hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive
Assailant -- Year 226
"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
[mature] don't close the coffin yet; ry
|
12-26-2020, 01:17 AM
Things had seemed peaceful on the surface, and sometimes she could let herself pretend that it was true. The sound of Maea and Astin laughing as they explored their home and tested their abilities should have been a balm to soothe any unease that she had, and it was, as long as she didn’t think about it. As long as she didn’t think about the fact that Hyaline was not meant to be their home – not permanently. As long as she did not think about the way the days and weeks and months were passing, creeping closer to the deadline that Breach had given them. She knew, just as Atrox did, that the twins were not shifters. And the idea of taking them somewhere else, or the thought of them having to uproot the foundation they had built here, felt like a fresh bruise spreading inside of her chest. She hears him approaching, and recognizes the sound of his footsteps without needing to look – the sure way that he walks, and the certainty of his steps when it’s her that he’s walking towards was something she had committed to memory long ago. “Atrox,” she breathes his name with a turn of her head, her skin simmering where his lips touch her. She returns the gesture, her own smooth lips gently pressing to the familiar curve of his jaw, stepping closer to settle herself near his chest. She recognizes the weight of his voice, knows that it matches the weight inside of her own bones, and somehow that both relieves some of it, while also making it heavier. The twins were close by, she can hear the way they erratically move – always messing with the clouds, creating their own competitions and trying to outdo the other – but they are far enough away that she knows they will not hear the clear anguish in her voice when she says to him, “Maybe she will let them stay just a few more months. They’ll be almost a year, then, and will have started to go off on their own anyway.” She knows even as she says it that it is not possible; knows that Breach was set in her ways, and that if anything, she would want to use the twins to set an example. A trembling sigh, and she shakes her head and whispers, “I know. I know it’s not possible.” R y A t A h and you can aim for my heart, go for blood
but you would still miss me in your bones
12-30-2020, 02:38 AM
hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive ATROX | THE PANTHER KING
01-04-2021, 02:10 AM
He surprises her, as he nearly always does. She has known him for so long that sometimes she reflexively remembers the Atrox from before. The one that would have considered this her problem, the one that would have chosen to pretend to not care even if he secretly did. She had grown so accustomed to doing these things on her own; even with Skellig, who was just as prone to disappearing as she was. Everything she’d ever had that could resemble a family has always been makeshift and flimsy, and always with the notion that it would be short-lived. She is still adjusting to the idea that for once she is not alone. And she is still, in moments like this, surprised – in the best way – that he, of everyone, has turned into the least likely to let her down. “No,” she rejects both of his offers gently, because she knows they are only for her benefit. He doesn’t want to leave Hyaline, just as much as she does not want to. She knew that they had both struggled to find a place that felt like home in this newer Beqanna; they had both lived in Tephra and had no issues with leaving it behind. Hyaline is what had turned into theirs, and not even Breach had been able to change that. Leaning into his touch she reaches just enough to run her nose down his throat, a pensive silence before she says, “I can take them to Tephra, and stay just for a little while. Nightlock and Wonder still live there, and I know they won't mind.” She ushers away the guilt rising in her chest by reminding herself that soon, the twins would be a year old, and they wouldn’t need them, and likely wouldn’t have wanted to stay in Hyaline to begin with – not when there was so much of the world to see. In the wake of the heaviness she smiles, though, a smile that she presses into the curve of his neck where she murmurs, “I don’t deserve you.” She has done nothing to deserve a man like him, and she knows this all too well. And after a lifetime of mistakes and breaking promises she never intended to keep, there is still the fear of karma finally hunting her down to tear him away from her. R y A t A h and you can aim for my heart, go for blood
but you would still miss me in your bones
01-15-2021, 01:07 AM
hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive ATROX | THE PANTHER KING
01-24-2021, 03:16 AM
Ryatah — there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree? She can feel that he is not entirely satisfied with the answer that she gives, but she does nothing to show that she knows. She is not one to argue, but she also knows he is not one to ask permission for things. She knows that if he had wanted to maintain control of Hyaline that he would not have relinquished it to Breach to begin with. She knows that if he wanted to leave he would tell her where they were going, much as he had told her to come here. Mostly, she is just afraid of him realizing that she is more trouble than she is worth—that his life had been easier before she insisted on tangling herself into it. His silence feels tense and heavy, despite the way he breaks it with a laugh that rings with his signature arrogance. She expects that to be the end of it, as it so often is; his version of a wall against her that a part of her is still too timid to break through. It catches her off guard when he suddenly pulls her closer, with a fierce kind of hunger that is not always there. She eases into him, a slight frown settling on her face at what he says, though it is hidden from where she rests against his neck. “Atrox, you know I don’t care about any of that.” Brushing her lips against the scar on his chest she exhales a soft sigh against his dark skin, letting herself feel anchored at the weight of him against her. “You know the names and faces of our children, right?” she breathes with a slight laugh, the question meant to be light-hearted because it was not a question. Though the bar set by the fathers of her other children was incredibly low she considered Atrox to be a good father. He was present, in his own way, which was more than she could say for anyone else. His kiss against her cheek sparks a warmth that spreads across her skin, and she responds by pressing needily into him and caressing her lips against his jaw. “And you already know I like your murderous side. I find it charming.” Her touch lingers, her voice softening when she adds more seriously, “I’m not a saint, either. I couldn’t even begin to count all my sins.” there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin —
01-31-2021, 03:24 PM
hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive ATROX | THE PANTHER KING
02-08-2021, 12:49 AM
Ryatah — there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree? Over the course of the last several years she had developed a pattern; an endless cycle of dead-end romances and destruction, the kind of things she could indulge in to fill the gaps of boredom and the hollow expanse inside of her chest. They were meant to be fleeting, and it would not be a lie to say that she had assumed Atrox would be the same. She had always known him to be cool and indifferent, and their earlier meetings had proved to be the same. She still does not entirely understand how they became so fully intertwined. It happened, seemingly, without either of them knowing until all at once they simply just were. They each had their own past and their own scars; past loves and lives that were entirely separate from what they had begun to build together. It is somehow not easy while simultaneously being as natural as breathing. She cannot remember the last time her heart beat so surely for someone; where not an ounce of doubt could fit into all of her broken cracks because he filled them all. It did not make her faultless; nothing could change the very nature of her, but part of the easiness was never feeling she needed to explain herself to him. Her broken pieces didn't cut him the way they had with Skellig; they didn't drive an endless divide between them the way they had with Ashhal. He seemed immune to it all, somehow able to pull her closer no matter all the ways her sharp edges further splintered. He inspires a laugh from her, and while she loves every side of him, she loves the things like this—the parts he only shows to her—the most. “Close enough.” Instinctively her head tilts at the feel of his lips against her throat, her pulse rising to meet his touch just beneath the porcelain-white of her skin. Something in her tightens and coils when he takes it between his teeth, and she stifles the sound at the back of her tongue. “Every sin with you is my favorite,” she murmurs in response, breathless and quiet from where her mouth rests against his jawline. there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin —
02-14-2021, 10:36 PM
hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive ATROX | THE PANTHER KING
02-16-2021, 12:34 AM
Ryatah — there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree? She feels the shift in him, and it is like electricity suddenly comes alive in her veins. The rest of the world fades away—until the entirety of the world is just them. It has been this way for years now, and still she never grows tired of it. He looks at her in a way that she is certain no one has ever looked at her before, not even Skellig. The way his predator eyes lock on her like she is his favorite prey, with a glint that always makes her heart trip up in her chest, and she never wants it to be anyone besides her fixed at the intersection of those invisible crosshairs. He pushes against her, and she lets him. The solid feel of his body pressing into hers steals the breath from her lungs, and the feel of him trying to hold back, to try and tame the way his teeth sink into her skin only leaves her wanting more. Her skin does not immediately heal the way it had the first time they had found themselves entangled like this; she had been a newly made angel then, had not even known she possessed the ability to heal. It is entirely within her control now, and she lets his teeth leave their marks, lets her blood streak across the stark white of her skin. She liked the way his mouth left a trail of blood everywhere it went, liked that she could visually map out all the places he has touched. Her own lips caress what they can reach—his throat and his neck, the strong slope of his shoulder—but mostly she can do nothing but tremble beneath his needy exploration, her blood blossoming against his lips. Until he suddenly softens, his tongue warm against her hip, and her name a murmur from his mouth. In the quiet between them there is only her quickened breath, a shudder of skin when she leans her hip into him, and asks with a coyness she can hardly manage, “How much closer?” there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin —
|
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
|
Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)