"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
08-23-2018, 10:33 PM (This post was last modified: 10-26-2018, 12:22 PM by Rapture.)
somewhere between the sand and the stardust
She doesn’t know why she’s here. She could be anywhere of a thousand places, but somehow her feet have carried her here. Perhaps it was because once, long ago, she thought it could have been home. Perhaps it is simply memories. Dangerous memories that fill her with longing.
She has never had a home, not truly. Nerine had never been hers as it is her mother’s. It had not grown on her heart like it so often seems to do the strong and fearsome women who call it home. For a short while, she had believed this might be it. A home. Finally. But fate and her own shortcomings had determined otherwise.
Instead she had left Beqanna. Left the memories and subtle, constant ache that had settled upon her heart. She had left it behind because she hadn’t known what else to do. Her own weakness had chased from this land, and she had gone too willingly. In her foolishness, she had thought herself capable of running from turmoil that had assailed her. But she had quickly discovered there is no escaping one’s own emotions. It had been such a terribly fruitless venture.
Now, instead, she find herself clinging uncertainly to the borders of the volcanic kingdom, brows furrowed as she peers fitfully into the distance. Her bluebell coat shimmers in the brightness of the fall day. Despite the encroaching winter, heat presses against her skin in a softly seductive way, as though enticing her to enter these lands, to stay. To face her fears.
She almost runs. Her muscles quiver briefly as her long, slender legs shift restlessly, a sure sign she might bolt at any moment. But she doesn’t. Instead, she breathes deeply of the sulfuric air, allowing her limbs to settle. As she exhales, her eyes slide close, and in an instant she is upon a distant beach, the turquoise waves lapping gently at glittering white sands. Far, far away from the fear of memory. Pretending, for a moment, that she hadn’t finally worked up the courage to be here, despite all her failings.
Like a restless spirit, Rapture lingers on the outskirts of his home. The soft hues of her pelt are unmistakable - and like springs first blush of meadow flowers, they signal a change in him.
Such a creature as she was destined for more than haunting.
She would never come back for the sake of him.
But he doesn't question her motives as his large frame is set into motion. Despite his unbelieving ( for it was too good to be true, she was too beautiful to be anything other than a fairytale's heroine) four sturdy limbs carry the flame-licked stallion forward without hesitation. He knows if she is forced to wait too long, alone, she will be blown away by the next salty breeze. And he will not let her slip away again.
"Rapture," he says her name as he reaches for her, if she will let him, to touch the tiny scar on her cheek that would be unnoticeable to anyone who didn't know to look for it.
"You made it," he adds, as if there hadn't been an entire life lived between this meeting and their last. As if he had not allowed her to become a stranger.
Where his mane and tail should be, tendrils of flame silently twist and tumble. Each year he seemed to become more like the Volcano itself, tied to the island by deep magic. But his features remained frozen in time - his immortality preserved him as a stallion of five years - and as they stand side by side, it is easy to imagine that no time has passed at all.
For those few precious moments, she is lost. A creature of nothing more than dust and space, lingering upon a sandy beach in a far distant land. But reality intrudes, as it always must. Reality steals her away, returning her to a body of flesh and blood, rather than an ethereal creature. A ghost of dreams and impossibilities.
For just a minute, it almost feels as though she is in a dream .As though all of her deepest, darkest secrets and desires had come true. Granted by a long distant star she had wished upon ages ago. For just that one minute, she can believe that her name echoing in the air is only a part of that dream. That he is really there and she had not fled like the terrible coward she is.
Opening eyes the color of the palest blue sky, she focuses upon the Tephran landscape, allowing reality to settle in around her. Allowing her gaze to settle upon an achingly familiar form. She had thought him perhaps just a dream. A figment of her imagination. But no. He is as real and solid as the grass beneath her feet. And now, she is left only to face the reality of her own impulsive actions.
“Levi,” she whispers, her voice barely audible in the slight distance that separates them. Her lids flutter as his lips gently caress her cheek, eliciting memories of a distant speck of blood, one long since washed away. She leans into the soft touch, unable to muster the strength even to apologize. She should, but words have suddenly abandoned her.
You made it. There is no accusation to his words, no hint of anger at her for once again disappearing. For once again so amply demonstrating her own weakness. She could never be her brother. Could never be her father or her mother. And for just that small span of time, she can almost believe that her lack of such strength does not bother him at all.
Inhaling shakily, she slips forward before she can think better of her actions. Pressing close, she takes more than that one small caress upon her her cheek, curling into him in an almost desperate embrace. The heat of his flickering mane licks the blue of her neck, but she doesn’t care. There is comfort in the warmth, the slight sting. Proof that he is here. That he is real and not another of her vibrant visions.
Pressing her lips against his shoulder, she breathes out. After a moment of silence, she responds softly, words lingering against his skin. “Thank you for waiting for me.”
His name on her soft lips is a source of joy for him, sending a tremor of electricity dancing along each on his heightened sense. It was an uncommon feeling for one just returned from self-imposed exile, where he had reminded himself of his failures every hour. It is almost too much for a man so long confined to solitude, but he drinks it in thirsty gulps. She takes his touch, pressing into each measured caress he places on her skin, encouraging more.
Her mane falls into his face, his eyes, his mouth as he lays greedy kisses along the soft places of her throat. She holds herself against him, and he pulls her close, draping his neck over hers, aligning their bodies so the full length of her side can press into his. He had thought of her for years, ran his mind across her frame, her every contour, on countless nights. But none of them compare to one kiss on her cheek, and here she lets him gorge himself.
thank you for waiting for me
The rhythm of his touches is interrupted as he draws breath over his tongue. The pause if brief though, and his lips cannot stay away from her supple, pale skin for long. As he returns his mouth to her jawline the touch is gentler, less urgent, and his eyes seek to find her own.
"I had hoped you would come."More, he aches for more, yet he holds back. His words belittle the time he has spent with her in his mind, it is such an understatement that it is nearly a lie. But there is a fear which restrains his passion suddenly. She is not his Dream Rapture; she is real, she is better. He will not overstep as he has before.
He can't risk it.
"I think I owe you a tour." He draws away, hoping she will not let the space between them last as he takes a step towards the waves. In the distance, an outlying key is visible - a spit of land made from a half-submerged spent volcano that he happened to call home.
His smile is a fickle, unpracticed gesture as he looks back to her, but the slight awkwardness of it speaks to its sincerity. "You're not messing with my vision again, are you?" He asks in a tone much lighter than his usual ashen rumble, "because you're even more beautiful than I remembered."
A part of her almost refuses to believe in the reality of his touch. To truly allow herself to revel in the happiness of his acceptance, in the tenderness of his returned caress. She had thought him a ghost of the past. One she might face if ever she earned the strength. But here he is, as real and solid as the earth beneath her feet and the stifled wind upon her skin. And so she presses closer. Because if this turns out to only be the most vivid of dreams, she wants to recall every moment of his warmth, every single point of his touch.
Her eyes have drifted closed once more as her lips trace greedily along his skin, storing the exotic familiarity of his warmth and scent deep within the recesses of her memories. The faintest of smiles curls her blue lips when he responds with the gentlest of kisses to her line of her cheek. She lets him draw her in, opening her eyes to meet the heat of his gaze.
I had hoped you would come. It warms her to hear him say that, a kernel of hope unfurling inside her chest. She so rarely allows herself such hope, wicked temptation that it is. So often it only leaves one wanting. But then he is pulling away, and doubt settles into its comfortable home.
For an achingly long moment she can only stare at him. If she had known his thoughts, she would have told how much she wishes to be Dream Rapture. How she wished to be everything his mind had told him she could be. But reality is too persistent.
A tour. His offer breaks the hold of his spell, and she blinks. If she'd had the ability, his next words would have made her blush. Instead, her entire body heats as she ducks her head in embarrassment. “I would never,” she whispers almost inaudibly, though pleasure sweeps through the embarrassed notes. She is not as beautiful as he imagines, but she is absurdly happy he thinks so.
After a moment, she draws her gaze up to peer at gin through her lashes. After a moment's indecision, she drifts closer, pausing before brushing her lips in a hesitant stroke across his shoulder. “I would love a tour,” she finally murmurs, just a bit more audibly than before.
She blinks, surprised by his offer or a bit, disappointed, and hope flashes hot in his broad chest. It grieves him to break the flow of their physical communication, but his self-control is rewarded when she does not let the space between them last.
"Just a short one," he promises as she drifts back into place beside him. But the tall stallion's forward motion halts the second her lips touch his shoulder. With questioning eyes he twists the dense muscles of his neck back and to the side, bringing his own muzzle to the same point as hers, and unintentionally holding his breath so he will not miss a word of her response. He places a light nip on the corner of her mouth when her soft answer follows, the flames along his crest having dimmed to a low smolder as not to burn her.
"See that island," he says as his gaze cuts away from her for a moment to glance to his makeshift home. "That's where I spend most my days when I'm here." The tilt of his skull remains angled towards her as if he were whispering a secret to his closest confidant, unwilling to keep her out of his sight for long. "I have it all to myself," he adds, as he feels the heavy, mind-numbing anticipation is returning in full force.
"If you would rather, we could wait for tomorrow for the tour..." he huffs, taking a chance, lowering his voice to match the aura of uncertainty, "I'm sure you have had a long day," his cautious instincts force him to add.
The sounds of the island, crashing waves and cicadas, fade away as he waits for her to scoff or smile; as he realizes that he has, once again, hung his happiness on her answer.
Just a short one, he says, and she smiles, her lips curving softly as the pale blue of her gaze finds his. She could never be disappointed with his wishes, and if he wished a tour, she would gladly go. But his accession sends a thrill through her belly.
She had not lied when she said she would love a tour, but spending time alone with him sounds infinitely better. And though, in her naivete, her thoughts perhaps do not take quite the same direction as his, they are not of a so very different nature.
When he does not reject the touch of her lips upon her shoulder, she is emboldened. Curling closer, she presses against him once more, softening in response to the light touch against the corner of her lips. When his gaze shifts away, turning to a small island just off the shore, she slips forward to press a light kiss to the curve of his cheek before turning her gaze to match his. She peers at the island in consideration for a long moment, listening absently as he tells her about it.
When he continues, her bright blue eyes shift back to him, lighting with subtle appreciation. Pressing her cheek against the warmth of his neck, she revels momentarily in the comfort of his presence and understanding. Enjoying the feel of his skin against hers.
“Your island sounds lovely,” she finally replies, voice hushed by his marbled skin. Drawing her head slightly away, she peers at him with suppressed delight, with acquiescence. “Yes, I do think I would like to go there first.”
Immediately, he knows that, somehow, he has said something right.
Slipping her way past his reservations, her touch numbs his mind and gives him a point to focus on. The curl of her body against his own, the contrast they create, it is perfection. It's whats he's dreamed of.
He is lost, although he does not realize it, and she offers him something he craves. She weakens him but he allows it, smothering the quiet voice which tells him to resit, for his pride, before it can rise above a whisper. He is not a soldier anymore, his kings have left him, and he finds purpose in the beautifully cruel curve of her lip.
He is a boy again, but this time the power is all hers.
He guides her, never letting too much water fill the space between them as they splash into the mild waves. The tide is low and the crossing is easy, the waters only ever reaching his mid-shoulder. With a light nip to her flank, he drives her forward, but the rough action is quickly followed by a kiss to the line of her hip.
Pulling himself onto the sand Levi passes a thin sheet of flame close to his skin across his pelt. The water sizzling where it meets flames and most of the moisture burns off, leaving behind a dusting of salt. A party trick, maybe, but he was ready to do just about anything to keep Rapture smiling shyly and pressing herself against him.
He has been with no one, intimately, since the fall three years ago. Those two humid Tephra afternoons had each produced a son, and Levi had been guarded in response. But the reservations which had kept him in check for three years were abanded the moment she crushed herself against him. And he thinks now, as he halts under a grove of palm trees, if today resulted in another foal it would not be a bad thing.
But he shakes his head. He was getting ahead of himself, overanalyzing when all he really needed to do was relax into her smile.
"I hope it was worth the journey," he says, wondering where she had been for the last three years, wondering if he should ask. But he decides now is more important than the past. "Tell me what you want to do now," he states, his muzzle reaching out once again for her, for any part of her. "And, that's what we'll do."
Levi
so scream you, out from behind the bitter ache.
w o w
he is hard to write like this and i'm rambling :|
i moved them along across the water a little quickly, but i can reply to anything she does there in my next post if you felt like something should happen there
She follows him willingly, joy and delight singing through her veins. She had not expected such a warm reception. Not after the way she had fled so easily (her fear keeping her away as surely as if she had been shackled). But it is far better than her dreams could ever have conjured, dashing all the nightmares her mind had plagued her with.
For the first time in her life, she finally feels as though perhaps her life had taken the correct turn. That happiness might be at her fingertips, if only she is brave enough to reach for it. And with Levi at her side, it is so easy to reach for the sun.
The water caresses her skin, cool against the blue heated by the Tephran humidity. Levi reamins close, almost pressed against her, or she against him. She loses track, for she is as eager as he to maintain that faint touch. He drives her forward, and the nip soothed by a tender kiss sends shivers racing along her spine. An unfamliar longing pools in her belly. With a shakey breath, she glances at him through her lashes, curiosity threaded through the shy gaze.
When they reach to opposite shore, he swiftly drys himself with his fire. Another shiver races along her skin, and she presses close to him once more, damp skin against conjured heat. They settle beneath the shade of a sandy palm, his gaze coming to rest on her with an unsettling intensity. A shy smile curls her lips briefly before she presses her velvet muzzle against his muscled neck, breathing in the the warm, salty sent of him.
He reaches for her, and she meets him halfway. Gently, she brushes her lips along the hollow just above the corner of his mouth.
Tell me what you want to do now, and, that’s what we’ll do. She is distracted for a moment, lost in the contours and hard lines of his familiar features. But then she looks up, blue eyes bright. Almost innocent. She draws a faintly shakey breath before uttering, “I think I want to stay here.” That shy smile touches her lips again, before she turns and buries her face into his neck, breathing a contented sigh. “Just like this. Holding you.”
Does she suspect the way he spent his life under a storm of self-loathing; does she realize the power she has over him? The aching weariness which had been his constant companion is gone and the stallion who brooded in The Forest for the last year could be from another story. He feels none of that now; he wholly loses himself in her.
His fiery gaze roams the subtle blues of her pelt, unashamed and believing that he sees a similar glow in her eyes. She draws a shaky breath across her lips and he trembles, nearly broken by her smallest gesture. The want grows heavy and hot in his belly, pulling at him, threatening to undo his fragile safeguards.
She assents to this, the holding and the soft touches, pressing her delicate face into the hard edges of his shoulder and neck. But he wants more, growing needy now that she is here and willing to be here. He turns, leaning away while dragging her closer, holding her with the gentle curve of his massive physique.
"Rapture..." he says her name again, just because he can, reaching across her to trace his muzzle along the curve of her shoulder, her belly her hip "...I want you." He finally confesses, laying his head down across her back, his anatomy and his self-control forcing him to halt in his explorations.
Did she know what that meant? Had she had a lover, as he had, in their years apart? Did he mean it as more than just that? Yes, he thinks, as his skull rises again, his mouth magnetically drawn again to the curve of her hip as the power of his gaze lifts to find hers.
"I want you to stay here with, I want you to be mine, I want you in every way possible."
