username;; edelvermell
partner's name;; sapphire77
link to your partner's post on the opposite kalon;; ༼ sapphire77 post༽
( art by sapphire77 )
༼click image for larger view༽
Soft ringing, the clinking of metal, the slightest tap of a crown against its counter.
A low purr, something akin to a giggle, muzzles pressed together at their sides; a friendly greeting, a greeting of being missed. Eyes slipped shut, breathing together, lost in their moment.
They breathed deeply, taking in and savoring everything that could vanish-- that would vanish in a mere moment. Scared and frightened as he was, she was nothing but a soft bed of rose petals and sweetness in a single breath, and he was muck and fog in another. Blooming roses and rotten wood; she was everything that would be found as perfect in their world, and he was all more aware of his ... astonishing it was that she was here.
Another breath, mouth parting open, too many things that he needed to say. His mind raced to find the words, and before he could croak a response, she settled him down. Pushed her muzzle harder against his, forced to the ground too easily. He sighed, she hummed sweetly, ushering him to rest his head on his own paws and simply listen. Listen to the croak of the frogs, all sounds that he had long since drowned out, and then listen beyond the frogs to the gentle humming of the river; how the river gurgled when the water was interrupted by a stone that peaked above the surface to stare at the princess, or the hallow gurgle of its song as it funneled through a log.
These were the sounds of his world, a symphony that he had ignored until now.
Eyes closed, she settled down besides him, chin nestled delicately between her paws as she stared with wide eyes at a bug that crawled across the leafy, dirty blades beneath them. She dirtied her clothes for him, he wanted to make this remark as he slipped an eye open to stare at her. Even the clothes that she had brought for him became tainted by the mud that he's resided in for --- for longer than he could possibly remember. Long enough that his tail deformed and hers stayed perfection, shining brighter than the stars he can see in the bog.
He was ashamed.
Somehow she managed to take everything away. Her curiosity, her honesty, how she moved with grace in a strange land, how strong she was in comparison to himself.
If he was a prince, then she must have been a goddess.
A smile tugged on his lips, he hadn't noticed her staring until it was too late to hide away the smile, and she playfully bumped against him. Something gentle, a shoulder to another shoulder, she closed her eyes and stayed pressed against.
"I'm not strong," He muttered, it became a mantra on his lips, her only response was a gentle huff of air. How annoyed was she? How tired of him was she going to become with every passing moment in his homeland? He feared it. Fear gripped his heart and would not relinquish its hold, and that too, frightened him. He couldn't breath. Freedom was but a dull light flickering on the horizon, no longer the setting sun but rather the ending of what he ... of what he desperately wanted: a family, a life, a friend, freedom. The irony of it all was how he knew what he wanted, but had no idea how to get there.
She didn't know what she wanted, but yet always managed to get what she wanted.
"I'm not ready for it. Everything." He finished a thought that he had not been aware of, turning his head just a touch to stare at her; her eyes still closed, still enveloped in the sounds of his bog as if she were swayed in the arms of a private choir. Compared to her, his ears hurt. The sounds ... hurt. Folded back ears and with a scrunched noise, he sighed.
"Well, neither am I." She said it too soft, too sweet, for that moment he confused her words with the croaking of a frog. Although a frogs croak would never be as cloying sweet as each syllable that rolled off her tongue. It was a lie, he knew that it was a lie. It had to be a lie.
He closed his eyes, listening to her steady breathing as she fell to sleep in a strange, strange, dirty place. He would follow her too, to sleep. Knowing that he wouldn't awake the same way: ugly, slimy, there were only a few moments to be shared together. When the sun began its rise and when the sun began its fall.
It was always awful. Horrid. He hated how the days and nights bleed together, and happiness crawled into his heart when she was around at dusk and dawn. Still, they were the best moments; sleep became nothing that he feared, even if she would awake with a rough skinned toad at her side, surrounded by a crown too big and a cape too soft.
