the pace could not be sustained, the sweat on his flesh feeling icy against the rising of the tide. It was the end of the beginning, and Jack wished for the endless. Instead, as he spilled his first seed into her, the memory was showered with the falling of graceful emotion, peppering of love to devotion. Understanding with the speculation that this memory would forever stay a wonder, not a curse on the birth of such a child. Love. To labor for Love. It was the teasing of breath from his lips to part once more for the world, the shower of things as he dismounted the mare he had chosen to give a chance. He did not yet sever the connection he felt against her mind, the warmth of her feeling for him. A smile on his lips for the love she returned. Yet it was not hers to give. Jack reminded himself of this. It was an illusion he had conjured to ease away any pain this experience would have caused otherwise. She was under the influence of her own day dreaming, something she would never come to understand, for there would always be the fog of happiness when the recalling them began. Char, he wanted her to love him, he wanted to stay with her. It would be easy, wouldn't it? The beating of her heart like a lullaby, for the saving of his own soul. It would be a lie though, a trick, hateful. No, he was not her burden to bear, as he whispered sweetly the answers to the questions of where for her to go to leave this place, the reminders of the danger, the speaking of the love that she was feeling. Not broken, presence of command that settled with beats of a breath, the smile of esctasy's golden gaze. She was something he would always recall. Fondly, for this was something. Something. Call Me Jack had saved her, indeed, for now she was complete without ailment, the lasting effects of his charm to ensure that. The brushing of his ashen muzzle once more against hers, the sharing of breath as though it was the sparks of a flame shared instead of what the magician hid. Behind the curtains, it was all a lie, like poses for pictures of lovers that would never feel fate. A puppeteer of destiny, without the shelter for demise. Pressure of the feelings he knew she still needed. Saftey, the need for the returning to her home, Rocas, for a lead she would be. Already he could see his child. Love was a thing he whispered most into her own mind, and he then turned from the scene to leave himself, mind reeling on her own. You understand, he reminded with each step. You know why I have to go, and you understand. You will let me go because you know it is what we need. You understand. Understanding. Understood. The tears in his eyes coiled like flames around the edges, and his head lowered for a moment, his body shaking as he dared not stop and look back. All I want is what I can't have.

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Muse: ...
OOC: .....
Music: ....

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[sibber-chow]

Slender frame shook with every passing stroke in rhythm to labored breaths and joyous mutterings of the mouth and mind. Sheer pleasure, love, and delight were all that flooded through the mare, her body responding as joyfully as her tampered mind. Sweat beaded and foamed upon her frame as coarse fur of tri-toned pelting stood tall at the very electricity of his every touch. Sooner than she would have wished, though in best mind for her body - for a fragile ache wished to summon upon her haunches and her heart seemed to flutter without control - he slowed and stopped. The brute filled her with his seed and there was no wish to deny him that right. In fact, it would have been unimaginable that the mare not bear the spawn to Call Me Jack. The thought was never present in her mind - it never would be either. All for the best - had she been saved? What was salvation, anyways?

As he dismounted, there was leisure in his every touch, although a disturbance dared to creep upon her mind as she felt it his time to leave. He allowed her to believe that it was the only option and how it should be, yet her mind fought to resist such a thing feverishly. Never. It couldn't be. She couldn't allow him to leave. Her mouth parted to call out, no words came. He could leave. He had to leave. There was no other choice... they had to part ways. She understood.

A mare that should have come from this battered and dismal held no dismay and whatever physical infliction grazed upon her body, she seemed unaware to. As if things had been meant to happen this way, and maybe they had - they must have for She could see it no other way - the mare was on her way back home. She was headed back to her herd, babe in tact, to lead her herd and a family within safe confines. She felt she would never forget Jack, or perhaps it was merely his mission, his meddling, the joy and love that she would not forget... a sadness would have wished to overcome her. She would have wished to think this could have gone some other way - but such thoughts couldn't be fathomed.