Wandering Hearts (Gypsy and Tribe)

Gypsy could feel the tension roll off of her body, holding herself coiled tight. He worried she would implode if she kept up. That worry stayed with him even as his toes curled in his very hooves. Skin tingled and burned, and his own body wrapped right around hers reflexively.

Flirtations had been well enough earlier, when he held his hopes and imaginations hostage. That was easier to do when there was that threat to the day ending with parting. Now that there was a possibility it wouldn’t end thus...

His heart pumped out a drumbeat, skin tingled, emotions ran wild. Those words nearly knocked him over with their weight, and the vulerability there made Gypsy stand taller, lean closer. He understood clearly that her heart was now his to guard. No warrior was he, but he knew without a thought that he would protect it with his life.

There was so much yet to learn about one another, so many little details. That would make this all the more fun.

He returned her attentions with small brushes of his own. Goosebumps spread across his hide and gravity seemed to shift. I shall not leave your side until you send me away. Ruby chin brushed over decorated shoulder, back up over a perfect crest, and back down across her lovely cheek. He chuckled in a tiny whicker of sheer pleasure at sharing physical contact with a kindred spirit. The difference in the airs around them tugged at his attention, the warm air between them heated by their own mingling body warmth starkly contrasting the sea breeze. They had their very own bubble.

Perhaps he ought to move them along, make brilliant suggestions for their next step of travel. It was just too nice here in the closeness. He could not break away just yet. Twining impossibly closer, teasing a strand of hair behind her ear, tracing the curve of her neck, giving her chin a gently playful nudge... Enjoying.

And as simply as that, she was undone. Tribe plastered herself to his side, her whole body shivering in spite of herself, her face pressed to his neck with her nose tucked just under his jawline.

It weighed heavy enough that she didn't allow herself to consider it; not normally, not while she traveled. She couldn't run from it at night and it had begun to prove harder to shake off with the coming of light, yet now that she had honestly admitted the truth to herself and the confrontation done with she found she felt better for it. The lancing of a wound, the release of pressure - that is what shook her, the sheer relief that rode the tail of the admitted pain.

And oh, such a relief as he had granted her. To have hope again. No grand promises, it wasn't time for that yet, but this was a place to start, a new beginning. It was hope returning to her heart.

For some it may be too soon to know if this would even be a good stallion to have by her side for these journeys they would share. It could simply be jumping at the first opportunity given to her, could be that the companion didn't matter as much as the companionship they represented.

Such things never once flickered in her heart.

He laughed with her, as she'd always known she would need. And oh, such a laugh as he had. He wasn't finicky, wasn't demanding about how they went about things, happy just to be going somewhere. And he would go, that was the most important thing, they would both go together. He knew how to live. How to go out from the security of their routine and properly live life, to experience what was waiting, ebbing and flowing in their travels back to their homes as the ocean's tides did the golden shores.

It was Gypsy, himself. The basics of a creature can be discovered fairly quickly, although secret shadows usually remained hidden for a time. Dangerous tempers, fatal affiliations, dependencies on things that only ushered death - small secrets found in various societies, vital things buried under the heart of it all. And yet the discoveries could change the tone of the heart of it, as well, once revealed; and within a short time of becoming familiar, rather than a stranger, the differences would peek through, reveal the hidden truths.

She always found the hidden things, in the end.

Already, they were much more than strangers to each other. She seemed to crawl inside of him, so one might certainly hope they weren't practically strangers any more. They knew of one another previously, from their tales, and yet neither had been prepared for the truth behind the story.

She longed to hear him sing to her - for her, especially. Even just once, before he wandered from her.

Another shiver, this one fainter and yet running all the deeper than the previous; the idea he might go, might tire of her. She had all but become convinced that there was something wrong with her; it was her own fault she couldn't find anyone to match her long strides. She wasn't good enough to set down roots with.

Would he ever risk having little ones, with the way they wandered? Would he even wish to be tied to a circle, to be captured by bonds that could thrive with the right care, with the tenderness of the hearts that held them?

Perhaps not. Perhaps he couldn't appreciate the paradox as she could; to explore, trade, discover, live, and yet to be so very grounded, so undeniably tied. She knew a bondmate who still held ties to his old circle with no memory of any who resided within the network of bonds. Every single one of them had retreated deep into their homes, never to be heard from again; tied, and yet so very alone. It was no wonder that Thorn was the Hermit, in such a case; she couldn't risk the same, to be so very bound to others that would desert her. Her days might be long, may take her far, but that didn't mean she would ever simply be gone. She needed ties that would thrive, someone who would cherish their closest bonds as much as she would.

He liked to wander, he knew of loneliness; would he know the need to find your true people? She had thought, once, that she may have - within the Circle of Cherished Dreams. She had tried to pursue the laughing trail walker, Crest; to no avail. They spoke, and he disappeared. Words of encouragement from both, but nothing deeper. Nothing that could touch this.

And there, again, the paradox. Such potential for things to seize up, for all the understanding they had found in one another to collapse, and yet nothing else could touch what had already past. He came and swept her away, spoke beautiful words of fondness and comfort, held her, showed concern for her; she had wanted, in her secret heart of hearts, nothing more than to be wooed, to be granted the option to be desired rather than the desperate seeker. He had initiated - she had lost hope.

She'd found it again. Would she risk letting it die for the sake of unanswered questions?

Poppycock. They were perhaps questions for later; enough had been laid upon his broad back for the moment. But later would come, and until then she would continue to enjoy whatever she could of him, this most dear companion she had no longer thought to find.

I'll ask no grand promises, my sugar-sweet Magpie, she breathed, and felt moisture touch between her cheek and his neck as emotion flowed freely past the restraint of manners, But tonight, if - if you could - please -

She faltered, her throat burning as her mind spun uselessly, trying to make some kind of headway above the wave that had crashed inside of her. Tribe, the wordsmith, the storyteller who had managed to talk her way out of half the trouble she got herself into, the wanderer of the long tales, found herself fumbling for the words for what boiled inside of her.

Finally, she could say only Please, Gypsy, don't leave me alone tonight.

They could take tomorrow as it came, and each day after that for all she cared; hopefully the day might come where she would no longer await the night he did leave her to face the darkness by herself. But that was a distant hope, in some whispering corner of her hidden desires.

Tonight, she needed the solid presence of him; she craved it as the seas craved the shores that shape them.

Please, just for tonight, let it stop hurting for a little while.

OOC| Sorry, so unbelievably rusty after such a break. Please forgive me as I let Gypsy find my footing again >.<

He was nearly overwhelmed by the emotions streaming from her. What a great vision his aura-seeing brother might see if he were here in Gypsy’s stead. The desperation staggered him, made him feel as though everything were crumbling. She made it plain for him to understand where she were coming from, he could sense and relate to the depair of always winding up alone, always wishing there were another to trade the understanding glance with. To be able to confide in, to vent to, to puzzle with when there were mysteries to figure. To not feel humored at the end of the day, when others simply wished to put the tales back into a neat box and leave them behind for their day to day ‘realities’. That lack of connection that stretched across, that he so longed for... in which one never knew where the mental left off and the physical began and vice versa. A figment of his imagination, he’d come to believe. This mare, however, rekindled hope at such things.

The silence stretched as Gypsy unwittingly related, ran through his own experience, sympathized in the plight of the through and through wanderer. In her he could not suppress this gleaming thread of hope for the possibility of roots that moved. Never before had he encountered another adventurer that made him feel such connection. Perhaps he was projecting. But she truly did seem to have that same call, that reach for one who might keep up. One who would know the importance of cherishing and protecting, yet embrace the freedom of adventure in such lovely combination... It made many things he’d previously deemed impossible seem within reach.

Apologetically Gypsy met the water mare’s eyes, sorry he had lingered so long on thoughts of himself, of her. Of them. I get so lost in these musings sometimes. Vague wonderings drifted in the shadows of his mind, cautioning that perhaps in the dawn she might be full from a night of company and no longer wish for companionship. Wiser Serians might guard their hearts better... his was already caught up in the intrigue, the chance.

He curled closer, knowing there were no words that could truly assuage those fears and doubts deep inside that plagued her so. He could recognize the shadows that shifted across her features and darkened her violet eyes. I am not going anywhere tonight, love. Tonight, I am wholly and truly yours. We shall share a beach fire, you and I, and we shall dance. Gypsy beamed at the sad one before him, determined to give her as much of the world as he could.

Voice lowered to a whisper of what it had been. And on the morrow he lipped a strand of aqua mane we shall see and ran his muzzle along the softness of her neck just where our adventures finally stopping at her muzzle take us. Sunset Magpie planted an oh so gentle, oh so steady kiss on her lips to seal his promise and began to hum. He simply had to hope that when she tired of him, she would be gentle.

There was no room for sorrow, with such a touch. The warmth of him spread from their kiss and into a blush that deepened her tones into the same lavender as splashed her legs. Another warmth joined it, deep in her chest; she was falling for him. There had been a few within her bondherd that shared a similar beginning, a courting the like of which lived in the old legends. Here he was, her wandering rescuer, come to save her from the deepest parts of dark sorrow. It was all she could do not to wonder if this would be the fairy tale it seemed; would it be foolish to hope for such true joy?

His words caught up with her well after she had started to kiss him back, after she had shifted her weight into him and let her tail tickle his side in playful seduction.

Beach fire, he had said; preparations for the night to come, a night in the open with fair weather and countless stars. He would stay upon the sand here with her, for her, and let the song of the ocean ease them into sleep.

I'm afraid I'm not much use with fires, dearest, she murmured, realizing she felt a touch lightheaded as the words came out a little breathier than normal. Giddiness could become addicting, as could his kiss, if it brought this reaction every time.

There were worse things to be addicted to.

I did see some more driftwood further along... Along the beach... Oh.

He tasted like sunsets felt, and the muscle she felt shifting beneath his satin-soft skin seemed as solid as stone.

She was swiftly losing all ability to think and found that she honestly didn't mind in the slightest.

Hum turned to chuckle for a moment as he took in her state. He too felt a euphoria seeping through his veins, swooping like adrenaline through muscle at the excitement he felt at wooing a pretty lady - the lady he’d dreamed of, no less! And at having her accept his advances so happily. It felt fated. Gypsy let questions of the future flutter to the wind, simply glad to revel in the water mare’s company.

You shall have no worry over fire-making with me, my waterlily. He had to wonder at her story from before, and simply voiced his thought as it came. I am curious, though. Does your fire dancing ability give you no sway over fire here? How he wanted to suspend time, to hear all the tales she had lived through, to share his own past, to talk of future endeavors, to dream, to know every inch of her.

Giving her a moment to breathe, he picked at strands of hair still holding on to the sand from her previous rolling frolic. A grin impossible to hold back refused to leave his face, and he continued to plant tiny kisses on her neck as he grabbed strands from her neck with a reach here, a lean there until he had thoroughly enfolded his flower in a warm embrace.

He continued to hum gently until the tune had melded with one he’d heard from a minstrel after his excurions into the ice caverns of the mist spiders. It was an exciting tale, one he would surely share with Tribe, but he’d slowed the tune down to fit their quiet closeness.

Anything you’d like to add to a fire and a dance, lady? He certainly did not want to bogart the planning, he wanted to make sure tonight was one she would remember. Any whim she might have, any wish, he would see it done.

It lets me play with it, she answered absently, a smile easing across her face as she remembered all the times she managed to dance her way out of a forest fire, away from the damage of an angry phoenix, around a sun floating within a slipstream she was using to travel - and, oh, had she been saying all that outloud? There are so many tales I often get lost in the rambling journey of memory, she continued, and kissed his neck, the sweet spot behind his ear, the deep swell of his shoulder, so solid and warm beside her.

At least she could think again. Sort of.

Then he asked her preference, and it suddenly became very clear that thinking was absolutely not happening.

I would love to dance to your songs, sweet Magpie, until sleep steals us away from this night. A nibble at his withers, a tug at his mane, a tail tickling along his side as he gave her that moment to breathe, to collect herself, and she promptly demonstrated that she was anything but collected as she added Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss til the morning dew.