Golden Plains
The haven of dandelions, roses, and daises, there would be no better description of Golden Plains than a touch of gold. It’s as if the fabled King Midas flew down, caressing every flower and leaf. The sun, also a bright gold high in the sky, rains down little drops of more gold, sprinkling it’s magic upon everything within this gemstone of a land.
This land is closed. It is no longer habitable.
fireworks in the back streets
IP: 77.98.211.44
Posted on May 19, 2011 at 01:57:14 PM by PERSIAN
Instinct is a hard mistress. She pulls to and throw, her ravenous hands dictating which direction the puppet strings pull. Her voice is flawless. Her argument entirely convincing. Not like you get the chance to disagree. Resist as he might, she is a powerful master. Her whip cracks across his spine. It shivers with anticipation. His clear sight is clouded with a lustful dust. Persian becomes numb to common sense. Her heat is intoxicating, a lethal poison to captivate his senses. All vapours of rational thoughts dissolve from his mind.
He knows now that he should pull away, clear his throat, tell her he isn’t ready for what she’s proposing. That doesn’t stop him. If she wanted him, she could take him now without question. Instinct could be resisted, but not altogether overcome.
Her purring prickles his skin. Soundlessly he retains a gasp, followed by a rough grunt to disguise said gasp. Feathers stimulate his skin, sensitise his touch to their smoothly inexplicable texture.
“Death comes to us all – eventually. They just have fewer bones,” he said smugly, looking down shamelessly at the ground. He chanced for his eyes to catch sight of her forelegs, long, slender golden pillars.
Needless to say he let his eyes drop quickly, unable to face her eyes. He knew the second he did, he’d be star struck, helpless to her feminine whims. Against her he was powerless, incapable of holding a fight. Normally when mares tried to charm him he found them much easier to resist. Obviously Emerald had time on her side, had been able to practice her seductive arts for far longer than the fillies that had tried and failed to woo him aside. Unfortunately, Emerald wasn’t failing. Worst of all, he feared that she wasn’t trying very hard. God help him when she pulls out all the stops – though in his heart he prayed that she would. His primitive self begged for it.
Persian was not primitive. He was a gentleman. The Arab casually took a step forward, trying to distract himself with the not-so appetising grass at his feet. If he’d offended her, it was only with her best interests in mind. She might not know how irresistible she was to him.
“Life is more important than death. Let us speak of that instead,” he continued on, trying to divert the conversation to things a pretty-little mare should be more worried about. As he did so, he found for himself an extremely interesting looking piece of wood to investigate. Hardly a Sherlock Holmes moment, but at least it was a step above blandly looking at the ground.
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P E R S I A N
immortal chestnut arabian |
(he's trying to be all proper and gentlemanly XD)
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