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droopy eyelids blink dutifully toward him, a dread of stallions prevailed over thanks to one.... bugger. Own claritone emmits with the plainness of ripples on a bed of silken liquid, watching her harlem mate with a suspicious coolth; never had she trusted them, however ×. for the love of my past a sigh is inaudible in the clear form of a succinct exhale, fathomless black eyes gazing upon the other. So much history they shared, how erksome that they must be pulled away ×. I saved myself for him mood is picked from off the beaten track, being forced back into the sunlit mist hanging quietly about the quarry. Briefly her attention is taken to the one who enjoys apostrophes, regarding her with a detatched interest before turning back to the stallion. Funny - she would never have done that a year ago... lithe vocal chords twinge at the unnatural prospect of speech "greetings, my heard mate. I am still waters, and you are....?" was this an inevitable ally? ×. still waters .× ×. awaiting in the quarry .× ×. bound to the distance .x |