"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
There was no warmth of her mother’s body. There was no twin curled next to her, her heartbeat always in sync with his. Being reborn was cold, and empty, and lonely.
A single dragon scale, lost in the ash and rubble of scorched Tephra earth in the aftermath of its war, is all that was needed. That single scale, planted like a seed, eventually grew and twisted and bloomed into her. She remembers opening those crystal-blue eyes, and blinking the bleariness away. She remembers, instinctively, that she thought of Cassian first, and then her mother, and then,there was the flash of the star-studded girl hurtling towards her on the battlefield. She doesn’t remember if the impact hurt. She isn’t sure how long she was dead for.
She just knows that she wakes up alone.
She has stayed alone since.
It was easier; the solitude. It was easier to keep to the shadows of the forest, as deep into the depths as she dared to go. There, she was safe – they were safe. When that savage beast that she keeps locked away starts to beat against the confines of its cage, she can’t always control it. Her nights are still filled with nightmares, of attacking the golden stallion, and the black armored creatures that tried to tear her sister apart. She remembers how uncontrollable that predatory drive becomes when the scales take over her body and her ice blue eyes become entirely reptilian, and all she knows is the dragon-fire that runs rampant in her veins.
She doesn’t want to hurt anyone else, but the solitude becomes too much.
Vibrantly white, she does not blend in as much as she wished she did. Slipping along the edge of the meadow she can feel an anxiety tripping along in her heart, causing it to stutter and for a strange chill to shiver across her skin despite the warmth of the spring sun. She closes her eyes, a sigh shuddering from her chest, an attempt to steady herself. When she opens them again, she sees him in the distance; apricot and violet, she isn’t sure what it is that catches her attention. She just knows that when the pale blue of her eyes collide with his light brown own, she feels her heart stop, afraid of what a potential conversation could mean, afraid that she might not keep that dragon subdued.
Wind roared in his ears as he flew, tugging at his hair and brushing along his skin. He was neither warm, nor cool as he soared over different landscapes and territories, high above everyone below. The red-gold and violet stallion often preferred it up here, in a place where he could clear his mind and drown out thoughts. He could just be. Badden toyed with the way his broad, strong wings carry him. The way he could just slightly lean and change course, and how adjusting his angles could allow him to rise or descend. He reveled in his ability to fly ever since he'd really gotten the hang of it, especially with his brother's help. Well, adopted brother.
He'd known he was loved. Through most of his life, he'd never been alone. And yet, oddly, he'd found peace in solitude more often than not. Since he'd lost his mother and sister, which felt so long ago now, he'd had trouble truly feeling as though he'd belonged with his "new" family. Of course, he loved and appreciated them. But it was difficult to explain in words the loneliness that accompanied being surrounded by those who shared blood together, but not his. Especially when he knew it was his fault. Reilly and Lacey, even Kirby, had tried to tell him otherwise, but deep down he couldn't believe them.
So he flies; to forget, to drown it out. The beat of his heart, the flap of his wings, the serenity of the winds as he merges with them. Before he knew it, he'd passed over all the main herdlands and into the common lands from Ischia. He felt like he never tired, but also that he should return to land at some point. Perhaps meet someone new. With one last pulse of his wings, he angled them closer to his body and gloried in the way his heart and stomach leap as he dove several kilometers until he could make out the layout of trees and pathways better. He then circled a moment, spreading red-gold and violet appendages to slow him some as he looked for a place to land. Badden was tempted to hit the ground running, and determined the meadow wasn't too busy to do so at present. A smile touched his lips as he gracefully landed, transferring weight from his wings to his legs once more. His hooves beat to a different drum as he loped across the main grazing area and toward the trees, wings set close and still raised to feel the windflow. The sun warmed him and accompanied the sweet, slow burn of his muscled body from the exertion.
When he finally slows, his neck arches and tail lifts, chin tucked with the slightest smile still in place. And it is then that he sees her. Pure white and flawless, her icy gaze illuminated by the sunlight she bathes in as their eyes meet. His heart rate is already increased quite a bit, but at rest he's sure she could have been the reason for its quickened state. His feathers ruffle of their own accord before settling comfortably at his sides. He has no idea what to say to her, but finds himself drawn to her anyway. Almost subconsciously, his violet hooves bring him in her direction. As he nears, his gaze never leave hers, studying their crystalline hue and wide, round shape. Reilly taught him that the eyes are the windows to the soul, though not always simple to read. It becomes more curiosity that draws him, rather than her undeniable beauty. By the time he stops at a respectful distance to her, his breathing is almost back to normal again. "Hello.. I'm Badden. Are.. you all right?" His voice is deeper at the moment from lack of use and probably a sign his throat is pretty dry from the flight, but that is hardly what he focuses on as he tosses his head to shift his forelock out of his vision to view her better. The sun gleams along the length of his horn and his eyes never leave hers, not missing what he perceives as worry in them. He cocks a rear leg, one ear pricked toward her and the other out to the side, hoping it's not his presence that would cause such a thing.
There had been a time when she had been bold. When she never would have imagined that someday in the future she would be standing here warily eyeing someone as they approached her rather than facing them, audacious and fearless. There had been a time when she was not afraid of her dragon form, even though she did not fully understand it. Naively, she had been so eager to master that skill. She can remember so vividly sneaking away from her twin brother to practice her shifting, and how she had enjoyed taunting him with it once she had become proficient. It was something he didn’t have – and she had been sure to flaunt it, laughing and teasing as scales rippled across her skin.
That time felt so long ago, and truthfully, it was a lifetime ago. And now, she was alive again and struggling against the current, trying to learn to live with the knowledge of the violence she was capable of.
It had been easy to keep the urges at bay at first. It had been easy to ignore the flickers of rage that swam in her veins whenever she was in her dragon form, but it wasn’t as easy now. Like a dam that had finally broken it was impossible to rein in the raging waters once they had been released, and when she looked into the light-brown eyes of the boy before her she could feel the ice-pricks of fear racing up her spine when she imagined all the what ifs. She has always been able to control her shifting – but she also used to not get angry as a dragon. She didn’t used to attack others, she didn’t use to black-out and turn into something – someone – else entirely.
She is afraid that someday even the shifting itself will be beyond her control.
She watches him, her tongue suddenly feeling too heavy to make words as she works to steady her quickening pulse. She wouldn’t hurt him; she had no reason to, and he wasn’t going to give her one. She tells herself this over and over as he walks closer, a mantra that she is willing herself to believe. The breeze twists and lifts a lengthy veil of forelock from her eyes – those pale blue eyes that are still locked intensely with his. The thundering heartbeat in her ears nearly drowns out his words, and her ribs suddenly still when in her anxiety she forgets to breathe. But the course deepness of his voice reaches through the fog, and when she finally blinks, the breath she had been holding exhales softly between her pale lips.
“Casimira,” she answers his name with her own, the syllables of it rolling easily from a mouth that previously had been frozen in fear. “I’m...I’m alright.” With a smile she attempts to appear more convincing than she feels, and surely more than she sounds. It would be impossible to explain to him all the ways that she wasn’t alright, and it was hardly a conversation she wanted to have with a perfect stranger. Her eyes move past his face and to the places where sweat had begun to dry on his neck, and then to the feathers of his wings that shift in the warmth of the spring wind. “You look like you’ve been traveling for awhile. Are you not from here?” She feels foolish almost immediately for asking, knowing how stupid she must sound, but at the same time she is too desperate to deflect the attention away from herself to care.
The breeze gently shifts her forelock and it is like a curtain has parted; a veil lifted. His eyes, still focused with hers, get an even deeper look. He studies them, the pale blue, the shape and the expression within. Moments pass slow between them, hearts beat like the gentle 'tick tock' of time. He can't help but wonder what is going through her mind. If he were Kharon, he wouldn't have to wonder, but telepathy was not his gift. But then of course, thoughts are private. Maybe she was thinking about how handsome he is and that's why she looks so nervous. This thought almost brings one corner of his lips up, but he holds it. He's sure that wasn't it at all, but a guy could hope.
In the next heartbeat, her mouth parts and she speaks her name. He finds his gaze travels to her lips and he does smile this time. "Casimira." He repeats in his roughened voice, liking the way it rolls off the tongue. "Pretty." Reilly had once told him that a woman's name was like a shot of the black stuff the man liked so much. To taste it was to walk a dangerous line, for it could go smooth or it could burn sweetly and leave you wanting more. Badden didn't really understand that all too well before, but he thinks he is starting to. She hesitates a bit when answering his question, in such a way that he knows means it might not be truth, but he doesn't press her. She is smiling now, and even though it doesn't reach those sad and worried eyes, he's happy she's giving that little bit. He decides it doesn't really matter what she's thinking and maybe it's better to get her mind off of whatever it was. He finds he would like to see how those blue eyes would look if her smile did touch them.
Oh, but then her gaze slides down his neck and over his wings. And just as though his skin could feel their path, his feathers ruffle a bit and he feels an itch under the right wing where sweat was drying into his skin. Lifting it so, Badden's neck flexes as he reaches back to scratch it. In doing so, he certainly does not hope she notices the breadth of his musculature. His head lifts once more when he hears her voice again, asking where he'd come from. He smiles at her interest and recognizes the change of subject, content to oblige her. "I am and I'm not." He laughs lightly, tossing his violet hair back again before continuing. "I'm from Ischia, and that's where I've come from now. Over the last couple of years, I've been..." He breaks his gaze away and thinks for a moment (about the family's displacement, having to take refuge at the Island Resort for a while, his travels with Lacey and Reilly to his homeland) before deciding on something simpler. "Here and there." Eyes like magnets return to hers and his head tips toward her, pointing his horn her way. "What about you, Casimira. Are you not from here?" His voice deepens when he asks it, enjoying the taste of her name once more. His face remains soft with a light smile, inviting her to speak some more.
She did not expect the heat that flashed momentarily across her body when he says her name is pretty. In an alternate universe, where maybe her childhood was normal, or her dragon-form didn’t lead her into chaos and war and death, she is sure she would have handled a situation like this differently. She would have been emboldened by his compliment, she would have known that everything about her was pretty and she would have used it. She would have been a dangerous combination of her parents – reckless and beautiful, with an unbreakable heart. She would fall in love a hundred times, or maybe never at all and think nothing of it.
Instead she is splintering apart on the inside, and scrambling to pull herself together so that this boy can’t see it.
As if it matters; is if she’s ever going to see him again after today.
As if she’s not going to disappear back into the forest before she can do something irreparable.
As if he’s even going to care.
Unknowingly, her eyes follow the curve of his neck as it turns away from her, the way the muscles ripple and play beneath the apricot of his skin, and how the wind lifts at the violet of his mane. He looks back to her, and reflexively she looks away; a nervous flick of her crystal-blue eyes, as though it wasn’t incredibly obvious that she had been looking at him. But he answers her, and she follows the flow of the conversation, though she is hesitant to meet his gaze the way she had before. “Ischia. I’ve never been there,” her voice feels far away, almost detached, as though she isn’t the one speaking it. She wonders if he can hear the nervous way her heart pounds in her chest, and she still can’t figure out entirely why he’s affecting her this way.
She almost doesn’t realize that she’s not worried about her dragon-form anymore; that her pulse quickens for a different reason.
“I was born in Tephra, with my twin brother, but…” she trails off, not entirely sure how much she wanted to divulge. Thinking of Cassian made her chest feel heavy – though she would absolutely never tell her brother that – and thinking of Tephra made her think of the war. Scorched earth and smoke-filled skies, and her body colliding with the two dragon stallions from Loess. She hadn’t expected herself to be a fighter, but the predator locked inside of her had been begging to be cut loose.
Tephra made her think of bloodshed and chaos, of the panic of not knowing where her mother and brother were, of the adrenaline of being locked in battle until –
– until all she saw was the glimmer of constellations and angry blue eyes, and a fleeting memory of what the impact had felt like. She still isn’t entirely sure if her memory is accurate, if she had really been killed – shattered apart – by Starsin. She just knows that sometimes what startles her awake from her nightmares is a flash of dragonfire, and the feel of her own heart exploding.
“But I haven’t been back there in a long time,” is what she finally says, with another half-hearted smile. “I guess I’m a nomad, now.”
Everywhere her gaze dances over him, causes a chain reaction of pleasant little tingles. With his face turned from her, it's hard to tell if it's real or all in his head. But when he turns back to her, for a split second, those pale blues dart away and he could swear the pink of her cheeks beneath the alabaster seem a shade darker. His lips twitch as he fights the smile from growing, suspecting it wasn't his imagination after all. His tongue peaks out to moisten the violet of his lips as he tries to focus on the topic of conversation and not on how her eyes suddenly avoid his.
Badden's head tilts slightly at the way her voice sounds distant, subtle shaky undertones drawing his attention to her even further. She begins to tell him of her origins and her family, but when she trails off, her eyes... The remnant of his smile fades to something more concerned as sadness and what he swears looks like pain fills her expression. He takes a step toward her and lowers his head some so that her eyes might find his again. He aches to erase that look from her face, but finds himself at a loss as to how to do so. Whatever was going through her mind was clearly weighing heavily, and her breathing was coming slightly quicker.
He frowns slightly, and before he realized what he was doing, his right wing extended toward her until the longest of the feathers at the tip brushed that rosy cheek. "You're too beautiful to seem so unhappy..." The words are softly whispered when they leave his lips. But the moment he touches her, the contact sends a shocking tingle up the bones of his wing all the way to his chest and he pulls away when he realizes he'd spoken aloud. Ears flicking backward and chin tucking toward his chest, he simultaneously analyzes the strange feeling and tries to backpedal from his forwardness. It's his turn to feel awkward, but his gaze doesn't deviate from her face. "I-" His voice cracks with roughness, so he clears his throat and tries again. "I'm sure you'll go back when you're ready. Sometimes it's good to take time away, to discover what you need." His eyes have taken on a honeyed shade of brown, his heart thumping in his chest in a way he hadn't felt before. He could only hope at this moment that he hadn't said the wrong things.
He catches the way her eyes flit away from his face, and then back to it again, and she sees the way a smile dares at the corner of his lips. A part of her wants to laugh, to shake away her embarrassment or at least find a way to own up to it. Had she been herself, had she not been barely holding herself up on such shaky ground, she would have. But instead all she can manage is a small and nervous smile, and she swallows everything away.
She is prepared to bury these new and unknown feelings trying to bubble over inside her chest, to let them fade away and let time erase them all after she leaves here.
She could have done it, she thinks, if he had not touched her.
She looks up from beneath her dark eyelashes when he lowers his head, and the way he looks at her is enough to make her pulse jump all on its own. She can see the quiet concern that pools in his eyes, and she isn’t sure if she can remember anyone ever looking at her with such kindness. But then she feels the feathers of his wing whisper across her cheek, and it feels like sparks lighting across her skin. There is a sharp inhale, and the way her heart beats so erratically she is afraid it will never steady itself again.
“I’m not beautiful,” she softly corrects him even though she doesn’t want to. She wants to be the pretty thing that he thinks he sees; a pretty girl with a pretty name and a pretty heart to match. She wants to lean into his touch and see what else might be there, to see if those sparks could arc into a wild electricity, but she stops herself, because it is a foolish thing to want. “If you knew the things that I have done, you would never say that.” The words are still quietly spoken, even as he backs away from her. Her pale blue eyes remain with his, and she thinks of the golden stallion she had attacked in her draconic fury. She doesn’t want to know what Badden would think of her if he knew of the beast she struggled with every moment of every day.
“Who taught you to be so kind, Badden?” She finally asks him with more of a smile, one that was stronger than any previously because for now, she is focused on him and not her own demons. She had learned her kindness from her mother, even if she did not always use it. He must have had someone in his life too, she thinks, and she cannot shake her desire to piece together everything about him.
His own heart continues to beat rapidly, thumping heavily in its chamber, even well after he'd pulled away from her. Such a small touch of a feather to her skin was enough to do this to him, and it intrigues as well as scares him just a little. Makes him wonder what a real touch would do, would feel like, skin to skin. The thought has his breath catching for just a second as he tries to contain himself. Eyes locked with hers, earth and sky, he nearly steps forward once more to give in to the temptation, except her words halt him. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but especially now that she disputes his statement, he can't bring himself to regret it one bit. Badden's lips edge up into something of a smirk, and he gives a slight shake of his broad head, emphasized by his bone-white horn. "You can try to convince me, Casimira, but I think you'll find I'm quite hard-headed." He could swear her speech is meant to push him away, but he is still drawn to her. Something in her gaze, maybe, or something deeper. He has no real conception of what is going on between them, only that it grows increasingly more difficult to ignore.
He inhales deeply; the scent of spring and warmth carried on the breeze mixed with her own mysterious mix of smells. Breathing out on a sigh, he studies her. She really believes what she'd said in her quiet admission, the weight of it thick in her voice. Maybe it should make him want to turn away from her, but all he can think about is trying to lift that heavy weight off of her. He has no obligation, no real reason, other than this draw to her he couldn't even begin to explain. Like magnets pulling together, stronger the closer they are to one another. Badden gives a step, then one more, testing the field. "We've all done things, I suspect." For just a moment, he allows the memory of his own faults to flicker over his face. It'd been so long, he barely remembers how they looked- his mother and sister. He doubts he will ever see them again, and that is all his fault. "Does that have to mean you can never be happy again?" At only a few months old, he'd been found by another purple man, brought to his group that became his new family. They raised him as their own, and he loves them for it. For the bonds forged, for the lessons learned. But it never quite replaced that which he'd lost, that which he'd been deprived of, and he'd missed out on that true sense of belonging. Silly, perhaps, but it was how he felt.
She smiles as she asks him who taught him to be kind, and his gaze latches on to that look on her face, the most genuine so far. Something inside him responds to it, and he absently takes another small step toward her, smiling softly in return. He's glad to give her kindness, more than he's given to anyone he can remember, even if he doesn't understand why. "Hm, the ones who raised me, I suppose. If I have to pick one..." His tongue peeks out to dab his lips with moisture as he recounts, pretending to mull it over for some semblance of suspense. "I'd have to say the man who I count as close to a father as I've had. He taught me best how to be a man, how a woman should be treated..." Heat rises as his blood rushes through his veins. He remembers catching glimpses of soft touches, whispered words of comfort. Things he'd always turned away from, but knew it was kindness Reilly was giving to Lacey in his repeated attempts to take away her pain and troubles. He never gave up on her. "How to laugh even when it seems impossible." His eyes refocus on her, soft smile in place. They were perhaps two or three feet apart by now, and he was itching to touch her but for the thought that she might not want him to.
She doesn’t know if he can feel it too, that delicate thread of tension between them that seemed to pull tighter the longer they were next to each other. It wasn’t lust; Casimira wasn’t familiar with such an emotion, which seemed to be a rarity of her bloodline. Her mind moved too fast to focus on romances and desire, her worry and her anxieties seemingly overpowering any other thought or emotion that might try to break the surface. It’s why she can’t fully recognize what is trying to form between them – or maybe what is already there and she’s just trying her best to not see it.
She has been alone ever since she was reborn, and she cannot help but to think that perhaps it was best this way. She has grown into her own worst enemy, and even though she has begun to realize that waging war with herself was a battle she would always lose, she couldn’t seem to stop.
“Well, so am I,” and this time there is a hint of teasing in her tone, but she doesn’t continue to argue with him. “I guess if you’re around me enough, you’ll have the misfortune of seeing what I mean.” Though her tone is light, the sudden spark in her pale blue eyes suddenly seems to dim as the truth of that settles around her. She had almost forgotten for a moment what she harbors inside. She had almost, for a moment, let herself wonder and fantasize an imaginary future with someone – maybe him, maybe not – before her reality crashed again over her. The more he was around her the harder it would be to hide what she was. The more he was around her, the higher the risk of him getting hurt, or just plain rejecting her became.
“I’m afraid that my happiness might come at a price,” the words are soft again, her eyes diverting from his and to an empty space in the distance. “It seems selfish to try and find happiness if it means someone could get hurt.” Like you, she thinks, but doesn’t say, her eyes returning to his with a half-hearted smile. Instead she falls quiet as she listens to him, and something that she cannot place stirs between her ribs when he speaks of the man that he had considered a father. Casimira has never met her father, and she had learned at a young age to not ask about him. Ryatah’s answers were always vague, almost evasive, even though she had nothing negative to say. All she knew was a name, and that her mother says her twin brother reminded her of him sometimes.
“How a woman should be treated, huh?” She decides to pick out the phrase, with a laugh lacing the words as she repeats them. He was closer now, and it was impossible for her not to notice. That tension once more pulling at her, drawing her in, until she has closed what little space had been left between them. Close enough now that the warmth of her breath fanned across his skin, close enough that she worries he might hear the way her heart kept skipping. “That’s probably an important life skill,” she says on a breath as her lips tentatively, almost cautiously, touch against his shoulder.
10-21-2019, 11:58 PM (This post was last modified: 10-21-2019, 11:59 PM by Badden.)
"Well, so am I." She says, and her tone of voice has him grinning. There came a spark in her crystal blue eyes that he latches onto, even as it fades with her next words. He chooses to ignore the word misfortune, as well as the way her expression sinks further with whatever skeletons were hiding in her closet. Instead he focuses on the charming prospect that she might care what he thinks about her. Instead he chuckles, dipping his head and then peering up at her from under sandy colored lashes between locks of violet. "If that was an invitation, I would like to take you up on that." His pectoral and deltoid muscles ripple slightly as he takes those steps closer, giving in slightly to the magnetism between them.
When she responds to his question, her voice is soft again, and though her gaze breaks from him, his remains glued to her alabaster face. "It seems selfish to try and find happiness if it means someone could get hurt." And the way her eyes slide back to his with that smile, he can't help but read into the words a little. His stubborn nature kicks in yet again, as he flashes her a heated smirk. "I'm touched you would worry for me." His golden red and dog-violet feathers rustle briefly at his sides, as he prepares his next speech. Honey brown eyes bore into hers with sincerity. "Thing about me is, I'm no fragile thing. I'm not afraid to take leaps. Not afraid to fall."Be selfish.. Badden thinks, wanting to know what that felt like. "Getting hurt is a part of life. Teaches us, guides us, makes us stronger. All about how you look at it." He really hopes it makes sense to her, and he doesn't just sound like a horrible cliche. His experiences were with learning to fly and having to take the rough to get to be smooth. About losing loved ones to find new ones, not to replace, but to grow.
He tells her about his family, how Reilly was his main mentor in learning kindness. Badden thinks that speaking of his father-figure triggers something in her, but she doesn't show him enough to be sure. Doesn't say anything about it. But she does take a particular phrase from what he said and oh, she laughs as she repeats it. He smiles too, but something hot washes over him and sends tingles down his spine. Badden suddenly becomes hyper-aware of how close they'd become to one another. How badly he wanted to move in, but didn't. He just had to know if she felt it too.
The tension is so tangible for him, he couldn't possibly be imagining this pull between them. The moment she steps closer, he thinks he has his answer. His chin lifts slightly so as to tilt the point of his horn away from her. His heart pounds so loud in his chest, he gulps to keep it from exploding, certain she can hear it. As her breath wafts over the skin of his neck, he sucks air between clenched teeth and slowly releases it for some measure of control. She says something, but he can't hear it over the racing of.. His heart, or hers? Maybe both.
His eyes had drifted closed as she'd obliterated the distance between them, and when her lips touch his shoulder, the contact sends a bolt of wicked heat spreading through him and they snap open. "Casimira," he gasps her name at the shock and subsequent wave of pleasure that sends a shudder to his withers and wings. They rise of their own accord, curved but angled vertically. "Don't stop." His voice had gone breathy and rugged and he almost didn't recognize it as his own.
If she might have pulled away, he presses closer, his own lips lowering to a soft place on the side of her neck, surprised again by the velvet heat of her skin and the way that the merest of touches can affect him so. Was this normal? Were they crossing some line they shouldn't? At the moment, he really couldn't bring himself to care. "Be selfish with me.." It comes more as a strong suggestion than a demand, each word traced into her skin, sparking what he swears feels like flames between them. Delicious, sweet fire threatening to consume him.
