[ ch AH tee ]
castillon & nephilim
▻ none (x none) ◅
She stands between the two stallions, now fully grown into themselves, and feels much smaller than just a season and a half ago. She loves the woolen side of Nephilim just as she loves the sleek and nigh silken side of Castillon. It feels right, betwixt the two horses that had made themselves so important to her existence. The two boys press their cheeks in and she giggles, a new sound even between these best of three. She had only been a young thing and such flirtation had been beyond her then. The giggle of a woman, that is what this was. The giggle of one who can feel her heart flutter at last, and feeling that butterfly sensation in not only belly, but heart.
"It really does." Castillon says, reaching to breathe against her neck as she steps a step ahead of the boys. The touch of Nephilim is one that is tinged enough in relief as to alert Chati, but she does not pry because the beauty of their togetherness is too full and she was not sure her voice would be steady or even above a breath. She is about to be quite a bit more bold than thinking would advise, but luckily Castillon points out their distraction faster than she could move. "Hey, weren’t we supposed to be looking at a jungle or something?" His words against her throat makes her giggle again, a playful kick up of her heels dislodging their touches and sending her skittering forward.
"What are jungles compared to my beloveds." Mine. My beloveds. She says it because that boldness she had felt belonged somewhere, expressed, not withheld and pretended against. Mine because they, to her, would never belong to anyone else. Others might belong to them, certainly, but they - in her mind - would ever only belong to her. In fact, if someone would have demanded her choose one or the other, she would have thought to strike that person down for their blasphemy against the beauty of the love and affection she felt welling up in her belly each time they spent their days together.
"I have shells enough, stones enough. All the flowers and leaves are the same as they have ever been. I much rather a chase, a race, to run off all these silly butterflies in my belly." As ever, there isn’t a moment to hesitate before she whirls on her heel and suddenly is a gray comet up the coastline.
OF THE LOST ISLAND WILDS
▻ mare - indian country-bred horse - sooty black dun roan sabino splash - 14.1 hh ◅