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mini_nanowrimo
I'm cutting ahead a bit, but Iros just isn't that easy to climb into, especially when he's this happy and hyper. Innuendo today, but maybe some smut tomorrow. Also, I'll try to describe things a bit more, as![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
the_little_owl mentioned she couldn't imagine what things *looked* like -- as I am kinesthetic more than anything else, I'm probably neglecting sights *and* sounds.
previous
Running with joy, Iros forsook the slow boring stairways and took to the creek and its call. The water gave under his hooves as he charged up the terraces, racing towards the warm spot in the world that was his Dog.
Women and children, annoying distractions, filled his nostril with scent, but he leapt away. He was searching for his Turnspit.
There! Warmth, solemnity, and valor – Turnspit! Iros charged forwards, rearing at the last moment and roaring out his joy.
When he melted and reformed crouching, it was to find Turnspit staring wide-eyed, a harvesting knife held defensively in his hand.
"Iros?" his Dog gasped.
"That's me! I'm back!" Iros leapt to hi feet and hugged his Dog. He knocked off the basketry hat Turnspit was wearing so he could bury his nose in the other's hair – so long now! shaggy and pettable! –and laughed.
"The circuit is over! I can winter here now!" Iros pulled back to look at his Dog. He looked better, healthier, pale but not pallid. His hair was growing out, the sandy locks sticking up every which way. And he was dressed like one of the villagers: shirts, sash, wrap-coat, moccasins, decorated leggings, instead of the poor shirt that had been all Iros could provide.
"Where did you get these clothes? You look very pretty. This is gorgeous work. Makes you look fit, instead of skinny. I'm so glad to see you!" At that, he pulled Turnspit to him and held him still long enough to lick him across the eyes, face, and down the neck.
Turnspit tolerated it for a moment, but then shoved him away. He didn't mind. Iros knew he would – Turnspit was always shy, especially when he thought women might see him – but Iros didn't mind. His Dog was very agreeable in private.
"Iros, you were a horse! … sort of…"
"I was! And now I'm me again and let's go somewhere."
"Go somewhere?"
"Somewhere private? You're shy, so we'll go next terrace up?" Iros asked as he shoved the pack-basket off Turnspit's shoulders, and tried to pull him towards the farm trail's stairs.
Turnspit flushed, and hissed, "Iros, I'm working."
"Oh, that's all right!" Iros turned to the other harvesters, who were scattered among the maize stalks. Some of them were giggling, and Iros could see smiles flashing in the maze of vegetation.
"We'll be back shortly!" Iros yelled, and yanked Turnspit off his feet, hustling him away from the work. Really, his Dog was entirely too attached to duty, when there were more interesting things to take up his time. Iros, for example.
"Not too shortly?" one woman called back, and there was laughter and catcalls following that, and some suggestions thought were entirely too imaginative for his staid Dog.
But he did grin about them as he shoved Turnspit through the field.
next
mini_nanowrimoI'm cutting ahead a bit, but Iros just isn't that easy to climb into, especially when he's this happy and hyper. Innuendo today, but maybe some smut tomorrow. Also, I'll try to describe things a bit more, as
the_little_owl mentioned she couldn't imagine what things *looked* like -- as I am kinesthetic more than anything else, I'm probably neglecting sights *and* sounds.previous
Running with joy, Iros forsook the slow boring stairways and took to the creek and its call. The water gave under his hooves as he charged up the terraces, racing towards the warm spot in the world that was his Dog.
Women and children, annoying distractions, filled his nostril with scent, but he leapt away. He was searching for his Turnspit.
There! Warmth, solemnity, and valor – Turnspit! Iros charged forwards, rearing at the last moment and roaring out his joy.
When he melted and reformed crouching, it was to find Turnspit staring wide-eyed, a harvesting knife held defensively in his hand.
"Iros?" his Dog gasped.
"That's me! I'm back!" Iros leapt to hi feet and hugged his Dog. He knocked off the basketry hat Turnspit was wearing so he could bury his nose in the other's hair – so long now! shaggy and pettable! –and laughed.
"The circuit is over! I can winter here now!" Iros pulled back to look at his Dog. He looked better, healthier, pale but not pallid. His hair was growing out, the sandy locks sticking up every which way. And he was dressed like one of the villagers: shirts, sash, wrap-coat, moccasins, decorated leggings, instead of the poor shirt that had been all Iros could provide.
"Where did you get these clothes? You look very pretty. This is gorgeous work. Makes you look fit, instead of skinny. I'm so glad to see you!" At that, he pulled Turnspit to him and held him still long enough to lick him across the eyes, face, and down the neck.
Turnspit tolerated it for a moment, but then shoved him away. He didn't mind. Iros knew he would – Turnspit was always shy, especially when he thought women might see him – but Iros didn't mind. His Dog was very agreeable in private.
"Iros, you were a horse! … sort of…"
"I was! And now I'm me again and let's go somewhere."
"Go somewhere?"
"Somewhere private? You're shy, so we'll go next terrace up?" Iros asked as he shoved the pack-basket off Turnspit's shoulders, and tried to pull him towards the farm trail's stairs.
Turnspit flushed, and hissed, "Iros, I'm working."
"Oh, that's all right!" Iros turned to the other harvesters, who were scattered among the maize stalks. Some of them were giggling, and Iros could see smiles flashing in the maze of vegetation.
"We'll be back shortly!" Iros yelled, and yanked Turnspit off his feet, hustling him away from the work. Really, his Dog was entirely too attached to duty, when there were more interesting things to take up his time. Iros, for example.
"Not too shortly?" one woman called back, and there was laughter and catcalls following that, and some suggestions thought were entirely too imaginative for his staid Dog.
But he did grin about them as he shoved Turnspit through the field.
next
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