"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
09-25-2015, 08:23 PM (This post was last modified: 09-25-2015, 08:29 PM by SaphiraG1rl.)
"Pain is simple. Yet, many fear it. Why is this? I'm not one to enjoy pain, but I do not feel it's harming effects either." I ask and say calmly, providing the answer to my response of not flinching when he bites then burns me.
"Those which play or meddle with fire, often find themselves of dire. I myself, escape such dire, and come to enjoy the fire. Pain is nothing to me; nor is fear. I have no feel for pain. Yet others would have run in fear, why should I stay near?" I query, considering this path of fate's road.
Why should I stay, if but for curiosity? I ask myself. "In dire, most flee. I stay, in glee. Are you the same?" I ask after a few seconds, shifting my weight again.
I love the way that your heart breaks with every injustice and deadly fate.
He eyes the girl speculatively as she prattles on about pain. She does not enjoy pain, but could she learn to? Ah, now that is the eternal question. He had been born knowing, loving, pain. She had not. But is it a thing that can be taught? This is something he must find out, he thinks.
Regardless, she seems quite determined to stay with him. He would not object. Perhaps she might believe herself smitten, but if so, all the better. She would be all the more complacent were she infatuated.
As he lifts his muzzle, he smells singed hair, raw skin. The scent is a lovely one, to his nostrils what a bouquet of flowers might be to another.
You might yet learn to enjoy it, he says in his raspy voice, dim gray eyes boring into hers.
"Maybe, maybe not. It is hard to tell. At least I do not feel it, which has... it's advantages." I say, agreeing with him slightly. Why not feel pain, unless you are meant to embrace it?
I love the way that your heart breaks with every injustice and deadly fate.
She could learn, he thinks. He could teach her. Few know pain as he does. He would be an excellent instructor in such a thing. But would she be willing to learn? There is only one way to find out.
He edges closer to her once again, his fiery skin lingering just inches above her lovely coat, now marred by his touch. He is close enough that she might feel his heat, but not close enough to burn. Let her learn to anticipate. It is the sweetest part of torment, the anticipation.
”Do you wish to learn?” he rasps softly. She would have to strain to hear him. ”I could teach you.”
I ponder his offer; I've never been taught in any subject, this would be my first tutor. "May it be, then. I cannot, feel; why should I fear it?" I say, not noticing his fiery coat so close to mine.
I love the way that your heart breaks with every injustice and deadly fate.
His cracked lips split into a wide grin as she accepts his offer. Oh, what a delightful day this is turning out to be. After a time, woodland creatures had no longer held the same allure they once had. They could not truly appreciate pain in the way that he could, nor did he believe they could feel it in the way other horses could. But she… she claims not to feel pain. Such an odd and wondrous thing.
He would be certain to test the full scope of this claim.
But for now, he is simply delighted that she has agreed. Lowering his flaming muzzle, he brushes it along her skin. The sizzle and crack of burning hair is music to his ears, a delightful aroma to his nostrils. Finally he says simply, ”Good.”
I love the way that your heart breaks with every injustice and deadly fate.
She is so willing. He rather likes that about her. So much determination in her small body, so much willingness. Would she last? he wonders. There is but one way to find out.
Would she flinch from his skin even as it burns holes in hers? He moves his fiery skin against hers, the full length of his body pressed against hers, his muzzle still against neck. And he smiles, a slow, terrible smile of utter satisfaction.
