"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
Her voice is soft, and as smooth as a river stone – quietly, she emerges from the shadow of the thicket, her mismatched eyes alight with indiscernible emotion – while her teeth are bared in a wide, cunning smile. There is little else but darkness, but she has never known anything else. The shadow of evenfall caresses her skin, soothing the warmth stirred to the surface by her rapid heartbeat and rush of adrenaline. The pale moonlight is bleak, and cannot overcome the density of the looming canopy overhead – but ever so slightly, it manages to sneak between the splayed branches, bathing her in its celestial light.
Across her forehead and draped over her single blackened eye lay a stripe of ivory; the only part of her separating her from the heavy darkness enveloping the forest. And he, bright and blinding – as unabashedly alabaster as the full moon itself, glowing beneath its streaked light, and she is drawn to him as a moth is to a flame. His eyes are dark, insidious (oh, how it sends a shiver of excitement down the length of her spine) but a deep abyss of bloodstained red – a beacon, drawing her in.
Quietly, she closes the vacant space that lay between them, her slate skin in sharp contrast to the paleness of his own, and her shoulder presses against his – urging him to stop; unafraid of his prowess (for she has a prowess of her own, and she had shown it to him – what she is capable of; what she can do). Her breath is warm across his cheek, as her mismatched eyes trace the faint scarring beneath his pristine skin – he is battle worn; fearless and relentless.
Her mouth is ravenous, and her lips are hungry, lightly touching his jawline – tasting the musk and sweat that cling there, beneath his long and tangled tresses, and softly, she speaks.
”Tell me, what you have in mind – will it ruin lives?” Her words are but a whisper, quivering with excitement, flush against his skin in the shadow of dusk – waiting.
The wings are gone, ripped from his body in the dead of night. A punishment he figures for what he has done, had done. A cruel reminder that he is only mortal unlike those he seeks and guides. That he will never be one of them, he will always just be the scientist. The observer. The man behind the puppet strings. The one who can lead but not partake. It’s not that he can’t accomplish his goals without the help of magic. He has accomplished so much with just the cartilage of his hooves, the rip of his teeth, the force of his tongue. It’s just the spitefulness of the situation. How do so many unworthy of these powers gain them and yet he is left with nothing? One who would test the limits of magic themselves, study it, use it to it’s full advantage? Not waste it like they do. Nothing aggravates him more. At least with the wings he had something, it was merely a taste but it had been enough at the time. Now his body is stripped and he licks at his lips as his face darkens. How this world will pay for their ignorance.
There is suddenly a shadow wrapping itself around him and he unthinkingly allows himself to be drawn into it’s embrace. It takes him a second to realize it’s actually a living breathing thing, not the cool caress of air and mystery. Thana, the one who had ripped trees from their roots and thrown them about as if they were nothing. All without moving, a simple flick of her mind. The newest addition to the band of merry men, another to join the ranks of the dark underbelly.
The subtle glimpses of moonlight graze along the angles of her dark face. Ebony and ivory, contrasting starkly against each other. Her body wraps alongside his and his bad mood subsides slightly, pressing his teeth sharply into the blue flesh of her shoulder. He has had many woman and few had been willing. None though have ever been as forward as she. This enigma who could probably destroy him if she had the chance and yet seems to have seen what he is capable of with his own bare hooves. The way she looks at him, the way her mouth finds his jaw. He is still but his gaze seem to burn hotter as she hungrily explores his pale skin.
Tangled tendrils the color of dirty snow fall across his hungry blooded eyes. His lips pulling roughly at the hair at the base of her nape. The quiver in her expectant voice igniting his desire for bloodshed and violence once more. ”We will make mothers weep over the bodies of their children.” A snarl curling at the corner of his lips as her touch travels, warming up to his subject. ”Lovers will spurn each other, families will be ripped apart.” He laughs but it is cold and harsh. ”So many bodies… So much death.” He pulls harder on her mane, turning her to him. ”How many will you kill in my name?” He whispers huskily into her ear. ”Who will you kill now to prove your loyalty?” Her beauty and bloodthirsty will mean nothing if she is untrustworthy.
She can see the gleam of darkness lurking in his eye – it is the irresistible draw that pulls her closer to him, with her quivering skin pressed flush against the surface of his body. Her trembling is not from fear – she is not frightened by him, nor is she driven away by the insatiable hunger in the slow drawl of his deep, sinister tone of voice – quite the contrary.
Gently, her mouth presses greedily to his ivory skin, tasting the remnants of musk and sweat that cling precariously to the surface. Her dark lips curl as her perfectly aligned teeth are bared, pushing into the supple flesh and muscle of his neck, tracing the ridge of its column with a low crooning noise, muffled from the very depths of her tight, constricted throat.
His tangled, matted tresses fall across her cheek – stark in comparison to the inky indigo of her own skin, and gently, her teeth grip onto a lock, pulling him nearer to her. Her breath is warm across her neck, with a longing that is more than sexual – its long, languid claws reach from deep within the pit of her roiling belly; a yearning beyond a physical lust. Her mind is tingling with excitement, and rampant with lurid thoughts of spilt blood, of carnage. She is youthful, but it does not stave away the darkness lingering in the shadow of her gaze, boring into his own as he breathes against her skin, roused by her eagerness.
When his own mouth and teeth find her, she cannot suppress the wry, sardonic laugh from escaping her lips – a hitched gasp rising from her parted mouth, while her two-toned gaze settles upon him, studying the hatred burning within the burning, scalding weight of his gaze. His words are carefully crafted and laced with abhorrence and ferocity, while his teeth clasp onto her own wavy tresses, pulling her harder against him. A low, humorless chuckle bubbles up, as his husky whisper stirs a tingle inside of her mind, traversing the length of her spine and draping over the canvas of her body.
”So many promises you make, Gryffen,” she utters through tightly clenched teeth, a shudder of delight causing her to stir against him – but with only a simple toss of her neck, she is freed from him, encircling him, watching him all the while. ”I hope that you can keep them. I could be a very valuable asset to you, but my loyalty comes at a non-negotiable price,” and now, the corner of her mouth twitches with a coy smile. ”and should you be willing to pay the price, I would seek to show you my loyalty with spilled blood.”
Never in his lifetime has he found anything close to a consort, anyone that saw the world the way he did. There are still differences between them, she craves a chaos that lacks control but beauty can form when opposites attract and entangle. Much as their bodies do now. There is a soft sinister laughter that spills from pale lips, red eyes glittering as they dance about each other. Pulling roughly at strands of hair, leaving teeth marks in each other’s flesh. ”What a wicked thing you are my bluebird…” He hisses into her ear, rough biting kisses finding themselves against the crook of her neck.
There could be sex, oh the desire is there. They both know as they languish about it. Such sensual danger lurking between them but it’s much more fun to draw it out. Besides there was much foreplay to be had. He wants her, he will have her, but more desirable is to watch her. Watch what he knows she is capable of.
”Promises I can keep with you by my side…” A husky rolling growl as she pulls away from him, circling him, teasing him. The tantalizing sway of her hips as he stands still, merely following her with the crimson of his dark eyes. The smile frozen on his lips, cold and sadistic. ”Oh we all have a price pet…” With a snarl he lunges forward, throwing himself in her path as she circles back around him. Pressing his chest against hers as his mouth hungrily finds her. It is rough but far from unpleasant, not for the likes of them. Stained teeth graze down her jaw as hard as it takes to elicit a response from her.
