watch your tongue or have it cut from your head,
save your life by keeping whispers unsaid.

   The air threads itself along his delicate, fragile wings, brushing a small fraction of his sensitive scales away with each new wave of wind. It trails along his spine, causing him to shiver involuntarily, shifting his six legs slightly beneath himself. His dark eyes peer out into the darkness, though it is brilliant and well-lit for him, for his complex eyesight can see much more than the average eye. He can piece together the image of the wavering tendrils of wheat, the faint variance in foliage across the landscape, and finally the bubbling brook trailing through the soil. The water gently ripples and pools over the smooth stones beneath the surface; a solace to his tender hearing. He savors the simplicity of night and the quiet that follows. The bright light from the moon bathes his mottled champagne skin, dousing him with a reflective light that both illuminates and invigorates him.

    It is at night when he feels most alive.

   He steps forward - he is graceful, if nothing else, with his four forelegs and two hindlegs - lowering his neck to allow the tall stems of greenery brush his cheek. He cannot close his eyes, for he has no eyelids to shield them with, but he allows himself to lose his focus. Everything becomes a blur. The night sky, the gentle breeze and the warm spring atmosphere engulf him fully. He senses a large blossoming plant near his tongue, and he takes a moment to drink of its nectar, his lips parting and his long proboscis unraveling and tucking deeply within the blossom.

   Once his thirst is sated, he lifts his long, slender neck, finding himself startled to see someone else so close. His senses are filled with her and he feels overwhelmed and lightheaded. He steps back, maintaining his distance but she has captured his attention. She is close enough that he can piece together her gentle curves, her bronze sheen and the faint tint of lime and lemon fruits tangled within her tresses. He watches her, captivated by her inward light, but he is nonetheless wary. 

   He knows how most react when they see him for the first time; he remembers well and he is reminded each day.
  

elysium

no mercy from the edge of the blade,
dare escape and learn the price to be paid.

watch your tongue or have it cut from your head,
save your life by keeping whispers unsaid.

  He is enamored with her and her wild spirit; the way her laughter carelessly rings like a tolling bell and echoes in the emptiness of the plain draws him in closer beneath the pale moonlight. His wings flinch slightly, their scales shimmering gently beneath the aura of the night sky, causing him to have an unearthly glow to his unusual skin. His compound eyes more easily search the darkness of night for her picture, which glimmers as well - her burnt sienna pelt and freely falling tendrils of caramel and lime shake and settle along her neck, encapsulating the illustrious light that she herself seems to create on her own.

  His gaze focuses on her so long, and so intently, that he does not seem to notice that she is growing closer to him and within a matter of seconds, he finds himself recoiling as she begins to tumble, twist and turn, all barreling towards him at an unnatural speed before settling beneath him. He pauses, uncertain of her condition (or even his own), until he hears her softly moan beneath him. He steps to the side, his four forelegs and two hindlegs moving with an eerie grace as he settles a foot away from her. Gently, he leans down - again, wary of her reaction but hopeful that one so free spirited would not shy away from him in terror - and brushed the flat of his flushed nose against her shoulder, nudging her ever so gently.

  Though usually he would maintain distance, he worried for a moment that she may be injured, and that was enough to push him beyond his own boundaries. His wings gently spread up towards the moon, bathing the transparent critlin in its light, shielding her with a shadow replica of the intricate pattern of his moth-like wings.

   Softly, he speaks, his lips tugging at a smile.

  "Are you all right? That was quite a fall."
 

elysium

no mercy from the edge of the blade,
dare escape and learn the price to be paid.

watch your tongue or have it cut from your head,
save your life by keeping whispers unsaid.

  He watches her struggle, her limbs too sore and weak from their tumultuous fall to withstand her weight, and he sees the flash of pain that lingers across the soft, kind features of her face. It is then that he pieces together the fragments of her entirety, taking in the way her back gently slopes and the way her hips swell. She is undoubtedly feminine, and when she finally opens her bright blue eyes to meet with his own, he is momentarily stunned. Once more, he finds himself elusively drawn to her - that same light emanating from the depths of her unwavering pools. He savors the brief moment of eye contact, before she is abruptly awestruck.

  He follows her gaze, studying his own thin, intricately designed wings, and with a simple shake, the shadow was now cast over her, painting her soft copper pelt with the same unusual pattern. He cannot hide the smile that tugs again at the corners of his mouth as she stares beyond his strange features - he knows of only one other who has ever done so, and he had come to consider his King a close friend as a result - and he can feel the tension slowly roll out of his dual shoulders.

  His multiple limbs shift and his talons sift at the moist soil beneath, deeply rooting him a bit more. Her words spill out in wonderment, and he can feel himself recoiling slightly. Embarrassment was not an emotion he experienced often, but it washed over him like the thick blanket of night - he tried to ignore it, a soft chuckle rising from the depths of his throat as he tried to rearrange it into amusement.

He was flattered, though, in many ways.

  No one had referred to his wings as beautiful before. Nor any other part of him, for that matter.

  "Thank you - I appreciate that;" He muses softly, pausing to tuck his spindly, eerily moving legs beneath him as he lowers himself to the ground beside her. He does not usually put himself in such a predicament, but he has pity for her and her undesired injury, and her enchanting light glows deep within her eyes. He cannot pull away. He finally settles his wings along his spine once more, folding them carefully. "My name is Elysium. And yours?"

 

elysium

no mercy from the edge of the blade,
dare escape and learn the price to be paid.

watch your tongue or have it cut from your head,
save your life by keeping whispers unsaid.

   He cannot resist maintaining the very same smirk that has remained, observing her carefully. At such close proximity, he can see every feature and taste every detail - his sensitive hearing catches the faint but rattling beat of her pounding heart and her quiet breathing, and he can sense her warmth near his unusually icy skin. He adjusts and shifted his four forelegs beneath him, folding them carefully as he lays beside her - something he normally did not make a habit of. At the end of each leg is an unusual shape; a padded paw with sharpened claws, which idly rake at the moist soil as he grips the earth tightly.

  She begins to fumble over her words, and he finds it enticing - she is truly an illumination unto herself, and with the moonlight bathing her copper skin so beautifully, highlighting her gentle, delicate and feminine features, he feels something stir within him that he hadn't before. He can sense her longing stares, and it would be a lie on his behalf if he were to pretend he were not grateful for the attention. It was not often anyone - or anything - pined over him, and he can feel her urging seeping through her pores. She utters her name (Speck) and he finds that she is anything but a mere speck - she is the entire moon, the stars and the sun combined, and he is drawn in as a moth to its dangerous flame.

  He watches her closely as she drapes her unusual tresses across her neck, tempting him further. Though she may not see her as alluring as he does, she has invited him in closer and he is not one to turn such a stunning creature down. He leans forward, his breath gentle tickling her ear as he brushes the flattened, barren part of his nose down her neck to the nape, breathing her scent in deeply. He can hear her breath catch and it draws a much more wicked grin - her anxious giggles only spur him on further, and soon he has leaned close enough to press his lips along her jaw. A brief touch; a light kiss.

  "Tell me, Speck .. where are you from? I want you know you." 

   I want you, he only says to himself.

elysium

no mercy from the edge of the blade,
dare escape and learn the price to be paid.

watch your tongue or have it cut from your head,
save your life by keeping whispers unsaid.

  His breath his warm on her neck as he gently brushes his cheek along her brightly painted tresses, inhaling the soft, sweet scent of dirt and sweat that lingers on her skin. He does not see her gesture to the open plain, though he can feel her move her head away from him as she does - and he takes this opportunity to brush his lips along her jawline. Little did she realize that he was not experienced at all; he remained a distance to most everyone he came across and intimacy was something of a difficult thing to come across. She drew him in though, so deeply wound up that he was unsure of how he would untangle himself. 

  The entirety of the moon continues to bathe them in its light, highlighting her feminine features, which he observes carefully. He turns now, his jaw brushing along her sloping spine and what little he can reached of her shoulder and the soft curve of her belly. The touch is short lived, however, as he begins to unfold his multitude of legs from beneath him, standing slowly. 

   His shadow looms over her for a moment, his wings outstretched once more as he flexes them at his side. He shakes them of their stiffness, and once more, intricate shadows fall upon her copper pelt. He leans down, his unusual eyes set on her as he presses his cheek to her own for a moment.

  Quietly, "So did I, once. Solitude is no life to keep. Come with me, Speck," - he does not know why something so deep within him beckons him to urge her, but it does, and he obeys - "leave this behind. I know of a place that will take your breath away."

  He recognizes the treasure he has found, and he longs to make her his own.
 

elysium

no mercy from the edge of the blade,
dare escape and learn the price to be paid.