"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
Soft and gentle moonlight spills onto the meadow’s spindly green grasses that sway gently in the warm summertime breeze. Touches of silver illuminate different rocks and trees, cascading and trickling over into the darkness that their shadows hide. She is the moon, silver and pale beneath its light. Thousands upon thousands of never-ending stars ignite the inky black expanse that stretches above her, yawning indefinitely into nothingness. She can almost feel the pinpricks of stars on her back, washing her in a starlit glow that melts into the silver roan of her skin.
Augusta has never been frightened of the dark. The shadows that curl and twist bring her comfort, as it had once laced her with its fingers lovingly, intertwining around her legs with such fervor that the silver mare could not help but become lost in its touch; tonight, she searches for that feeling once more.
With the moonlit meadow spinning silver on every hidden part that can be found, the grey and silver mare presses her pale lips to the rough bark as she enters a copse of trees, blanketing herself in whatever shadows she could find. The little area shades her from most of the moonlight that cascades downwards, with little pieces of silver patterns playing on her skin as the light filters through. Here she is more comfortable, the shadowy depths of midnight creeping in as the moon makes its way through the clear and bright sky.
She wishes she could call to the shadows like she once did, drape them around her like a cloak and draw their darkness from the depths of their home, but that power is gone. What once filled her chest was now empty and vacant, nothing more than blood and oxygen pumping through her veins.
He preferred them a little... less. Just a bit sad, just a bit broken. Just a little lonely. She wasn't any of those, not from what he could tell from the natural way she could glide through the night like she belonged in it, was born for its dark embrace. Not even remotely afraid of what prowled its shadows. That was alright, he wasn't either. He was one of those things.
Day, night, didn't matter.
They never saw him coming.
This one, though. He couldn't quite place what it was that caught his attention as he leaned casually on the elbow of a wing against a tree. She was attractive, beautiful even in the shroud of a quiet night, but so what. And such easy grace. Reminded him a bit of... Romy. Romantica was graceful, beautiful. But something else. It was itching at him, so close. Romy had a twin, but no. Nothing with her.
Then it clicked.
Ah, yes. She reminded him of the bold one, with the blue and the lace of white, the rich, dark hair. Did this one have the wild fire in her eyes, too? That's where he met Romy and her twin. There with the other woman that looked a bit like this one. He hadn't cared for her. Too bold, too hard. This one was soft, though. Call him intrigued, curious.
It was convenient that she was coming right to him, to this copse of trees, and he pushed off from the trunk and resettled his wing at his side. Waiting for her. He smelled like the deep woods, his typical haunt, of cedar and oak and birch, the rich musk of man, the cool of night. He was neither darkness nor light. He was invisible, always invisible. They liked it best that way. They loved their phantom. Mmm, and he loved them too, in his way.
Her soft lips pressed to a tree as she entered, so gentle. Why kiss a tree? There were so many other things to kiss, so many other places to put those lips. Maybe she didn't know that, and he grinned, a sexy, wicked thing that she'd never see.
He'd taught many, could teach her too. But she wasn't broken, wasn't lonely. Didn't have a man neglecting her, didn't need his attention. The lonely loved him best, so much pent up passion when they knew there were no consequences. Just a little tricky to get caught with a ghost, wasn't it? And guilt-free. They loved that, too. What was a bit of fun with a ghost? It wasn't real anyway, right?
The beauty found herself a little nook, settling in the shadows as he prowled forward. So used to masking his steps, always had stealth, the unseen and the unheard. Couldn't be perfect though, nature had her ways, and his steps displaced a whisper of fallen leaves like a gentle night breeze. Easily rationalized, explained away. His scent was a little trickier, but most seemed to find some kind of strength in it, a comfort, a sense of safety. So many times he had been a security blanket, patiently earning their trust. Tonight would be no different.
He flowed like the shadows, dragging a faint caress of soft feather-tip along her cheek, her jawline, her chin, applying just enough pressure to tilt it gently up. Hmm, definitely attractive. And so young, but to them he was ageless. Invisible. He slipped away, letting the cold of night shadows replace where he'd just been as he circled her silently. His eyes roved her body openly, though they never really knew that, did they? Curved, filled, healthy. Pretty damn delicious, really, but he wasn't after just the one thing. No, really. Just liked to inspect the gems before he fitted them. Hah, good one.
Most the time he kept his distance, gauging their reactions to a hidden presence first before deciding how to proceed. Didn't much feel like it tonight, and he finished his walk around her and slid in place at her side on the ground, fitting his strong shoulder against the elegant slope of hers, hip to perfect hip. A large, downy-soft wing gently fell across her back, tucking in at her other side, completely relaxed, though hugging her to him was tempting. He loved those curves pressed against him. His muzzle reached to brush against her neck, sweeping silky hair across his nose as he drifted up and up so gradually to her ear.
She is used to the cold press of night against her skin, how it lacks any kind of warmth as its touch embraces her. The darkness somehow feels empty now as it folds into the curves of her sloping shoulders and hips, merely following the direction of the moonlight to gently flow over her silver-blue coat. The mare reaches out, her pale lips searching fervently, her skin aching with longing. She cannot feel it; not how she used to. The shadows that etch her body are the shadows that fall on any random mortal as they pass through – the shadows no longer know her name, no longer bend to her will. Her eyes, dark and stormy irises growing larger as her pupils decrease to mere pinpricks, grow more and more accustomed to the darkening world.
There is a sound; it is out of place on the still night that enraptures her. She turns and she sees nothing, the rustling of the leaves behind her coming to a rest as her grey eyes watch curiously. The wind that begins to rustle the leaves of the branches above her causes her eyes to rise upwards, the chilled night air bringing a more distinct smell to her flared nostrils. Suddenly, the aroma of damp bark and clear, crisp air was much more intense, a flavor that was almost too discreet to really place.
Her ease within the darkness does not let her mind raise any alarm; instead, as she turns forward, a small gasp leaves her pale and trembling lips. Oh. Fluid and light, a single finger seemingly traces her skin, starting at the soft flesh of her cheek and ending by raising her chin cautiously, as if she was made of porcelain. She remains motionless, fraught not with fear, but in awe. The movement was so familiar to her, recognizable in ways that she could not describe, yet she was not the one who called it to her. The sensation brings her back to distant memories, when her mind would allow the shadows to roam and wander her body in twists and turns, coiling around her like a snake (how accurate). Her eyes rove the darkness around her, skin shivering with anticipation. Had the shadows returned to her?
She dare not move. For a moment, she believes she is imagining it, her mind playing tricks on her in the darkness she hides in so well. However, the cold of the night that now chills the skin where the phantom touch had graced her leads her to believe that it had not been her imagination. She strains her eyes within the shadows – wishing, hoping, needing – wondering if she could feel it again. She nearly opens her mouth to beg, to plead, and to bargain, but suddenly, she doesn’t have to.
Augusta is not frightened as she feels the strong press against her hip and shoulder, exhaling deeply as the sensation meets her skin. She did not realize she had been holding her breath. The feeling then drapes itself over the broad of her slender back, warm and lush against her night-washed skin. She inhales with a staggering breath, her lids fluttering closed as she allows the comfort of the phantom shadow to cover her, to protect her. It touches her again at her neck, with so soft a touch she could nearly fall asleep, and she sighs contently. She is not afraid, but she has never had to be.
She does not jump at the sound of a voice, its warmth burrowing into her ear, a mere whisper into the night. Her eyes do not even open. Instead, her brow furrows with slight confusion, her ivory lips pressing together firmly in thought. She does not move from the shadows (or what she believes are shadows) and its tender embrace, in fear that it will be lost forever.
“That is not the breath of a ghost, my shadow,” she murmurs with certainty, her voice like a chime in the stillness of the dark that surrounds her.
She is alone in her shadows - completely and utterly alone.
That soft little gasp.. Mmm, electric shivers prickling across his shoulders. Sometimes he loved to toy with the fear, those wide, frantic eyes. Fear could get so dull, though, after a time. Surprise? Surprise never got old, and it sparkled so beautifully in her eyes. She still tried, still searched the night for him, or whatever had reached for her. No fear, only the quiet surprise and just a bit uncertain. And wanting. Just the right blend, his favorite tonic. She was just what he wanted. The perfect flavor for a night like this.
She was so still as he rounded her, so watchful. Wildly green eyes snatched every detail, every flick of her lovely gaze, every tensed muscle as she lay in wait. For something. Not really sure what, but didn’t really care. Didn’t matter. He would be that something soon enough, and he flowed to her side, melded to her curves as though he belonged there. But of course he did. He always belonged there.
Ahh, and she smelled so gooood.
He covered her with the blanket of his wing, and her soft breath stuttered so sweetly. That was definitely encouragement. Accidental, but still so very effective, and he stroked along her neck, breathed her in and tested her boundaries. Didn’t seem to have any yet, but they were only getting started. She sighed, completely at ease, and okay, maybe that really was a little weird. But who was he to question it? So what if a girl finds invisible men pressed all against her body completely normal? Counting blessing and all that, yeah?
Even the sound of his husky voice, uttered so close to her delicate ear didn’t startle her. Her eyes remained closed, long lashes smiling over her thoughts hiding in those eyes. He reined back just a little, just enough to watch her so intently, taking in the fine features of her shadowed face. Such a curious one. So quickly accepting of him; his touch, his body against hers, his voice. His instant possession over her, claiming what he wants as he wants it. So curious. God, but she was a beauty, wasn’t she? Her skin so soft against his lips, as he dipped to her again, placing just a single kiss below her ear as she considered.
”That is not the breath of a ghost, my shadow,” her voice chimed quietly, a murmur of precious sea-glass clinking faintly together. He hummed a soft smile against her, testing another faint kiss as his right wing spread and reached across the front of him, sweeping a feathered finger under her chin again and coaxing her lovely face to turn just a little more to him.
Shadow, he repeated thoughtfully, quietly, though he already knew what he was going to say. He took his time in doing it, delighted with her choice of nickname or explanation or whatever it was to her. It was an attractive change from 'ghost' or 'phantom.' His face lifted from her neck - a little reluctantly - already wanting to reach for her cheek, her nose, trace her lips, but holding himself back to study her more. Such a young and soft one. So enchanting in her gentle quiet.
He dipped carefully to her again, adding a little more pressure under her chin to guide her to him, his lips brushing sweetly across her nose. If I am shadow, I am light, he murmured into velvet. Unseen: the night's shadow, the day's light. He pulled his right wing back to his side, though his left still wrapped and blanketed her, parted lips resting on her impossibly soft nose, waiting. Would she stay there or turn away?
But I'll be your shadow tonight.
And maybe her tomorrow's light.
The shadows are writhing and pulsing against her, its very heartbeat palpitating against the coolness of her night-kissed skin. She shivers, though not with the chill that the night brings upon her, but with anticipation, with eagerness, nearly with excitement. Her body hums with the stimulation of the shadows against her, feeling her and exploring her, roving the soft and sloping lines. She is so innocent, so naïve – her thoughts do not even let her begin to question why or how this has happened to her; she is merely so enthralled, so elated, that she simply cannot fathom that the phantom touch and caresses are not something good, something beautiful. Her lips wander, as if they could find something solid to press against, though she knew that the twist and turn of the shadows would escape from her touch. Instead, it finds her, the force beneath the soft skin of her ear pressing against her like a gentle kiss; it was as if the darkness remembers her. It turns her, so delicately and so carefully, as if not to break the spell that it had cast over her. The shadows have returned to their keeper, vibrant with life – more so than she remembers before the Reckoning. It is almost as if the shadows she once knew so well have now come back as a gift to her, piecing themselves together to form a being – an entity – that sings to her very soul. It has a voice, it has a pulse, and it has her. Shadow, it repeats to her, with a voice as rich and smooth as the darkness that consumes her. So very alone, she has been, but now is no longer. The fairies of Beqanna have blessed her; she will be eternally indebted. It holds her, firm yet so mild – it knows her, knows her fragility and innocence, cherishing it. She feels the tender lips of the shadows brush against her face, warm against the pale of her broad nose. It whispers to her, enchantingly and hauntingly beautiful, its voice resounding against the velvet of her silver and blue skin, coming to rest on the delicate flesh of her ivory muzzle. Its voice reassures her that this, in fact, her powers returned to her and the realization causes her to sink slightly into the entity that surrounds her, the storm grey of her eyes searching for any hint of visibility but finding none. “Is tonight all I have with you, shadow?” she asks quietly, her voice gentle as she whispers into nothingness, the soft lines of her face bending to form a small frown. “You’ve only just returned to me.”
She seemed at ease with his presence, his touch. And he was slowly coming to recognize it was something more than that. Not just at ease. Comforted by him being here, though she hadn’t seemed like the delicate broken ones he liked to find. Maybe she was only better at masking it under all that beauty, hiding it even from him. Nah. Something else, though. Something more. He hadn’t had to promise that she’d be safe, that she’d like him here. Usually had to do that. But she already did. Already felt safe with him, already liked him here. Immediately wanted him here, in fact. So strange.
But blessings, you know.
He spoke, and she listened, so attentive to his voice. It was a little hard not to be, when a voice and a warmth against her side was all she had. He liked it that way, that they would hang on his every word. Denying them the sight of him, the distraction. Definitely a distraction. Liked for them to focus on the touch. That was most important, wasn't it? Every barest sensation of him. A feathery caress here, a soft kiss there. Wasn't always so gentle, though. Just liked to start them nice and slow, coax them somewhere a little higher, a little wilder. If it came to that.
Trust comes first, though, and he was an expert.
She leaned into him, her eyes searching -never finding. ”Is tonight all I have with you, shadow?” She spoke so softly, a slow pull of silk over bare skin, and he shivered. ”You’ve only just returned to me.”
Returned to her. The shadow has returned to her. Well, damn if he didn’t have a fucking clue what that meant. Sure did sound like a knocking though, a nice loud knocking of opportunity. And he smiled, buried that sexy grin against the velvet of her nose. Yes. That's right. He was Shadow, and he has returned to her. How long has he been gone, though? How much had she missed him? How long did she want him to stay?
You missed me, he feigned perfect surprise, even pulling away a little to leave some cool space where he'd just been pressed against her. Like a lover shocked at how much she really cares. Mmm, how much did she care? He waited just long enough, then so cautiously slipped back in, grazing shadowy lips along her jaw to her neck. Black lips.. he could make them just a bit visible to be her shadow. If he wanted. But he thought better of it for now. Maybe later, ideas for later.
Was her shadow a living thing? His voice didn't seem to cause suspicion. Curious girl.
You really want me back for more than tonight? he asked, so soft and hesitantly hopeful, drifting from her jaw to the tender flesh beside it. Mmm, couldn't help but taste her with another kiss.
Why would she separate from this shadow? And which one did the leaving? Or.. was this something with the Reckoning. Had she had a magic of some kind and still hadn't begged for it back yet? He remembered lacking his, suddenly being seen by everyone. Suddenly being visible right in the middle of taking some poor bastard's wife. Well, hadn't gone so well, had it? You can imagine. That was NOT the kind of shock and surprise he liked to find.
Fixed that as soon as he could, he did. Didn't mean it wasn't just a little fun, though. Hah, her face. And that idiot, too, watching just long enough for the delicious image to click. The sudden rage, haha! And wings, you know. Wings to take him away, after all. They had never been so handy. Mildly amusing now, after the fact, but he really fucking hated surprises. Had been such a bad day.
He was smiling into her skin again. Decided to press it deeper, putting pressure to her neck with his lips, guiding her down, down so gently to her side and beneath him. 'Cause... I missed you too, he whispered between another kiss, and another. He hovered over her, caging her between his wings as he leaned on them though he supposed she wouldn't realize it. Caged, his little bird. Not like his li'l dove, no. Not his dove.
He brushed his muzzle against the muscle in her neck, caressing, exploring. Breathing in that fabulous scent. How long has it been, now? he murmured. May as well try to figure out what this Shadow was to her. Maybe he wasn't quite so keen on leaving as soon as he thought he would be. A beautiful little puzzle to deconstruct first. To pluck curiously at her seams and see where she unravels for him.
She is sure that the shadows are taking a shape, are adjusting themselves to make her more comfortable, more capable to understand it as it grows into a living creature. Her breath trembles as it leaves her body, certain that a smile was pressing against her skin now, becoming something that she can recognize and comprehend. Its voice returns to her, sudden yet gentle as it reaches her ears, and her features soften with confusion as its presence leaves her, nearly stepping forward in attempt to find it once again, desperate to cling to the haunting power that it elusively cloaks all around her. It returns to her, brushing its shadowy trace across her jawline once again, reassuring her that it still is with her, always present.
She remembers when her power was all her own, a dance of shadows that would warp and turn at her whim, beautiful and eloquently spiraling through the night. She had always been particular to her shadows, finding solace in the darkness unlike her sister; so alike yet so very different, night and day. Ever since her powers had been stripped from her she had felt empty and lost, uncertain and searching the darkness with blind eyes, unable to coax her shadows out from its hiding. Even now, she isn’t able to manipulate or stir her own shadows as they cross in front of her and brush against her. To her, this is her power returned, but embodied into its own being, its own host, without needing her encouragement to come alive.
The shadows have always been her lover, and now it has a voice and an entity – it was too good to be true, and she would not allow herself to question it.
She’s so careful, so gentle, so delicate; afraid to scare it away or offend it, and never see it again.
“Of course,” she replies, her voice quiet and soft in the darkness. “We have always been one. I am not whole without you…” She trails off, feeling herself falling, feeling light-headed with the emotion that wells up inside her. She trusts it, the shadows, but she was beginning to feel uncertain, as if the shadows were testing her and did not believe her loyalty to it. She curls onto the ground, crisp leaves and grass crumbling beneath the weight of her blue and silver body, the overwhelming presence of the shadow standing over her. “The Reckoning took you from me, shadow. Too long I’ve only been half,” she whispers into what she believes is nothingness, but it was to a cunning stranger, a trickster. He is a being that she would never knew existed in any other way beside her darling shadows.
“Are you – are you, whole now?” She questions the shadow hesitantly as she feels lips trace the soft slope of her neck, desperately wanting the deep and rumbling voice to tell her yes, but too afraid to hope for such wishes to come true.
If the answer was yes, her shadow is no longer an it, but a he. The idea makes her heart race in ways she has never experienced, though she hopes the feeling does not diminish.
Now that was something he liked to hear. Even the way her sweet voice faded away sounded so good. Sometimes it could be so dull and quiet in this work. Mmm, and sometimes so wonderfully loud. His li’l dove, now, she was one to sing. But here lately, it had been so quiet. This one though, her voice was so very welcomed. All soft and sexy in this completely innocent, accidental way. Already missed, perhaps. So gentle and tinkling like delicate glass.
He leaned over her, pressing another faint kiss to her neck as she continued.
”The Reckoning took you from me, shadow. Too long I've only been half.” Ohh, only half, hm? So he completed her, did he? Perfect. So deliciously perfect. And so her shadow must be a magic, then. The Reckoning suppressed it as his had been. ”Are you whole now,” she stammered and he couldn't help the small smile buried in her neck. Him, whole? Well, that wasn't quite right, now was it? She'd only been half, after all. What did that make him?
No, luv. We are whole. And his mouth explored more, kissing her neck more openly, more confidently, possessive, wandering back to her jawline again as he leaned his body against her. See? Feel me.I am whole with you, he whispered. For you Mmm, didn't she like that? Didn't she want that? Her Shadow could still answer to her. Maybe. But with a mind of its own, his own. So much more real. She definitely liked that, didn't she?
Do you wanna command me, luv, he tested quietly. So curious. Could be fun.
He settled closer to her, pressed more of himself against her. Mmm, feel how solid her dear Shadow was? He smiled again, another sexy grin she couldn't see, green eyes taking her in, roaming her body as he pulled his face away. Damn, she was gorgeous. Maybe she was his now. For tonight. Or maybe for longer. She was turning out to be so interesting. What more could he learn? He loved trying to find her secrets. Trying to be her secret. They'd never been like her before. Not quite. Could be fun to follow her for a day or two. Maybe.
He rose quietly and moved aside, standing a pace away and watching her with his head low and eyes intent. Leaving her cold where he'd been. His wings stretched silently, straight up, then rested casually, half-raised on his back. Such a shame they weren't black too. Could so easily be more of her shadow. Ah, well. His lips would do nicely sometime. Mmm, definitely. But not yet.
Ah, but he couldn't help himself. And he stretched his wing to caress her face again, trace the line of her jaw to her chin with eyes gone just a little too soft for comfort. Couldn't start actually caring, now. Just a bit of fun, right? Beautiful li'l thing, that was all. Admiring, only. C'mere, luv, he murmured softly, letting her hear the direction he was in. Come to Shadow. Let 'im hold you.
She is overwhelmed, but not in a way that she felt consumed. She felt completely full, no longer empty and lost. Her heart swells with joy, however unsure her thoughts made her. It is too good to be true, it must only be a dream, but she would not question such a blessing that has come to her. She fears the emptiness that she once felt, afraid that with the shadows absence that she would return to her plainness, her simplicity. It (he?) makes her feel powerful and wanted, needed and longed for – a feeling she craved without ever knowing she craved it. The love of her family, however true and pure, was nothing compared to what the love of the shadow being would give her. She now actively seeks its (his?) approval, to convince it that staying with her would be the only way she could continue forward.
Choose me. Love me.
Her thoughts drive her actions, carefully learning the shadow’s position above her, leaning in to its touch against her silvered skin. Her eyes flutter closed as it assures her, we are whole. It remembers her, she thinks. The way the shadow presses into her, leaving hot kisses against her in longing, their reunion so very long overdue. She inhales deeply, the scent of the pines and masculinity enriching her further. A shadow prince has come to her, longs for her, chose her. Her skin pricks as he lowers himself to her, his warmth and strength sending her heart pounding heavily against the small of her chest. Wrapped within his shadows, she is safe and protected, loved.
His voice speaks to her again, warm with desire against her skin – a voice that would never hurt her.
As she exhales, slow and soft, he is gone.
“No,” she whispers back, her eyes opening and their silver irises searching the empty space around her, brows falling as she reaches out, frightened that something had taken him from her, or that he must leave her. She holds her breath, which exhales heavily when she feels the slightest bit of velvet against her cheek, caressing her lovingly. She presses her head into the touch, resting her weight there, eyes softening with relief and tenderness. “You are not meant to be commanded anymore, Shadow.” She murmurs into the silkiness of what was his wing, her breath warm on the invisible feathers.
He beckons her and she obliges, putting her slender legs beneath her and rises gracefully, delicately. With his touch against her she is able to step forward with confidence, silver eyes still searching for a being she knew she might not ever be able to see.
The sound of crickets chirping fills the silence as she comes to him, wanting and needing his embrace to hold her so soundly. “Does my shadow have a name?”
She does not command him anymore, she should not name him.
