The Lost Islands
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Meadow

Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.

and in their triumph die, like fire and powder
Posted on July 13, 2020 at 08:40:27 PM by Sabriel


SABRIEL

As expected, It didn’t take long for Sabriel to draw attention. For as long as she could remember, that had been the way of things - whether it was the unique swirls that decorated her raven-black coat or the contrast of her pale eyes, the opposite gender had always been drawn to her. And she had always invited their advances - at least, until they inevitably sought something more than ardent whispers and searing touches. As soon as they sought to stake any claim of Sabriel, she would reject them with a sharp squeal and a pinch of teeth, leaving them to contemplate exactly where they had erred. In autumn, it could be a dangerous pastime, but the added risk only increased her thrill. So far, any crass, overbold creature who sought to make her a gift of his seed had been met with a well-aimed kick. None had cared to repeat their actions a second time.

“But those who are wise will do so, if they wish to keep that which makes them a man.” She replied in a thinly-veiled threat, leveling an icy glare in the stranger’s direction and pinning her ears. Both the sultry tone of her voice and the sensuous language of her body were in direct contradiction to these gestures, however. There was certainly interest, if not open invitation; Sabriel’s bright eyes did not appear to waver from the warring stallions again, but she watched the painted stallion from the periphery of her vision, appraising him. And though one hind hoof was cocked as if ready to fly at this bold creature should he choose to draw nearer, her silvery tail danced enticingly through the air. The mixed signals she gave were more a test than a trap; intended to measure the depths of this male’s confidence and courage. If he found her company worth the potential cost of physical retaliation, that in turn made him worthier of her attention.

For the moment he chose to remain at a respectful distance, though it was evident in the subconscious way his body listed toward the mare that temptation would inevitably win. Sabriel appeared every bit unaware of this - and of him - until the last humble loser withdrew, leaving a single suitor to stand in possession of the other mare. At the same time - perhaps intentionally - Solomon spoke. “As much of a temptation as I am, perhaps it is they who should be concerned,” the silver-haired lady offered with a coy smile. “But are you up to the task of protecting them from my allure, I wonder?” Her dark figure turned toward him now, sapphire eyes roving casually over the lines of his body. Here and there, the pale pucker of a scar disrupted the patches of gold and white that accounted for his coat - but these flaws only served to make him more attractive in her eyes. Sabriel, of course, affected indifference, flicking her dark gaze back to the victor to watch his display. He was approaching his prize with high-stepping strides and an arched neck, moving like a silent dancer.

But she was still very aware of her own would-be suitor, and glanced back at him after the moment had passed and his greeting had been uttered. “Sabriel, of nowhere in particular...yet.” She offered with a demure bow of her head, the silver curtain of her forelock flowing down to obscure her gaze. With a subtle shift in the way she stood, the black-coated woman allowed the tobiano stallion to catch a glimpse of her interest. “As a newcomer to these lands, you must forgive me for my innocence. But I am intrigued by exactly what sort of services you would offer, Solomon if I were to express interest in them.” She suspected - and held little interest in - what the Cove’s ruler ultimately sought from her. The short-lived moments were hardly worth the price that Sabriel would inevitably pay for his ‘services’. In that, his gender was the one to be envied when it came to matters of pleasure; a single such act could...debilitate her for the span of two years or longer, tying her existence to a small creature whose nature was almost parasitic.

No, Sabriel had never longed to be a mother; she hated her own far too much to willingly embrace that fate. But she was enjoying the distraction and flattery that the golden paint had provided her so far. And, inexplicably, she did feel drawn to him in a way that seemed to extend beyond the simple pull of her hormones. Perhaps it was because he was like nothing she’d seen before; an exotically handsome stranger in an unfamiliar land. The thrill of both the potential danger and the potential enjoyment that his company offered sent a shudder down her dark spine, teasing the pale whip of her tail into agitated motion again.

4 | mare | mixed | silver black somatic brindle | 16.1hh


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