"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
A powerful red road stallion galloped through the Field, relishing in the fact that the winter cold was over, and summer was finally here. He threw his head, letting his mane flutter around him, and bucked in a moment of slight joy. He let out a snort as he slowed to a leisurely walk and flared his nostrils, taking in the beautiful scent of the summer. For the first time in a long time, he felt content.
He hated winter…the ground was too sloppy, the grass was too icy to eat, and the winds were too bitter. Spring wasn’t much better…the storms soaked the earth, making the ground gloppy and difficult to traverse, and the copious amounts of mud caked his pelt in an unappealing fashion. Autumn was okay, but definitely not his favorite time of year. Yes, summer was the time Diable Rouge really flourished – his thick muscles rippled underneath his glossy fur, the grass was fresh and sweet, nearly melting in his mouth as he chewed, the landscape was covered in the most beautiful greenery – trees, bushes, grass all thrived in the hilly Beqanna fields.
His moment of joy subsided quickly though; it usually never lasted. His joy came in short intervals, and were few and far between. Rou was only truly happy as a colt, and not really even then. The atrocities he had witnessed and outlasted poisoned the hell he called his mind. Memories from his past haunted him, and being a happy equine never was his goal. Goal – What were his goals? He couldn’t even remember what his goals were before his mother’s murder. Murder- He wondered if the bastard that killed his mother thought he was alive, if he even knew, if he could even comprehend… that he didn’t have the strength to kill everyone. Alive - Was he truly living? Or merely surviving in the cruel world around him?
Diable Rouge shook the thoughts from his head. He had become a master at ignoring his anxiety-riddled cranium. He had been alone for so long, he had no choice…with nothing to distract him, he needed to ignore his notions or he would go insane.
Rou finally ended up at his favorite grazing and napping spot. He exhaled in relief – finally he could focus on nourishment, instead of the thoughts that envenomed his head. Under a beautiful red oak, by a slow-moving stream, the stag dropped his muzzle and began to consume his afternoon lunch. A soft light glimmered through the leaves of the oak, enveloping Rou’s striking red coat in a mellow glow. After a while of grazing, the stag loomed under the tree, locking his legs for a mid-day siesta. Many horses avoided this place in the Field, worrying that if a rain were to hit, they would be swept away – as if the stream was a huge hurricane. Rou laughed at this belief…hurricanes, sweeping streams, tidal waves were not something to fear…no, the real nightmares were other people.
don't you tell me to deny it; i've done wrong and i want to suffer for my sins.
The vivid, stark brutality of summer has settled in, leaving trickling beads of sweat in its wake. A low, rumbling grunt of agitation rises into her throat as a warm, suffocating gust of wind carries through the bright field, its light gleaming off of the wavering stalks of wheat that caress the length of her legs as she wanders through. The sun is unforgiving, beating down on her flesh in its heated fury, matting the length of her frosted tresses to the nape of her slender neck. Though she is surrounded by warmth on a constant basis, residing in such close proximity to a bubbling, festering volcano, she had flown too close to the sun with her broad, heavy wings, leaving her skin fresh with perspiration.
Slowly, her teeth begin to preen and pluck at the feathers that lay so delicately lined up along the hollow bones of her wings, extended to each side of her and gently curved inward, giving her access to even the most distant tuft. Her mind wanders, as do her eyes, drifting off somewhere distant far beyond the horizon, where morning haze lingers. Lazily, her legs carry her through the tendrils of blooming greenery, gentle blossoms fluttering against her hock with each step - it caresses her in a way that tickles, agitates, frustrates her. With an utterance of annoyance, she crushes a single poppy beneath her weight, observing the way it recoils and bruises from the impact.
Satisfied with its demise, her hazel eyes narrowing towards a shuffling noise - red roan in stark contrast with the dull, brittle bark of the old oak behind. The sun, still gluttonous and unyielding, manages to weave its way through the thick foliage above, highlighting his strong features - muscled, broad, and tucked away from the onslaught of the summer heat. A wry smirk tugs at the corner of her whiskered lips, and quietly, she draws the length of her wings to her body, tightly folding them against the curve of her sides. Moving with fluid grace and silent stealth, her voice echoes beneath the canopy of wiry branches and closely knit leaves, a deep laugh emerging from the confines of her throat as she finds something tucked just above him that might provide some amusement.
A lopsided grin remains, her eyes alight with mischief. With care and precision, she slowly moves to coil around the broad base of the oak to encircle the slumbering male, turning her hip towards it before lifting her left hind legs with, slamming into the brittle bark with immense force. An old, abandoned bird's nest tumbles down from above, shedding remnants of feathers, twigs and waste onto him, as her laughter echoes in the dry, thick air.
"Too easy," she announces, the same subtle smirk on her lips. "you should never let your guard down."
02-14-2017, 01:19 PM (This post was last modified: 02-14-2017, 06:12 PM by swxrdsandpxns.)
Dark enveloped him. He couldn’t see. Why couldn’t he see? He blinked his eyes several times, but the black around him was too heavy. “What…what’s happening?” The stag groaned, his left temple throbbing. He bent his head down and rubbed it along the side of his knee, trying to relieve the horrendous pain in his cranium. He cried out in agony – the pain only grew, an old wound he thought was long healed opened. Blood dripped down his temple and off his muzzle. The dripping…the sound grew, as if it was a leaky faucet…the sputtering sound of his blood grew louder, louder, louder.
“STOP!” He bellowed, begging the wretched noise to terminate. “GOD PLEASE END THIS.” Abruptly, the dripping sounds ended; a tortuous sliver of light gleamed on a malnourished chestnut body…her chest wasn’t expanding, there were no signs of life in the poor mare.
“Mom?” He crept closer. The body was covered in blood, scars, unmoving. He felt more than blood begin to trickle down his face, the dripping noise began again. “MOM?”
A devilish laugh arose from the silent blackness. “What did you do to her?” The stag screamed. “What did you do, you bastard?!”
“…me?...” The voice echoed around him. “You did this to her…”
The stag looked around him, becoming more paranoid as time went on. “I would never do something so heinous! She’s innocent!” He yelled.
“Oh….but you would…” The voice laughed. A shadow emerged from the darkness. The stallion backed away, tripping and falling to the ground with a thud. The voice came from a tall, jet-black stag, with a deep purple scar over his right eye. An evil, cold-blooded smile unfolded onto his face. The red roan cowered in fear as the stallion put a single hoof on his throat. “…I am in you…that’s why you want revenge…we are one…” He whispered into the young stag’s ear. “…you will become me…it’s only a matter of time.”
“NO!” The stag struggled under the weight of the voice. “I WILL NEVER BE YOU!” He raised his head as much as he could, spitting into the face of evil itself.
The black stallion snarled. “THEN YOU WILL BE DEAD!” He rose up on his hind legs, baring down onto the roan…
Diable Rouge was startled awake by something that had fallen on him. He quickly backed up, forgetting about the stream he had fallen asleep next to not an hour earlier. Rou slipped into the freezing creek, making a huge splash as he was submerged in the clear aqua. It took him only a moment to regain his balance and stand – he was completely soaked, mane dripping down his face and off his muzzle. He looked around to see what had startled him – simply an abandoned bird’s nest, laying broken on the ground he once slept on. Around the tree was a mare, howling with laughter, looking as if she may burst at the seams…as if this futile prank was really that funny. Okay…it’s kind of funny. Rou thought to himself. But not funny enough to let this mare believe she actually got you good.
“Too easy,” He heard the mare snicker. “you should never let your guard down.” Rou rolled his eyes, crawling out of the stream. He shook off his pelt just close enough to soak the mare who disturbed his slumber, although he knew the nightmares would’ve woken him eventually. How stupid he must’ve looked, being fooled by such a young mare. He turned back to look at her, and was startled…she was absolutely stunning. Her golden coat shimmered in the mid-day sunlight, making her look more goddess than horse. Two beautiful white wings were clasped to her sides, begging to spread out and take flight. She stood just under Rou’s tall frame, the perfect height. Piercing hazel eyes stared at him, making him gasp in a way he never had before – she was breathtaking.
Rou had never been particularly interested in mares, not since he witnessed his mother’s passing. After that, his focus went from finding potential mates to…wait, what was it again? What were his goals again? Rou furrowed his brow in focus. How could he forget something he’d been working on his whole life, in just a mere five minutes of seeing this mare? He could not lose his brain now, he could not lose sight of what he was after.
Damn, what was he after again? This mare’s smile was so intriguing, so entrancing it made his hair stand on end. He had always found it easy to ignore other horses, to ignore mares’ sultry gazes, to ignore stallions’ disgust, but something about this one seemed to turn what was once a dead heart, into a living, breathing one. One that grew the most beautiful roses, one where colts and fillies ran free, one where he could be something other than vengeful and angry. She was like the eye in the hurricane called life.
The daydreams stopped. Diable Rouge looked down, and began to walk away. No – he could not let a pretty face do this to him. He needed to act heartless. She was the eye of a hurricane, but Rou knew that this calm in his heart would soon turn to calamity once more. He mustn’t let this beauty take him down. All he knew is one thing…love always ended in pain.
don't you tell me to deny it; i've done wrong and i want to suffer for my sins.
The display that soon unfolds before her nearly causes the very seams of her sides to split, her rib cage heaving with laughter. In a most comical manner, and in a flurry of fumbling, flailing limbs, the young male becomes doused in the frigid, icy water of the undulating brook. Droplets of water stain his russet coat, traveling along the terse yet finely sculpted curve of his jaw and down the length of his body - his eyes darkened with embarrassment and discomfort. Disgruntled, a brief shake of his muscled frame is all it takes for him to shower her in water droplets, and though she grimaces and turns her cheek for a moment, she cannot hide the amusement and mirth bubbling beneath the surface. The simple glee reaches the very depths of her hazel eyes, which finally meet with his. The ridge of her brow furrows with curiosity, her shapely skull tilted slightly to the left - perplexed.
Why is he looking at me like that?
A long, pregnant pause hovers in the thick, hot summer air, though a gentle breeze soon carries through, weaving its way delicately through the curved, wrenched branches above. A crackling of electricity stirs, settling between the two, leaving a effervescent uneasiness within the pit of her stomach. Her smile slowly wanes, her bright almond eyes widening as the atmosphere seemingly shifts around her, the laughter having died in her throat, leaving behind a sizable lump that she cannot swallow. The silence is so deafening, she cannot hear the trickling of water along the smooth stones beneath, or the soft rustling of the leaves overhead; she cannot hear anything but the sound of her own blood pounding through her veins or the rattling of her rapidly beating heart inside of her chest.
Adrenaline, she surmises (insists), her chin tucking closer to the broadness of her chest. She knew nothing of this individual, his temperament or his abilities. Her muscles roll and tense beneath her golden skin, her posture rigid with uncertainty - surely, she had imagined the awe in his bright eyes; she had imagined the shifting intensity between them. (Frankly, she had misinterpreted him completely - she had never seen anyone look at her in such a way. Not like that.) His expression, previously one of awe and enthrallment, changes again, his brow furrowed and his jaw terse with agitation, casting a shadow of doubt in her mind. Had she gone too far?
As her heart pounds and her mind races, the tension wanes yet again - leaving her baffled; bemused. Intrigued. His eyes avert away from her, and she cannot resist the temptation to step forward, to encircle him and to step in the way of his intended path. He had little to say - nothing, in fact, and if it had been anyone else, she might have let him go. But something within the depths of his eyes pulled her out of her comfort zone, drawing her nearer, enticing her like a moth to a flame. An incredulous smile tugs at the corner of her whiskered lips yet again, brow ridge rising with inquiry. "Where are you going?"As if she had any right to ask."Don't be so serious. Tell me your name."
Diable Rouge noticed the young mare’s expression change as they stared at each other. What was once comical glee turned to an uncertain expression. Uncertain as to what? What he could do? Who he was? If he was good or evil? All probable answers to this question, but he didn’t intend to wait around wondering.
He turned, moving at a swift pace to his next destination. He didn’t know why he felt such a need to escape – was it because it had been so long since he’d had an interaction with a being other than himself? Was it because he didn’t even want to have a conversation, or that he was just scared to?
Rou felt a lump grow in his throat. He tried desperately to swallow it, but failed. Was he scared? It had been so long since he felt anything but numb, but now his mind was flooded with emotions. He heard the mare say something, flicking his ears back attentively.
“Where are you going?” She asked, making him stop suddenly. He glanced his right eye back at her, raising a brow questioningly. This must’ve set her off, because her face turned stone cold. “Don’t be so serious. Tell me your name.” She demanded.
The demand took Rou aback. No one had ever demanded anyone of him, let alone a mare. His nostrils flared in annoyance with this interrogation, he stood tall and tense. Why did it matter what his name was, or where he was going? She would leave, go somewhere safe, nd never think of him again anyways, so what was the point in telling her anything? Diable Rouge again turned, about to walk off, until the voice spoke again, easier this time.
“My name is Ellyse.”
Ellyse. Rou turned slowly to look at her once more. Ellyse – how fitting. The name screamed beauty and elegance, perfection even…all the things this mare was. Rou’s body relaxed, his orbs softened as he gazed at her. She was even more beautiful the second time around. He decided to speak, giving a conversation a chance for one.
“My name…” Diable Rouge stopped. His voice, he hadn’t heard it in so long. It was deep, but too rough sounding. He tried to ease it. “My name is Diable Rouge…” He muttered. “Rou, for short.” He pawed at that ground…he had never told anyone his nickname before. His mom called him Rou, saying that his name was too intimidating to be given to such a sweet colt. He sighed deeply, hoping maybe, just maybe, this horse wouldn’t be scared off too.
don't you tell me to deny it; i've done wrong and i want to suffer for my sins.
The air is heavy still, weighed down by the uncertainty that lingered in the long moments after such an unusual, uncomfortable silence. Though she had found much amusement in tormenting him, she wondered if she had danced too close to the scathing, flickering flames – his eyes burned deeply into her own, and it caused her heart to seize momentarily within the confines of her chest. Thump, thump - it echoes loudly, pounding steadily against her iron-clad ribcage, threatening to break through the sinewy muscle and hollow bone. Her breath is baited, if only for a second. Speechless had never been a word used to describe her, in any situation, at any time, and yet, the words she longed to speak fell silent on her tongue. His eyes, while a soft, icy blue and warm, mysterious brown, burn still with an ember she cannot touch; one that she cannot discern. It lures her in, her rampant curiosity unsated, leaving her longing to push the envelope.
The tension only heightens, as her demand causes the thick, taut muscles beneath his skin to tighten, his posture becoming rigid and defiant. Her own eyes change now, hazel eyes peering narrowly at him, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. Her wings, once loosely tucked against the swell of her curvaceous sides, now bristled, the long rows of perfectly preened feathers standing on end as the hollow bones expand to each side. Her long, slender neck tilts upwards, her chin pointed and her whiskered lips pursed. Though feminine, she refused to be seen as fragile – her careful gaze quietly calculated the position of his legs, silently pondering how easily the hard bone beneath his skin would bend to her will if only she chose to manipulate them, should he choose to assault her.
She longed for her power once more. It had long since gone dormant, lost to the rage and vengeance of the land, which had purged so many of their inherent abilities. Her own bone-bending had been stripped away as the molten rock and rigid tectonic plates molded and reshaped the land, erasing the familiar lines of the horizon, turning it into something unknown and unkind. Though she had long forgotten the way the sun had once touched the now nonexistent mountains of the east, she could never forget the sensation of delicate bone crackling and splitting from the mere force of her own mental prowess. It would always be a part of her, as much as her own flesh and bone.
One day, she mused to herself, drawing herself back into the moment, as the corner of her lips quivered with the slightest uptick of a sneer – one that faded away easily as his voice, gruff from disuse, yet ruggedly fitting, finally broke the unyielding silence. Diable Rouge. An unusual name, one that caused her brow ridges to rise in disbelief. It had been a long time since she had heard anything so overbearing; such a name seemed ill fitting for someone with such immense presence. Slowly, the stiffness of her physique all but melts away, and her broad wings flatten once more against her sides as her cheek tilts slightly to the left – intrigued again.
Perhaps she had misread him.
Time would tell.
Rou, he says, almost inaudible. With the strain of their initial exchange beginning to wane away with the summer breeze, an awkward discomfort settles in its place, as he gently sifts the soil beneath his weight with his eyes averted. Softly, a chuckle emerges from her throat again, though lacking the glee it had held minutes ago. Boldly bridging the gap between them, with a cocky smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she reaches and promptly tugs at a cluster of twigs caught within the ragged tangle of his mane, letting them fall to the ground below.
”Rou. Much more fitting. You do not look like a – whatever it is you said before,” She murmurs, as if deep in thought, casting him a glance as her cheek turns towards the setting sun. ”I haven’t seen you around here before. Where are you from?”
Diable Rouge was uncertain of what to do now. The situation was so unlike anything he had experienced, he didn’t know how to react. The mare was striking, not only in her looks, but in her demonstrative personality. She wasn’t overbearing, but the way she could just come up and prank him, retreat as if he had bit her, then become sociable again was intimidating to him – he had never met someone like her before.
The summer heat waned as the sun began to go down, and a comfortable chill breeze blew through Rou’s rust-colored mane. The mare suddenly plucked at his mane, causing him to move back involuntarily – no one had ever touched him so gently before. He cleared his throat, feeling bad for his sudden movement, for seeming so uncomfortable with a conversation that for some would seem normal.
“Rou,” The mare spoke. “Much more fitting. You do not look like…whatever it is you said before.” Rou’s mouth curls at the end, faint remnants of a smile. He couldn’t exactly tell if she was joking around, but either way, it made Rou’s heart warm, and he felt a slight chuckle emerge. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed.
“I haven’t seen you around, where are you from?” She asked. Rou immediately tensed. Where was he from? A simple question for most, but it made memories of his dark past swell in his brain.
Blood. Screams. Murder.
Death. Death. Death. Shake it, shake it away, Rou. He thought to himself. It’s just a question.
“Um…” He started, trying to make his words sound easy. “Just from…around.” He lied. He decided it was best to hold his cards close to his chest. He didn’t want to trust this mare…well, he did. But putting his trust in others scared him, more than anything in this world. He took a deep breath, looking down once more. “Where…are you from?” He asked, unsure of how to keep a conversation going. He looked up again, his muscles easing as he saw her beautiful golden flecks gazing curiously at him. She had a power over him no one else in the world had. Just her gaze sent his mind wandering, daydreaming. If she had this kind of power over him by just her eyes, he couldn’t imagine her power over him with her beautiful words.
don't you tell me to deny it; i've done wrong and i want to suffer for my sins.
Her demeanor is an unusual one - emotion is a fickle, useless complication, and so she conceals it with a mask of unyielding indifference as often as possible. Her heart is guarded, fiercely so, and she had made certain to portray herself as anything but passive, though the one emotion that habitually found its way to the surface of an otherwise unshakable façade was pure, unadulterated fury. Ferocious is her temperament, burdening her with the weight of consequence and the consequence of her actions, and inevitably, her biting words. Though she has found a way to wield her ire carefully and to redirect it into something productive, there had been too many times in which it had inexorably exacerbated the magnitude of its repercussions, and too often, it hurt the ones her heart pined for most.
Yet, with time, she had begun to master it – to manipulate it, to withhold it, though she did not care to most of the time. She loathed the idea of placating anyone by silencing herself; her words were seldom filtered and in her youth, she could not be bothered in most circumstances to hold her tongue. Alas, time had gone on as it inevitably does, and with it she had learned how to manipulate her words, striving to be productive yet blindingly honest. She would not compromise her convictions, but she would not let herself be foolish merely to protect her own delicate ego.
The sun slowly sets, its radiant light falling beneath the jagged line of foothills on the horizon, illuminating the full, feathery clouds that linger above. The soft cerulean sky is soon alight with magenta, tangerine, and lilac, casting a warm shadow across the plain, highlighting only her sharpest features in the muted light of dusk. Her features hardly change when he flinches away; she had expected nothing less – after all, he had just turned away from her not once, but twice. He could not have predicted her to be so bold (or perhaps reckless?)
The hardened lines of his face shift and change again, causing the ridge of her brow to furrow, wondering how profoundly frustrating and mysterious he intended to be. If it had been any other time, if it had been anyone else – she would not have stayed. She did not have time nor energy to waste; why was he any different? Her chest ached with the familiar throb of frustration, perplexed as to what about him captivated her – but there was only the dull but quickened pace of her heart in response.
Just from .. around.
An eyeroll, and a scowl of skepticism (though partly in jest – her eyes still held the same contented warmth). ”Surely you do not think I am stupid enough to believe that. But so be it, keep your secret,” she muses. For now. She would not be shaken so easily. ”I was born here – or somewhere near here, at least.”
A pause.
”These lands used to be different. Completely different, actually – but the magic changed, and Beqanna grew angry with us for wielding our power so recklessly. We were all stripped of our abilities, and the land was torn away from us and changed. Where I am from no longer exists.” Her heart aches for a moment; she wondered where her father was. Her sister. Her mother. She had not seem them in far too long. ”Now – now I reside in Tephra, a land to the east, bordering the sea. It is uncomfortably hot, humid, and filled with volcanic ash,” She mutters tersely, and then, ”but it is home.”
The sun drew closer to the horizon now, illuminating the sky in a collage of colors. The bold cerulean sky shifted, deep apricot swirled with sweet lavender that collided with gentle rose hues and firey crimson undertones. Rou felt the familiar ache of sadness, remembering the moments he would spend curled by his mother’s legs, watching the sun kiss the sky as terrible days turned to peaceful nights.
“Rou,” She would say. “I love you. More than words could ever describe. Don’t lose hope, he won’t have us in his clutches forever.” She would smile…her pure, caring smile, and nuzzle the tufts on the top of his head. He would giggle, as children do, and snuggle closer to his mother. Then sleep would take him, and he would fall deeply into its clutches, not waking up, even to the loudest of sounds.
How naïve his mother was in her thinking. She was not nearly strong enough to be on her own, let alone with a young foal. Not to mention, the prospect of her ever leaving was foolish – she would be found. Maybe she said these words to Rou so he would feel better. He was mercilessly picked on by the other children in the herd, he felt like an outsider from a very young age, which is why he clung so hard to his mom – she was the only thing he had.
Another familiar feeling welled in his throat – rage. She had been the only good thing in his life, and she was taken. She was ripped away from him swiftly, without warning. Maybe that was why he feared opening up, getting close to others – life is fragile. Death does not discriminate, it takes and takes and takes and leaves a hurricane of broken souls in its wake.
Rou took a deep breath, and looked towards the mare once more. His response seemed to leave her annoyed, and her response was biting and harsh. He didn’t think she was stupid in the slightest, he thought quite highly of her intelligence thus far. The tone of her voice as she told him to keep his secret made him wince – he hoped he had not somehow offended her. She revealed to him that she had been born around this place, and told him how different things were before. He suddenly felt guilty – he had been so focused on his own past, he didn’t even think to consider how hers might’ve been. He watches her eyes change as she reveals that the place she is from doesn’t exist anymore. He stares at her, hoping she can see the empathy in his eyes.
“Now…now I reside in Tephra, a land to the east, bordering the sea. It is uncomfortably hot, humid, and filled with volcanic ash – but it is home.”
Rou feels a million questions flood his mind. He wants to know this mare, he wants to understand her. He had never had this desire before, but he feels his head go awry as he thinks of what to respond. The setting sun casts a glow on her that he cannot brush off – her golden coat is hit with the warm light that accents her sharp jaw and perfectly shaped physique. Her hazel eyes flicker, and something swells up in Rou. The words he’s thinking suddenly slip quietly from his lips.
“Beautiful…” He immediately feels embarrassed, and quickly asks a question in hopes she had not heard him. “Um…do you have a herd there? Or do you just…wander?” The question was stupid, the first thing that came to his mind that he decided to spit out, and Rou felt his face grew hot. He sincerely hoped he was not ruining the first conversation he was having in years.
“I generally roam,” He finally admitted. “I don’t have a home, so I go wherever. I do like this creek, however.” He nods to the stream they now had walked a few feet from. He looked back to Ellyse, hoping his response wouldn’t scare her away.
don't you tell me to deny it; i've done wrong and i want to suffer for my sins.
Troubled.
Something stirred beneath the stoic façade, his eyes darkening dangerously with a trembling, formidable storm that brews within – and so she is drawn in, with a slow sigh of breath she never realized she had been holding. The deep ridges of his handsome face are wrought with a deep discontent, with an emotion bordering on sorrow – blended with an amalgamation of rage, of regret. The weight of the world rests squarely between his shoulders, nestling into the sharpened bone and lean muscle that weaves its way down the faint slope of his spine. He is rigid and unwavering, and she is reminded of something – of someone, but she steers her mind away from the distant memory, forcing it into the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind, suffocating it.
Beautiful, a word that very nearly goes unnoticed, though it is too abrupt in the moment to be ignored. Disbelief etches its way onto her features, hazel eyes widened and her brow ridge uplifted – but the faintest simper pulls at the corner of her lips, and a low chuckle bubbles up from the back of her throat. ”Thank you.” She says simply, observing the way his gaze averts so suddenly and his weight is shifted from one side to the other, embarrassment evident in each and every movement. Beauty is effortless, significant, indispensable – yet wholly superficial. She is aware of her radiance – golden skin, flaxen tresses, bold eyes of green and gold (she would be a fool to ignore the shallow allure she held; it had benefited her before) – but it is of little importance to her; it is only small in comparison to the boldness of her mind, or the ferocity of her soul. Nonetheless, his compliment is a kind and pleasant one, if not unexpected.
Beneath the seemingly attractive surface settled something ugly, ferocious and malevolent – beauty aided in cloaking such attributes, hiding away the predator that lay in waiting. The amused expression that had once lit up her expression mere minutes ago soon returned, her mind mulling over his feverish words (she cannot deny the warmth that pools within the pit of her belly, or the occasional thundering of her heart – though she would scarcely admit being anything more than flattered, at least out loud).
”Neither,” she says with some finality, the broad, feathered appendages settled against her sides stirring slightly, savoring the sensation of the gentle summer breeze nestling between each perfectly preened feather. ”it is less of a herd, really – there is a leader, Magnus, with several individuals beneath him to give support in diplomacy and warfare. Home,” she states with emphasis, wondering if he had ever known one himself.
”I serve as the Head of War.”Beauty aided in cloaking such attributes, her mind echoes. ”I ensure the safety and security of our domain, and prepare those interested in serving for eventual battle and border security. It is no regime – more of a .. family,” she muses, observing the handsome curve of his face. ”I am afraid that we lack creeks and large oak trees, but there is magma and hot springs to rest your bones in.”
A pause, her eyes holding a glint of intrigue.
”Should you decide you seek more for your life than this, you are welcome within our borders.”
