cant keep my hands to myself [capture]

[Kirin]

you're metophorical gin and juice
so come on give me a taste
of what its like to be next to you

The nights are not dark but they are full of terrors. Terrors he has made or let unfold and why stop them? Kirin coveted his terrible things, even if they did not know just how much he adored them, he would never stop. Stopping was for quitters and he was no quitter, he was a son of Khaos. They were meant for greater things and they should have them, thus there was no stopping the thirst for the awful- there was only indulgence.

He has indulged many times over and he would continue to placate his thirst for as long as he could. As Autumn whistles with wind and leaves into the ocean reaches of the Cove he feels awakened- alive. The smell of many wafts in tantalizing currents out to sea and he gobbles them up with a sharp intake of breath. There are so few that linger now and still fewer that he would bother calling out to, but there is still one. Capture.

The girl had been unceremoniously delivered to his doorstep. Dropped off young and sightless and naive to the world around her, left to fend for herself amongst wolves. You know it’s true.

Ah, but she had struck luck at birth, graced with gifts for moisture and thus she remained a valuable asset. It helped too that she had taken to the lavender brute so swimmingly, tucked herself into him and allowed him to devour her innocence in such ways that only a man could. Those explicit moments he savoured, recalled with utmost delight on a rainy day and visualized further pursuing the endeavor again, and again. Kirin was an ever thirsting beast, perhaps he had obtained that characteristic from his Father, his only true parent.

It had angered him immensely to discover the dark woman he called Mother for so long was not truly his Dam. An imposter, artiface, traitor- dead. She met her end with pain and humiliation and he scowled as she crawled from his beaches to that of the dying lands. Kirin never looked back, he never grieved nor felt remorse. Instead a weight lifted with her passing and he felt free to continue all good works in the name of his Father, in the name of Khaos.

Time comes again to twine with the young silver and emerald girl. A shrill want leaving his lips as he overlooks the cliffs, standing on high like some madman, one hell bent on jumping. The thing about wings is you don’t fall, you fly...

Kirin

son of Khaos

@[capture]

[capture]

it's not perfect here between us, but even angels have their demons
trapped inside this twisted circle, it ain't right but it's eternal

When first she had come, she had smelled of dirt and earth and perhaps even death. It had clung to her skin like a memory, an omen, until a strange pair had ordered her into the ocean to bathe herself of it. The memory feels like it must have happened lifetimes ago, maybe even to someone else. But she can still remember it clearly. The rattle of unsteady lungs and the weight of the earth as her mother had entombed the body she thought to be dead. She remembers too the thrill of adrenaline she had felt, even then, even as a newborn, when she willed the water away so that her small grave crumbled dead around her allowing her to escape.

Now she smells of wild air, the kind that echoes the rain and wind and freedom. She smells like ocean and brine, can feel the way the salt has dried her mane in tangling curls that lay half-damp against the steel and grey of her delicate neck. There is nothing she loves more than this, more than the ocean at her feet and the wind carrying her thoughts as high as the clouds and further.

Nothing, except perhaps the lavender pegasus who has only ever been kind to her.

Just as she thinks of him, her small face swiveling to see if she might not be able to catch the sound of his voice reverberating off the stony cove walls, he calls to her. She can tell by the way it echoes off of every stone surface that he is perched somewhere high above his kingdom, so she twists towards the sound, finally graceful after years of cut legs and scraped knees. Despite the sightlessness of her milky blue eyes, she lifts her face to catch the warmth of the sunlight, frozen for a moment as the wind whips around her smelling of the deep sea.

Then she responds to him, but it is not with words, not with a return whinny as shrill as his. It is with the ocean, which she pulls towards herself like a tide, funneling the water up around her so that she is swallowed at its open center. Only when the twisting spiral is tall enough to be seen from anywhere in the cove does she release it to crash outward and away from her so that it runs in winding streams back along the beach. She knows that he will have seen her response, that he will come find her should he want to see her. Capture, blind as she is, is not made to climb the stone and shale ridges of the Coves rock walls like so many of the others can. She is made for the bright and white sediment of the beach, made for the oceans gentle, lapping waves.

CAPTURE

azriel x swift

[Kirin]

you're metophorical gin and juice
so come on give me a taste
of what its like to be next to you

Waves crash against the craggy sides of his perch as he waits, eyes and ears straining for sight, sound. She had been the most perfect gift, one such present that he would not easily let go of or forget. The years in which he had held her beauty and power seemed endless on occasion and in other moments it passed all too quickly. Those nights when he clasped her breath within cupped hands and traced feathers along trembling muscles were those to pass for too soon, much too abrupt though they could be tangled for hours.

Moonlight reaches along the seascape with diamond like fingers, twisting shine and sparkle to a place that deserved naught. The nights would never bestow the darkness in which the lands had forged its name and reputation and Kirin quite liked it that way. It was unassuming, it was a farce in the face to all those stricken beauty-struck by its wonder. It reflects in silvered-eyes, plays glowing light on lavender skin and beams bright from the sands below. The moon too gives light to a tower of water that  propels itself upward, twirling tower-tall and reaching for the sky in a great spire before it filters back to whence it came.

He smiles, twisting his body in the direction of the source, leaping from the ledge to circle upwards into the night sky. Eyes darting into the sand-covered walkways and soon his body follows to glide gently downward, stepping softly against the giving surface as he lands  before her. Capture.” The name flows like a memory from his whiskey lips, wings tucking to his sides before he would make to breach her space. Just a nibble of salt-washed skin to great her, his own exhale of breath finding her nose before he speaks again.

“You’ve been practicing, I am glad. Have you missed me?” He wonders, bringing a single wing from his side to slide gently over her form as he asks. “I want another night with you Capture, to restore to you what we’ve lost before.” Of course he meant their first child, where the little thing had managed to wander off to he wouldn’t know, it was simply gone, vanished. There was little hope of survival, too many ledges, an endless bay of water, all manner of sea-predators at its disposal. It was best not to think too hard on it so he didn’t, he moved on certain they could try again and do better.

He was ever gentle to her, far more tender a lover than his otherwise dubious actions in the forest or the women that were simply toys to him. There was less blood for instance, if any at all, no tears to be shed against the gentle sway of their bodies. Kirin held few of the mares in such high regard but the jade and silver girl should never fear treatment as a ragdoll, she was special and she was his.

Kirin

son of Khaos