Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.
| Sabor
these claws cut to the bone |
| When he finally appears – her beautiful stranger – a low growl rumbles in Sabor’s throat, and she is grateful for the murmur of the water rushing by her, for it masks the sound from the pale stallion. It wouldn’t work in her favour, after all, if he knew just how glad she was that he came. (But part of her believed he knew, anyway.) Even as her posture shifts – for all of her is drawn to him as she feels that same pull she’d sensed in the meadow – she does not flounder, and instead spares him a cursory glance before her green gaze passed over him to settle expectantly on the trees behind him, as though she were waiting for someone else. It was only fair, the golden woman reasoned within her own devious mind. But she did not keep up the pretence for long, just as he had not left her waiting for long. Her attention slanted back to him as his lips parted, and Sabor’s golden ears twisted forward eagerly, ready to capture the timbre of his voice. But then came something unexpected. An apology?
He was good. Sabor was going to enjoy him. Through narrowed eyes she scrutinises him for several long moments. “I forgive you,” she decides to say, and she says it like she means it, offers it like a gift that she expects him to be grateful for. But the curl has returned to her soft, speckled lips, her eyes glint with mirth, and she angles her jaw just so, snorting a gentle tease of laughter. He speaks of her as a dream, and she goes still at that, silent and staring, one delicate ear turning back ever so slightly. “Who’s to say I can’t be both, hmm?" A quirk in her voice, and a flash of heat in her eyes. "Though I am curious, if I were naught but a fantasy, what part would I play in your dreamscape?” Surreptitiously, she turns in a slow circle, wading through the water and taking care not to pass too close to the tumbling spray – it would be no fun to find herself soaked to the bone before she’d coaxed her beautiful stranger to her side. By the time Sabor looked to him again, her face wore a mask of sweet innocence and eagerness to please. “Now why would I want to disappear? Leave this pretty little pool of mine, so you can have it to yourself? I don’t think so.” One slim leg lifts, and Sabor curls the limb to her chest, so that her hoof emerges from beneath the surface of the pool, only to unfurl and skim across the ripples – a dainty step toward him. “And what kind of lady would I be, to leave you all alone, and after inviting you here?” Her gaze wavers a moment, dropping to study the skewed reflection of the pale stallion, before she looks up at him from beneath her golden lashes. “The last thing I’d want to do is disappoint you.” And a crooked little smile dances across her lips, as though Sabor finds the very idea laughable – she lives with vivacity and interacts with purpose, and to be remembered with disappointment is far too mediocre. With Sabor, it’s all or nothing. Hot or cold. No in-between. She is fire and ice all at once, and she is always burning. “Besides, it’s so warm this afternoon, and I haven't yet had a chance to wash the brine from my skin…” Sabor trails off, casting a longing look at the silvery cascade of water, before resuming her bold and deliberate examination of him. Those ears of his proved oh-so-intriguing, that silky smooth voice, and those eyes… “Join me?” It was not a question, not really, not quite a command either – for one implied uncertainty, and the other exacted obedience. It was, perhaps, more accurately a statement softly stating the inevitable. It was, after all, why she had, as she had phrased it ‘invited’ him, and Sabor knew it was why he had followed, to stand before her now, a breathtaking wraith haunting her refreshing little sanctuary. |