I have lost the will to change; wallace/any - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98) +----- Forum: Tephra (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=85) +------ Forum: Ischia (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=87) +------ Thread: I have lost the will to change; wallace/any (/showthread.php?tid=12536) |
I have lost the will to change; wallace/any - Ashley - 12-10-2016
The old King was tired. And yet, he was not here in his cave, like he wanted to be. He strode through the jungle on his island, making the round, dragging his amber tipped wings through the foliage, flowers and mushrooms growing in his wake. The rich earth was black and healthy, and he was doing his part to keep the Ischia insular from the outside world. What they could cultivate here—by his blessing—prevented them from having to return to the mainland. Not all of them could swim; for since its inception, the pathway that kept them all safe and dry on the walk through the ocean had closed, and most of the inhabitants—indeed what few were left—were left stranded here.
Ashley took it upon himself to care for them, for in the fairies’ selfishness, they had not considered the dangers of stranding ground-dwelling creatures in a saltwater sea, upon an island. He grunted and tossed his head, red hair sent flying behind him. The phytoplankton glowed with the coming of another sunset, and as the pyreflies rose from the ground, Ashley’s nostrils flared—the smell of the flora assailed him. Sweet air that you could taste; only something that this island could provide him. He smiled and tucked his wings around him, settling his ruffled feathers for a moment of peace. These moments were rare, but the beauty of a pink sky and the dappled rainbow of color that bounced off the water in the spring at the middle of the island—exercised by the pyreflies and the phytoplankton—created an orchestra for the senses. In the distance, a water fall. He headed in in the direction of the far side of the lake, in an effort to gain some perspective on the Island. Most days he spent his time below it, in the caverns that he called home—only accessible via the ocean—but as he made a lounge of broad leaves, he lay down in the open, taking note of the sheer beauty that his home has brought him. Tonight, life is good. ashley I walked the path, it led me to the end. RE: I have lost the will to change; wallace/any - Sabrael - 12-11-2016 He is overtly fond of the night. When the moon begins to rise, Sabrael casts his faint shadow against the shore and watches its heavenward trajectory. He’s not a spiritual man, not devout or taken by ritual (he’s not sure what kind of man he is, really; he’s only just become one). But something about witnessing the death of one glowing orb and the birth of another keeps him grounded every night. The fractured pieces of his heart are momentarily melded in the fresh moonlight. Sabrael RE: I have lost the will to change; wallace/any - Wallace - 12-11-2016 Wallace Oh god, it was too perfect. He made little flowers and grasses in his wake, tossed his pretty red hair like the best of them, and lounged so comfortably near their falls. He was consumed in his duty or he'd have snapped at her by now, making her way over to join his cozy moment. So peaceful. So pretty. Isn't he so cute when he's all mellow and serious? RE: I have lost the will to change; wallace/any - Ashley - 12-15-2016
His quiet time is short-lived. The quiet man—Sabrael—has made his appearance, making small talk about the birds and the bees.
Okay, so not literal birds and bees, but he is talking about pests—the way the fleas itch and the way the ants bite. The ginger man fluffs his feathers, snapping his tail up to attack a fly like the warrior he was. Perhaps out of practice, but his reflexes—they were never more keen. “Good evening, Sabrael. As you can see, I have nothing to fear from the bugs. I cannot say the same about them from me.” He chuckles, moving his head to span his view across the peacefulness of the now-risen moon across the glassy water’s surface. For a time, they are silent, relaxed; content to watch the moon rise. But when the ripples on the water start doing their dance, he knew instinctively that another whirlwind—another pest, if left up to Sab’s metaphors for life—was on her way. Beautiful, young, and nobody’s fool, Wallace saunters through the jungle, waving her hips in her wake. She approaches the men like she is inspecting meat at a farmer’s market, barely containing her tongue behind her perfectly formed mouth. It is no secret that she has designs on anyone who will have her—anyone with power, anyone with position. She is as perfect visually as she is dangerous, and she sidles up to Ashley as if it is the coldest of winters—and happens to be snowing outside. He watches with amusement as she flutters her lashes at him and then turns—innocently enough—to ask after their other company (Sabrael) and his welfare. Ashley has a hard time rolling his eyes. To his mind’s eye, she is but a child—but reality is, she is a woman, and she wants to be treated that way. And so, Ashley pushes his warm, rippling muscles up against her, wrapping his tail around her back flank, dragging his tendrils down the cords of her tightly bound muscles. He smiles slyly. “Well Hello yourself Wallace,” he croons, his voice thick and throaty. She never once said hello. “Yes, it is much better. Much warmer.” His voice is like caramel; sticky sweet. And He’s going to lather her in it all over. His wings drape across her intimately and he slides himself as close to her as possible. “Are you aware that you’re sitting on me?” His voice, still warm, goes husky. He is fond of Wallace. In his younger days, he would say he lusted after her. Hell, he lusted after her now, wiggling her hips and pressing her buttocks against his…well, him. But he is determined to press forward with his lesson anyway. If she wants to learn to be a woman—he can teach her how to wear her dignity like Chanel, rather than Juicy Couture. That perhaps, the beauty is in what you don’t say and do, rather than lathering it on too thickly. He only hoped that he could teach her something about this before she went and had her heart broken. ashley I walked the path, it led me to the end. RE: I have lost the will to change; wallace/any - Sabrael - 12-18-2016 They settle into a companionable silence as the volume of the world grows around them. The jungle is so much more alive than the Dale had been. Before, the creatures had grown still as the sun fell from its perch. They would take shelter in the woods, on the mountain; the periwinkle-hued meadows were barren by the twilight hour. He would walk through them alone as a boy, feeling like the prince he was as the earth hushed more for every star that lit above his head like a crown. Sabrael RE: I have lost the will to change; wallace/any - Wallace - 12-19-2016 Wallace The warmth at her side got hotter as Ashley pressed against her more firmly. Her brown eyes narrowed on him. What game is this? Always, she was rebuffed. An annoyance that nobody wanted near. A silvery-sharp tongue that nobody seemed capable of bearing. She was wise enough to see that not everyone was strong enough to withstand her blunt nature and bladed words. Ashley himself seemed to view her as an self-entitled brat. |