"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
09-26-2018, 07:28 PM (This post was last modified: 10-21-2018, 05:51 PM by Stillwater.)
Stillwater
It was odd returning here. He once roamed freely among a number of wild women not particularly welcoming to men. Any men. It was in favor of a deal he'd made with the queen at the time, though short-lived her reign turned out to be. The panther queen.
Hmm..
He'd forgotten her name.
But it was of little consequence.
He would never expect a welcoming party anywhere he went. He was a solitary creature, and preferred to keep out of sight. Those that did see him, often didn't live to comment on it. He'd drag them beneath the surface, or to the clammy banks, or to his cave. He wondered if it was still here, though he was certain Nayl had destroyed it.
Ah, yes. She had.
He wondered if the woman is still alive.
But perhaps that was of little consequence too.
He was only here for one, though. So he slipped in under the cover of darkness, as was his usual way. The shadows of night absorbed into his shadow-black coat. Darker than shadows, actually. Like the darkest, deepest shadows of a bottomless body of water. It was a rare occasion for him to be so dry, but there he was, supernaturally beautiful and completely lacking in any of his delightful dampness. The water always put such an attractive sheen on his slick coat.
But alas. He was here for one. And he made his way to the area that held the majority of her scent. Her favorite place, he hoped. And waited silently for her to show.
@[Agnieszka]
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
09-26-2018, 09:43 PM (This post was last modified: 10-05-2018, 07:55 PM by Agnieszka.)
Agnieszka
Of all the things that Agnieszka found to be difficult, nighttime was not among them. She was comfortable in the dark, bathing in moonlight and meditating on the stars, the rhythm of the waves sometimes even soothed her into a dreamless sleep. She’d tried at first to settle into an unoccupied cave, but the enclosed place had on occasion made her heart pound in a heavy sad way. And then there were the dreams. Dreams full of blood, violence, and shadows. In those dreams lived the memory of a magic great and terrible. It was the magic that always woke her, the only thing she recognized, the thing she reached for in the dream only to wake cold, woefully empty and sickeningly sad. So she left the cave behind for good.
On the peninsula she had found a place set apart, where during the day, when being among the others became too much, she could look out over the beach and the white caps of waves. They grass was long, and a single scrubby pine tree, twisted by the wind, grew up from amongst several large rocks that served to block her from said wind when necessary. At first that one tree had spoiled this place for her a bit, but, over time she had accepted it as her companion. It was only one tree, not an entire forest.
She returned to it late, in the dark, but even in the inky black night she could find her way through Nerine without difficulty. What was lost seemed lost forever but the new memories formed and remained without flaw.
So she knew the shape of him when she arrived home in the dark.
The sliver of moon provided a silvery impression of his topline, and that had been enough. ”Stillwater.” Softly, surprised, unnerved even, but her familiarity with the ebony male helped her to tamp down her reactive nerves. Having paused, she came closer, moth to flame. He was a most unexpected visitor, but she would not have expected any visitors at all. Everyone else who knew her was right here in Nerine. At this moment, everyone who knew her was right here in Nerine. ”Are you supposed to be here?” She asked, finding her tone to be just a little conspiratorial, and a little suspicious.
Agnieszka had lost her memory, but she wasn’t stupid. A man waiting for you in the dark doesn’t just want to ask you how your day was. She glanced back along the path she’d taken to reach this place.She could have called out, summoned someone out of their cave and to her side. But even under the shadow of midnight he was beautiful. The thrill of someone seeking her out was too irresistible and she turned her scarred face back to her dark visitor.
He saw recognition in the slight easing of tension between her shoulders, and he almost smiled. Ah, she hadn't forgotten him as she seemed to have forgotten other parts of her. That was good. When she said his name, that smile turned more visible, teeth flashing in practiced kindness.
"Are you supposed to be here?"
Soft chuckles rolled from his chest, and his gray-blue eyes glittered with quiet delight. She was sort of enchanting, in her own way. He enjoyed the way she asked it, how her voice lowered a little, softened. Also how her eyes didn't stay on him, slid back the way she came. Would she run, he wondered? And so soon.
"I used to live here," he told her honestly, speaking just as quietly, just as conspiratorially. Then he chuckled again, took a confident step closer and paused again, remaining out of her personal space. For now, perhaps.
"I stayed in a cave," he added, turning his face in the direction of where it used to be. "There seem to be many of those now, but it hadn't been that way back then. It was one of the only few." His dark face turned back to her, met her eyes and held them. He wondered, if he looked deep enough, would he see the confusion, the troubled mind, the lost memories? "I was told the queen destroyed it after I left." That certainly wasn't the full story, but he was never one to share anyway, and it was more than enough.
"Was your last home destroyed too?" he asked politely, his head tilting slightly.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
09-27-2018, 11:24 PM (This post was last modified: 10-05-2018, 07:56 PM by Agnieszka.)
Agnieszka
The waves below them rolled and roared. High tide. Up here the sound was a sushing soothing thing that kept the painted mare’s mind steady and concealed their words should anyone pass by. Unlikely as that was in the dead of night.
He used to live here. How long ago, and whether he was still welcome or not was not disclosed. She noticed this but did not comment. ”I’m not fond of the caves but perhaps you were attached to yours. You didn’t stop to verify the rumors?” There is still a Queen in Nerine but perhaps not the same one who had destroyed his cave home. Breckin hadn’t seemed like a destroyer, but her impression of the mare had been brief. Perhaps Agnieszka had not remastered the ability to judge another’s character. A spur of anxiety dug in, alive and undefinable. Was it the memory of meeting Breckin alongside Djinni? The fact that she and Stillwater had now locked eyes and failed to deviate?
Was her home destroyed?
She shouldn’t know the answer to his question. Though he wouldn’t know that she hadn’t remembered anything since their first meeting. However she didn’t shake her head though the inclination had been there. Arching her scarred neck to pull her chin in Agnieszka remembered the dreams. ”Yes. It must have been. I don’t know what happened, but I’m certain that something is gone. Home, and other things.” Many other things. It was probably stupid to assume this based on nightmares alone but it was all she had to go on.
Agnieszka almost asked Stillwater why he had come. In the end she didn’t, knowing that he would likely enlighten her. Loneliness and a hunger for connection created in her a desire to play whatever game he had come here to play.
He held a polite smile as she spoke to him, and at her question, it turned a bit more into a smirk, and a little wry. He'd been attached to his cave here in Nerine, sure. He was naturally territorial at times, and yet also he could easily let things slip through his fingers like the water that so adored him. His place in Nerine was one he'd had no choice in letting go of, and having no choice in something had been entirely new for him.
Djinni had spirited him away, though, thanks to a few foolish words he'd been only slightly wary to utter at the time and came to deeply regret.
Never promise a favor to that creature.
"I did not," he confirmed casually. He'd had no desire to see his previous home demolished by his raging, hot-headed Queen. Would've been far better to see that untamed inferno in her eyes when she did it. Her temper and stiff neck had always been a point of amusement, those solid walls she hid herself behind so firmly. It had always been so much fun brushing his fingers across them, eroding them little by little. Trying to get in.
And he'd gotten so close, too.
Close enough to start a war inside himself that ultimately saved her from him. Disgusting, really.
Alas. He'd let her and that cave slip through his grasp with the patience of an ageless predator. Not entirely by choice, granted. Not after he'd become something of a captive king in another land.
"Other things?" he repeated gently, as gentle as the night breeze that brushed sweetly over his spine. His easy gaze never left hers, watching her. It was interesting that she didn't seem to blush. He would have guessed she might be a blushing type, attractive even beneath the jagged scars that claimed her so violently.
He thought back briefly and wondered if he'd left any scars. But, no. He took better care of his things, preferred them to stay beautiful until their last breath. It was a shame she'd possibly gotten caught by something so careless. Obviously, whatever it had been was far less successful than he.
Seeing as how she was still breathing.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
09-30-2018, 05:35 PM (This post was last modified: 10-05-2018, 07:56 PM by Agnieszka.)
Agnieszka
”Power.” She says without knowing why. The word slides from her lips in a breath, the sound, the very taste of it like seduction. A dark thing hisses through the cracks in the walls of her mind, writhing, hungry, furious but never quite escaping. Locked there but responding to the threat that is Stillwater, an ageless creature fractured and lost in the mind of a mare who can’t remember who she is, and is unlikely to ever remember.
Had Stillwater been looking deep enough he might have glimpsed something behind her amethyst eyes after all.
But she pulls those eyes away from him, because she’s trying to understand why she can taste that word. It’s the name that belongs over the empty place left when she wakes from her nightmares. This finding isn’t comforting but rather sends that much loathed sensation of terror through her veins. How she suddenly wishes she were alone. Her body is rebelling, and for all the fear she felt at this remembering without remembering she also felt a fiery desire. A latent longing like that left after waking from a dream of bedding a lover.
She has nothing more to give him in regard to the question. Other things? The other things are blank places, and once again she is grateful for the absence. She is overheated even in the cool of the night, and her mind is growing louder and louder. What will quiet this? A twinge passes over her and she turns her gaze upon the black voids of the stallion’s eyes. Here is medicine, distraction. Folly.
”Stillwater. Don’t ask me anything more.” She breathes. He must know how mad she is, must smell the fear and longing like blood in the water. She is sane most of the time, real and new in this cleansed mind. When she found him she was well but already she is spiraling. Her ears drop back into the wind swept tangle of her mane, body language forbidding any further questions about her past. The vulnerable quaver of her voice does not match the aggression in her posture, but she is the one who draws nearer this time, and the distance between them is no longer so polite.
It's a word that would normally set him on edge. Magic had always been a threat, a potential cage, a possible master. He didn't particularly like to be someone's pet. He had his own power, sure. But he also had ancient limitations he guarded as vigilantly as he could.
Something came over her though, and that did set his senses on alert. His eyes sharpened on her and he studied her intently. He could smell fear, but he could smell something more. Magic was not something he could innately sense, though there was something here, something lurking beneath her glassy surface. A fear, and a desire. A craving.
He knew cravings.
"Stillwater. Don't ask me anything more."
A new thing had upset her. And somehow it encouraged her closer. His cool gaze dropped to that step nearer, flicked back to her face with an interested glint shining back, a hint of a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. He stepped in closer too.
His body angled slightly, and he circled her slowly, endlessly calm as he studied her. His hungry stare drew over her figure, imagining what he'd find under her skin, mouth hovering over her as he traced her shoulder, her side, her hip. What sort of secrets she was hiding. Was she something that could fight him? Or something he could control.
Or something far greater.
She seemed stiff, guarded. And yet some part of her didn't feel that way to him. Some part of her... He smiled. Turned his face to her as he lingered at her hip, close enough to caress her with a warm breath. Close enough to breathe in the taunting scent of her. She was just the right sort of interesting, just the right puzzle to hold his interest.
"Would you like to swim instead."
It was quiet, soft. Merely a trickle of his smooth voice. He understood avoiding questions, after all. And they could be doing things far better than standing around dry and chatting uselessly.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
The painted woman fails to notice the way he inspects her, focus narrowing as if determining a threat. He appears only interested to her, and that is enough. The dark man mirrors her steps and comes closer, arcs around her like electricity that fails to ground itself in her skin.
His proximity sets a burning in the back of her skull. A sensation of frustration that flows into her muscles and tightens her posture until she is a statue of tension. Beneath the buzzing waves of anxiety and frenetic thought she bares up enough to wait for something to happen, just enough to give Stillwater time to trace the supple lines of her renewed body. Scars she has, but she is not made unwoman by them. She knows this, knows she can have whatever she has become so certain will numb her.
Hot breath spills against her hip and a shiver flows over her skin in its wake. His words wash against her skin and her back-turned ears pluck them out of the quiet night. No reply comes from Eszka’s pale lips. They both knew perfectly well it isn’t a question anyway. Her only answer is to turn her head back a degree toward Stillwater, glance at him, and then move away. She rounds the moon-shadow of twisted pine tree but otherwise her path is direct and she does not look back to make sure he follows her down to the beach.
In the dark the sand is blue-black and deserted. Her hooves settle at the edge of the water and the wind pushes her towards the surf, tangling her tail about her strong legs. The few moments she stands on the edge feel like eternity, during which her pulsating thoughts fall into the same cadence of hissing and crashing. Come to me. Whatever you are, come to me. Fill in the missing thing. Make me still.
The chill of the waves is no deterrent, and the tide has fallen enough to make it safe for someone like her to wander into the waves. The waves were probably the safest of the things she wants to wander into tonight.
She accepted his attention well. But then they normally do. That was the way of things. They couldn't help it. Just a part of what he was. Sometimes there would still be a hint of instinctive doubt lingering, fighting them the whole way with a teeny tiny useless voice. She didn't have that though.
He felt glad of it tonight.
He was drained lately.
At his suggestion, request, she only turned enough to glance at him, and then she moved away. Towards the water. He smiled slowly and flowed in her wake, keeping his mouth near her hip and brushing her skin with each graceful bob of his head, in step with her. He could just barely taste the salt of it with those little teases of his lips.
He slid up to her side when she paused at the water's edge, caressing her jaw with a breath and mischievous eyes watching her. He could ask her a number of things. Ask her if she liked to swim, if she liked the water. Or something more of her past, or herself. But he didn't. Instead, he only placed a delicate kiss on her cheek, and turned to back into the water so he could watch her more.
The moonlight was good for this, too. Good for hiding when his skin changed. It hadn't yet, he wouldn't yet, but he might soon. Maybe. With her in the water with him.
This was almost too easy.
"Agnieszka," he crooned softly, coaxing her in with him. He backed up more, until the water licked at his hips, and then he paused and waited for her, a soft smile on his handsome face. Join me.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
10-14-2018, 08:58 PM (This post was last modified: 10-14-2018, 10:36 PM by Agnieszka.)
Agnieszka
She is blind to the folly of seeking a tryst with a man she barely knew. This man. Her need to drug herself overriding any concern that her cocktail might be laced with poison. Might be entirely poison. If he were not a danger would she have called up that terrible shard of memory that had turned her mind toward terror and lust?
Stillwater has followed her closely down to the beach and the featherlight brush of his lips drove her on like a bullwhip might have. As if she needed any additional motivation. Here on the beach his body slides along hers and her eyes close as he draws alongside her--she a statue and he a leviathan that could shatter her into the sea. His breath falls against that latch of her throat, lips brushing her jaw, but he does not speak and frustrate her with more words and questions.
Her thoughts are too loud, but redirecting it is easy enough--at least this time--and it’s the painfully handsome stallion that she has convinced herself she needs in order to quiet her longing. Desire is a rhythm, a heartbeat drum, a pulsing in her head that is old and primal and so familiar that it threatens to break her anew. But the water is here, singing to her the way it always has. The way it always has. The absent power that she craves is renamed Stillwater for tonight, for an hour, or for however long they could be together under this black satin night.
This softness of kisses, or her name upon his dark lips like fine bourbon. These are not enough. Her eyes open and she watches him, foamy waves hoping to pull him away. A single step into the water is slow, deceptively demure. False, and she cannot maintain it. Her chest heaves and the painted girl splashes forward to all but collide with the stallion waiting in the water. She is breathless and coiled with tension when her soft lips brush the corner of his mouth. A wave breaks against them and her eyes close again. She tucks her face beneath the shelter of his muscular neck to keep from catching the impact of the water. As the wave crashes away Eszka’s lips lift to taste the salt water fresh from the taut plain of his neck, his hide black sealskin beneath her caress.
