"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
CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT & SATISFACTION BROUGHT HIM BACK
Briny salt from the sea wind clings to Dahmer's obsidian mane, the strands tousled and tangled. He moves along the shoreline leisurely, letting his hooves sink into the moist sands and the salty breeze swirl in his nose. He much prefers the center of Tephra, nearer to the volcano where the air is heavy and humid, but there are not many who venture to the ends of their home and so he brings himself here for solitude. He concentrates on his own breathing as he goes, pace quickening to a trot, his muscled chest expanding and contracting powerfully.
He pushes Scyla from his mind as he begins his early dawn walk ─ his troubled sleep is a product of her turmoil this time, not of flashbacks from Carnage's lair, but it is troubled just the same. His blue eyes are red-ringed in his fatigue but the cool breeze from the ocean works to waken him slowly and when his gaze happens upon the golden frame of his beloved Ellyse, it's a warm and lazy smile that finds his lips. "You're up early," his voice rumbles quietly to her as he closes the distance and caresses his soft muzzle against her cheek.
He pulls back to gaze into her hazel eye before inspecting the lines of her face and the curve of her frame beneath her wings. "You're not up worrying about Smoak, are you?" The boy had taken off to Hyaline, adventuring away from home to find his friends. Dahmer had told him to be safe but never had he deterred the bone-armored colt from following his spontaneity. The black beast hadn't had that pleasure as a child ─ it's only right that he does not do the same thing to his own son.
"Do you have any fun diplomatic things that I may join you on today, or do I get you for myself?" he inquires warmly, his turquoise blue eyes never straying far from her lovely face.
Don't say I'm out of touch with this rampant chaos; your reality. I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge.
She is up with the sun, stirred from the depth of her fitful sleep by the gleam of sunlight painted across the waves lapping hungrily along the shoreline. Drawn to the brightening horizon, she is unable to chase away the unrest within and, so she must move. The nightmares are fewer and further between, and the ache in her heart has long since subsided, washed away with the ravenous tide like blackened particles of volcanic rock. She does not always fall asleep beside Dahmer, though she is most rested and most at ease when she does. The weight of the crown is heavy, and ill-fitting – there is no surge of pride, nor any delight or glee taken in it.
It was not meant for her.
It had never been meant for her, despite her fantasy of old (and whatever deep, wayward dream lay buried in the darkest recesses of her mind). Age was beginning to wear on her – and though youth still clutches to the curve of her jaw, to the sway of her barrel and the swell of her hip, her eye is tired and lined with sullen darkness that cannot be washed away with the salty brine of the sea nor forgotten with restful slumber. She had been biting, sharp-tongued and heedless in her youth, but that part of her had finally begun to slip away, as her children had – as love had, more than once – and as she matures, so does her desire.
She is pulled abruptly from her reverie by the familiar rumble of his deep and masculine tone, and so as quickly as her gaze hardened upon him, it softened, while he caresses her cheek. A faint smile is roused from her own fatigue, tugging at the corner of her mouth as her lips press against his cheek in turn, returning the warmth and affection she had come to know from him. His remark is merely an observation (the sky is still clinging tightly to the frayed edges of evenfall, where the light cannot yet reach), but his question is heavy, and a sheepish gleam surfaces within the golden flecks of her one eye.
”Guilty,” she muses softly (how does he know her so well?), thinking of her son, of their son. She had never connected well with her children – her heart twinges with pain at the thought of Joplin and Joaquin, lost to their own wildness, parted from her breast as quickly as their hungry mouths had found it – but Smoak .. he had never seen the darkness in her heart, not as the rest had. He reminded her so much of Canaan; of her first-born that had seen too much and known too much. Of her first-born that had been lost to her, because of her own greed, because of her own unfiltered mouth and recklessness. Wild, sociable, free, Smoak is, and she could not be prouder.
He is raw and unfiltered beauty, and his departure from Tephra does leave a void within her heart. A worry that he might forget her, that he might come to resent her, as all the rest have.
She does not deserve his love, nor his affection.
Just as she does not deserve the love and affection of Dahmer –
(but she is deeply, desperately in love with him – with his temperament, his wit, his charm and his strength, and so she is selfish, wanting all that he is willing to give to her)
His father had taught him much, and so had she, as did his aunt, Scyla.
He would not merely survive. He would thrive.
She can feel it, in her heart, and so she merely presses her forehead into the crook of his neck, feeling his pulse and savoring the comfort of his unwavering presence and his warmth – and she says nothing else about it.
A low chuckle rises from the tightness of her throat, where her emotion is trapped, suffocated, smothered down into her chest. ”I’m all yours,” she muses quietly with a featherlight kiss where his thrumming pulse lay, though her mind is elsewhere for a moment. ”Warrick has returned, Dahmer. I happened upon him, last night ..” she murmurs, ”I am turning Tephra over to him; he is what is best for the island.”
And then, finally: ”Have you ever felt .. like there is more? Something more, pulling you away from the life you have built, telling you elsewhere is where you belong?” Her brow creases; she is all too aware that she is not making sense. ”This feeling in my chest .. I don’t know how to explain it.”
She had felt it before. When she had left the Valley, when she had left the Gates -
CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT & SATISFACTION BROUGHT HIM BACK
She wears her age well ─ Ellyse is powerful, intelligent, seasoned. Her frame may feel her age, but to the black beast she is nothing short of stunning and formidable and the darkness that lines her hazel eye (those eyes that their son inherited) is just a part of the champagne mare that he has grown to know and love, unapologetically. And when the space disappears between them, he does not feel the age in her bones but instead the softness of her coat and the warmth of her skin. His nostrils inhale to trap the scent of her and for a few unhurried minutes, they lean into each other silently.
Guilty, she finally breaks the silence and Dahmer grins at her with mirth. The black beast does not push her further, knowing that while he may be able to push her more than anyone, Ellyse's natural response is to hide behind her stoicism. And so, he lets it lie, opting to lip lightly as her mane when the champagne mare pushes her head into the crook of his muscled obsidian neck. Dahmer hums warmly, the cobwebs of his sleep still clinging to turquoise eyes as the fold into each other.
I'm all yours, Ellyse responds with amusement and he thinks to tell her that he will never grow tired of hearing her say that, but there is an odd expression on her face as she pulls away and the black beast stays quiet, waiting for her to find her words. He is not surprised when the champagne mare speaks of Warrick ─ he had not had the pleasure of getting to know the blue-winged stallion well, but Dahmer had known Offspring and Ellyse to be fond of him, and that was more than enough. "While the crown suits you, kitten, I much prefer keeping you all to myself," he jests lightly, but the response that greets him on the other end is not something he had expected.
Dahmer takes a few moments to consider her question. He remembers the pull, the sort of agitated wanderlust that sits hot in the center of one's chest. The invisible pull to find more, the pull that says he belongs elsewhere. He feels it most when he thinks of the Subway, but he feels it, too, when he thinks of the bad he'd experienced in Beqanna. Tephra has come to rival his homeland, but nothing can erase the memories of Carnage's lair or Scyla's terrified face after she'd been assaulted. And so, Tephra has become less of a home ─ but only because he has found a new one.
"Yes," he says quietly as his blue eyes connect with her hazel one, "You've explained it just fine, love. And I will follow you wherever that feeling takes you. You are my home."
Don't say I'm out of touch with this rampant chaos; your reality. I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge.
An exasperated sigh emerges from her lips at the gentle jest and the coy use of a name penned for her in a moment of carnal pleasure; she cannot keep the color from rising to the pale gold of her cheekbones when it crosses his lips. Each time, it draws out the memory of his skin on her own, and she is made flustered all over again. Her brow line becomes furrowed with disdain, feigning distaste in the word, but any fool could see the affection beneath her glowering stare. Her lips quietly press a kiss to the crook of his neck, then, savoring the hum of his heartbeat beneath. Though burned not once, but twice by love, she does not shy away from the fire, and the blistering inferno of Dahmer is unlike any she has known before.
There is no uncertainty when the golden flecks of hazel meet with glacial blue, nor when he is intertwined with her, pulling her closer to him, bringing him closer to her. There is never a moment in which she is left doubting him; there is no need for any declaration nor decree – she is his, through and through, and she can feel it in the tender marrow of her bones that he is hers, too. A part of her had always belonged to him, from the moment their son emerged into the dark cavern, from the moment he knelt to cradle the life created by happenstance as if it were the most precious thing he had ever known.
The knot of worry is growing in the pit of her coiled belly; would he understand her meaning? Would he mistake it to mean that she is not content, that she is restless and hopeless? She would stay as long Warrick needed her. He needed to find his confidence, to find the strength she had always seen hidden behind his bright, starlit eyes – and soon, he would find it – but somewhere, there is something pulling her, and while the volcanic island had taken a piece of her, it would not be her final resting place. Of that she is certain.
But alas, her apprehension is unfounded!
A smile crosses her lips (had she ever felt the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach the way that she does with him?), hidden in the way she presses soft, featherlight kisses along his jawline and then the column of his neck. Her teeth affectionately pluck and pull at a knot tucked away within the darkness of his tresses, caressing the ridge of his shoulder where the scar of the feathered appendages that once rested there had finally begun to fade. ”I would follow you too, Dahmer. To whatever end.” She murmurs into the blackness of his skin, teeth grazing ever so lightly along his withers, wanting to feel him shiver and give into the warmth of her embrace. ”You are all that I need.”
CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT & SATISFACTION BROUGHT HIM BACK
The faux disdain that bristles across Ellyse's beautiful and scarred face at the term of endearment he'd attached to her feeds the amusement that simmers inside of Dahmer ─ the champagne mare is strong and fierce, and much, much more than just a mere kitten (he knows this without question), but having the ability to tease her just a little without worry of the one-eyed mare turning hostile is something that Dahmer will always take advantage of. Ellyse cannot completely hide that she is a fan of the coy pet name, though, despite the pout that clings to the corners of her mouth.
That pout draws his icy gaze and his eyes linger there for a moment. Her hazel eye draws him back though, as it always does, and he wonders at how pure and simple their relationship is. Even in their most intense moments (good and bad, alike) Dahmer knows without question that he has her at his side, just as she will always have him. So when it becomes evident that her pout is about more than just the nickname he has gifted her, it's simple enough for the black thoroughbred to shift away from amusement and towards concern for the champagne mare.
His response seems to calm the storm that rages inside of her and Dahmer greets her small smile with one of his own, soft muzzle pressing to the mare's cheek lovingly. Ellyse moves closer, removing her cheek from his touch but pressing kisses with her own muzzle down the muscle of his neck and to his scarred shoulder. Dahmer sighs contentedly, leaning into her touch as she murmurs with warm breath against his ebony coat. The gentle pluck of her blunted teeth draws and shiver down the stallion's spine and he chuckles with warmth as his lips press against her back and his turquoise eyes look out over the expansive ocean with its dark, roiling tide.
"And you are all that I need, my love. I cannot wait to see where our lives take us." He is silent for a moment before letting a gentle sigh fall from his lips. He rests his chin against her back, nostrils fluttering at her scent, and it's with a small sigh of hesitation that he breaks the silence again. "Before we venture away from here Eternally, I need to make Gryffen pay for his misdeeds. Follow me to Sylva, my dear, and from there ─ to other worlds?"
