"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
And maybe, I'll find out a way to make it back someday. To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.
He already missed her, terribly.
It felt as if there were a gaping wound, festering within his chest, leaving him breathless and longing like he had never been before. He had been given a taste of her – so sweet, like droplets of rainwater – and of the passion that simmered beneath her skin, arching to his ravenous mouth, gasping against the urgency of his body melding into her own – a dance as old as time itself, and it had sated his desire, if only for a moment in time.
He had spent much more time caressing her beneath the pale moonlight, drawing her closer to him and brushing his dark mouth across the column of her throat, the curve of her jawline, while her dark tresses draped over his own. He had tasted the gentle hum of her pleasure under his tongue, and he had brushed away the fallen tears away from her emerald skin. There was so much meaning within his gentle, deliberate caresses – hidden within each soft kiss were apologies that no words could ever convey, and each time that his body became one with her own, he felt closer to her, and it was a feeling he would not soon forget.
Alas, dawn inevitably came, and with it, they had parted ways. The wanderlust within him was dormant, and he yearned to stay by her side, to follow her to whatever end of the Earth she so craved to see, but she had convinced him that taking the time to brace their sons for his arrival would be in their best interest. Thus, she had moved to the north, and he to the south, despite the heavy, roiling knot of dread slowly building within the pit of his belly that told him to follow her – to not leave her side.
His instinct had known better than he.
His broad, heavily feathered wings had become stiff and sore from disuse, and he longed to be amid the rolling clouds once more, drifting across various wind currents (both those created by his own sheer will, and those as natural as the blinding sun itself) – and after many hours of flexing and stretching the hollowed bones and their neglected ligaments, he had finally taken flight, soaring over the wide, open sky.
His mirth was short-lived, however, as a swell of darkness bloomed over the woodland toward the north, followed by a distant rumbling as the ground and sea began to untangle itself from its own delicately woven threads, bubbling up with seawater and magma as a corner of the forest fell into pieces.
No. No, it can’t be –
Taiga.
But it is, and his heart is beating faster, wildly pounding inside of his chest as the angle of his broad wingspan is shifted, and a gust of forceful wind carries him swiftly across the landscape. He does not dare enter the darkness of which has inevitably swallowed the copse of trees it once loomed over precariously, choosing instead to plunge himself into an open clearing a mile south of the wreckage, while his long, golden legs outstretch for a stunted landing, surrounded by tall and winding vegetation, his hazel gaze searching the shadow of the dark tree line.
Nearby, the river roared, echoing throughout the dense foliage, but he did not seek the solace of its ravenous ways now – and a deep, urgent call (a plea, his heart racing still) echoes through out the land – a call for Circinae, for Jah-Lilah, for his sons.
If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all, then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you.
Jah-Lilah was dreaming again today. Her head was filled with visions of Taiga being swallowed up. She could hear the screams, see the image of the malicious stallion(Carnage, they had called him), feel the wrath of the faeries. She felt crushed and defeated all over again. Her spiritual connection to everything around her and to the Earth-Mother wouldn't let her rest easy. As she relived the death of a nation, her heart wept. The pain felt almost physical, as if all that the Earth-Mother felt, my little firefly felt with her. This nightmare was almost worse than when she defeated The Underneath's minion. Except at least she could escape The Underneath's grasp. Where does she run when the beast is in her own mind?
Jah-Lilah is jolted awake just as one of Carnage's wolves reach out to snap her up. She panics for a moment, then sees the bodies of her family, Circinae and Crevan, dozing next to her and she instantly calms. She felt as though she wanted to touch them, grab them, snatch them, to make sure they were truly there, alive in front of her. She doesn't wake them. This is the first time since the demolition of her Wolf's homeland any of them have had any semblance of rest, as unsound as that sleep was. She stepped a pace closer, watching them slumber. They were breathtaking, her mate and her son. Crevan had grown so much since that fateful winter day she had come to Taiga seeking Circinae. He was blooming into a hell of a stud, and could have been Canaan's brother, he so favored him. Then there was Circinae.
Who could have thought when my Jah-Lilah had come here she'd find such a creature. The mare was sleek, smart, shaped by the water and the lupine inside of her. Sometimes Jah-Lilah would just watch the girl, and seeing her in action earlier during the emergency...she was flawless. She had slowly been starting to master her teleportation skills, and it showed. My flower reaches over and nibbles Circinae's withers, then noses at her midnight mane, inhaling all of her in. She moves to Crevan, licking up behind his ear and wuffling softly. She sighed, wishing Canaan and Corvus were here. She missed them terribly, and longed for Circinae to be reunited with all of her boys. Canaan especially. The pair had welcomed Jah-Lilah in so completely, so easily, she wondered if there was a catch. So far the Earth-Mother played no game with Jah's emotions, this was real, her mates and her family unit all was-
Jah-Lilah's train of thought is cut short by a cry that rips into her soul and has her completely on edge. Her head shoots up and her muscles are rigid, nose twitching as she desperately tries to confirm what she's just heard. His call reaches her ears again and she whinnies back, long and loud, her silvery voice cutting the crisp night air. She whirls and pirouettes on a hind leg to reach round and deliver a nip to both of her companions. She roughly nudges Circinae into alertness, all grogginess had been spooked out of her. "Wolf, get up! It's him!" She turns to Creven and begins bumping him towards the river. "Fire-Fang, come, we must go, now." With that, she lights up the night, looking for any sign of the winged wanderer. She looks back at her family, waiting for Circy to lead the way.
Her memories play out as dreams: blossoms of yellow moonlight, spread like a fan over the umber tendrils of Canaan’s hair. Every fine, dark strand illuminated by the halo of shivering light, only to disappear beneath the shadow of her lips as they trailed their way rightfully (intimately) to the apex of his withers. Together again they had plummeted into the sphere of their own universe, created and shaped by gestures once thought clumsy - but this time she knew him better; she had come prepared.
Her dreams twist further: there’s the mesh of juniper skin, velvet to the touch, as it fits the golden shape of his body (Circinae had sighed then, closed her eyes and simply let herself be overcome by desire and the very scent of him) and then she’s moving to work her way around the shadows of his backend. She can’t remember the details, perhaps the trees weren’t quite so blue, or the stars so terribly near, but everything else to her is almost tangible.
The little wolf shifts, but sleeps: In the darkness she almost disappears. Her head, veiled in prussian blue, rises slowly over the sloped muscle of his hindquarters to flash first one, then the other crystal eye to where he’d gazed behind at her in lustful wonder. Her laugh then had been soft, hardly more than a whisper caught in her throat. Circinae had been so hungry for him - she could still taste the way he’d stiffened under every moaning bite, gentle as they were. One at the sweet point of his hip, one where his belly drew up into forbidden secrecy, almost one upon his stifle but - she’d paused, there underneath him, and felt her own legs grow weak…
“Wolf, get up! It’s him!” A voice bays and Circy’s eyes fly open.
It’s hard not to wake with a smile, a quick stretch, even though Jah-Lilah’s tense energy could be felt through her own thick fur. The death of Taiga had been especially hard on Circinae’s newfound mate, especially hard on them all (those who had called the redwoods home) though it seemed that Jah had found sleep less and less friendly through the nights. The shifter had been hard-pressed to find a solution - neither physical or spacial comfort had lessened her heart’s suffering but it was hard (so very, very hard) to be completely drowned in the earth-spirit’s despair when her own thoughts were .. well … so wrapped up in Canaan.
“Ow, Firstly, and secondly: Crevan?” She yawns, glancing to the warmth at her back where her youngest was shaking a demon-sized head and blinking with round, predator’s eyes into the sparking lights. Her copper dame had lit the sky, set it ablaze with jolts of white-hot energy to find the long-evading lover, Canaan. “Your brother?” She asks her son quickly, huffing with the exasperation of a mother when he only rolls his shoulders in response. “He’ll be there.” Crevan barks as she rounds away, nimble little legs winding over one another as Circy slips between Jah-Lilah’s hooves and out the other side.
“Don’t mind me, heart.” The creature croons softly, pressing the dome of her mahogany head to the red witch’s knee. She shifts, grunts softly into the electric night as her color fades and blooms again with the mold of her body. Canaan had taken her as many times as he had wanted and she had needed, each better than the last, but still it could not touch the sphere that she and Jah-Lilah had also crafted together. Separate, yet overlapping and still sometimes there seemed to be a missing link. “We’ll go together. Always together.” She tells the fiery mare with certainty, even as she takes the first step.
In tandem they’re Dryade and Nereid, red on green and simply made for each other. It still amazes the former Taigan how right it feels pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, as natural as birth and death even while they dip into a curve of the nearby channel. The water is hardly upon them before they’re gone, before she flashes back again to shift her eyes and let the reflection signal out to where Crevan hunches in the bushes. A final trip through the fabric of time and then they’re nearly altogether at the River - Canaan, who must be sniffed out still, Jah-Lilah, Crevan, Circinae, and Corvus who, according to her son, would “be there.”
Nearly complete.
“He sounded urgent?” She asks Jah, shaking free a few droplets as the night settles in around them. She can still see clearly, so the shape of her nose transforms and oddly the part-wolf scents the air for that familiar warmth. “Well he’s not far, of course.” Circy comments, fully aware that this was where she and Canaan had promised to meet. The circumstances were just a bit different. Now she takes the lead, drawn with eagerness as every stride lengthens to guide her through the black outcropping of sparse trees. A flick of an ear behind her, Crevan is lagging, perhaps with suspicion, but they’re still making headway.
The teleporter is no companion to patience. Trembling, short of breath, she breaks into canter before materializing on the other side of the silhouetted treeline, midnight locks streaming behind her while her breast rises and falls to the sound of his name, “Canaan!”
Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me
And maybe, I'll find out a way to make it back someday. To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.
He can hear her long before he can see her, and though it does his soul good to hear the gentle trill of her voice (as breathless and as urgent as his own), his weary and recklessly pounding heart is unstoppable, thundering roughly inside of his chest. It would not rest until she stood before him, unharmed, unscathed. He is motionless, but only for a moment - ignoring the temptation of the raucous and unruly river, though his throat is dry and parched with thirst. It does not lure him to the waters’ edge, where the rippling, churning current hungrily clutches at the smooth, barren riverbank; he plunges himself further into the dimly lit woodland, with the echo of his name ringing in his own mind.
Being without her had never stirred so much anxiety within him before – he was a creature built of wanderlust, longing to go where he never had before, aching to be anywhere but where he had already been. Yet, much had changed during his captivity. He longed to see the vibrant cerulean of her sultry gaze (so much like the salty sea along the coastline of Nerine; it reminded him of her each day), to taste the sage and soil that lingered on her viridescent skin - he longed to be beside her more than he yearned for his freedom, and it is a desire he had never thought himself capable of having.
Parting from her had been done with a heavy – and weary – heart. He had only just found her, and he found himself once again alone, albeit without the invisible binding that had kept him tethered to the ground. There was the whispered promise of tomorrow, upon which he would be reunited with her – with their sons, who he longed to see – with Jah-Lilah, who had a mystery all her own, whose heavy-lidded gaze and sensuality stirred his heart into a ragged frenzy, not unlike Circinae did.
He felt conflicted, and yet there was contentment – she had found happiness in his absence, and he would never fault her for it. He had never promised to return to her; he could have been little else but bone left awash upon the shore, or in a far off distant land. He never expected her to wait for him, or to still hold a piece of him so close to her heart – but he hoped that she had, as he had done as well.
The pure emotional connection shared between the two was striking, alluring – he was not deterred by it; he was drawn to it. He longed to be a part of it, to be a part of Circinae and the life she had built, however she would have him (the mindset of Jah-Lilah, the wickedly witty and electrifying enchantress which had taken a piece of his water-wolf’s heart, is still unknown to him). Still, he longed to see her, too. He knew somehow, it would be as it was meant to be.
When his golden-flecked gaze is finally settled upon the familiar gleam of her emerald skin, a breath he had been holding without realizing it emerges in a low, rumbling sigh – she had escaped the wreckage, with no injury nor harm to show for it.
His slender but heavily muscled legs carry him to her, and his pale lips press against the curve of her jaw – a breath of a kiss, before his steady gaze bores into that of Jah-Lilah, the magnetic creature fitting so closely and so flawlessly into the edges and curves of Circinae’s feminine body. There is the warmth of a smile as his breath intermingles with her own with a soft whuffing noise – inhaling the heavy spice of her heady scent, blending faultlessly with that of his (their emerald lover and briefly brushing his lips across the curve of her cheek.
All the while, he is unaware of a scent further downwind – where his sons Crevan (and Corvus, tucked carefully alongside his watchful brother lie in wait.
”The forest,” he breathes, his gaze flickering from one and to the other. ”to the north – I saw it fall, with magma, fire – the ocean swallowed it, and I worried –“ he pauses, then, concern laced within his tone, while his hazel gaze bores into Circinae’s own, searchingly. ”Taiga? Is it gone? What about the boys?”
If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all, then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you.
09-11-2017, 07:14 PM (This post was last modified: 09-11-2017, 07:16 PM by Jah-Lilah.)
Jah-Lilah
Baby, come closer.
And suddenly, the world was so small. It was like someone sucked out all of the air in the room, Jah-Lilah was so breathless. All around them her vision was blurred, and she could see only gold and emerald. Priceless gems, they were indeed. They call upon each other, and meet somewhere in the middle, my firefly is captured, captivated. Her heart races, thumps hard against her ribs, but she hasn't moved at all. Her ears are pointed, straining to hear every word exchanged, she wants to miss nothing. A normal mare would feel bashful, like she was imposing on the private reunion of old lovers. Jah-Lilah is no normal mare, and these are her lovers.
She allows herself to be pulled into them, they are magnets, and she feels suddenly made of metal. She approaches silently, but not sneakily. Her head cocks and her tail raises slightly in growing excitement. She is rendered primal, thrown back to days less evolved for a moment. She moves closer, bobbing her head at the pair. Circinae is on the Pegasus' left, and that's where my flower-child begins. She clucks softly at her she-mate, greeting her with an exchange of breath and a gentle nosing. She is smiling already, nipping at the girl's chest as she makes her way to her withers. She peers over top, making eye contact with the male for only a split second. Or was it an hour? Jah-Lilah can barely tell, so lost in the fog she is. She feels so hazy, yet she has never seen more clear in her life. She continues her bold journey down Wolf-of-the-Water's barrel, stopping periodically to lick and nibble at various favorite spots along the way. Her muscles are wound tightly beneath her skin in excitement, but she remains in control. Ever the temptress, ever the enigma, my Jah-Lilah.
When she reaches Circinae's croup, she takes a moment to rest her chin atop, her whole burning body pressed against the cool water of the paragon shifter. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply, taking all of the girl into her. She plants a kiss on her hindquarter and reluctantly peels herself away from the mare. She purses her lips and rounds the corner that is Circinae, and there he is, Spirit-in-the-Sky. His desperation for their jade lover makes him look wild, uncontrollable. Jah-Lilah is smitten by the pair already.
She approaches him on his right, steps well-calculated, deliberate. She draws out the time until she reaches him on purpose, building the suspense between the three of them. Her skin dances across the other side of Circinae, and she is already home. Her dark muzzle meets his tawny one, and she blows heavily onto him. She grunts and squeals suddenly, tail cutting straight up and through the air in her excitement. She comes back and lips at the bridge of his nose, but only for a second. She's feeling stronger and more confident here by the second, and it's like they've always been lovers, Water, Air, Earth. Three parts of the same whole. Her teeth nibble feather light across his cheek and jawbone, and she moves closer still. A tug of his mane behind the ear, a pressing of her chest into his, and she is a mirror image of her sea-foam companion on the other side of him. She licks down his neck until she hits the withers, and there's her beloved. She touches noses with her, cooing and champing her jaws almost submissively. She has given herself wholly to them, is completely vulnerable as she stands nose to tail to nose with them. For a moment, Jah-Lilah forgets the fall of Taiga, and forgets the fall of her dark lover from so many years ago. For a moment, the puzzle of Jah-Lilah is missing no pieces.
The sudden arrival of his twin jolts him to a start.
Crevan had been staring, eyes-wide, at the trio as they slowly melded into one another. Curiosity at who this strange stallion his mother had so brazenly entwined herself with washed over him first, followed slowly by a disbelieving recognition of the name that falls from the emerald mare’s lips as she breaks free from their troupe. Canaan. His sire, in the flesh and here at last, every bit the creature that the Underneath had conjured for his personal torture.
When they had met last, Crevan had killed him.
He seeks that same end now, pushing ahead past his elder brother with fury thrumming in his veins and a snarl ripping up free from his throat. The fur along his shoulders rises eagerly enough, trailed in form by the wheat-colored stripe of rigid hair that runs the length of his spine. Blindly he tears past clinging branch and thorn, leaving only tufts of his pale coat behind in his hurry to be free of the dark wood so that he might spring upon the winged horse but something stops him, one step shy of the clearing.
Jah-Lilah joins them. Tentatively the son of Circinae had only ever speculated what connection the two mares might have formed. Jah had become a staple of life slowly over the months, appearing at first with almost random intent until it seemed that every time he turned his head to search for his mother, the fiery mare was there instead. Incredulous he watches the blend of color as red seeps into green before molting into gold so brazenly that even he (innocent thing that he is) sucks in a sharp breath at the contact. They’re practically oozing heat, the three of them, and with the curl of his lip disgust temporarily overrides anger.
“Just what the fuck is going on here?!” He barks, plodding into the flat stretch of land while refusing to draw even closer to the ménage à trois at hand. Never before has he felt so excluded, so blind to the truth around him. It rattles the young wolf, leaves him trembling unsteadily as he glances behind to look frantically for his twin. The shape of his better half soothes him, gives him enough courage to turn face once more and take another bold step forward. “Anyone care to explain?”
(yes, I am alone) but then again, I always was. as far back as I can tell.
He is incredulous.
Though he is unwavering and still beside his brother (they are so alike, and yet so fundamentally different), there is a roiling, tempestuous storm of emotion stirring restlessly beneath the stoic façade worn. He is too young to be as coiled and as bitter as he is, but as the darkening flecks of his hazel eyes settle upon the sight before him, a festering rage has already begun to churn ferociously within the tightness of his chest.
His father – a figment of his imagination, or so he had seemed – is standing still within a bleak and bleary woodland clearing, wholly flesh and bone. A fleeting memory of gilded wonder, standing before him yet again and lavished with heavy, awakened affection by those his feeble and reluctant heart clutches onto for the smallest semblance of warmth.
His gaze does not linger – it moves seamlessly between his mother (his heart; he only had kindness for her) and Jah-Lilah, the ever-present force that had been in his life almost as long as he had the capacity to formulate memories. His heart stirs uncomfortably, betrayed by the display of affection that lay before him and how easily his father’s abandonment had been forgotten.
But not by him.
Disappoint is hot and bitter, rising like a bile across the surface of his tongue. He can feel the simmering fire threatening to burst forth from the bristling flesh of Crevan beside him (he can almost taste metallic copper of blood in his mouth that his shifter brother had so often indulged upon; he is so tightly tied to him that he is privy to knowledge that he should never have and yet he could not feel further away from him). He presses past him, his anger coming to a boiling point, as the fury envelopes him and swallows him whole, transforming him before his very own eyes.
He is weak, giving into the acidic anger that had festered so vehemently inside of him, while his own is slowly seeping from his pores – enveloping him in the hot heat of ire, while his brother is engulfed by the burning, hot flames of hatred and acrimony. He can hardly suppress a sigh; the sight of their writhing bodies churning against one another like the restless sea is enough to turn his stomach, and his brother and his sudden recklessness is embarrassing and stirs an uneasiness that he can no longer stand. The wind, once still and stagnant within the dimly lit thicket, is turned up – twisting, turning, as a powerful and forceful gust sweeps forth from the moist and fertile ground, weaving its way through the forest – pushing mightily against the three that stand as one.
He does not see the wonder roused in the gaze of his father, startled by the sweeping and vigorously manipulated wind (he could feel it was no natural wind; he too was of the sky and of the air current and he can feel the magic) – nor does he stay to entertain his heedless brother and his impulsive cry that neither of them truly want an answer to. His backed is turned, and as quickly as he had come, he is gone, one with the dark and insidious shadow once more.
I think maybe it's because you were never really real to begin with. (I just made you up to hurt myself)
“The boys …” Circinae trails, warmed through and a bit distracted by the blend of colors around her. Blinking, she comes to reluctantly; there was work to be done yet and Canaan had been kept away for far too long as it was. “Crevan, Corvus … Taiga.” The thoughts come and go much like the wind which begins to rise in tempo around them. As if in answer to her tumultuous feelings a snarl echoes from the treeline - Crevan, without a doubt. The emerald mare disentangles herself (she’s forced to at this point, the breeze is whipping itself into a hardened frenzy and she’s no match for her eldest sons wild strength) and rounds on her twins with ears half-sunk.
The sight of them twists her stomach into knots. Corvus, the first son and so by association the more reserved, mature son, has already turned tail from the group. Responsibility from a young age and Circinae’s own inability to guide him through his training has hardened the youth with bitter resolve which he displays quietly now. Unlike his rash counterpart, speech was unnecessary to drive a point home and his leaving speaks volumes that words could not. The mother’s heart begins to tear but, space and respect are his to command. She would always love them, no matter how much they might resent her for it.
Her younger twin, however, could use a beating. Crevan had always been quick to push his mother (and brother, for that matter) to the brink of insanity - she cursed the gods for allowing such a reckless, sullen animal to have a second skin and the ability to breathe fire, at that. Every mother has her regrets and the unspoken one she harbors very near to her heart is the wish that Corvus had been given the gift of shifting. It pains her to watch Crevan now; the way he believes he’s entitled to answers just from a little, barking threat.
“Corvus would have made a wonderful wolf.” Circinae grumbles internally. In warning her bright eyes flash and she shifts, the action so swift that the sound of skin ripping briefly overturns the wail of wind. “If you have any objections, you can keep them to yourself.” The mahogany she-wolf growls, once settled. Crevan is nearly three times her girth but the pack dynamic is more complicated than that; he’ll have to challenge a lifetime of knowing her as Alpha - to do something of that nature would destroy their dependence and trust on one another, the hunt would forever be ruined.
Crevan, wounded by her newly shifted alliance, submits. He’ll take it hard, he takes everything hard but the Wolf-of-Water won’t stand for insubordination, especially when his sire was here to see it. Canaan was probably one more scene away from deeming her the most incapable mother that ever lived - if only he knew! “Now,” She tells her child, tight-lipped, “you can come and ask questions like an adult, or-” She’s cut off by her youngest turning tail. One step behind his brother, just like he’s always wanted. With a sigh the little predator lets her head droop; what could she possibly say?
“Taiga is gone. We have nothing but each other now.”
Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me
And maybe, I'll find out a way to make it back someday. To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.
His heart aches –
To see his children, his firstborn, two cut from the very same cloth as he and yet filled with such hatred and resentment; it is almost too much for him to watch .. but he does. It is the least that he can do, to be the brunt of their anger, and their heartache. He had not been the steady presence he longed to be upon the day of their birth. He had looked upon Corvus, a deep marigold with emerald, and dark wings folded against his slender barrel – he had imagined teaching him flight, and his brother, Crevan, a pale cream with the navy of his mother’s haphazard tresses – he had imagined showing him all that nature had to offer; all that his own wanderlust had given to him.
Beautiful, and without flaw, he had looked upon his sons then, newly birthed and shaky on spindly legs – and now, fully grown, with a shadow of doubt, of bitterness and swallowed bile, and he is hopeless.
He is hopeless to change what has already been done – and his heart, raggedly beating inside of his chest, is left broken and splintered as he finally sees what destruction had been left behind in the wake of his absence. The sheer enthrallment of lips brushing across skin, of the warmth of another heart beating in time with his own – all is forgotten in that moment, and it is almost as if he had caught within a fleeting moment of time – as if the world around him is moving forward, and he is left, breathless and caught in the stillness of all that he had lost, and all that would always be as broken as it had become.
He does not try to stop them –
Either one of them.
Their anger and wretched grief are not out of place, and he is all too aware that no good will come of his interference. He is silent, watchful - he can feel the subtle change in the wind; it is as much a part of him as the blood in his own veins and the heart in his chest. He is in awe, as pride fills the empty cavity beneath his breast, knowing that one of his one carries his own gift with him – followed by misery that he had not been able to teach him all of the potential within the power he possessed.
His dark mouth presses to Circinae’s neck, brushing away a stray lock from the skin that lay there – a small gesture of comfort, as his hazel gaze rises to meet with the soulful eyes of the one chosen to guard her heart in his absence. Jah-Lilah is fierce, passionate, and fervent with a heat he is drawn to, that rouses his heart into the same rapid pitter-patter that his beloved wolf so often did – and there is no part of him that denies how it seemed as if she was always meant to be, caressing Circinae, preening Canaan – and his mouth murmurs softly against her mahogany skin, barely rising above the gentle zephyr left in Corvus’ wake.
”We are all that we need. I will follow you, Circinae, to whatever end – lead the way.”
If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all, then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you.
