"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
She was not one to keep many relationships, or at least, none that were close. She had Thomas, and their children, but other than that she kept most even further than arm’s length away. She had few redeeming qualities outside of being pretty, and mostly she found everyone else to be dreadfully boring anyway. No one ever seemed to appreciate her illusions, which made hardly any sense to her considering it depended entirely on who or what they wanted most.
It turns out most of them don’t like being tricked, but that also took the fun out of it.
But Draco was someone that had grown on her, having worked his way into enough of her memories that she finds she does not entirely dislike him, and even sometimes misses him. Mostly, she misses having someone from her era of Pangea. She even misses Ghaul, even though she’s relatively certain he had never liked her. She had made little effort—closer to zero effort, in fact—to get to know the current residents of Pangea, save for Jamie and Beyza (where did she go, anyway?), but she’s pretty sure a few others live here, too.
That was simply another mark against her as a leader, but who was keeping track? Certainly not her.
Currently, she is loitering near the river, as she found this to be the most tolerable area. The river was wide and deep, and it allowed her to pretend she wasn’t essentially living in a giant dust bowl. She wonders, as she concentrates on lifting a small, jagged rock into the air, if Thomas secretly despised her for convincing him to come here. It wasn’t beautiful, but instead, it was harsh and dry and unforgiving—nothing like Thomas at all. Losing focus on what she’s doing the rock clatters to the ground, sending up a small plume of dust as it does, and she mutters shit under her breath.
She is about to lift it again when there is the sound of footsteps behind her, and she turns abruptly, ears pinned in annoyance. It’s only once she allows herself to take him in—he looked different, but he was still him all the same—that her face relaxes to her usual cool demeanor, and a smile flashes easily across her white lips. “Well, well, well, look who finally decided to come home.”
so we're slaves to any semblance of touch, lord we should quit, but we love it too much
Draco gruffly keeps to himself, glowing red eyes focusing begrudgingly on the ground turning to red dust before him. He doesn't think of much else, simply: Why the fuck is it so hot? Why did I come back her before Autumn? Surely Dove and Desire are just fine without me. Desire, though an absent leader, is definitely fine without him; but Dove, she is most certainly worrying over him. The demon misses his friend, too, if he will ever admit it to himself. The woman's cruel illusions always offered him a good laugh.
There is guilt, too. So much guilt. For leaving Dove, for never visiting his father (and his father's oh-so-perfect family). For shirking his advisor position even if he has never claimed to be particularly good at giving advice (especially diplomatic, level-headed advice - there he leaned toward his deceased half brother: fire and death). Mostly, Draco swallows those feelings by scaring some wayward wanderer or wreaking general havoc in an otherwise peaceful area.
But you love to wallow.
At his side, the newly acquired hellhound huffs in what sounds like a snidely amused laugh. The demon sneers down at the creature, agitated that the companion he's been blessed with has a proclivity for picking on him.
"Shut up, Carl."
I told you my name is Geralt.
"I like Carl better."
Why?
"Because it makes you sound stupid. And as small as you look."
The hellhound peels his lips back to bare black fangs, then turns off to the left, away from Draco.
"Mission accomplished," the demon mutters to himself, flicking his gaze up just in time to catch the familiar sight of his fearless leader. She hears him, of course. Ever sharp, that Desire. A wide, pleased smile lifts his lips, one to match the look on hers.
"What can I say, I missed you," Draco answers, then nudges her hindquarters with the sides of his horns.
"It's hot as fuck in this dust-bowl. Why do we stay here?"
Something inside of her warms at his smile, an affection that is rare for her. Her personal relationships were sparse and she had forgotten what it was like to enjoy someone else’s company, aside from Thomas and their children, of course. She is careful to keep such emotions from showing on her face, though, preferring to keep up this nonchalant charade her and Draco had adopted. It was easier for both of them to simply continue as though neither cared much about the other—it wasn’t as though it was anything especially deep, but it was still more than either wished to acknowledge.
The smile that she gives him is a poised one, carefully crafted and accompanied by a silver laugh. “Of course you did,” she purrs, swinging her hip tauntingly into his touch where his horns press against her skin. She turns, boldly closing the distance between them until her galaxy curves have fit themselves into the muscled stature of him, sighing dramatically. “Oh stop, it’s not that bad,” she says, draping her head across his back to survey the dry, red canyons and the sparse vegetation. “Well. Maybe it is. But it’s better than that island covered in ice. What’s it called again? Popsicle something.”
She stares out in thought for a moment, before lifting her head away from him to stand parallel again, though her shoulder remains pressed against his. “So, what’s new with you, bestie? Where’s your sister?” She doesn’t bother to hide the teasing laugh, punctuating the taunt with her teeth just lightly pinching his neck.
so we're slaves to any semblance of touch, lord we should quit, but we love it too much
08-24-2021, 06:14 PM (This post was last modified: 08-24-2021, 06:15 PM by draco.)
draco
hitch a ride on my violence
“You love it when I’m dramatic,” Draco quips back, offering the same nonchalant smile she delivered him. It was true, it wasn’t quite as bad as he made it sound; but it was still dirty, and he hated having to take the time to preen and wash the shine of his scales. When he was growing up, he hated his father for plopping this part of his family here, in the dustbowl; but now, he’s come to appreciate it, even if he still thinks his father pathetic for finding beauty in such barren canyons.
“I don’t know but I think they call themselves the Popsicle Pirates over there,” Draco muses, eyes drifting lazily over their surroundings. He leans casually into Desire’s relaxed touch, finding relief he’ll never admit to in her company. He rolls those lazy eyes slowly back to the illusionist when she speaks again, mock disdain in his gaze.
“I thought you’d never ask, bestie,” the demon answers, pulling his neck away from her pinching teeth. “Dove is . . . Actually, I don’t know.” He shrugs then, biting back that still lingering guilt. “I need to find her. I’ve been gone awhile. But not for no good reason,” Draco adds quickly, a renewed grin flashing across his face.
Clearing his throat, Draco pulls away and does a dramatic circle. “Why haven’t you commented on my new haircut yet?” he asks, feigning offense. “And look at this.” Suddenly, a pebble flies up and smacks Desire in the shoulder.
“I don’t love anything about you,” she tells him matter-of-factly, hiding the smile that tries to sneak into the words as she says them. “Though I guess I do love having someone else here that is almost as entertaining as I am,” not that there was much competition. Jamie was always brooding in the shadows and seemed rarely in the mood for her banter. Ripley, well, it went without saying why she was not great company….though come to think of it, where is she? And Thomas, of course, was off-limits as far as toying and games went—for her, for everyone. She could overlook many things (mostly because acknowledging she saw something would mean she’d have to do something about it), except when it came to Thomas and their children.
Which left Draco as her prime target, much to her delight and his (pretend — she is sure of it) dismay.
She snorts a laugh at Popsicle Pirates, but becomes more focused on his reaction to bringing up his twin. “Better find her,” she says with a tilted smile, “your window for being able to earn forgiveness is getting smaller and smaller.” After a moment’s hesitation, and deciding that she has perhaps needled him enough, she adds, “She’s still in Pangea. I’ve seen her lingering.” She is, admittedly, a little soft when it comes to the twin relationship, having a twin of her own—even though she does not love her twin nearly as much as Draco loves his twin.
Her ears flatten when he flings the rock at her, her pretty face momentarily darkening with irritation at the way it stings her skin. “You didn’t comment on my new halo, either, asshole,” she snaps back, picking up the same rock he had hit her with and sending it zipping back towards him, before settling back with a faint simper, “Looks like we both learned some new tricks.”
so we're slaves to any semblance of touch, lord we should quit, but we love it too much
“Ugh,” Draco snaps back, rolling his eyes. “Yes you do. You would have banned me from Pangea by now if not.” He’s seen Desire play her games, knows how much she loves them—and knows that behind all of their wicked smiles and cheap shots, they appreciate each other’s company. A sort of understanding between them, seeing darkness manifested in each other and not caring it’s there (enjoying it, really).
And they don’t have to worry about hurting each other, at least. Unlike the fragile loves they keep tucked away from their enemies. Draco would go to war for Desire in the blink of an eye, not that she’d ever ask him to.
And not that he’d ever, ever tell her that.
The demon nods and swallows when she tells him Dove is living in Pangea. He looks away from Desire, thinking he should go find her while he is within the land. Though he knows some other silly whim will call him away before that (and perhaps—is that guilt he hides behind his excuses?).
Again, he rolls his eyes. “You’re so pretty with your rocks around your head,” he snipes back—but the smile on his face is wiped away as the rock sails back and hits him sharply in the cheek.
“Nice,” Draco admits, eyes dropping to the still-tumbling pebble. “I can do a lot more than that, actually. And I think a lot more I haven’t discovered yet.” He stops, eyes drifting back to Desire’s signature simper. “It’s a pity we don’t have anyone to go to war with. Don’t you think I’d be so scary?” he fake pouts as he asks, adding, “Maybe I should contract out my skills.”
“They’re moons, and you are impossibly annoying,” she says with an irritable sigh, though there isn’t any actual malice behind her words. Draco was almost like a brother, and no matter how good he was at getting beneath her skin her patience with him stretched further than it would with most. “A lot of strange things happened during the eclipse,” she continues a bit more thoughtfully, and there is almost a frown that settles on her face. “That’s when the halo suddenly appeared, but then my infrared vision also disappeared.” Which would not have been such a terrible thing had it not happened during the exact situation she needed it.
She would almost think it was karma, to be stripped of such a useful tool when she needed it most, but the silver-lighted series of moons and the newfound glow to the stars that dotted her skin seemed like a pro, not a con.
She has never been the most powerful, and so she has learned to settle for being beautiful—which she thought was a pretty fair trade.
“Wars are messy, and would also require me to actually do something, and you know how much I hate doing things,” she says airily, though it is only a partial truth. Desire would never be the type to go looking for a fight; she did not care about this speck of dirt or anyone that lived here other than her family and some days Draco and Jamie, and if someone were to come for any of them she would be inspired to defend them, but that is about it. It’s why when Gale had come asking for entities she had relinquished them willingly; fighting over something so trivial was not worth it to her.
“But I would never stop you from wreaking your own brand of havoc,” her black eyes fixed to his face once more, her lips lifting at the corner. “You should test your new abilities out, see what you can do.”
so we're slaves to any semblance of touch, lord we should quit, but we love it too much
