"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
02-01-2018, 01:25 AM (This post was last modified: 02-01-2018, 01:27 AM by Kagerus.)
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
The joy of that first day, of our arrival, has been long forgotten. A disfigured mime of that joy persists in its place, a kind of joke that we want to laugh at but know isn't funny. Ever since his birth, since I became not an only child but a sister - something has changed. For everyone. In my companion's eyes, a fear so vivid that I felt my own insides turning. In my father, a helplessness that has no answers. And in my brother's eyes, a darkness so obscene that I find myself captivated by it.
As of late, the darkness has truly been captivating me.
My visits to the dreamland have become more frequent and far more detailed, and my control over them has strengthened immensely. With a blink I can find myself there, though when I bring others the transition is often much more subtle. And truly, I have yet to bring anyone except Rapt. My mind calls for him, hungers for him, for the way he steals my inhibitions as if they are but hairs off my skin.
Hyaline has been a good home for us, nonetheless. Kavi and Sig have settled right in, and are often busy mooning over one another and their newborn child. Sig has gotten the handle of motherhood, has taken Khaedrik to the playground and also given him his space. I don't envy her the job, though I feel far more akin to the child than I think she ever will - in the night, when I am near my family, I can hear his cries, and more often than not I end up dreaming with him, not yet strong enough to stop his nightmares completely, but determined enough that I can often hold him through the worst of it, and ease his cries into silence.
Sometimes, however, I must sleep away from them. The guilt wracks me, but I have been exhausted - one can only inhibit the nightterrors of others for so long before true sleep is needed. The bags under my eyes are growing by the day. But I do not mind. I love my brother.
When the moon rises, I seek him out, knowing that he dislikes the day light. He is easy to find, my little golden boy - the sound of his baby hooves are music to the ears of the hyaline residents, all of us far older than our one child. I nicker when I come to him, though I know that I am recognizable by sight, if not by smell.
"Hello, brother," I breathe into his creamy mane, a familiar greeting. There is no discomfort as I stand close to his petite frame, guarding him though I know he doesn't need it. "How are you?"
Kagerus
sweet nothing
So, about the time that you got to give Khaedrik arcane darkness manipulation, I got to give Kagerus dream manipulation... and if you don't think that is SWEET AS HELL, then idk man. I'm so excited for this thread. It makes so much in character sense I just can't believe it. <3
Khaedrik – prone to foul moods and prickly silence holds no great consideration for his aging parents and their ludicrous love. Their love that clings to his hide like too thick tar, and his only respite is the fact that they are too old, too wearied to observe their sons dawning insanity. Oh, they try – they dote upon him whenever he is near, tell him nonsensical stories and brush his knotted mane with gentle teeth. But they don’t see the glint of delusion in his eye, and their ears chose not to hear the way he sometimes speaks to himself in the dead of night.
They don’t see the way his eyes twinkle with the gloom that is reserved purely for the pen and paper of fiction writers. They are constantly staring, those too dark eyes of his, never blinking, always seeing as they trace unseen things back and forth. Beautiful, perhaps, but cold as arctic winds. He should have been an innocent babe; to be wooed and swayed by what others say – instead he is cold and empty save for those dark, dark eternity-eyes that always stare. Something in that soul is broken. Someone has let the chisel slip and now there is a crack and slowly he is seeping, slowly mold and dirt are breaking into his flaw – devouring him.
But she sees – and for that he loves her. In his own twisted way.
The night has grown comfortable in its familiarity and alluring in its ambiguity. It is in the seclusion that night offered that he could falter in good behavior; reconsidering his teetering insanity and future inclinations. He should have used that same night for childish games of hide and seek, gamboling beneath benevolent stars with silly smiles.
Instead; Khaedrik shrinks back into his shadows. Alone.
Lately – he has made one very important revelation. The monsters obey him.
Oh, it is a dangerous revelation – such as every revelation that gives ammunition to the broken are. His small body quivers in expectation as he weaves his way through the night with tiny, delicate steps, as if he was afraid to break shards of sea glass. It is her smell that first betrays her presence – brought to him on the back of a shadowed gale. His nostrils flared, quivered, and then subsided but there is a small smile on his lips – one that is reserved for her and her only. Oh, how many nights had she not been with him in his dreams? He doesn’t know of her gift – but is grateful all the same. This, and the way her own eyes simmer with the familiarity of the ethereal is the reason he does not despise her touch, but rather leans his small golden frame into the motley smudges of her chest.
”I want to show you something!”
He knows she will not judge
I KNOW : I was just going to ask you for a thread for the two of them! I´m sorry for the slight weirdness of this post, I´m still trying to get the hang of Khaedriks personality.
02-03-2018, 12:01 AM (This post was last modified: 02-03-2018, 12:01 AM by Kagerus.)
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
His thin shoulder resting against my chest feels comfortable and right, a familiar warmth that I know he only truly feels with me. I cherish the affection, emitting a low rumble from my chest, encouraging his friendly behaviour. I know he's had troubles elsewhere, with others who aren't me. I don't want to sever any of the connections between us - not even a little.
I close my eyes. It has pained me to watch my father and his wife interacting with the golden boy, pains me because when I was his age, I blossomed under such attentions. I lived for them. And if the reunion had between myself and Kavi on the day of his birth is any indication, that familial doting and love is still absolutely massively important to me. I crave affection from those who I care about most, and I see in his eyes that the same isn't true. For his character, they are over bearing.
It falls to me to try and interpret the child, to see him as an individual, rather than as any ordinary baby.
I arc my neck over him and groom his shoulder quietly. We are both of the ethereal, of the arcane. We simply haven't recognized it in one another yet - but as the shadows pool around us, and as the dreams softly call our names, I know that something is brewing for us tonight. The revelations - they shall be revealed.
I want to show you something!
My hairs stand on end at the exclamation, though I couldn't tell you why. I lift my lips from his skin and backstep, looking curiously into his obsidian eyes. "I want to show you something too..." That little secret smile is on his lips, and I return it, a subdued expression that is a mask for the excitement I feel coursing through my nerves. "But you first!"
We stand then, surrounded by the night. He is golden and I am a muddled confusion of bay and white; his eyes are black, my own nutmeg. Our differences of appearance are little considered however, as we contemplate one another in silence. We are siblings. We are blood. And more than that - we are like minded.
Like a star come morning, he allows himself to fade into her embrace. Although he is silent, the shadow-brimmed edges of his ears are alert as she speaks. Her words turn a slow, careful smile on the corner of his lips. Others may doubt her splendor, but the unreadable liquid of his eyes has no trouble seeing it. It is not just the white, bright as the moon, which splotches the chestnut base of her coat. It is her inhibition towards all things mundane of this world and the air of something otherworldly that clings to her – and calls out to him.
Khaedrik is torn into two pieces – always at war. Shadow and colt, monster and prey. This is what simmers in the darkness already shrouding his mind. It makes him twitchy and at edge, a ravenous virus that has invaded him – seeking to uproot the small sense of self he so desperately clings to. He wonders if she can sense the doubt that ravishes his body. She will not judge him for this however, he knows with a certainty not entirely his own – because she fights the very same war? He can only guess.
He continues to fade. His silence of lips and breath has meaning twofold. First, he is a child of few words, quiet as the shadows. Secondly – what he is to show her demands all his concentration. The sense of control that he is so ecstatic to taste on his tongue. He calls out to them then – a flurry of gibberish meant only to strike the cusp of waiting ears of monsters. A dark, empty voice purrs a response from somewhere in the dark, and even now it sends a shudder down the colt´s spine. He is still unused to words that are not of this world, and the harsh, foreign syllables startle him. He is unaware that she will not be able to hear them – he has learned their tongue, and so can understand, but he is out of his element nonetheless. There is a horn – a unicorn´s – long and black and anything but beautiful. Its bearer steps from the shadows, dripping with darkness, a terrible smile spread on its chafed lips. It edges closer, as if it wants to devour them but Khaedrik sneers a warning. They will not lay hand on his sister. The shadow-monster – for no other words could be used to describe such a thing – halts obediently, like a puppet on a string and his sneer turns into a haughty smile. ”See” he says to her, and there is a perilous pride in his small voice ”I can control them”
With a small motion he beckons his creation closer, and though there is anger on the unicorn´s face, cold and menacing, it once again obeys immediately. Khaedrik does not grasp their presence still, does not understand that they are mere figments of his own terrible imagination but oh, he is too enthralled with the fact that they listen to him to bother his little head with the impossibilities of their existence. How he had strained against the nightmares – strained against the magic that surrounds him – but he was young, fragile, and useless. Well, not anymore.
The shadow unicorn smiles a terrible smile – and its prickling yellow eyes glimmer as it draws closer to him, drawing with the terrible horn lines of smoke and shadow into his neck. It breathes heavily in Khaedrik´s ear, slanders the very name of mysticism as it draws more shadows onto Khaedrik´s pure, pure coat. It is a christening, malevolent and terrible. The tingling sensation of shadows against soft, soft skin presses against his neck, an all-too-tangible reminder of who what he is.
”There are others, too” he croons to his sister - ”imagine what we can do with them!” and again, he turns from shadow-master to child – always seeking her approval.
02-08-2018, 04:30 PM (This post was last modified: 02-11-2018, 02:20 PM by Kagerus.)
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
The air almost sparks with electricity around us as we stand there, contemplating one another without judgement, attempting to unravel the threads we have so tightly wound around the frames of our deepest secrets. Though he is but a child, he holds my eye contact with a gravity that sings to my newfound self, to the being who dominates my dreams and my powers: those black, black eyes. They call her to the surface.
And they call to other things, too. To the occult.
From his lips, another language: chirps and clicks, syllables I have never heard uttered. Again, my hairs stand on edge, and for a moment, I desperately wish that this was all just one of my dreams - but I know it is not. I can see that in his eyes - can smell it on his scent. This is real.
It comes, then. Borne of shadows, truly a shadow-monster. I feel my breath escape with no intentions of returning. The terrible thing steps forward with such dark intent in its eyes, that I stumble back out of fear. But my brother - my baby brother, not yet even a year of age - sneers an alien phrase and the creature halts. I attempt to soothe the slamming in my chest, and retake my place next to Khaedrik, lifting my head to gaze squarely into the unicorn's yellow eyes.
"You are masterful," I breathe, admiring his handiwork, feeling my fear transform fluidly into excitement, psychological arousal. The drumming of my heart intensifies, becomes passionate. I press my figure to his. Pride, radiating from my every pore. "A god."
He beckons the shadow closer then, closer still until it is pooling shadow onto his golden skin, marring his innocence - christening him into the league of darkness. I cannot tear my eyes away from the tendrils of blackness, from the way the two move together as if they are lovers, creators, one soul in two bodies. In my intoxication I wonder if that is how my dreams would be to me, if they could become animate. I close my eyes, tempted to drift away now and find out - but I must wait.
My eyes snap open at Khaedrik's following words, words which are too childish for his intentions, which seek from me approval and adoration. Though I am not occult like him, though I still seek the light and worship its wholeness - I cannot deny him those sensations of love. For I do love him. And in a twisted way, I love his shadows, too.
"I think you are only beginning to realize the true extent of your powers, Khae," I whisper, looking from his eyes to the shadow, each made of the other. "I have never seen anything of the like."
I turn to him exclusively then, an urgency suddenly forcing my words, forcing the intensity of my gaze as it bears down on him. "I've been shielding you in your sleep, Khae. From them." I gesture to the shadowcorn, to the monstrosity. "But I think it's time you stand up to them yourself." I stare at him, watching for doubt, watching for fear, watching.
”That was real?” Khaedrik´s coat was glossy with youth and sweat. Turning his head up to look into his sister´s face was a strain on his neck. But his beetle-black eyes glow faintly, the spiral of shadows subdued by childlike gratitude. He remembers, of course he remembers. She has always been there, protecting him, even in his dreams. He wonders how it would have been like to have this conversation with mother – a futile effort, certainly, for the mud-brown mare´s features rarely added any meaning to his conversation; stark, empty features which were in no way disinterested, but insurmountably distant nonetheless.
The monster slinks back into darkness and nightmares; the slate-eyed gaze with its scrutiny and weighted judgements was hidden in the shadow of the elm under which it rested. Khaedrik thinks, with the vague touch of fantasy that pervades children, that together – the two of them could conquer the world. Things are different with her. She is not the light to balance out his darkness, but the force, strong and impenetrable, that tethers him to this world. She would only have to whisper a command – and he would obey.
He rests his golden cheek against her chest, and there is something fallaciously normal to the sight of the two; the epitome of brotherly love and adoration, and yet – below the surface of those glimmer-dark eyes, something far more wicked. Now and then he can feel the sweet hot brush of magic along his nerves, and he closes his eyes in fealty and wonder at her words. The air presses close and shimmers tight with the presence of his shadows. They do not show themselves to him, but he can see their ink-black faces reflected in the simple curve of Hyaline´s earth. Perhaps Kagerus can follow Khaedrik´s gaze, and perhaps she knows the mystery of those shadows, and the chimerical magic that they have, can and perhaps will again provoke. Perhaps Kagerus knows all these things and more.
”I´m not afraid of them when I´m with you.” His voice holds no hidden midden meanings, but simple statement, and not a small sense of wonder. He turns back to her, tearing his eyes away from darkness and penumbra and resting once more on the silver-shine of her face.
”Take me with you, please!” His voice holds the hushed anticipation of a child.
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
"Yes, little one, that was real." I smile down at him, watch as the surprise and awe flood his blackened eyes. I pull him to me, nestle him into the crook of my neck, a place he will not fit in for much longer; and as I hold him, I think of how much there is that is worth protecting on this earth, and yet how none are as worthy as he. My baby brother.
Our breathing is slowing in tandem, the weight of his cheek on my mottled chest growing and dragging us both toward the realm where it is I who controls all. That same thrum and pulse of magic that Khaedrik feels passes through me as well, like a second heartbeat, another life-source, spilling a liquid just as precious as blood. With sleep-laden eyes, I follow my brother's gaze, and gradually, I begin to see things as he does: the shadows: the earth: how it all, all of it, dances together in a way I could never have imagined.
I'm not afraid of them when I'm with you.
Take me with you, please!
I smile at his golden face, at the way his forelock points in every direction from having been snugged into my skin. While our eyes are together, reassurance passing between the bonded gaze, our surroundings gently change: the long grasses shortening, every tree melding into one. An elm tree, tall and rounded and mighty, doming over top of us. The night sky is lit by too-bright stars, and some ways a way, a river runs as though it alone is subject to antigravity: the beads of water running downstream midair, but never straying from its course.
"We're already here, Khae." I step back from him, a knowing and darkly elated grin smeared across my lips. I raise my head and gaze fondly at the stars, then at the elm, and the floating river. It is an interesting environment, one with which I am not familiar, but which thrums with a greedy potential.
"Isn't it grand?"
Kagerus
sweet nothing
just so you know, khae can manipulate the dream in any way ) if you want a change in scenery, to add a character, to make physical alterations to Khae, to summon shadows, literally ANYTHING, go for it.
He can almost feel it; the slow spiraling of time, the distortion of the world. But there is no fear in the glitter-dark of his eyes, only wonder. Everything is amiss in this world – an artificial apocalypse meant only for them. The shadows twirl around river and elm and night-sky like lazy snakes. They stretch and slither and here; he welcomes them into open arms. Death lingers around every corner, and there is an undertow of something sinister. His eyes; feverish with excitement and reverence turn to his sister, and he can almost swear there is the hint of sharp fangs in her mouth. He smiles.
There is a prophetic feel to this place; this realm where she is queen. A Queen of the soil itself, neither in name nor in rank, but a Queen nonetheless. Oh, he worships her creation, and his shadows sing her praise in their bizarre voices. Like a pack of loyal dogs, they flock to their side. Oh, he will make them bow before her, make them grovel and beg for her attention. His blood seethes with magic – he is invincible; prince and shadow-spinner, commander of monsters and so much more. He wields his shadows like one would wear a cloak; and he smiles – punch-drunk and terrible in the dark – as they drape over her withers too until she is clad in darkness and silk. He braids her a crown – exquisite and as black as pitch – and he smiles, smiles, smiles. ”This is perfect” he whispers to a white-brown ear. There is an unassailable gratitude in his simple words; he knows he needn´t say more. He has always been an open book to her.
He draws his shadows closer then – coating himself in impenetrable blackness until they are one, until he has dissolved into shadow and nothing else. The shadows and Khaedrik swirl and twirl around – a dance of tar-black and shadow-gold until he lets go and suddenly appears behind her.
![[Image: kag]](https://78.media.tumblr.com/2e8039018ce4dff6112c167ec23e886a/tumblr_p72zjit7wC1s5a0qvo1_100.png)
I was just going to ask you for a thread for the two of them! I´m sorry for the slight weirdness of this post, I´m still trying to get the hang of Khaedriks personality.
) if you want a change in scenery, to add a character, to make physical alterations to Khae, to summon shadows, literally ANYTHING, go for it.