She is right. The river is no ocean. But the inland river delta is where he resides all the same. The silt there is rich, and the water brackish. A bitter combination of fresh and salt, melded together in a tangled mess that ebbs and flows along Beqanna’s coastline. The trees break and fall away, giving in to an expanse that spans the horizon. His silver eyes turn away from the crested slopes of the swells as he turns inward, looking for the sustenance that he figured probably should keep him alive for another day.

His hair hung in a tangled mess about his head, handing in black and brown and silver streaks and fell in front of his face. He is a handsome sort of fellow. He is large, with a broad, muscular chest, and his flanks have filled out their lean muscle so that he resembles the father he has never known. His pelt is tarnished and messy… just like the rest of him.

Grimdark has grown up in veritable solitude. A twin he never sees, a mother who is bereft of glory, and other then the off-moment of company when he chooses to come out of hiding, he has grown up on his own. Bitter, misanthropic—his attitude toward life has left him jaded. And it seems, that every time he breaks his reverie, it is when he leaves the sanctity of the Delta to come to the river for food.

He is young, this is true, but his careful eyes have seen more in silence than his mouth has done talking. He would have been a fool not to have noticed the Wall that appeared out of nowhere, or the Mountain and the howling that has taken its place. Grim has no use for politics, and so it does not occur to him that his very own unknown father created the magic there that spawned the whole thing—nor does he care. He sees the monotony of every day life, and has shied away from it. Born on the Island, he was driven away from it after his mother was exiled. Someone else took control… but he resembled the invaders so startlingly—in both visage and attitude (in that they were both absolutely insane)—that He had left, taken the swim through the waves and onto the mainland.

He had no use for power. He has no use for insanity. He is a man older than his years, having seen the mistakes of many and chosen to steer clear of them all. There is just one flaw in his plan for solitude.

One must continue to eat.

He silently winds his nickel-and-dimed hide through the trees—feeling claustrophic, much preferring the coast—and when he reaches the river bank, he is unsurprised to find that once again, he is forced to make awkward pleasantries.

A woman with wings walks the paths next to the bank, her head lowered toward the earth, presumably to attempt to do the same thing that has brought him here. Wings he has seen before—residents on Ischia would sport them for pleasure making and to one up each other. Wings were a rare commodity, but commonplace enough. But the spots… that was something he had never seen before. A quirked brow and flick of his tail as he approaches. Her body has age, but it is still perfect. Those spots were a wild and beautiful thing that gave her an air of… someone who definitely did not live life as alone as Grimdark did.

He has always been a nomad. He has never owned nor been own. He has never loved or been loved, nor cared for the messiness that comes with such entanglements. He has never before experienced lust.

But if the warm sensation going to his loins was any indication, Grimdark was being forced to experience a portion of life that he never before had any desire to feel.

And he hated it.

And so he keeps his distance, turning his eyes away from her and he returns to his task, lowering his eyes to the ground before him, the frost coating his mouth as he flips the stones in search of roots and vegetation leftover from the frost. He is hungry… and he is thirsty…

But not for water.

And yet every so often, he can feel his eyes roving across her body wantonly, cursing at himself every time.

She’s dangerous, he says to himself. Don’t need experience to see that. Stay away from that one.

GRIMDARK

deimos x ea, dragon vision, twilight manipulation, twin to allure

He is apparently not very subtle. She scoffs, flipping that gorgeous tail of hers and showing off those spots to their best advantage, but her voice is what really sets him off. See something you like? Yes. Yes he did. That voice was like a cold slap that banked against the side of the river… he could practically hear the ice cracking between them with the tension of it.

Grimdark raised his handsome head and turned to look at her. His stomach forgotten for the timebeing, he suddenly makes the decision to no longer hide his lust. His eyes rove over the slope of her shoulder and the curve of her flank. The way her skin was taut against her coiled muscles, like a cat poised to strike, and yet somehow graceful and fierce at the same time. He makes no pretense of her in that moment. He has never had a need to be false.

And he won’t be now.

But he does not move. From his place in the snow, his steely silver eyes look upon her coldly, but with appreciation nonetheless. He does not know his past—nor that their ancestors had had entanglements. He has no need for what is behind… all that he sees is what is before him, and right now, that is her. The wind begins to blow, carrying with it the snow and wafting it around their bodies, swirling it together, lifting and taking away his mane with it, away from his face and behind him.

His corded muscles wind tightly in his chest, and in his inexperience he is unaware of the picture he presents to her. He does not know that his large body is similarly representative of someone who had once loved and been loved so deeply that it had driven them both insane… and had driven one of them to their depths on the beach. Opehlia’s offspring had sprung forth and created this creature standing before him, just as history had created Grimdark for her.

They were oil and water. Kryptonite.

And yet both capable of setting the other on fire.

What the future would bring, only time would tell.

Grim looks to unknown winged mare, his expression revealing nothing, and he speaks, his voice deep and gravelly from lack of use. “A simple hello would have sufficed.”

His eyes continue to wander her body, like illict fingertips tracing her spine. He was certainly feeling her. But was she feeling him?

GRIMDARK

deimos x ea, dragon vision, twilight manipulation, twin to allure

And when those wings unfurl, her angry voice going up like a siren, Grimdark continues his silent vigil. Those silver eyes that look into her, boring her intently from the inside out, looking at the woman scrambling to get back to a place of control. A place she probably knew well. But he is not to be cowed. Whether by his blood, or whether by his own tenacity, she stands before him as a spitting cobra, and he does not move. Instead, he stays silent, taking her fire and acid.

Taking all her pain.

And when she asks him to stop staring at her—more like barks at him—he does as she asks, simply looking at the river and the snow falling between the trees. He continues to say nothing, simply watching her from his peripheral view. She is a beautiful thing in her ravenous attempts to regain power… But in and amongst her wild spots….

He sees the cracks.

Her screams and loud rants speak of pain, and of anger. It was something that is not caused by him, of this he is certain—one cannot cause such a reaction within mere seconds of meeting someone. But he is not most men. His time in his solitude has made him very receptive, and very observant. His little Bengal cat would stop her hissing eventually. He is quiet when he speaks again, no less affluent in his tongue, instead taking on a deeper, more brusque click to his voice. His eyes are not on her, as she requested… but something about her sets him on edge. He should leave… he always did before. Return to the safety of his privacy, and of the Delta. But he is not one to retreat. Instead, he was rooted to his spot. As if something was keeping him there.

He could take what she was dishing out, and more.

“I followed the River, same as you. For food.”

A cough, and he settles once again into his silence. A stoic looking at the treeline.

“Winter makes beggars of us all. My name is Grimdark.”

GRIMDARK

deimos x ea, dragon vision, twilight manipulation, twin to allure

There was a quiet that settled upon her. Almost stifling. They stand there, in companionable awkwardness, and he feels her settling under the weight of her own embarrassment. Her wings get put away, and she pushes a crack into the snow. It breaks the silence. And then, a gruff, almost pouty voice follows it. Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners? Normally such a comment would have been ignored—much like he ignored all that happened around him—but in the way she suddenly almost… gave up in favor of continuing her bad attitude garnered a look of incredulousness from him. Grimdark spun his head to look at her once more, and seeing her ruffled feathers, he rolls his head back and began to laugh.

It was a sound that was foreign to his own ears, and it was quickly muffled. His was a dark laugh. Broody and maniacal. Like he had a secret to share that he was holding. But, after his momentary outburst is smothered like the last flames of a dying fire, he turns his eyes back to her. “’Fraid not. I grew up alone, Princess.” Another guffaw escapes his dark, twisted mouth as he takes his first real step—a pivot, not towards her, but rather to face her, and engage her as one would face an opponent in battle—since having reached this part of the clearing. “This is the first real conversation I’ve ever had.”

The ragged man looks away from her then, and looks backward to where he came from. Well, fuck. The snow has begun falling now in earnest, covering up any last traces of food, and nourishment with it. There goes dinner. And with dinner gone, any real point of staying here in the common areas—the open areas where more conversations like this could likely take place—became pointless.

And so he turns, making a circle with his body in the snow to conserve the energy it would take to clear a new path through the forest. He levels her with a silver gaze, gives a grunt. He blinks, and then speaks once more. “The snow is getting thick, and there is no sense of staying here where there is no food. The forest is far too closed in for me. You can come with me to the coast and we can continue to have this little sparring match, or I can leave you here to freeze to death. Your pick, Princess.”

GRIMDARK

deimos x ea, dragon vision, twilight manipulation, twin to allure