I will be your lighthouse
Goose gave a playful growl as he grabbed back for the duck and tried to keep it for himself anytime Fangorn's vines got close. This was very much a look but don't touch type of shared toy experience.
Iskra's eyes tracked the dragon as Sila drifted into Mel's lap. She was another reminder of how much Mel had changed out there beyond his notice, a stranger to him, but nestled deeply alongside Mel's heart, as he'd once been so very long ago. He watched her curiously, wondering if she had a habit of stealing Mel's shirts, and all the while he could feel the weight of that discerning draconic stare measuring him. If he wasn't found worthy in her eyes, he might be roasted. He stiffened slightly, and had to break his gaze away from the reptilian one.
Preferring to watch the gourd as he and Goose played, Iskra laughed a bit at Mel's explanations of their dynamics. Though, he was certain she was joking about the vampire gourd being the brains of the operation. Calling someone a gourd-head was usually an insult to their intelligence. He glanced at her for confirmation, but when he searched the features of her face, he could not detect any cleverly guarded humor there. He may have forgotten to keep looking for it. His dark eyes got a bit lost as they instead found the bright shine of her amber eyes, dancing with each laugh, framed by a halo of flame-touched hair. He traced the turn of her sun-kissed nose as it dropped to those soft, smiling lips. He wondered what it would be like to taste them, to—he blinked, then glanced away, the empty woods away from her suddenly exceedingly interesting. Was that a Woodpecker over yonder?
It was a mistake sitting this close to her. It was a mistake even thinking about her, in any manner. He was incapable of getting out of bed some days, he did not deserve to dream of what it was like to lay her in one. Stupid, selfish, asshole.
He pushed off the log abruptly, but with no where to go, he just began to find things to do, dishes to gather and the like. "Yeah," he said quietly in response to her idea, unwilling to look at her. "I'm a bit wary of the horn, to tell the truth." He preferred the comfort of Goose's teeth over the tall animals with their hooves and their pride. "Do you ride?" he asked absently, words to keep the silence from pressing in, something to distract him from the slew of curses he was chanting in his mind. "Er—I guess you sail instead? Nevermind..."
Iskra's eyes tracked the dragon as Sila drifted into Mel's lap. She was another reminder of how much Mel had changed out there beyond his notice, a stranger to him, but nestled deeply alongside Mel's heart, as he'd once been so very long ago. He watched her curiously, wondering if she had a habit of stealing Mel's shirts, and all the while he could feel the weight of that discerning draconic stare measuring him. If he wasn't found worthy in her eyes, he might be roasted. He stiffened slightly, and had to break his gaze away from the reptilian one.
Preferring to watch the gourd as he and Goose played, Iskra laughed a bit at Mel's explanations of their dynamics. Though, he was certain she was joking about the vampire gourd being the brains of the operation. Calling someone a gourd-head was usually an insult to their intelligence. He glanced at her for confirmation, but when he searched the features of her face, he could not detect any cleverly guarded humor there. He may have forgotten to keep looking for it. His dark eyes got a bit lost as they instead found the bright shine of her amber eyes, dancing with each laugh, framed by a halo of flame-touched hair. He traced the turn of her sun-kissed nose as it dropped to those soft, smiling lips. He wondered what it would be like to taste them, to—he blinked, then glanced away, the empty woods away from her suddenly exceedingly interesting. Was that a Woodpecker over yonder?
It was a mistake sitting this close to her. It was a mistake even thinking about her, in any manner. He was incapable of getting out of bed some days, he did not deserve to dream of what it was like to lay her in one. Stupid, selfish, asshole.
He pushed off the log abruptly, but with no where to go, he just began to find things to do, dishes to gather and the like. "Yeah," he said quietly in response to her idea, unwilling to look at her. "I'm a bit wary of the horn, to tell the truth." He preferred the comfort of Goose's teeth over the tall animals with their hooves and their pride. "Do you ride?" he asked absently, words to keep the silence from pressing in, something to distract him from the slew of curses he was chanting in his mind. "Er—I guess you sail instead? Nevermind..."
Iskra
