☞ - Saying “I love you”. From Nehiri to Banshee, let's start building this cute shit.
Trotting with the weight of the world, each step was a shudder to the ankles and knees, the tremors often rumoured to bring thunder and earthquakes with their vibrations alone. Banshee was not to question the idea; nor to deny the notion of his ability to cause chaotic natural causes; after-all; a mudslide only needed a little water and rumble alongside landslides, avalanches etcetc… Though that wasn’t what he was up to at this moment; no. He was parading; mostly due to the factor that his longed for wish; of being an owned horse was going to be fulfilled. A beckon of a job of mount and guard, one he’d die for, and one he took on without question.
That being said, it had been decades since that day; of meeting her, Nehiri - the Daughter of his Parent’s Rider. A creature and a beauty that rivalled all creation and made the underworld tremble at the sight of such Princess-ness she possessed. Honoured, Banshee was - caught by rope and the hushing calls of her Father eons ago. Dragged from gorging itself senseless upon war-zones and villages of disaster and pampered with brush, food and work.
Cleaned, trimmed, brought back from the grasp of greed, loneliness and insanity to a more bestial creature that had a mind of its own. It stood taller than other horses of their creation. His chest alone devoured the sun when towering over the smallest of demon imps that brought food and brush to his stable home. But it was her, that caused the Beast to connect with its truer self; where his hooves split and its hair fell, skin rot and torn; allowing a form so long forgotten in the mists of loneliness and despair; that the beast now stood withing clothing that would of put most Englishmen to shame.
Where his fire was kept beneath the surface of his skin; where his blood boiled with lava and his smile shone upon features worn with age and time; but youthful with immortality. His hands, covered in black gloves, gathered her cheeks; and lowered to ribs to ease her off her feet; from filth upon the clean grounds and into the cradle of his arm to hold her like the royalty she was. “Your love is wasted upon an old stallion like me; yet I will grateful take your words to heart. Allow me to take you anywhere you wish, Princess. I am your steed, at your beck and call, your shield and keeper of safety. Let us enjoy yet another day together before you leave with your Father, yes?”
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