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all the weight of my intentions; offspring - isle - 03-22-2016 hold my hand, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river Isle RE: all the weight of my intentions; offspring - Offspring - 03-22-2016 when you fall I'll be the only one who looks away; when you call I'll be the first to tell you I can't stay.
He delights in the way her lips touch and caress his skin, even into the newly birthed light of morning. He savors the dim lighting of a rising sun, still cast in the shadows with her tightly held in his embrace, bathing in its faint light as it slowly permeates and penetrates the thick forest canopy. He tastes her again and again, showering her in affections as silence falls comfortably between them. Between intermittent dozing and soft, breathy kisses, he has fallen into a lull, comfortable to remain within these moments of solace with her for eternity, if at all possible. But as with all things, good things must eventually come to an end. He stirs as she shifts away from him, her warmth suddenly absent from his side as she draws away. His deep crimson gaze follows her carefully, observing her every moment. He does not want her to fade away into the morning, like a beautiful, tumultuous dream, leaving him drenched in sweat and with an aching heart - but she does not. She lingers, the warmth of her own eyes meeting his, and his heart soothes .. though he knows this sudden distance may mean something he does not want to contend with. I'll follow you anywhere, she says earnestly, yet he can sense a deeply imbedded but lingering at the end of the sentence, and he is not disappointed by his own intuition when she presses on. But I need to see my mother first, I understand something now that I didn’t before. Her words swirl and swim in his mind as the tired, weary gears begin to turn. He tries to focus on her previous statement - a verbal agreement; a confirmation of her feelings for him - rather than linger on the dread that is beginning to well up within his chest. She has not parted abruptly this time, and for that he is grateful, but he cannot ward away the ache of pain that dully throbs in his chest. As if sensing his hesitation, she says to him, I will always come back to you, Offspring, I promise. I only need three days. And three days feels like an eternity to him in that moment, even with the many tens of thousands of days he has lived. He nods slowly to acknowledge her, though the aching does not cease. It grows, filled with a despairing longing that will surely eat away at him in pieces, like a flesh eating bacteria, gnawing away at his well being until she was with him again. He swallows it, willing it away as his eyes meet with hers. "If you must go, I will not stop you. I will see you in three days, Isle. He murmurs gently to her as her lips touch his cheek, and then she is gone, and suddenly the darkness of sunrise settles into his flesh and he feels altogether alone. It is time to descend to the icy confines of his dwelling now, and leave the heated kisses, lustful touches and intimate moments beneath the forest canopy. He watches her go, doubt etched in his features but a bubbling of hope festers in his heart and he knows that somehow, she would find her way back to him. As she disappears from his sight, he stirs and flexes his sore, tired muscles, stirring them to life as he finally shakes himself away from the embrace of morning and turns the other way. Home. -- Much has changed in only a few days, and it is only within the depths of the icy embrace of evening that he longs for her most. She is never gone from his mind - far from it, but he is now filled with a terrible longing that has far exceeded even his own expectations. He had returned to the kingdom of ice, beckoned by his King and urged to step into the Brotherhood - and now he remains, scarred by its experiences emotionally and physically. His mind often falls into short, breathy lapses as he draws onto those heart-wrenching memories that had been drudged up by the inner demons that lie within. He had seen death, despair and loss, within minutes - hours? - he could not possibly know; his time spent in the cave felt like it had lasted an eternity, but it had also happened so quickly his mind had hardly been able to process the terror it had left behind. He had pressed through, in spite of the scourge that had settled into his weary heart, and his mind now draws between the living nightmare he had endured, along with his anxious hunger to touch and kiss his sweet Isle again. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, he draws upon the word King and its meaning. Something had been seen within him for the alabaster monarch to pass the torch unto him, and now the title he held weighed heavily on him and his own mind. He felt as if he was pulled in many directions, altogether torn, his mind a constant turmoil of uncertainty. Now, in the dying light of evening, the dawn of the the third day fast approaches. The stark, white scar has settled onto his skin (he had seen it in his own reflection, admired its smooth lines and sharp contrast), forever pressed onto his left cheek - a permanent marking of his Brotherhood to the icy kingdom. His massive stature shifts in the pale moonlight as it begins to peek through the heavy clouds that lazily drift through the sky, blanketing the dying valley in its darkness. He stirs and flexes, stimulating his blood to flow to his tired, cold extremities, his weary mind altogether aware of how many days had passed since he had last seen her. The King of the Tundra had much on his mind, many changes to implement and many more lives in his care now. He was no longer a wanderer, but a leader, and the severity of it weighed on his mind as the reality of it sunk into the recesses of his mind. He knew he would have to take the title and absorb it and allow it to permeate his icy, stoic exterior - he would have to exude the same warmth he had harbored within so long, while also holding a demeanor of strength and courage in difficult times. It was no burden; it was an honor. One that might take getting used to, and one that might take convincing for others to see as well. With a deep, heavy sigh, he pulls himself from his reverie as he stirs and pushes forward from the comfort of the shadows. He shakes his tangled tresses as he wanders forward, his weight pressing thick prints into the hardening soil. Winter is approaching, and though the tundra flatland has grown dry and brittle in previous days, it is only a matter of time until the icy embrace of winter envelopes itself around the land, blanketing in thick, pristine snow. This soothes him, as the cold is meant for a hefty beast such as himself. He looks forward to it, and awaits its presence. He pauses to drink in the sight of his land, of his kingdom. He wonders for a moment what she will think, how she will react when she finds out. Would she turn away and leave? Would she view him differently? Dread again rose up within his mind. He did not want it to alter what he shared with her, for he was the very same he had always been and would always be .. but he knew time might have to be the all-telling factor to make her believe such things. Their love was still so new, so fresh that it reminded him of a newly birthed spring, bright with its allure of new life, warm with the promises of sunshine and tasting as sweet as the flowers that scatter and blossom about. There were still many things about her he did not know, that he ached to know - and many things about himself that he had not shared and might never share. If she were to return to him, that is. With a deep, breathy sigh, he walks on, his limbs shifting to and fro as he stalks the perimeter of the border. Brynmor was usually so dedicated to this task on his own, yet this evening, he must have found himself wrapped up in the affections of another - Roan, he had come to know her name to be, and he suppresses a smile at the thought. He is interrupted by his own thoughts as a sweet, familiar scent rises in the air. Flora and fauna. His heart skips a beat within his chest and he moves faster now, to the very slim entrance at the base of their wall of ice, uncertain but hopeful that dawn will bring with it his sweet Isle. And there she is. Aglow beneath the light of rising sun and changing sky, her gentle, kind features are illuminated, warming him to the bone. She is as lovely as he remembers, caressed by the light of morning, and again, his heart is soothed. He barely noticed the rising wind, which tangled itself in his tresses, pressing them away from his crimson eyes, which bore into her as he took in the sight of her. He presses past the barrier of ice, closing the space between them and drawing her close as he presses his whiskered lips to her cheek, taking in the sight and scent of her so near to him again. The corners of his lips press into a smile as he studies her, his breath icy against her cheek - she knew not yet of his newly acquired, altogether terrifying power of ice control, and he would hide it away for now, though it had already settled into his skin and his blood and in spite of the warmth he exuded, there was still an icy bite to his touch now and again. "What took you so long?" He teases, a low rumbling chuckle rising in his throat as he kisses her again, brushing her dark tendrils of hair away from her beautiful eyes. "I have missed you, Isle," He breathed, drawing her closer as the icy chill of morning settles in. "and there are not enough words to say how glad I am that you have come." the ice king of the tundra OFFSPRING Here, have a book. :| I don't even know why I wrote so much. Word vomit, everywhere. No need to regard the first part - I just wanted to conclude. :) RE: all the weight of my intentions; offspring - isle - 03-22-2016 hold my hand, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river Isle RE: all the weight of my intentions; offspring - Offspring - 03-23-2016 when you fall I'll be the only one who looks away; when you call I'll be the first to tell you I can't stay.
He cannot get enough of her gentle touch and her warm breath on his skin; he has felt absent of warmth for days now and it felt undeniably addictive to draw her close to him - to feel her every fiber stirring within. Caressing her skin with his own, he breathes a deep, elongated sigh that reaches to the very deepest inlets of his lungs, as if he had been holding his breath for the entirety of their time apart. His icy breath brushes over her skin, which he finds to be frosty to the touch - while he may have a bite to his touch, he is still warmth and comfort and he drapes himself so very close to her to provide her with what he has to offer. The way she murmurs his name causes his heart to swell twice its size within the tight confines of his heart, and for a moment, he closes his eyes and allows himself to fall into the lull of her adoring embrace. There is nothing that can come close to this emotion that ebbs and flows, overwhelming the stoic stallion and washing away his every insecurity and shred of doubt with each lingering wave of her affection. He loses himself in it for a moment, savoring the way her heart pounds and thumps raggedly against his chest and the way that she curls into him with such flawless perfection that he is certain that somehow, in spite of the many years and miles that have separated them, they must have been created of the same mold. Soon, she parts from him, but he does not protest - he, too, wants to see her gleaming eyes as they shine in the beautiful pale sunlight of morning. The hefty ice wall that lay behind him gleams, too, with gentle shards of ice reflecting the brilliant light of the rising sun, causing flickers of orange and yellow and pink to litter their skin and taint the plain below their hooves. He decides he has never seen anything more breathtaking than her bathing in the illumination of dawn, his deep crimson eyes taking in the very sight of her, pristine and fragile and irrefutably stunning. She pauses to admire his new mark, which he at times forgets is present. A deep, rolling chuckle rumbles from the depths of his chest. "It is a long story, but I am altogether unsure myself. The ruins that lie within the walls of this kingdom are equipped with a deep source of magic all their own, and upon entering the Brotherhood, we men surrender to our inner demons and relinquish our skin to its marking. It does not hurt - not afterwards, at least," He muses, recalling the searing pain of festering, open wounds that had vanished the moment he stepped out of the infamously dangerous cave opening. His skin still bristled from the memory, yet there had been little harm done. "and it symbolizes my unity with the others." His lips continue their descent along her cheek and jawline, his cheek pressed against her neck as he nears her again. He breathes in her scent, allowing it to wash over him and lace its way through his memory, permanently becoming a piece of him as well. He cannot imagine anything sweeter, and yet her kisses never cease to astound him. She chastises him gently for his confession, but he too laughs with her as his neck drapes around hers, his whiskered lips pressed to her skin again. She melts into his embrace, and he is again content to hold her until dust and then dawn again. Her quiet whisper draws out his rugged, scratchy voice again, which rumbles softly over the sound of the whistling wind as it whips through the passage. "I will spend every evening telling you of all the ways I cannot get enough of you and all of the reasons why." He promises gently, but amusement is soon evident on his otherwise set, stoic features. His lips curve into a simper as she steps away from him, peering through the slim passage that leads to the wide, brilliantly open flatland of the icy tundra. She utters doubt and uncertainty about her presence in such a land, wary of acceptance and anxious with woe. He follows her, his hefty stature settling beside her - side by side - as he lips affectionately at her dark tresses, with icy snowflakes tangled amidst her locks. "I have never been more certain of anything, Isle." He pauses, his smile changing into a smirk as he studies her worrisome expression. "You see, you couldn't be more right in saying much has changed in a few days. I gained more than a mark of Brotherhood upon my return - I also gained the throne. I am now the King of these lands, and you have never been more welcome. My men will accept you, as I already have." the ice king of the tundra OFFSPRING RE: all the weight of my intentions; offspring - isle - 03-24-2016 hold my hand, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river Isle RE: all the weight of my intentions; offspring - Offspring - 03-26-2016 when you fall I'll be the only one who looks away; when you call I'll be the first to tell you I can't stay.
She is breathtaking; alight with the glow of winter's caressing dawn and illuminated by the warm hearth of her own giving heart. He can feel her against him, fragile and slight, and he aches to mend her wounds with the shakily placed stitches of his hot kisses. With eyelids closed over his searing eyes, he savors the sensation of her brushing her own lips across his cheek, across his stark marking of alabaster and fire, listening to the soft rumble of her throat as she speaks gently to him. He could spend an eternity beside her, listening to her softly spoken worries and curiosities, but life never plays fair. Her question draws a deep chuckle from him once again, rattling his throat as his thick lashes part to allow him to look at her again, taking in her doe-eyed intrigue and the soft features and how the light of morning so gracefully illuminates every sweeping line and crevice of her exquisite femininity. He is drawn to her with an urge that is altogether masculine and fueled by testosterone, though his heart drives him closer to her as he craves her presence and her every waking moment. He is taken by her, with her and for her - he cannot fathom wanting anything more. "It is. It's the very same magic." He muses softly, though his amusement falls away as he feels her tense beside him. Her features grow much more intense by the second, filled with disdain for an unseen force that he cannot feel himself. She curls into him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, burying himself into him as if she were trying to burrow her way through is flesh and bones, to become one with him. He traces the length of her neck, nibbling what skin is left exposed to him as he caresses his jawline along her nape. He holds her close in an attempt to soothe her, but her broken words soon show him the source of her anxiety. But not now? "No, not now. It healed the moment I stepped out of the cave; it hasn't hurt since. I remember the pain vividly but it has not bothered me in the days since." He murmurs softly to her, urging her to be comforted by his words. He can sense her hesitance and he holds her close, allowing the icy flakes that have begun falling from the sky to envelope them, cradling them in its wintry wonder as he falls into silence. He does not allow his thoughts to overpower the moment; forbidding them entrance into the intimacy of their embrace. He wants to hold onto his moment for as long as he is able. He wants to protect her, to evoke her deepest insecurities and console her with his adoring touch and quiet words. Then I will spend every evening loving you, she says, and his heart sinks to the depths of his being. His chest begins to grow tight, taut with wisdom and angst and vexation. Love is a four letter word with enough strength to fall even the most brawny, powerful of men, and enough power to take the fragility of life and tear it into small, infinitesimal shreds. He swallows the bile that seems to linger at the bottom of his throat, bubbling with a faint thread of anxiety that trembles in his core. To love is to allow oneself to get too close, and loss was something he was not certain he could yet handle. Instead, he draws his lips across her cheek with a gentle kiss, urging her to understand his own unspoken adoration. She falters beside him, and he watches as she crumbles within her own mind as he utters the word King. She falls away within herself, pulling away into a shell that he cannot hope to penetrate, though he will try for an eternity. He presses close to her again, urgently wanting to comfort her but she is too far gone. Insecurities simmer within her stunning doe-eyes, which he admires for a long moment as he traces the flat of his nose along his jawline before brushing away her stray locks of hair, which are now encased in soft white snowflakes. A natural leader, she utters, but not without a trace of longing and doubt and dread. "It is a title and only a title, Isle," He murmurs softly, drawing her to him as he drapes himself over her once more, warming her with the comfort of his heat and yet at the core, ice chills him. "and though I cannot read minds as you can, I know what you are thinking. I want you, the very same that I did three days ago and even months ago. You've made me feel alive for the first time in so long," (and he would never tell her how long,) "and I want you by my side. And only you. You are here now, and that is what matters. I see strength and promise in this kingdom, and I will do what I can for my brothers - but when it is all said and done and I pass the throne to another, it is with you I will run away with into the mountains. I promise you." the ice king of the tundra OFFSPRING RE: all the weight of my intentions; offspring - isle - 03-30-2016 hold my hand, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river Isle |