"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 in the darkened underpass I thought,
"Oh Satan, my chance has come at last!"
She needs him.
For weeks (or has it been months?) she has told herself that she doesn't need him, but there is a pit in her stomach every time he breaches her thoughts. Every moment that she spends looking into her daughter's autumn eyes Myrina finds herself confused and in an inward battle. Her lips purse tightly shut in consideration as Nayl peers up at her. "Mother," her voice is silky for one so young and there is so much hidden strength woven into it. Their gaze levels onto one another for a lasting breath before Myrina turns away. The meadow opens in front of them, unraveling like a carpet as though this is her grand entrance after so long; her grand return, really (but it isn't grand at all). "Perhaps you'll meet father today," she doesn't promise her daughter because there is a chain of doubt that holds her back. She wants to see him again, to feel the warmth of his body, but it has been months. Likely he has forgotten her and she wishes she could do the same.
Myrina could never admit to him how he entices her, drawing her from the shadows, and holds her eyes for so long. Love doesn't exist, she always heard from mother. Children should be borne to power, not adoration, but Myrina doesn't want to follow in Echion's lonely footsteps. Alas, she also doesn't want to be weak and manipulated by something so fickle.
They travel at each others sides while sparing few glances until they stop where the sun reigns high above them and bathes them in light. "Nayl," she whispers her daughter's name on soft lips before reaching down to brush her forelock aside. He will come, Myrina doesn't say before turning her attention back to the meadow.
But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask.
The string that ties them together is invisible, but it is cursed with electricity and heat and passion and desire. He can feel it, beating dull and relentlessly in his chest. To be honest, a lot has been beating in his chest lately. When he scrapes his hocks against thorns (which he's apt to do from time to time) the healing is no longer instant. It is slow, pulsing pain that after much time scabs and heals with the silvery scars that criss cross his body.
He pushes these thoughts away and leaves the Valley and his twin daughters (and Librette, though she is not his to claim) for the meadow, where he knows she'll be.
---------
Father is always there, just a touch away, always watching Thorunn and her sister. Thorunn mulls over this, watching him with those same orange eyes he has, unsure of his true motives. As a child she's already curious, but guarded. She watches him look to see if anyone is watching then disappear into the brush. She follows, and he's too preoccupied to do anything to notice her.
-------
He's in the meadow then, atop a high crest, and there she is. He doesn't hesitate to close the gap between them, feeling the way her skin is hot on his. He can feel every ounce of her over him, close and electric. It's only after a few minutes he notices their child - a girl.
And in the darkened underpass I thought,
"Oh Satan, my chance has come at last!"
The heat of his skin washes over her. Every moment savored and welcomed. For the past few months Myrina has missed this - missed their time together - but she never says this. She feels weak, vulnerable, when she lets her emotions soak deep inside. Mother raised her to be a fierce Amazon that never needs the compassion of a man, but Myrina has failed the fallen Queen. She has always yearned for adoration; the need to be wanted fuels her no matter how much she tries to exude independence and confidence. Perhaps that's one reason she continues to stray away from her beloved Jungle.
Because of this.
Because of him.
Nayl silently observes the pair from a nearby patch of grass. Her autumn eyes gleam with curiosity though her expression is stoic and calculating.
Covet is pressed against her and Myrina melts into him. "Hello, stranger," she purrs into the curve of his neck as a smile plays across her soft lips. She can feel his orange eyes rake across her but then they stray to the child quietly watching them. Myrina's head turns slowly when he begins to ask. She nods. "Our daughter," she finishes with a voice of silk. Her own gaze follows Covet's to Nayl. "Nayl, your father, Covet."
The child doesn't run to him and embrace him like so many foals would. At first, she just watches him and meets his orange eyes with her autumn - oranges and golds mingled together - before finally stepping toward him. "Hello," she finally says offhandedly before adding, "Someone followed you here. Who is she?" Nayl looks toward the trees and shrubs as another small breeze collects the foreign scent. She peers up at her father questioningly with a single raised brow.
But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask.
Maybe, in his age, he's easily distracted. Maybe, in his age, he's losing hearing. Maybe a lot of things, but he never noticed Thorunn plod happily behind him. She is loud and easily seen, but he's on a mission. To see Myrina. At first he'd write it off as pure lust, but it's more than that. There's an ache in Covet's heart he's felt since first meeting Sage, and then losing her. The knowledge that you can feel love, and be loved, or adored or whatever else goes on between the two of them. There's something so quietly wonderful in that knowledge. He'd spent his childhood abandoned in the Adoption Den, he never felt himself capable of anything more than disgust.
Or fear.
But here she is, wrapped around him in ways Sage never did, brushing against the thorny edges and not getting pricked. They are matched, then, because they've abandoned and been abandoned and still they're here together.
He approaches his child slowly, extending a muzzle of hello. Here, he thought he'd leave this world with no capable heirs. This orange eyed child shares his cynical, stoic look as well as his orange eyes. Then she speaks of the silent watcher and his eyes turn to the brush.
---
Thorunn jumps back into the brush at the mention of her name, nearly falling in the process. She's all limbs and legs and spindly nothing - she's on her ass before she knows of it. But at the eye contact with her father she reluctantly leaves the brush to approach the group.
She shares the other fillies orange eyes, though hers are hard and blank. She is chestnut, the spitting image of her mother, but everything about her posture and mannerisms scream her father. She stands awkwardly to the side, blinking at the group.
---
"This is Thorunn," he offers, when the girl doesn't speak. "She's your sister."
And in the darkened underpass I thought,
"Oh Satan, my chance has come at last!"
A grin plays across Myrina's lips. Beneath the dappled sunlight they become a single entity. Her torso merges with his own as she drinks in his attention and the warmth that his body provides. This is truly the first time that she has experienced anything like this. Lokii had been a lustful venture that she forced herself to resign. Mrydon had merely been a brief shoulder to lean on when it seemed like life was crumbling to pieces.
Myrina has never truly had anyone until now.
Perhaps it's her maturity that has steered her away from the fiery escapades with Lokii (though he does occasionally cross her mind in the same way that Sage or Librette crosses Covet's). He brought something out in her but at the same time was able to destroy her sense of trust. Upon first meeting Covet in the Valley she didn't take to the situation - or him - but something changed.
Covet awakened something entirely different inside her.
When her eyes lift to his they follow his gaze to the child in the brush. He makes a move toward the filly and Myrina simply watches in silence as Nayl observes with an unbroken stare. The girl doesn't even spare her parents a glance as she takes a single step forward. "Hello." Her voice is silky for one so young but her eyes mirror volumes more. There is a greater depth to her, a sense of searching as she scrutinizes her sister as though expecting to find some sort of flaw.
But there are none.
Nayl has nothing more to say to her equally stoic sibling and so she shoots a look to her father. Hesitantly, Myrina steps forward then with her golden flecked eyes steadied on Thorunn. "Hello," she offers as well but in a much more amiable tone than her daughter. A smile plays onto her lips as she glances sideways to Covet. "Your eyes certainly mark your children," she chuckles to make light of the situation.
There are more women.
But she doesn't expect to be the sole claimer of him.
But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask.
No one would ever claim Covet, not truly. Sure, they can hold his heart, his attention, his lust. But there are parts of himself that even he cannot claim to understand or know. He's an ancient creature that's spent a fair amount of time ignoring the deep intricacies of his own emotions. What man - what leader - is truly in touch with every part of their soul? No, that's women's work, to know yourself so intimately and deeply. Covet knows only his own surface, which is wrecked from decades of sledgehammers.
Myrina, though, sees more than she knows. She may never be aware of how deeply she's cut into Covet's surface and exposed the fleshy undersides. She's rubbed against parts of himself that are so raw and fragile they threaten to break down at any given moment. Isn't that the joy of love and desire? The absolute coming undone, the sweet release, the sickly fall.
It's why Covet forgets he's surrounded by two children of his own, both powerful little creatures with searing orange eyes and stoic, quiet dispositions. Thorunn wanders from the brush far enough to stand to the side of her father, not too close so as to be near her not-mother. Sister? She must be half, they look similar but not the same. Not like Val, the other side of her coin. Twins.
"Where do you live?" she asks her sister, curiosity overtaking her. Where would this sister live that Thorunn shouldn't see her until now, so close to her one year birthdate?
Covet turns to Myrina, content to allow the children to speak - to leave the adults to adulting. "I have strong genes," he teases.
And in the darkened underpass I thought,
"Oh Satan, my chance has come at last!"
His playful tease is enough for Myrina to smile. Nayl, distracted from her sibling, peers up at her parents in utter silence. She observes them as though they are on display with their courtship and gentle caresses. A gleam twinkles in her gaze but dim when her attention falls back to Thorunn. "In the Jungle," she replies as she straightens herself, "What about you?" It's indeed odd to only now meeting after having been born almost an entire year ago. It matters little, however, and Nayl shrugs it off easily enough. They are acquainted now at least but she can only hope that Thorunn has similar ambitions to her own. "Where's your mom?" Father left her to be with Myrina.
Favoritism immediately comes to mind. Butterflies flutter in her stomach as she never considers her father having enough lust for two women.
There's only mother and her.
A soft bump interrupts Nayl's thoughts. When she glances up she sees Myrina looking down at her briefly before resuming conversation with father. A huff escapes the girl.
Myrina, entrapped by Covet, mostly ignores the children. Her golden-flecked eyes are for him as she habitually leans into him. "Obviously," she murmurs into his warm flesh before she finally spares their daughter a momentary glance. "She will achieve great things, I'm sure," it's more of a hope - a wish - but she finds herself confident in her daughter's abilities. "She will likely stay in the Jungle even though I know how much you dislike Amazons." An airy chuckle is a knife in the silence between them but she only feels adoration climbing up her spine.
But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask.
Thorunn is not one to be jealous, mostly because the emotion never occurred to her. Father was always so good at splitting him time between her and Val. Thorunn also found it hard to ... care? be moved? She's unsure of the actual emotion that settles in her chest, but it is light and carefree almost. She loves her father (adores him, idolizes him, whatever) but her emotional depth is lacking. There's something about him that seems so temporary, though she's unaware of exactly what she's feeling. At a year old she has no grasp on what any of these things feel like, what they mean. It will take many weeks and years of careful cultivation before she'll realize she's inherited her fathers biggest flaw - the lack of true emotional maturity. The absolute shell of a personality. She will always be what she projects and rarely what she truly, honestly is.
These are prophecies to be fulfilled in the far distant future, though.
For now she stares at her sister, who watches her with a mix of curiosity and...and? Thorunn doesn't know that look, she doesn't understand. She knows only of doting Val. She knows nothing else. "The Valley," she replies to her half sister. She hears the word "Amazons" with a flicker of her ear, tilting her head. "What are the Amazons?" Of course her father wouldn't have told her about them.
Covet is wrapped up in their foreplay. He's always been a bit of a horrible parent, mostly because he never had a parent himself. Harmonia was a shell in his mind, a vapid putrid thing that brought only hatred. And yet? He lived to please her, to live up to her expectations. She always wanted a daughter and instead had him. Left him in the Adoption Den to rot. His time in that hell hole created a stutter that didn't go away for a very, very long time. Those are memories he's long since suppressed. Isn't the mind a wonderful thing?
"Ah, if only every Amazon could be like you," he says, the play evident on his lips. "Then I'd have many more children, and many more trysts." He is teasing, of course, probably. Maybe.
06-11-2015, 08:25 PM (This post was last modified: 06-11-2015, 08:25 PM by Myrina.)
And in the darkened underpass I thought,
"Oh Satan, my chance has come at last!"
"The Valley," Nayl repeats thoughtfully in a hushed tone. Her thoughtful eyes skim across each of their faces and then her head nods as though in approval. "A permanent residence for you?" Will she have an ally in the Valley as well as other kingdoms as she reaches maturity? Will she find support in the few that she shares blood with? A glimmer of hope brightens her thoughts but they are all tucked away in a mind that has never been cradled or invaded by magic. Little does she know what she is capable of or how deceitful her lies truly are when no one can prove her otherwise? No one can use her thoughts against her. Never.
Maybe there will be a day that she will figure that out.
"The Amazons are a group of mares in a matriarchal society. We rule, pretty much." Nayl's shoulders roll in a casual shrug as though it's expected and self-explanatory - as though that is how life should be. "It's in the Jungle, southeast of here." A quick glance indicates the direction from which they came. Her attention quickly tunnels on her father, however, as she inches closer to eavesdrop on her parent's conversation. A grin, sweetly poisonous, tugs at the corners of her mouth. "The Jungle will be mine one day, dad. I won't just live there; I will rule," her confidence is brimming and then she regards her sister, "and somehow find a way to get Thorunn in a similar chair." They could be powerful siblings (half siblings, but the technicality can be abandoned if they became close enough). A daydream plays on the back of Nayl's eyelids - like a movie - before opening them again and drawing in a deep breath. "I'll make you proud." She wants him to be there to see it, but a pit in her stomach tells her otherwise.
Unsurprised by her daughter's display of arrogance, Myrina simply stares off to the distant horizon. When Nayl's attention finally drifts away, she looks back to Covet. "At least she acts like that only near us. She's more reserved around others. Talking like that would probably get her tied up to a tree or something." Myrina manages a chuckle in spite of how troublesome their daughter's attitude could be if it was worn openly on her sleeve.
But then she remembers how no one could ever harm her daughter with the earth.
She controls it.
She wields the power of the world they stand on.
"My, my, is that flattery?" Myrina presses her face into the groove of his shoulder, wishing that it wouldn't end, wishing that he could take her with him one day. "Those other Amazons don't know what they've been missing out on." Of her sisters, at least she is the only one that he wraps himself around. The others - outsiders and strangers alike - matter not. Without needing to admit her adoration for him, Myrina simply breathes him in. Words are meager in comparison to moments like this when she can feel her weak, gentle heart blossom.
But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask.
Thorunn is more like her father - reserved. She watches her sister with careful consideration, noting the ways they are similar and the ways they are different. Natyl doesn't hesitate to speak, whereas Thorunn has trouble finding her tongue. Natyl stands erect, confident - Thorunn is slinky, low to the ground, coiled. They are similar though, they both have that desire for more. Thorunn drinks in her sisters words about the Jungle (the Amazons) with rapt attention. She shares her father's deadpan expression, though, something that makes her appear distant and bored. "The women rule..." Thorunn echoes, betraying the look on her face.
And it will be mine.
Thorunn considers these words for a moment, mulling them over. Does she mean to own it? How does one own a land? Or does she mean to rule it? Ah, yes, she clears it up - she will rule the Amazons. And she looks to Thorunn, her orange eyes locking with her - Thorunn will rule too. Somewhere. Anywhere. The Valley? Thorunn doesn't know what it entails, but Mother did it. Father did it, though of a different kingdom. Does she not have it in her blood?
"Okay," the words are out of her mouth before she's truly considered them. Horrified, she clamps her mouth shut. She wants that same courage that Natyl has. She wants to be as sure of her future as she is. She wants so much, but mostly, she wants her fathers admiration.
Covet turns his attention from Myrina long enough to consider them both, almost laughing in the process. Chests puffed, eyes ablaze. They remind him of himself as a colt. Did he not have a similar conversation with Colt all those years ago? "I will rule the Dale for you." Hah! He did something with the Dale, all right, but not for anyone other than himself.
"It appears we have secured an early retirement," he jokes. Then, thinking better of it, he offers something more encouraging. C'mon Covet, dig deep into your need for a father figure. Pretend to be one. What would you have liked to hear? "Gods help anyone who stands in your way."
