GREEN
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2173 11.99 KB 192
2173 11.99 KB 192
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>A tiny prick at your temple wakes you.
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>Not enough to hurt, or even break skin.
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>A pressure against your cheek, long and thin and curving.
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>When you move your head – carefully – you can feel it’s got some weight to it.
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>Reaching up, you trace a finger along it.
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>Firm, grooves notching its length.
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>Ah.
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>You open your eyes to see Noire’s head from ‘above’
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>Her horn is lying atop your face.
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>This is rather awkward for multiple reasons.
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>First, her horn has not gotten any less sharp in the past four months or so you’ve been living together.
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>Second, your faces are close enough your breath is mingling.
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>Not that this is unpleasant; hers smells much like the smoky summer breeze of her mane.
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>At this point you wonder if she just has a campfire roaring in her belly at all times.
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>Thirdly, you two normally sleep back to back.
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>Somehow both of you had managed to roll over.
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>And got your arm over her side, and her wing over your side, in some awkward semblance of an embrace.
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>You can’t move now, of course.
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>That would wake her.
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>You can’t fall back asleep either, or that horn might get you in the headmeat while you’re out.
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>So you’ll just
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>Lay here.
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>Watch her sleep for awhile.
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>It’s an easy sight; that relaxed and innocent countenance she showed you in that first snooze of hers never faded. She’s always the picture of serenity when asleep.
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>Seeing it fills you with this powerful contentment, moments you lose yourself in, want to last a long, long time.
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>Almost like it’s contagious.
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>If you two moved like this in your sleep, she’ll move back eventually, and you can get back to your own slumber.
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>It’s pretty dim in here, so it must be early enough in the morning to allow that.
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>Is that what you want, though?
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>You’ve been fooling yourself, you know, and have been doing a pretty bad job of it too.
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>Thinking you could keep emotional distance while obliterating physical distance was folly.
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>That you decided to allow this arrangement in the first place was probably evidence enough that, somewhere deep down, you knew how you would – or already did – feel for her.
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>It’s not love. Not yet. You don’t think.
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>(Another self-deception?)
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>But it’s something proximal, maybe even adjacent.
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>She means so much, so seeing her state with such solemnity and stoicism stripped away sears a serene spiritual state into your soul.
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>A soul thus marked by the brand of…
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>What?
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>Affection?
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>Certainly, but what kind?
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>Doesn’t matter.
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>Enjoy the moment.
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>The sight, the sensation, her scent in the sheets.
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>The look in her eyes when her lids slide open, fluttering against the light.
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>Black in orange in black, opal in obsidian.
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>They meet yours.
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“Mornin’.”
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>She closes her eyes and mumbles something unintelligible,
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>Then tilts her head slightly, must feel it move strangely, because those eyes snap open again
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>They look to her horn against your face.
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>”Mrmph.”
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“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.”
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>She turns her head to lift her horn off your cheek, then tilts it up as if to settle it against your forehead or the pillow your head lays on.
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>But the gesture brings her long snout up too, and her nose ends up colliding with yours.
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>You both sputter for a moment as her head jerks back, but you can’t help chuckling.
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“You’re silly.”
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>Her eyes squeeze shut. “Hmph.”
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“It’s incredible how long it takes you to wake up.”
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>Even now she looks like she’s settling to fall back asleep again.
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“We gotta do something about that horn, before you remove my brain through an eye socket in the middle of the night.
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>”Kay.”
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>The spiral in her horn glows a brighter orange, then…
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>Nothing?
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“Uh, did it work?”
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>Noire nods.
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>Which pushes the horn into your forehead-
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>-and through it harmlessly.
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>Just the slightest tingle where it passes through your skin.
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“Wow. I didn’t know you could just do that.”
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>She’s silent for a few moments.
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“Too sleepy to respond?”
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>”Can change what I keep.”
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>What she keeps?
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>What she keeps what?
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>You pull your head back to look at her horn again, drawing from her a plaintive murmur as she stretches her free wing further to keep in contact with your body.
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>What she keeps… corporeal?
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>You’re not looking at a horn, you’re looking at the sweeping arm of a barred spiral galaxy as it stretches out into the void, its other arm trailing down her neck with its outer fringe of dark dust, the bar accentuating the length of her snout, the galaxy’s bright core her eye, that core belted by her halo-
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>No, stop.
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>You pull yourself back to reality.
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>Just her face. Just the gentle glow of her horn’s spiral, just her mane of smoking embers, just her fascinating eyes.
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>But you don’t feel so disoriented, this time.
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>You don’t feel terrified by the glimpse of her self-beyond-self.
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>You had, in fact, forgotten about it.
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>And this time…
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>It enticed you a little.
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>Not enough to take another look, though.
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>You’re staring at her, you realize.
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>Looking through her eyes to the back of her head.
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>When you refocus your eyes on hers, she smiles.
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>”Was nice.”
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“What was?”
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>”Waking up to the look in your eyes.”
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“What, like me staring at the back of your skull just now?”
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>She shakes her head, then moves so your faces are as far apart as when you first awoke. “When we were here. You eyes were totally open.”
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“Well, yeah. I woke up before you did.”
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>”No. Open. Deep. Saw through to your heart.”
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“Did you get a look inside? Tell me what you saw?”
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>Her only answer is a sigh, as she touches her forehead to yours, and closes her eyes once more.
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>She’s going to fall back asleep again, isn’t she.
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>You sigh yourself, turning into a grunt as you prop up on one elbow.
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>She lets another plaintive noise, but you’re looking for the clock.
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>You two finally got some timepieces and a calendar.
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>And right now that clock shows a time far later in the morning than the room’s lighting would suggest.
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“Holy crap.”
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>You fall onto your back, looking up at the ceiling…
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>It’s not overcast, through the skylights, like you expected.
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>Instead, they’re covered with a cottony fluff.
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>It takes you some time to realize what it is.
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“It snowed!”
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>”It what?”
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>Noire opens her bleary eyes and turns them to the ceiling
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“You’ve never seen snow before!”
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>”Do not know why that is so- Oh.”
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>She blinks with what must be some knowledge fetched from behind your words.
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“Yeah, isn’t it great?”
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>She rolls onto her back, her legs now curled over in the air over her body like some animal playing dead, wings splayed out to either side to keep her balance. “Interesting.”
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“More like special.”
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>”Hrmph.”
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“What’s the matter?”
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>She slowly rolls her head over to look at you. “You are going to make me get out of bed.”
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>That got a good laugh out of you.
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>A big enough one even she smiled a little.
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“Yeah, you know I am. Come on, lets get some breakfast.”
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>Routine, by now, is she descends first, letting you change in private.
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>As you’re picking out the day’s clothing, you look out the open wall to the windows of the great room.
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>The ground is totally covered with white.
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>Judging by what’s accumulated atop the upthrust rocks and leafless trees scattered about, you probably got a good six inches.
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>Enough to have some fun.
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>You make breakfast a quick ordeal. You don’t know how warm it is outside, and you don’t want it turning to slush before you can screw around some.
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>You haven’t been this excited about snow since you were a kid.
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>Why now?
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>You look over to Noire, chewing on a pastry as she stares out the kitchen window beside her at the white expanse.
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>Her, that’s why.
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>It’s not really special for you, it’ll be special for her.
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>Well, you hope.
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>An experience, at least.
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>How much are you letting her life get the better of yours?
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>Is that really so much a bad thing?
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>She’s become your ward as much as you hers, in a way, after all.
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>After you eat, you head to one of the doors in the great room’s wall of glass, where your boots stand.
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“It’s gonna be cold out there. I don’t know if you’ll want anything to protect your feet.”
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>She shakes her head. “I will be fine.”
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“If you say so. Come on.”
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>The roof’s overhang kept enough snow off the closest part of the deck that none obstructs the door.
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>Probably why it’s designed so large in the first place.
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>The funny thing about designing a house just by recollection is you often have little idea why things are arranged as they are.
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>Noire follows you out with more apprehension than you expected.
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>That is to say, more than none, considering her usual confident bearing.
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>She stops at your side where the snow line covers the deck.
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>You look over to her with a smile.
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“Go on, now.”
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>She gingerly lifts a hoof over the snow, then just as slowly presses it down into it.
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“Cold?”
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>She nods, staring at it.
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“Too cold?”
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>A shake of her head, this time.
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“Well, that’s a little anticlimactic then.”
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>She pulls her extended hoof back, then turns body to face you. “Did you wish for me to suffer?”
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“No, not that, just… Dunno. Thought without clothes or footwear or something, you’d be a little chillier.”
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>”You may not have noticed, Anon, but I have been growing in a winter coat.”
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“Have you? Hard to tell when you’re always so toasty anyway.”
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>”I am glad you have been appreciating my warmth.”
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“We should put it to the test.”
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>”What?”
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>You take a step forward, placing one foot alongside her foreleg, then suddenly grab her in a bear hug, rolling her over your now-outstretched foot and dropping her sideways on an open span of snowy decking.
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>Taken completely by surprise, she can’t stop herself from sprawling into the powder.
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>But the effort to move her – heavier and more stable than you’d figured – makes your awkward footing untenable, and down you go as well, falling on your rear.
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>You can make out her sputtering around a mouthful of snow over your laughter punctuated with curses.
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>When she finally looks at you, though, your laughter proves catching. “Your bipedal form has failed you!”
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“You fell first, that’s all that matters!”
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>She laughs and sweeps a wing across the deck’s surface, plowing a bunch of snow into your lap.
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>You shout an exclamation at the chill, then scoop up a double handful of snow and slap it onto the back of her head.
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>By the time she’s shaken it off, you’ve mashed another pile over her shoulders.
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“Coat still warm enough, Ms. Nudity?”
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>You half expect her smokey mane to melt the snow, but where the snow covers it, the smoke merely creeps out around the edges instead, causing bizarre whorls in its upward course.
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>”You will never understand true comfort against the cold, furless ape!”
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“Not when you dump all this snow on my junk, I wont.”
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>You get back to your feet and brush the snow off your pants.
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>There’s a little in your boots, but nothing severe, and you were smart enough to request them be waterproof when Noire created them; your socks won’t get any wetter.
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>You get your arms around Noire’s still-sprawled barrel, one over her back under her wings, and one underneath her abdomen.
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>Try not to think about what anatomy you accidentally brushed down there.
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>You didn’t know she equipped herself with that sort of stuff.
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>Well they DO get more obvious in the cold.
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>Don’t say anything about it, she’ll pick up secondhand embarrassment again.
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>Noire hooks her closer wing around your shoulders, and you haul her back up to a standing position.
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>”There must be more to do than try to give friends a chill.”
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“Oh yeah, lots. You can pack it and build stuff. Snowmen, sculptures, even little dwellings.”
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>”Really? A snow-house?”
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“Yeah, an igloo or whatever. Come on, I’ll show you how.”
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>”You just did. My magic will-”
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“Nah, lets do it proper Come on, lets see if we can bumble our way into some bricks.”
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>You two walk out to the fields, and get started on what will prove to be an exhausting yet fun day.
by E4-NG
by E4-NG
by E4-NG
by E4-NG
by E4-NG