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@[Raed]
Beqanna
Assailant -- Year 226
"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
[private] i leave you my dust and bones; Raed
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06-30-2019, 12:45 PM
@[Raed]
07-01-2019, 03:25 PM
it's a lonely road, I know,
and nothing ever stands between a bullet and your soul; He had thought of her, because it was impossible not to. He has never been good at staying, never been good at being something that anyone could rely on, but she, above anyone else, had made him think of trying. And he had, for awhile. It had been easy; she made it easy. Lovely and light, so unlike those he usually tangled with, always so soft and delicate beneath his touch. He never grew tired of the way she sometimes glowed when his lips traced a path down the slender arch of her neck, or how she would shiver at the feel of his teeth along the slope of her back. In the weeks and months that followed since he brought her here, he did his best to make her his. But the day Beqanna rid itself of the plague, he suddenly couldn’t find her. And of course, he had looked. He was a wayward fool, but he wouldn’t let her go that easily. After exhausting all of his efforts, he finally had to resign himself to the fact that perhaps she had left on her own accord, and perhaps she did not want to be found. He did not stay in the Pampas often, but he checked back frequently. Just on the off chance that she would come back. Today, as he once again scans the familiar terrain, he does not dare to hope that she will be here. It was easier to come here with no expectations, and it made it easier to leave. When a flash of gold catches his eye, and when the familiar sound of her mind’s voice infiltrates his own, he freezes. Brilliant and blue, he turns his head to find her face, and even though his jaw is set in a tense line, the sight of her stirs something to life in his calloused heart. He stares at her long enough that he almost does not notice the young girl alongside of her until he begins to walk towards her, but when his steel-blue eyes settle on the blue-pointed buckskin, his heart leaps. There was no mistake that she was his, and he can feel the strangest mixture of excitement and guilt begin to bubble inside his chest. He should have been there; he should have tried harder to find her. He doesn’t stop moving until he is in front of her, and perhaps he should be a bit more cautious, but he cannot help but to reach and brush his lips against her golden forehead and to murmur her name, “Osyva,” and he steps closer to breathe her in. He resists the urge to keep touching her, to pull her into his chest, but instead he casts his attention to the young girl that was clearly his daughter. He offers a smile, but it is hesitant and unsure, realizing that he has no idea how to behave around his children. “I’m...I’m Raed,” he finally says, unsure if Osyva even wanted the girl to know that he was her father. Perhaps that was why she had left, he thinks, and even if it stung, he couldn’t blame her. R A E D @[Osyva]
07-07-2019, 10:05 PM
@[Raed]
07-09-2019, 03:59 PM
it's a lonely road, I know,
and nothing ever stands between a bullet and your soul; He feels frozen, staring at Osyva and then at their daughter. She can read minds, he realizes, and there is a small flare of pride in that. “You’re beautiful,” he says to Odelia, his blue-gray eyes captivated by everything about her. She has his blue, and his ability, and she was in every way imaginable a perfect combination of her parents.Of him and Osyva, who he can no longer keep his gaze from returning to. She is nervous, he can feel it in her thoughts and sense it in her muscles, and he wants nothing more than to draw her tightly to his chest, to once again memorize the curves and angles of that beautiful body that he had grown so accustomed to having next to him. He wanted to touch her and make her glow like he used to, but there is a part of him that isn’t sure if she is his to do that to anymore. But then she touches her nose to his neck, and he can feel her warm breath against his skin as she whispers her apology. There is a flash of heat, first, a flicker of want, but Osyva has always, from the beginning, been so much more than that to him. Her apology makes him shake his head, a sudden jerk and a hardening of his jaw, before he presses into her. “No,” he says firmly, and without a second thought he lays his neck across hers, and he pulls her into that embrace he had been longing for. “Don’t you dare apologize for anything, Osyva,” he says with his lips pressed into her neck, and then her cheek, before caressing along her jaw. “I’m just glad that you’re okay.” He looks up, looking at their daughter, and he disentangles himself from the golden mare only so that he can reach to lightly touch the young girl’s shoulder. “Both of you.” R A E D @[Osyva]
07-29-2019, 12:12 AM
@[Raed]
08-24-2019, 05:12 AM
it's a lonely road, I know,
and nothing ever stands between a bullet and your soul; He has always been a wild thing, and she was too, in a way. Before they had found each other they had both been accustomed to drifting. This idea of having an anchor – of having each other – was still foreign, to an extent. There was a foundation there, though, laid firmly from their time previously spent here. He has never spent time with any the way that he has with her; he has never gone for any stretch of time where he woke to the same face everyday, where his mornings and afternoons and evenings were all just for one, as they had been for her. That moment in time, though it may have seemed fleeting to some, was more than enough for him. There is no room for anyone else in the chambers of his heart, no room for anyone besides her. There are things that he should tell her, other children that bore his coloring that it would be wise to warn her about, but he is still at his core just a stupid boy, and he doesn’t think to tell her. He has nothing to hide. There were no emotions elsewhere, no one else that she would ever need to worry for a second over, and so it never occurs to him what would happen if she found out on her own. Those thoughts are miles from his mind, though, and the softness of her voice and the feel of her breath against his skin draws him back. They encourage that crooked, boyish smile to his face, and he tugs a pale strand of mane just gently as he says, “All mine? You promise?” He could have left it that, he could have pretended as though he didn’t hear the thoughts her heart was saying to him. But they come as such a surprise – or maybe not a surprise at all – that he doesn’t have the chance to feign a reaction. He regards her quietly for a moment, all signs of the previous teasing seeming to disintegrate from his eyes and face. It just a breath of time, between her thought and him pulling her again to his chest. “I love you too, Osyva,” he answers the thought aloud, his voice again a low rumble and his mouth against the slope of her neck. “And I am yours.” R A E D @[Osyva] | ||||||||||||
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