She dances away from him, her silvery tresses float around her delicate shoulders. Her voice a melody on the breeze as she teases him more, a sweet nectar to his erect ears. Her hooves dance upon the dusty earth, creating a tempo that she dances with, just out of his reach. Her mischevious grin spreads across his lush lips, as she taunts and flirts with him. "Já, I will get the truth from you Nya... one way or another." He promises her. He watches her with an amused look upon his masculine features as she moves off down the trail, her silver tail flicking over her sides as she goes. With a sigh escaping his lips, he follows after her. He has barely taken a few steps when she swivels her head around, the question fills the air between them. Does this include you dear Björn?
He has barely a moment to open his lips to give a smart retort before she pivots and they stand face to face. His breath catches in his throat as she speaks again. What if I wanted your touch? A smirk touches his pink lips, and just above a whisper he says. "You would have to just ask nicely." And just like that, she wheels away and races down the path, leaving him behind reeling with emotions. How could she make him feel in such ways? He yearns for her touch. Craves just a sweet taste. He shakes his thick skull. "Fjandinn." He curses aloud, he knows that she is trouble. Yet, he can't stop himself.
His hooves quicken beneath him as he follows her into the sea, he wants to keep her within his sight. The surf consumes him, the salty water washes over his smoke washed hide. His legs strike out vigorously in an attempt to close the distance between them. He can feel the cool waters begin to warm, he knows they near Atlantis. He was born on Tinuvel but raised on Luthian, and adventured to the other islands. As the white shores stretch out infront of him, his glacial blue eyes settle on the lithe body of Nya.
The foaming surf bubbles around his dark feathered legs. He has successfully seen Nya to her home, but he knows that it is not over yet. He gives his body a good shake. His mane and tail drip from the ends, even after his shake, he still felt þoka.
"So you are eyjakona mín?" He asks in his thick northern accent. A smirk plays at his lips.
Translation:
Fjandinn: Damn
þoka: soggy
eyjakona mín: my island girl
Icelandic mutt - Grullo Sabino - Stallion - 14.3 hh - Dögun x Freya