the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana - 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) +----- Thread: the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana (/showthread.php?tid=13713) |
the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana - Canaan - 03-03-2017 well, the good ol' days may not return, and the rocks might melt, and the sea may burn. It had been too long since he had left, yet not much had changed. The same wavering stalks of dry brush ensnared his lithe legs, and the same dense humidity laid across the slope of his spine as if it were a hefty blanket. The jagged edges of a too-still volcano settled somewhere in the middle; a pillar of force and might tucked away neatly within the center of the isle – a gentle glow of the white-hot, bubbling lava pooling along its perimeter in thin, winding rivulets. The memories return to him, of warm evenings stolen away beneath a starlit sky, of the carefree afternoons spent bathing in the sea – of the many hours wasted away in the presence of two of his closest friends; a squandered youth of which his wild heart often pined for. The long summer days had long since passed, giving way to a smothering autumn and a frigid winter, and eventually, the blistering humidity of summer had returned – but he had not. A year had already passed since he had last seen them – his Exist and Leliana. He wondered if either of them still called Tephra their own; and if not – do they still long for its ash-stained, sultry borders as he does? A long, wistful sigh emerges from the darkened line of his parted lips, tongue tasting the salty brine of the sea as the golden rim of his eyes search the vacant plain, yearning for simpler times. Canaan @[exist] @[leliana] RE: the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana - leliana - 03-04-2017 I waited for something and something died it's our dearest ally, it's our closest friend RE: the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana - exist - 03-11-2017 while collecting the stars, I connected the dots.
She is alone in a far corner of Tephra, hidden away near the northernmost shores where few ever come. The islands beyond are hazy in the distance, have always seemed wild and unlivable, forgotten, and so this near corner is quiet. It is peaceful, too, with so much ocean around her, with the spray of sea-mist to keep her damp and cool when she is always too hot, always exhausted. More often than not her days are spent in this water, waded out until the ocean carries the weight of her belly, until, when she turns her head to look, she cannot see the swollenness of her barrel sunk beneath the surface.I don’t know who I am, but now I know who I’m not. It had been subtle at first, confusing when the weight first started sticking. There were no seasons in Tephra, no winter, no reason for her body to store so much fat. But it had, and had continued to do so for many months until finally she began to understand. She had hid it at first with her wings, full and feathery and pressed to her sides when eyes were watching, shy in her uncertainty, in her youth, but not in regret. She even hid it from Leliana though, her sister, her twin, the better half of her wild soul. It was in recent months when the weight had doubled, recent weeks when the weight had dropped, that she reached inside with a tendril of healing magic to check the one heart, two hearts that beat inside her belly. It was an incredible kind of agony, realizing that she and Mandan had created life together, realizing that she couldn’t tell the stranger lest she add more weight to those beautiful, broken shoulders. She wanted to, would have unearthed those woods to find him again, to curl against his chest in the same way that had led her to this moment, now. But hadn’t she already been greedy enough, selfish in her affection when he had tried many times to push her away? So instead she hid from him, guilty, missing him, but with no right to find him again. She wanders the shore today, wading in water that reaches half-way up her ribs, water that helps carry the weight that presses aches and soreness into those long, slender legs. There is something different about today, an inexplicable longing in her chest and she wanders further than she normally would, following the northwest border until it bent out into the ocean again. She should turn back – the splash of water against an enormous belly was reminder enough of that, but instead she pressed hesitantly forward, leaving the security of the ocean behind for the wildlife of deeper Tephra. Her wings move reflexively to cover her belly, though this time it is defensively (a new instinct she is discovering) instead of to hide it. Her wings are smooth dragon leather, dark copper with hints of red and flecks of gold, marked at the bends with long, curving talons. They do little to hide the sway of her barrel, wide where it hangs visibly on either side of an otherwise small apricot figure, but they are sharp and they are menacing, and it is all she needs. When she clears a small forest, thick and tangled with tree and vine and swaying leaf, it is just in time to see Leliana turn from Canaan to look out across a horizon and in her direction. Her breath stills in her chest, startled, and for a moment she is only unmoving, carved from copper, cold and elegant, wild in her beauty. But then those eyes find her, pick her out from the surrounding green and Exist it stumbling forward on tired legs, her belly swaying in and out beneath the cover of those dark wings. She wants to crash against Leliana as Leliana had crashed against Canaan, wants to curl against his side as she had done a hundred times before in their youth. But something holds her back and away, something that tucks those wings flush against the deep wideness of her belly, something that forces her pale green eyes from their faces, from the judgment she deserves because of anyone, they will know best of all that she has no right being a mother. Leliana moreso than Canaan, Leliana moreso because she will understand this fear, may carry it in her own chest. Victra should not have been a mother, either. When her eyes return to their faces, bashful and uncertain, she is silent, wordless, taking another hesitant step forward and pulling her wings up and against her back because she will hide nothing from them, not them. Not Canaan, never Leliana. “I-“ She starts and stops, looking first at Leliana and then shifting to trace the incredulity she expects to find in Canaan’s face. For a moment her face changes, darkens with something unnamable, but she catches herself and looks away again, back to Leliana and the safety of her kind, beautiful face. “It’s really good to see you guys.” She says finally, still soft, still uncertain, still desperate to be pressed against them and in the safety of their embrace, to let their light push back the shadows of her loneliness. “I missed you.” Exist RE: the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana - Canaan - 03-12-2017 well, the good ol' days may not return, and the rocks might melt, and the sea may burn. The stillness of the moment surpasses the restriction of time, and he is captured within the moment, savoring the way she presses against him – a fragile fragment of the Leliana he had always known, of the Leliana he had always held near to his heart. He does not question her, nor does he delve or dig beneath the surface of the uneasy, stirring storm of emotion brewing within the terse, tightened crease of her eyes as they meet his own. There is a part of him that knows, a part of him that perceives the anguish lining the pulsating tendons that piece together her pounding, aching heart – words are not needed to see, to feel her pain. ”Leli,” he breathes, an old memory emerging to the front of his mind of her and of Exist, painted by silvery moonlight, his own youthful voice calling out for her as he struggled to catch their slender, leaping forms in the gentle embrace of a rising tide. His eyes observe the tangled tendrils of cerise that line her shy gaze, and the flattened surface of his nose presses firmly against the rounded curve of her cheek, the warmth of his breath washing over her delicate skin. The familiarity of her is as easy and as soothing as any long swig of twice distilled whiskey would be to a tired, weary man, and her words are just as such. ”I have missed you. I have missed you both, more than you know. You look –“ he pauses, the ridge of his brow line furrowed as his whiskered lips reach out, brushing against the healing scar. ”- what is this, Leli? What is this from?” But the moment is interrupted, and his heart seizes within his chest, sinking to the very pit of his stomach as if it were bore down with the weight of a thousand boulders. His gaze searches past her now, roving the outline of russet against waning light on the horizon – the leathery texture of her broad wings are hardly a distraction from the broad swell of her belly, weighed down and swaying along with the golden stems of dried brush. Her once wild, tempestuous eyes meet his own, and she is wary, uncertain – everything he has never known her to be, and it stirs something inside of him. His hazel eyes trace the curve of her figure, darkened now with something undiscernible (heartbreak – the uneven seams of his heart splaying open, unstitched as the world around him becomes still). His chest is heavy, and his throat is swollen – speechless, every word he has ever longed to say caught in the middle of it, swallowed down as if it were bitter bile. Her voice is soft, a burning desire and yearning lingering in each syllable, and the faintest of smiles is drawn to the surface, pulling at the corner of his darkened mouth. His lips press against Leliana’s temple again, before a step is taken, the distance between he and Exist is closed, his mouth innocently pressed against the curve of her jaw before the broad length of his neck is draped over her own, drawing her near to him. Though his chest is heavy, wrought with an agony he has never known, his heart is light, quivering against its cage as he becomes enveloped in the embrace of his two closest friends. ”Exist. I’ve missed you both,” he murmurs again, emotion rising to the surface, his voice suddenly hazy and rough – but the smile that remains is true, and unwavering. ”it has been too long.” Too long. Canaan RE: the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana - leliana - 03-13-2017 I waited for something and something died it's our dearest ally, it's our closest friend RE: the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana - exist - 03-18-2017 while collecting the stars, I connected the dots.
She is quiet beneath their eyes, stilled by the weight of their gazes when they trace the pathways of familiar hollows across skin that is smooth and bright and copper. When those eyes drift further, fall like shadow against the curve of a belly that is too full, too wide, it is reflexive to turn her face from them, to hide her uncertainty behind the curtain of her forelock, beneath the line of a mouth that wavers between smile and frown. But she can only hide away from them for so long and her eyes drift back to Leliana, soft and brown and always so beautiful, where she settles on a face that is, for once, unreadable. I don’t know who I am, but now I know who I’m not. Exist’s face darkens with uncertainty, green eyes flashing like pale emeralds as she quickly tries to pick beneath the new layers of quiet and dark that she has never seen before on her sisters face. “Leliana?” She starts to ask, soft and uncertain, reaching out to brush her lips against the hollows of those dark, delicate cheeks, to coax out one of the smiles she remembers so well. But Canaan shifts at her side and Exist’s eyes are drawn to him just as quickly, darker now, deeper as she hurries to wipe some of the truth from them, to tuck away a secret before he has a chance to recognize it in the shadows of her soft smile. Just in time, too. She watches him shift to press a kiss to Leliana’s temple and she can feel that truth swimming for the surface of her green eyes, can feel shadows deepening in the hollows of a face that turns quickly away from them. But then he shifts again and it is to close the distance between them, to place a similar kiss against the copper curve of her jaw. “Canaan.” She breathes before she can stop herself, too much weight, too much ache, too much quiet buried in the breathlessness of her whisper as she leans into his touch. He moves closer still, draping his neck across her withers to pull her tight against his chest and she folds into him willingly, readily, easily as she had a dozen times before though somehow this felt different. It is a relief when Leliana moves to join them, when those lips reach to trace across her forehead and Exist can lean into this too, closing her eyes beneath this moment of piece, nestled so carefully between the woman who has always been her other half and the man who is friend and something more, something harder. Something that hurts in the quiet of her chest. I am so happy for you. Leliana murmurs, soft as she has always been and Exist opens her eyes again, reaches out to run her nose along the crest of a bay neck and beneath the soft tangles of red. Thank you, she means to say, or maybe even, me too - and she is happy, loves the weight of them curled inside her, has imagined meeting them a thousand times. But the words that come out instead are so different, another truth, but filled with dark instead of light. “I’m so scared.” She does not, will not, cannot leave the safety of Canaan’s embrace, but she leans for her sister too, burying that beautiful copper face in the crook of a neck made perfectly to hold her. “What if I can’t do this,” she breathes, shattering, finding it too easy to fall apart when there were so many hands reaching to catch her broken pieces, “what if I’m not good for them.” Like mom, she doesn’t add, but she doesn’t need to because Leliana will understand, maybe even Canaan will too. He had never seen the woman, after all. Exist RE: the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana - Canaan - 03-18-2017 well, the good ol' days may not return, and the rocks might melt, and the sea may burn. And yet, he cannot bring himself to show the regret etched into the hardened line of his tense jaw, or in the taut creases of his hazel eyes, choosing instead to tuck himself within the warmth of their bodies, allowing his mouth to press greedily against the withers of one and the curve of his cheek along the neck of another. It’s n-nothing, Leliana stammers, worry carved into the hollow of her words, but he is all too aware of how easy and effortless the lie is for her. He does not say another word – no, he will not pry – instead pressing the warmth of his whiskered lips against her skin again, willing the wound away from her dark, mottled skin. Once more, the length of his muscular frame is pressed flush against each, a blend of vibrant colors colliding beneath the warmth of waning sunlight, and he is submerged within the delicate cerise tresses of one and the rich, copper skin of another. Canaan, a breathless murmur and his heart is caught within his throat. She is curled into him and with the heat of a thousand suns, he is flush with the realization of how flawlessly she nestles against the hard ridges of his broad chest, against the sinewy muscle that lay beneath her cheek. The moment is fleeting, and soon Leliana has pressed her own lips along the forehead of her sister, pushing the tousled forelock that lay over her endless emerald eyes. Stirred from his own ceaseless reverie, he is no longer drowning in the comfort of her touch, instead brought back to the surface of his own reality. Quietly, he observes the way Leliana falters – the ridge of her brow line creasing as a flicker of something indiscernible in her eye as she enviously traces the rounded curve of her sister’s distended belly, but it is there and gone again within a single, solitary breath and suddenly he is not certain as to whether he imagined it in its entirety. A shadow of doubt is cast upon him, falling into the hollowed ridges of his weary gaze and along the taut lines of his handsome face – but it, too, falters, when the silence is broken. Now they get to exist too, in one breath, and I’m so scared in the next, and he draws her closer to him, tucking his chin against the length of her neck as he envelopes her against his breast, longing to comfort her and to urge such foolish fears into the darkness where they belong. They, his mind echoes, two! A longing he cannot ignore stirs within the enclosure of his own chest (“It should have been me,” a voice inside of him laments, but he buries it deep within – there is no use pining for what can never be). What if I can’t do this, she breathes, what if I’m not - but he cannot take any more, moving back to trace the distress outlining her soft, gentle features, pressing the flattest part of his nose against her cheek. ”You can do this – you are not alone,” he utters, the syllables of his rough, ragged tone oozing certainty. ”you will never be alone, Exist.” His whiskered lips find solace beneath several layers of rich copper locks, while his gaze shadows the movements of her sister, meeting the intricately woven gold and green of her bright, soulful gaze. ”We’re here,” and then, ”I’m here.” A soft breath pressed against her ear, a murmur – a promise. ”I will love them as my own.” A heavy confession, one he worries is too much weight for her fragile foundation to bear, and so he finishes, ”and I know that Leli will too.” Canaan RE: the good ol' days may not return || exist & leliana - leliana - 03-19-2017 even though we may be hopeless hearts just passing through lelianatwo all I know is, darling, I was made for loving you |