The Portal
Zahra & Ilham
It was pride that turned angels into devils
The mammoth stallion appeared conveniently, to accept the sudden swing of her temperament (her forward movement), and a secretive, smug smile slithered fleetingly through her expression; in the same instance, as her subtly provocative advance he answered with an unexpected ‘no’, and with a cocked brow she swivelled her white face to study him.
No?
What sort of world would birth a face like that then, horns, if not the magical underbelly with its swarming shadow, fluorescent highlights and unflinching eyes. The arachnophile shrugged casually, dismissing the suggestion visibly before him, though internally she stewed with some suspicion over already rampant backup theories.
Distracted she answered the question deliberately left hanging, “you’re smarter than you look, big-guy…” Her tone bore sass that impressed even her, yet beneath it, lurking like the monsters in her dreams, a sobering blade of grim remorse threatened to throw her game.
'What are you doing?'
The concerned hum of Ilham’s thoughts intervened, but the golden-bellied girl defied both her better judgement and bonded, and flaunted a cute grin back over her shoulder. “What do I call you anyway?”
No?
What sort of world would birth a face like that then, horns, if not the magical underbelly with its swarming shadow, fluorescent highlights and unflinching eyes. The arachnophile shrugged casually, dismissing the suggestion visibly before him, though internally she stewed with some suspicion over already rampant backup theories.
In a bold gesture, her maneless company moved to eliminate all remaining distance - even before her own hooves had come to rest - and one astute ear switched to regard him. There was no doubting his elegance, that suave swing of his enormous skull and the unreal length of the silvery forelock above it; yet, all that glamour could not compete with the distraction of his helmet. Stepping clear of his foreboding form beneath the guise of faux fatigue, she slender girl forced a modest yawn, all the while aiming her swinging hips past his breast. With a blasé flick of silken tendrils in her wake, and Zahra asked, "so are you coming?”
Always presuming he took the bait, she swanned along leisurely before him as though months (not hours), had been spent learning the otherworldly contours of the Rift.
Distracted she answered the question deliberately left hanging, “you’re smarter than you look, big-guy…” Her tone bore sass that impressed even her, yet beneath it, lurking like the monsters in her dreams, a sobering blade of grim remorse threatened to throw her game.
'What are you doing?'
The concerned hum of Ilham’s thoughts intervened, but the golden-bellied girl defied both her better judgement and bonded, and flaunted a cute grin back over her shoulder. “What do I call you anyway?”
@Dreadnought
