"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
And after the blood had been spilled and the bodies laid to grass in the northlands – the Deserts were quiet again. They had never been a kingdom of flamboyance or one known to harbor particularly raucous souls (unless you riled them of course), so the stillness is nothing but comfort and familiarity. A notion quite appreciated as he had waited for the stench of death to fall from his ink-black hide.
Above the Nightwalker, the sky was littered in stars that lit the shadows beneath the dunes and tinged the horizon in the muted color of the lilac that grew around the Meadow’s edge. After his return from war and the birth of his newest son, the black king had found that privacy with his family had been the most poignant of ways to smooth away the tautness that remained even after the wounds of the war had healed.
But he had idled in his reprieve too long and saw to sending Kratos to the Falls and now he sought the sight of his little smoke girl. So the dragon-winged king ventured towards the oasis that he had known to be her favorite and he called for her.
04-12-2016, 07:05 PM (This post was last modified: 04-12-2016, 07:10 PM by Volcan.)
Volcan
Burn slow, burning up the back wall Long roads, where the city meets the sky
The war-time passed slowly for the smoke girl inside the oasis he made to protect them, the children. Loneliness fraught her through most nights. Encountering other babes never truly enticed the child, for her mind surpassed theirs’; her time spent trapped another universe did not leave her unmarked. Doubly so is this true when considering her growing power; when she found herself in the throes of boredom, Volcan would practice her worldly manipulation. The sand was the was the easiest to subdue, as she was born from its mouth; other substances required more practice, and practice she did.
The war is over now, though. The blood has run through their sands and she is safe to step into it once again, older, and wiser. Contrary to the other foals, however, Volcan remains cocooned in the oasis, enthralled by the life surrounding her. Another force stays her departure, too, however. A powerful force, one of midnight and gentility.
This night, he comes.
At the sound of his voice, Volcan leaves her home behind, and reemerges to the desert as something of a woman; the yearling towers on fumbling legs and has grown in some places, but not at all in others. Her coordination often fails her, but as she walks towards him with the open, starry sky above her head, she does not fall.
Although she is no longer the tiny babe he rescued many nightfalls ago, Volcan is still a hill to his mountain. When she closes the distance between them, her first action is to nestle into his side, much as she had that first fateful day. The warmth of his wings lend the smoke girl solace, and she smiles, lips pressing into the crook of the king’s warm, soft elbow.
“You were gone for a long time, daddy. I’m glad you’re okay.”
This is not the end, this is just the world Such a foolish thing, such an honest girl
It is when she slips from the oasis from almost the same spot he left her in, that his heart truly tumbles for her for the first time. She had been such a little thing when the titan had gathered her from the shadows, his little girl of smoke. But now she comes, almost fully grown and regret aches his soul for the selfishness that kept him from at least checking on her at his earliest arrival home from the war. She had waited for him, just as he had asked her to do, safe and nestled in the stronghold he had built for the children before he left - one she was likely far too large for now.
But she nestles herself into his side and envelopes her in a bone-armored wing, “I know, I’m sorry I was gone so long, sweet girl.” He rumbles softly into her neck, guilt slithering down his spine like a chill and so he says, “you are almost grown, soon you will want to leave your old grouchy father anyway.” The smile that played across her lips assures him she is still too young, too naive to harbor any anger with him, she was merely contented he was home. And for that he is grateful. “Have you met any of your brothers or sisters yet?” He asks, once again letting the subject move further away from the thoughts that would inevitably plague him later. He was sure, at the least, Kitra had made her way around to investigate Volcan. Not that he was sure that was an entirely good thing – the princess was not exactly made of sugar and spice.
04-20-2016, 11:52 PM (This post was last modified: 04-20-2016, 11:53 PM by Volcan.)
Volcan
Burn slow, burning up the back wall Long roads, where the city meets the sky
It is fitting, that Vanquish would feel grateful for Volcan’s naive, gentle acceptance of his tardiness. If he only knew the dam of the sand-born child, he would be doubly grateful considering the nature of that same dam; but as of yet, having been hidden under the palms of the oasis trees for much too long, no one knows of her lineage. Not yet; not until another of Scorch’s harem happened upon the little Desertling.
“That’s not true,” She retorted softly, but passionately. Her nibbling turned into a tiny, almost laughable nip of loving reprimand. “You’re the only daddy I have, and I love you, grouchy or not.” Kissing the same spot on his shoulder - certainly it could never have healed otherwise - Volcan takes to gently manipulating Vanquish’s individual hairs, making fun patterns by pressing the hair one way or the other, like dominos.
Yes, a year of isolation can sharpen the mind - or snap it.
At the titan’s following question however, Volcan drops any pretense of playfulness and takes on a sheepish, abashed attitude, peeking up at the mountainous stallion through the corner of her slivered eye. “No, I didn’t really like seeing the other foals in there...” Her brow furrows. “And there wasn’t really anyone left in there by the end, but that’s not because I’m a wuss,” She pauses, struggling for the big word that her mind knew how to say, but her young tongue did not; “It’s because I’m obedient.” She grins, triumphant over the tribulations of having been snatched into the fourth dimension.
“I will meet them now though,” She states calmly; and then, with more enthusiasm, “I’ll meet everyone if you want me too!”
Dear, dear girl...
This is not the end, this is just the world Such a foolish thing, such an honest girl
I mean it this time when I say that this is the cutest fricken thread I have ever written :|
Also, fun to note that Vanquish has now raised two of Scorch's children. I am hopelessly in love with him <3
Double also, I am so sorry for replying so quickly, as I said, CUTE ASS THREAD.
05-17-2016, 06:44 PM (This post was last modified: 05-17-2016, 06:45 PM by Vanquish.)
It had never been a secret that the Nightwalker had always savored one particular trait in all of his women above all else – strength. He had loved Lyric’s unapologetic dominance, had been drawn in by Nocturnal’s fabled notoriety and to this day he was still lulled faithfully against Yael’s side, reborn in her raw power. And so it was only a fitting thing that the daughter of Scorch came to the black king. And even in his ignorance of her lineage, he had felt the craving to rear her as his own.
It is that same power the makes him swell with a soft pride as the tethers of her telekinesis tousle his coat, sending a warm ripple across his raven-black flesh. “I love you too, little smoke girl,” he says, feeling none of the unease he had felt in showing affection to his offspring in his younger years – children were meant to be bolstered and encouraged, put upon a pedestal by expectant and praising parents.
When her brow furrows and she speaks of not enjoying the company of the other desert foals, he isn’t surprised, “No,” he says, peering down at her fondly, “I wouldn’t think that you would.” Power preyed upon souls in two ways, pushing some away and pulling others closer. Souls like his would come to her like moths to flame while others would shy away like scolded dogs. Her next comment causes a great rumbling chuckle to spill past his lips at her pleasure in being obedient. “Of course you are no wuss, there are no fragile links in our chain,” he says, nudging her cheek with his velvet mouth.
He had spoken to Kratos about the girl before his departure for the war so when she says she has yet to meet any of them, a single tufted ear twitches with irritation. But his displeasure doesn’t weigh on the grin that sits on his lips, instead he asks, “would you like to go to the sea today?”
.
vanquish
black king of the deserts
OOC - Sorry this took so long! They are legit adorable and he loves his floof.
