.
.
She was glorious, triumphant, and strong willed; Dravite could tell Pearl was the type of girl that didn't give up easily and that suited him just fine. "Congratulations," the man smiled from on top of his horse, moving the heel of his foot back against the stallion’s soft belly in order to get him to step backwards. Dravite clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth just as he had practiced with the Strider so many times before. Cree was stubborn, as usual, but finally gave in, taking a few steps backwards until he stood in the shade of a nearby tree. When Dravite dismounted he felt stiff and stretched, curling his arms up over top of his head to touch between his shoulder blades.
The horse lord took his water skins from the saddlebags they were attached to and went over to the lake to start filling them, though not before he took the time to slip out of his riding boots and roll the ends of his pants up. The thirsty water skins bubbled at the mouth as water spilled into their necks from the lake. "We'll have to boil this," Dravite said, "the lake is getting low, it's better to be safe."
After stocking up on water and filling all of the camps skins he piled the casks of water on top of one another and looked around them for any signs of life. It was heavy work and he could feel a slight strain in his arms and back. The Watch didn't portal the west side of the lake as heavily as they did the east and south rim, so the two of them had the shoreline to themselves. Dravite found a comfortable little patch of white sand to sit down on and closed his eyes, letting his mind go blank as he slipped into a meditative trance in order to draw a connection with the web and slip away to look through the area surrounding the lake. On short missions such as these he only wanted to know that they were safe and spotting none but a small herd of wild Kenash cattle that had wandered too far from the safety of the swamp city, Dravite abandoned the glowing blue strands of the web in favour of his physical form.
"It looks like we have this spot to ourselves," the man smiled and jumped to his feet quickly, dusting the sand from his hands.
Without saying another word, the horse lord suddenly began undressing; of course this was no new sight to Pearl's eye, but maybe the first in broad daylight. He folded his pants and placed them over his Strider's back along with his tooled, leather belt. The clay he had rubbed over his shoulders in order to protect his skin from the sun had dried and turned a light grey in colour and when he faced away from his new wife, the man almost looked as if he were a stone statue; still and unmoving for a few long ticks. Of course, Dravite did not want to completely turns his wife's cheeks bright pink and kept his loincloth securely fastened just below the sculpted dip if his hips.
The long tendrils of matted, wheat coloured hair tickled his skin between his shoulder blades, tied back from his face with a single leather strap, his back baring the wind-marks fashioned in the sloping arch of a lion's mane, while the front, a lot more detailed, symbolised his old pavilion, the god and goddesses he was devoted to, and the eyes and face of his Strider; set in the black ink that silently claimed, no longer a boy, but a man. For seven years Dravite had worn his marks with pride, first for the bond drawn with his Strider, then for his first big kill, and finally, the birth of his son. When the horse lord looked over his shoulder to see if his wife would join him, he smiled invitingly and stepped into the warm, summer's water.
Dravite pushed away from the edge of the sandy lake once his shoulders were submerged and kicked out into the deeper parts, just as he had done once or twice before. Bravely he tread water for a few long ticks before swimming back, frightened that he might lose his nerve in the deep. The mud washed away from his shoulders and his hair was soaked. “Come in!” the horse lord encouraged, “It’s really warm.”
.
.
.
.
She was glorious, triumphant, and strong willed; Dravite could tell Pearl was the type of girl that didn't give up easily and that suited him just fine. "Congratulations," the man smiled from on top of his horse, moving the heel of his foot back against the stallion’s soft belly in order to get him to step backwards. Dravite clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth just as he had practiced with the Strider so many times before. Cree was stubborn, as usual, but finally gave in, taking a few steps backwards until he stood in the shade of a nearby tree. When Dravite dismounted he felt stiff and stretched, curling his arms up over top of his head to touch between his shoulder blades.
The horse lord took his water skins from the saddlebags they were attached to and went over to the lake to start filling them, though not before he took the time to slip out of his riding boots and roll the ends of his pants up. The thirsty water skins bubbled at the mouth as water spilled into their necks from the lake. "We'll have to boil this," Dravite said, "the lake is getting low, it's better to be safe."
After stocking up on water and filling all of the camps skins he piled the casks of water on top of one another and looked around them for any signs of life. It was heavy work and he could feel a slight strain in his arms and back. The Watch didn't portal the west side of the lake as heavily as they did the east and south rim, so the two of them had the shoreline to themselves. Dravite found a comfortable little patch of white sand to sit down on and closed his eyes, letting his mind go blank as he slipped into a meditative trance in order to draw a connection with the web and slip away to look through the area surrounding the lake. On short missions such as these he only wanted to know that they were safe and spotting none but a small herd of wild Kenash cattle that had wandered too far from the safety of the swamp city, Dravite abandoned the glowing blue strands of the web in favour of his physical form.
"It looks like we have this spot to ourselves," the man smiled and jumped to his feet quickly, dusting the sand from his hands.
Without saying another word, the horse lord suddenly began undressing; of course this was no new sight to Pearl's eye, but maybe the first in broad daylight. He folded his pants and placed them over his Strider's back along with his tooled, leather belt. The clay he had rubbed over his shoulders in order to protect his skin from the sun had dried and turned a light grey in colour and when he faced away from his new wife, the man almost looked as if he were a stone statue; still and unmoving for a few long ticks. Of course, Dravite did not want to completely turns his wife's cheeks bright pink and kept his loincloth securely fastened just below the sculpted dip if his hips.
The long tendrils of matted, wheat coloured hair tickled his skin between his shoulder blades, tied back from his face with a single leather strap, his back baring the wind-marks fashioned in the sloping arch of a lion's mane, while the front, a lot more detailed, symbolised his old pavilion, the god and goddesses he was devoted to, and the eyes and face of his Strider; set in the black ink that silently claimed, no longer a boy, but a man. For seven years Dravite had worn his marks with pride, first for the bond drawn with his Strider, then for his first big kill, and finally, the birth of his son. When the horse lord looked over his shoulder to see if his wife would join him, he smiled invitingly and stepped into the warm, summer's water.
Dravite pushed away from the edge of the sandy lake once his shoulders were submerged and kicked out into the deeper parts, just as he had done once or twice before. Bravely he tread water for a few long ticks before swimming back, frightened that he might lose his nerve in the deep. The mud washed away from his shoulders and his hair was soaked. “Come in!” the horse lord encouraged, “It’s really warm.”
.
.
.