10-31-2018, 02:26 AM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 340px; line-height:120%; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]Barbaric things, renewed life within place of others where temperament proves gentler, the structure of bone caught beneath sinew and muscle carved with only want. Ancient are they, predators suited to lands clustered and wild, within their own way gods – but what was such to they, deemed feral though the minds within structure of bone ticked, working through the complicated matter of emotion as did any other. So makes this, exchange within the wake of slumber tinged with edge of affection, warmth within bones thought to carry only instinct, almost an oddity for those who cast outsiders eyes upon it all.
About them light and shadow are cast within a play, dancing and swaying about them, one given the crown of victor before hints of it had risen, the depth of night merely waiting to depart. Heavy is the weight about frame, given less time upon the lattice of stone and soil, touched with inexperience of much, yet grown dense with what there was. Upon skin decorated in plumage, downy fuzz about soft belly though thick had grown some, quills mussed within slumber touched with the darkness of night, shades of brown giving way to the grey and blue of age, written was the hunger. Insatiable was it, this heat curling within gullet that sought the copper of blood, the feeling of it pooling in throat before it was permitted further, heavy, warm weight within stomach grown heavy with excess weight.
Yet here there proved other reasons for such, soft beneath wandering claws. It mattered not the points upon them, tracing along the thin casing of downy fuzz, following the swell of belly. Tender touch, light was it works across skin.
Few permitted, given leave to bare witness to such things, the careful within each movement for within was the gentle brush of affection rather then the sparking heat of fire. Better might it have been this way, allowing these moments to hang between them, when mind was working through the last traces of slumber and revealing in the warmth of others, press of body close enough to feel each breath as the lungs took them in. It mattered not the notion of predator, ancient beast time had permitted a second chance, or may it have been a mere stroke of idiocy within a single moment, these moments enough.
Inhale, sharp as it works into lungs, expanding with it until – gust of heat, this too sharp though it bore no signs of being done with thought. Grumbled sound, flex of claws curling as though seeking to grasp yet there is nought but air. Shift of weight atop his own, slighter though the press of it against him is welcome, warmth where feather lined skin is permitted to touch. Familiar is this, press upon side and belly, the rise of another chest against him the slow beat of the heart contained within, a wild thing slowed in those moments of tender peace.
Drawn of head across stomach, snout rubbing along where feather is most sparse. The huff rising from nostrils is tinged with sound, contented rumble caught in the back of throat, raising in pitch until it finds it limit, a climax though still the sound is soft. Once more it lowers, finds an end though it breaks apart, faint string of a purr drawn forth upon its conclusion. Slow is the lift of dark lids, the eyes they bare to the world blurred and vision comes slowly, darkness about edges. Twisting of body, weight shifting though never to dislodge, rather the gaze finds the one responsible for such contact.
Brush of teeth, gentle on edge of feather, richest within colour though still far from what will adorn the best, nibbling along the barbs. Dark the eyes that watch such movement, the slight lift of lips accompanied by the gentle rumble of a purr, a sound never meant to convey anger, rather he is content to simply permit her this. Head curls around, seeks the space between where neck and body have come to join, teeth brushing as he takes to gently pulling the feathers about the hollow of throat.
About them light and shadow are cast within a play, dancing and swaying about them, one given the crown of victor before hints of it had risen, the depth of night merely waiting to depart. Heavy is the weight about frame, given less time upon the lattice of stone and soil, touched with inexperience of much, yet grown dense with what there was. Upon skin decorated in plumage, downy fuzz about soft belly though thick had grown some, quills mussed within slumber touched with the darkness of night, shades of brown giving way to the grey and blue of age, written was the hunger. Insatiable was it, this heat curling within gullet that sought the copper of blood, the feeling of it pooling in throat before it was permitted further, heavy, warm weight within stomach grown heavy with excess weight.
Yet here there proved other reasons for such, soft beneath wandering claws. It mattered not the points upon them, tracing along the thin casing of downy fuzz, following the swell of belly. Tender touch, light was it works across skin.
Few permitted, given leave to bare witness to such things, the careful within each movement for within was the gentle brush of affection rather then the sparking heat of fire. Better might it have been this way, allowing these moments to hang between them, when mind was working through the last traces of slumber and revealing in the warmth of others, press of body close enough to feel each breath as the lungs took them in. It mattered not the notion of predator, ancient beast time had permitted a second chance, or may it have been a mere stroke of idiocy within a single moment, these moments enough.
Inhale, sharp as it works into lungs, expanding with it until – gust of heat, this too sharp though it bore no signs of being done with thought. Grumbled sound, flex of claws curling as though seeking to grasp yet there is nought but air. Shift of weight atop his own, slighter though the press of it against him is welcome, warmth where feather lined skin is permitted to touch. Familiar is this, press upon side and belly, the rise of another chest against him the slow beat of the heart contained within, a wild thing slowed in those moments of tender peace.
Drawn of head across stomach, snout rubbing along where feather is most sparse. The huff rising from nostrils is tinged with sound, contented rumble caught in the back of throat, raising in pitch until it finds it limit, a climax though still the sound is soft. Once more it lowers, finds an end though it breaks apart, faint string of a purr drawn forth upon its conclusion. Slow is the lift of dark lids, the eyes they bare to the world blurred and vision comes slowly, darkness about edges. Twisting of body, weight shifting though never to dislodge, rather the gaze finds the one responsible for such contact.
Brush of teeth, gentle on edge of feather, richest within colour though still far from what will adorn the best, nibbling along the barbs. Dark the eyes that watch such movement, the slight lift of lips accompanied by the gentle rumble of a purr, a sound never meant to convey anger, rather he is content to simply permit her this. Head curls around, seeks the space between where neck and body have come to join, teeth brushing as he takes to gently pulling the feathers about the hollow of throat.