"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
Somehow their rolls have been reversed. She had appeared from the woods, broken and sobbing – in desperate need of comfort. But he had given her nothing. He hadn’t even asked what had caused her tears.
She had asked for a friend and he had walked away. But she hadn't given up, she brought herself even closer to him, her touch lightly raining across his crest and shoulders of stone. She was comforting him.
She was untainted. She was good.
Her touch – the only medicine she knows how to give and she gives it freely. He continues to stare across the river, pretending not to notice the what he can’t stop thinking about. With every breath that passes, the slightest amount more of her is pressed against him.
His mask falls, and he closes his eyes. He gives in, only for a moment, savoring her warmth and her delicacy, as she sooths away the anger he nurtures. Briefly, he enjoys the feeling of enjoying something. Something other than the sight of his fires destruction.
He had burned the flesh of living creatures.
He had voices in his head.
Briefly, is long enough. He lifts his head then, rolling so that his four ivory limbs rest in the space between them, without touching her. His mismatched eyes seek her blues and he decides to wait before returning to his unattached norm. He had already dropped his guard with her, and she had repaid him with empathy.
“I’m Levi.” He says candidly. “Earlier… what was that, when you changed the way I saw your face?”
His voice is different from the rumble he had used earlier when speaking to her - It's more his own.
He doesn’t know it, but he is healing her. Healing her in a way he might never have expected. To offer comfort is to receive comfort, a foreign concept to many, but so integral to her being. He had unintentionally given her exactly what she had needed, exactly what she had been craving.
In turn, he had gained a most devoted friend and confidant. Even if he had not wanted one.
For a moment, when that tension falls away, when his features relax and his eyes slide shut, a thrill shudders through her. A feeling of satisfaction and pleasure so intense it fairly quivers through her body. For the briefest of moments, she allows herself to melt into him, to give herself over the feel of both giving and receiving succor.
But then he is pulling away, leaving her abruptly adrift in a sea of rapidly fading warmth. Blinking in surprise, her wide blue eyes follow him as he withdraws. Then he offers his name, and she is distracted from the sudden loss. Distracted by the change of subject, by a question she takes a few precious seconds to wrap her head around.
She stares at him for a long moment, before blinking and dropping her gaze as she considers how best to answer him. Finally, she begins. “Well…” Drawing in a breath, she takes a moment to drop her guise. To remove the cloak from his eyes so he can once more see her face. The tears have nearly disappeared, only faint, salty tracks remaining, the small wound now nothing but a smudge of dark red against the blue of her fur. “It’s your eyes. I can change what you see. An illusion I suppose.” She frowns then, considering, before amending, “Except real, in a way. I can show you more.”
As she says the last, she reaches out to do so before abruptly pulling back, faint concern tugging at her features. “May I?”
there is a pulse that echoes of you and I
ugh, Rapture says what is this 'short' post business you speak of? :|
She is patient, she doesn’t seem to rush to action or conversation. And that quality puts Levi at ease. He too is patient, but in a more sinister way, a prowling patience. But right now, he doesn’t feel menacing, or sinister or whatever the right word is for a young man consumed by fire. He feels calm, mostly curious, and something else... less wholesome, but not malicious.
Her eyes drop and he takes a moment to allow his to run over her topline. The way her blues fade into the whites and the groves and curves of her back and hips. Saliva fills his mouth and he realizes he would like nothing more than to run his teeth and tongue over her flanks, taste the pool of softness below her hip bone. These thoughts simultaneously delight and surprise him. He hadn’t had many signs that the raging testosterone of his young body was doing anything other than making him more inclined to violence than most. But with his fire subdued by the icy river, he was feeling other urges which had been stifled by his more important need. The need to release his fire.
He almost didn’t want her to come back… not yet at least.
When his burning eyes, red and black, return to her face the tear trails have returned. Where the ruby of blood had been, there is only a brown smudge - the attraction he is feeling towards her does not diminish because of this, like she had assumed it would. He realizes that it is indeed attraction he feels, and a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.
How he had watched them all and been unimpressed by their reliance one each other. All of them, the lovers, the give and take they exchanged had disgusted him. But now the heat traveling down his back legs informs him that it may not be so bad, to give in now and then. To let a mare support his weight, just for a night.
She is speaking now, and her voice draws him from his reflection and realization. He is soft and supple to her whim as he lowers his head to the height of her own and considers her restful eyes.
“Sure.”
Levi
so scream you, out from behind the bitter ache.
Well, we tried :|
Also, with the vision manipulation you 100% have my approval to do whatever she wants! Poor girl, idk if she can see his thoughts or not.
when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:
There are different types of sight here in Beqanna. Inward eyes that open and peer into the mind, or into the soul, even the power to see past, present, future. Sight is a relative term around this place, being that it didn’t matter how you saw things, simply: what do you see?
What Wyrm sees is something that rattles him deep to the bone.
They are children yet. Children. Rapture is still a filly to him, though the lines of her body and the confidence in her mannerisms would argue otherwise. The colt, whomever he may be, is wiry and not yet filled out. Still, the children below his hidden perch are acting not as children do - they are filled with the curiosity of exploration. Hidden secrets that didn’t seem to matter in blissful youth are now unraveling into exciting new possibilities right before him and all Wyrm can seem to manage is a disgusted frown. He lets it pass, like water over his skin, watches silently while they exchange emotions and touch, but when his daughter leans close and offers the colt a glimpse further into her abilities, Wyrm is already moving to interrupt them.
Sleek and powerful as silk when it glides over fingertips the dark, spotted cat slips off his branch to land with a muffled thud nearby. He needs no introduction nor does he offer one as he sidles abruptly into their quiet friendship, only rubs himself briefly against the legs and side of his offspring before pinning the colt with hard, red eyes. “Raaaptureee…” He purrs, rounded ears flicking back while his shoulders roll irritably. His velvet tail tweaks slowly side-to-side, a life of his own while he appraises the boy with downturned lips. “... Who’s this?”
He’s not finished, though. A block head, thick and satin black, turns slowly on his shoulders so that he can pass a look of understanding to his brilliant girl. “Not everyone is to be trusted.” He tells her rather bluntly, finding that the words sound harsher when spoken. As if he had forgotten him entirely, Wyrm the jaguar blinks wearily before turning his focus back to the strange bay. “And very few have good intentions.”
did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?
She is too young yet to have had much (any) experience in the ways of attraction. In the doings between man and woman. She has not pried, nor has she been particularly curious. But this interlude, this particular man, stirs feelings both foreign and thrilling inside her that she cannot help but wish to explore further. And though she stares at him through eyes of youth and innocence, there is more hidden in those depths. An understanding and a longing.
And though it is foreign, unfamiliar, she gives in to the thrill, the shiver that runs along her spine as his dual-toned eyes trace the curves of her budding body. As those eyes heat with an unfathomable fire.
But she has no time to ponder such things.
No, he had given her permission to tug and pull and shape his sight, and the moment the word escapes his lips, she is reaching out, invisible touch melding and moulding, fitting his sight with a new layer. One that takes in nothing but heat signatures, the familiar shapes giving way to the brilliant pulsing red of heartbeats, the rush of blood fading to orange and yellow as it reaches extremities. The cool blues and grays of the rushing water, the rustling leaves of the trees.
But even that she has no time to dwell upon, much less time to explain. Before another word can pass her lips, a new form is inserting itself between her and her new friend. A form both foreign and familiar. Her name upon his lips causes her small, defined head to jerk sharply up, eyes of palest blue widening in alarm. Her gaze jumps, fixing upon the dark shape of the cat, the familiar eyes staring out. Unmistakable. “Dad!” The single word is expelled upon a sharp breath of air, the alarm far too evident in her soft tone.
She sways a bit, resisting the urge to shift, to place herself between her father and Levi. He had made no threats yet, and perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps it would be as simple as telling him the fire-wielding stallion is no threat to her. Taking a deep breath, she releases it before continuing, her voice softer, steadier, any surprise smoothed from the dulcet tones. “It’s alright daddy. He… Levi, he’s just a friend. You don’t need to worry. Really.”
Fortunately for her, her blue skin would give away no telltale blush, no outward sign of discomfiture at the slight prevarication.
Without hesitation, she reaches out to him, invisibly touching the space behind his eyes. Levi’s vision is awash in colors he has never seen before. Or at least he has never seen them put together in quite this way, so vibrant and… informative. She has changed. No longer is his companion subtle and blue, she is glowing – visibly hot. As intriguing he found her before, his interest is doubled. The rich crimson below her chin draws his eye, her jugular trembles with life and heat. The deep red naturally demands his attention, set stark against the lesser colors of the world around her, the intensity is striking. Curiosity and a small dose of wonder fills his eyes as he shifts his gaze to the world around them. But they are not alone. His new vision reviles a shape, unfamiliar in its form, lurking just beyond the tree line. In a moment he regains his feet, his pale lips curl back to revile the line of his teeth and the small incisors budding further up his gums. But his herbivore’s teeth are not his weapon, the gesture is more instinctual than practical. Despite the bulk of his young body, it is far less formidable than his hidden talent. A dose of adrenaline feeds the flames contained in the sabino stallion's body. This kind of adrenaline he is accustomed to - the violent kind. The fire tumbles in his belly, and begs him to release her and ask questions later. But Levi's wary nature prevents him from indulging.His vision is still strange, he had first been enamored with the change, but now he wishes his sight would return to normal...so he can better tell what exactly is coming towards them. “Dad!” Rapture’s voice sounds beside him and his face shows his surprise for an instant, before he again places his own fathers mask of stoicism over his features – the mask Rapture had worked to diligently to have him set down for a moment.
Now that the initial disruption is over and Levi stands tall and coolly watching the father and daughter, hiding his suspicion and his intrigue. The world around him still morphs straggly with vibrant blues oranges and greens and the fire moves under his skin.
Levi
so scream you, out from behind the bitter ache.
@[Wyrm]
So, I thought rapture was three :|
but I guess not... is she two? please don't tell me she is a yearling >.>
when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:
The spotted boy is unusually quiet, but Wyrm appreciates it. It reminds him of that sickly black-and-star painted stallion Heartfire had been mulling over with her sister, Luster, some time ago. That beast hadn’t been so stoic and the only thing that had kept Wyrm from rendering him mute was respect for his woman’s plans. It had been her business - now this was his. A strange clicking noise travels the length of his throat, vibrating in the airwaves around them before dying out and Wyrm arches his dark back to pop the joints there before trying on a new skin. He shifts fluidly, trading paws and tail for hooves and a green coat that undulates with flashes of color before settling on his regular shade. A shake of his refined head and then he’s whole, horse, and blinking slowly over the two in front of him again.
“Levi?” He scoffs, rather unimpressed with the entire package now that he’s put a name to it. He can see how it might appeal to his daughter’s tender side, but surely Rapture wouldn’t be picking up every stray that wandered into her sight, right? If so, then Wyrm would have to keep a much closer eye on her. For her own good. “And he’s your friend, is he?” The shifter asks redundantly, an audible hmmm thrumming from his vocal chords. Atop his slender head, his ears flicker forwards and then shift back. “How long have you been friends with Rapture, Levi?”
He could guess the answer, but he wants to gain a better measure of the other stallion. He wants to hear those words come from the boy’s dark mouth, wants to see the metal he’s made of. It was his job, remember? To be the over-protective father. It’s what he killed Lupei for. His head quirks to the side, one mismatched green eye catching sight of his daughter before he says, “Your mother and I met in a similar fashion.”
did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?
07-03-2017, 11:28 PM (This post was last modified: 07-03-2017, 11:29 PM by Rapture.)
Rapture
somewhere between the sand and the stardust
In one small beat of time, her heart breaks just a little bit, for the loss of the moments she and Levi had shared, for the loss of familiarity and warmth and friendship that had flared so briefly between them. For just a moment, that hard, callous outer shell had opened, had allowed her a glimpse of the man beneath. And she wanted to see more, wanted to know that man as much as she wished to know the man burning with fire that stands before them now. She can feel the heat of his presence despite the feet separating them, despite her father dividing them.
She gazes at Levi for a long moment, silently pleading, her too tender heart upon her sleeve, hoping he will give her another chance. Hoping he will wait for her. For the briefest of moments, she reaches out to him once more, not a physical touch, but the delicate, invisible touch of her sight. A gentle, almost unnoticeable tug that frees him from her alterations and releases his own sight back to him. She sighs then, turning her pale blue gaze back to her father, now a horse like any other but for the vibrant green of his coat.
Perhaps her father is right, perhaps she is too soft, but it is a softness this world needs as much as it needs her father’s calculating machinations.
His sharp words cause her to wince almost imperceptibly. Shifting subtly, she moves forwards, edging around the protective wall Wyrm has made himself, placing herself in a position where she might have easier access to Levi. Her father would never hurt her, but she cannot say the same of Levi. If need be, she would place herself between them. A temporary measure perhaps, but Wyrm is a smart man. Certainly he would see that Levi is no threat to her.
And as much as he might wish to, he cannot protect her heart. It has already been broken once by cruel fate and crueler hands. But this encounter is nothing like the last. She doesn’t say anything in response to his words, no defense or gentle plea. She just stares at him, powder blue eyes wide as her lower lip trembles faintly. And she stands her ground.
His last words surprise her however, causing her to blink. Withdrawing slightly, she peers at him with wary curiosity. She has never been told the story of how her parents met, nor had she ever asked or pried. So it is curious that he should bring it up now. “Really?” she asks, unable to prevent herself. “So, then... you don’t mind?”
One red and one inky black – his eyes never leave the other stallion. His mannerisms, and the uncanny clicking, unnerve the young stallion. He is not surprised to feels Rapture’s gentle touch alone the strings of his mind and he does not resist. But even as his vision morphs back to normal he doesn’t spare a glance for her. This green creature, the protective father, as he would like to appear, disgusts Levi.
Unfortunately, Rapture had captured him for a moment in time and he can’t shake the feelings she had stirred in him. That, and his dark curiosity, keep his leg like pillars set in the riverbank. His voice comes out raspy and low, the voice of one who has had lungs filled with smoke far too often. “If you wanted to protect your daughter, you are a few hours late.” A sneer pulls at his top lip, uninvited, and his words are cool and bored.
When the blue girl had first approached as he lay nearly submerged in the river she had been broken, covered in a strange scent and tears. And then, somehow, she had drawn comfort from him.
That other guy must have been pretty bad.
“Why don’t you ask Rapture what upset her earlier? “ His voice rises a little with the idea, partially because he wanted to know, what had happened to her? His ears slowly unpin from the tangle on black mane below them.
He thinks about answer the question her father originally asked, but he can’t see the point of it and he doesn’t like to be baited along – and so it remains unanswered.
On a normal day, Levi wouldn’t blame someone for being suspicious of him, it was an image he allowed. He may not cultivate it, but he sure didn’t bother to make others think any differently about him. But today, when he had let someone behind his façade, he got caught.
You just aren’t you without me – the flames whisper to him.
But then, in contrast to the hiss of his flames, Raptures voice sooths the tension in the air. Scoff, sneer, scoff, momentarily he is distracted from this posturing to looks at her – the open face blue like summer day.
when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:
“Of course I don’t.” he replies shortly to Rapture’s final question. The pleading in her eyes will garner no response from him, aside from hardening his resolve. He won’t dare to look away from the spotted boy either when he says, “Why would I? You’re my daughter, you have the power to stop anything or anyone who crosses a line.” Let it be known, in every corner of Beqanna, that Wyrm would never leave his children unprotected - not for a single iota of time. Of course he could not be there in flesh, not forever, but he would be damned if he let them leave without the ability to protect themselves. Besides, if Rapture truly needed him, she could always reach him in her own way.
He pauses, glances over his shoulder, and is met with that trembling blue lip and that downcast face. Only her eyes - bright, intense, so much like her mother’s - are filled with a spark of hope. Levi’s comment only manages to entice a single, green ear to swivel about and Wyrm’s lips split apart, stretch until they open to expose every serrated tooth that grapples for space in an elongated mouth. It gives him something of a sickly engrossing smile as he turns his head to profile. The one eye that’s exposed to the grating youth twitches in it’s socket, darts to pinpoint him, and then melds the pupil into a slit. Even with new vision Levi is nothing but flesh and bone. Mortal, just like the rest of them.
The bay’s last comment (more like a tattle) does pique his interest though, enough to turn his full attention (and ears) back to his docile, blue girl. “Rapture,” He begins softly, mouth melting to a sense of normality in his moment of peace, “is there something you’d like to show me?”
did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?
![[Image: BQLevipagedoll-DONE.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/25n6rx5J/BQLevipagedoll-DONE.png)