A Storm Upon The Waters

VALKYRIE She stood in the storm She had been touched before: caressed by the sultry, perfumed breath of another woman and soothed, by lips just as soft and delicate, arousing… Like a thief in the night (for Sigrún was indeed the stealer of hearts and all good sense), cloaked in shadow like a clandestine temptress on that moonless night, the seductive Sister  and advisor to the High-Maiden had descended upon more humble quarters with devious intent and a lustful sigh. Valkyrie, so unluckily naive and young, had attracted her superiors eye already, on more than one occasion; so while the frigid alpine wind whistled by and the Sisterhood slept ever peacefully beneath their  rugged mountain, the bewitching beauty had lured her pure-hearted victim into the unfathomable world of sin. The sweltering skin beneath her rain-drenched coat of white, tingled, wild with excitement. It had been many long months since she’d known the deliciously delicate touch of another woman (she’d craved the same from K’yarie for weeks) and even as those honeyed words infiltrated the deafening hum of desire in her mind, Valkyrie could barely break the blending syllables and shape them into meaning; either way, it seemed safe to assume that the floral gesture, despite having withered well beyond any of its initial perfection, was well received. A dizzied smile was swift to swamp the disciple’s disheartened expression as her merciful goddess bent to nibble at the berries less bruised. Mere moment’s later, K’yarie had consumed her preference. Valkyrie watched closely, adoringly, respectfully, always maintaining distance between them so as not to crowd or bother her host; this due diligence was well rewarded as the celestial being’s fleshy warmth sailed nearer, ghosting tormentingly by the Shieldmaiden’s screaming skin. Those flaring nostrils upon the dipped rosy-ball of her muzzle, inhaled deeply the sweet fragrance of her like it were a drug, intoxicating, and then the other’s pastel maw slid forward to touch a soft kiss against the stiff feathers of her wing.   The young pegasus closed her eyes tightly and held fast a breath as her idol breezed at last away from the clifftop, swirling tendrils of cosmic, intangible hair billowing after. Not even the pouring rain could weigh down the exquisiteness of her ethereal essence. As Valkyrie hastened to follow, she glanced briefly at the body of the fallen man with ears fixed in reverse and a scowl souring her pretty, feminine features: how she should have loved to take a piece of him… and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails.

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(Exit)