Post by Milktooth. on Feb 19, 2020 17:07:13 GMT -5
E
mulsified, rolling skies had been forecasted upon them today. Downy plants, ivies, pulling him forward into the dark, the vehement grasp of some much-needed slumber. He didn't want to awaken, no, not today, not by or for anyone. He'd become quite comfortable with his life among the greenery. They had bestowed him a home, one covered in thick mosses, creeping vine, and hardened rock. The den was hollow, warm, yet so very lavish, abounding with herbs that he'd collected from day to day... And it was where he'd been hiding away for some time now, well, since the sands recklessly tossed his muscular carcass upon it.He hated to admit it, but for the first time in some while, he'd settled down. He'd stopped traveling, ears up, listening for the whistle in the wind to take him somewhere far. Now he was here. Wherever here was. A place? Certainly. A place to call his own. A place in which he'd coddled, smothered until it was forced to waft open its malachite eyes, to bat them at the frigid crust surrounding it. The saying went as followed: "One man's trash is another man's treasure." This lonely hole in the middle of nowhere, it was hi--,
"SUNCATCHER!--," A high-pitched, voice, a sweet scent, another being.
Drifting alongside the den was a fragment of his memory, a portrait held aloud and frozen upon his brain as he thrashed around in his sandy home - aggravated. Truthfully, he hadn't expected anyone to find him, especially none this late in the day. He watched it from afar, though now, up close and lingering in a space he had originally thought to be his own. Who was the woman? This sun-fleshed feline? Why did she speak in a tongue that rivered emotions of pain? Was... Was she hurt? "Hum...," He remained motionless in his wake, blushing visionaries gazing down the barrel of his muzzle, black nose kissing through the entrance, wiggling it from side to side as to gather every last bit of information he could about this strange, beautiful female.
It was Honeybee.
She smelled of sea salt and hibiscus, walked like rain on a cool spring eve, making everything he did seem so minuscule. His scent was mellow, brewed, aged even. Like a Brandy or Smoked Irish Creme. The scent that coated the brute was bittersweet but mostly bitter... No, no... It stung the senses, a punch to the face but then a kiss to the lips. And he walked like, well, he walked as if he was carrying a log upon his shoulders. The male drew a breath inward, lapping at the air for a sign of the day he'd been in, trying to shake himself back to life. He'd gazed at her for so long he'd lost track of time. He'd either been enraptured by her very essence or maybe it was the fact he was no longer by his lonesome that had sent his emotions into a caterwaul. This entire moment had been silent, her maw no longer muttering words, yet once again, did he wait for her to speak, but nothing was uttered. So something was uttered in its place.
Finally, did the chiseled male make his appearance, eyes of copper and green glittering in the gaze of the dawning sun as he looked onward upon the female before him. His stature was tall, solid, messy fur littered with flecks of black and gold, ruffling in the breeze that swayed through the long-leafed palms. He smiled heartily, elongated canines poking through his lips and scrapping the air below his chin. "Is it necessary for you to come find me everytime I go missing?" They were such short, simple words; spoken in an English-Irish tone, as if he'd known her for years. Frankly, Chase knew no strangers, only those who did and did not like him, and despite her disgruntled face, Chase knew Honeybee loved him.