"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
He was insatiable. The little demon's mind was growing at an exponential rate with his long leggy body following along after it. All I could do was teach him everything he wanted to know. Perhaps it was too much sometimes. Perhaps it wasn't enough but what I could teach him, I would. He would learn some of the wonders of the world from me, but from his mother, she would teach him emotions and life, the way to connect with others. He would learn communication skills I couldn't teach him.
Well I could, but I don't want to fuck him up that bad yet. He can learn communication skills from his momma who wasn't such a manipulative bastard as I am. Or was. Am? I don't even know anymore.
They were my life. They were the reason I was completely content to not being out torturing innocents. Tycho amazed me every day with the information he could withhold, with the information that he could tuck away into that amazing brain of his. And Ryss, she was the light in my life. She was the reason I felt something other than disinterest. She was the reason for my emotions period.
We were lounging in the meadow where he had been born. I was standing idly near Ryss, my lips now and again touching her skin as we watched Tycho. I would slide my lips across her neck and nip her lightly now and again. Tycho drew my attention back towards him and I slide my eyes from her form to his. The remnants of the log we had exploded that first day were still showing here and there. "What do you think he will be like when he is older?" I murmur to her, my eyes still on our son.
**Disclaimer, posting to Pazuzu can result in maiming, torturing, and all kinds of nasty things possibly happening to your pony. If you do not agree, do not post to him or if you do not want your pony horribly maimed, please say so. Most of the time he will just leave some nice new scars, either mental or physical.
Just stay away from the white light. I'd say your worst side's your best side.
Fuck. I swore I would never be that woman, the one who lives for her family and nothing else, who spends every single minute thinking about her sexy-ass man and her unbearably adorable kid and would happily do nothing but be near them. Exploring, watching the light in her kid's eyes as he learns all about the world from his amazing dad. Tromping around the woods together, climbing mountains and learning to swim in quiet little ponds, visiting favorite childhood haunts—well, except the ones in the jungle. I've stayed far away from there.
Our boy doesn't need to grow up thinking he's nothing unless he's serving some woman. That kid is so much more than a damn servant, and there is no place for him in a kingdom that would tell him otherwise. Not even for a visit. Besides, there are too many ghosts there, too many memories of people I never intend to see again. Feelings I'm fucking done with. Pain I have no need to relive. No, there's nothing for us there.
And no one.
I have been so happy just wandering the world with Pazuzu, showing Tycho everything I once loved and watching Zuzu teach him things I've never even dreamed of, never even thought to wonder about. The little demon must have gotten his voracious appetite for knowledge from his father, because I never cared about how things work before, or how they're put together, or what they look like on the inside. Not until I saw the way those lessons light them up, the way both of them come alive the moment one starts. Whether it's what a bug's guts look like, or how fire works, or what makes up the stars. I fucking live for those moments, no matter what I always told myself.
Well. Not just for those moments. Even more than that, I live for the touch of Pazuzu's skin, the taste of him as I press my lips against him, the heat of him next to me. I live for the storm that still rages between us with just a look, or the teasing trailing of teeth against skin. Even after months I still want to never stop touching him. He was right, we're like a drug, and all I want is more.
Even now, standing next to him and watching our son investigate the same meadow where he'd started his life. He always managed to find something new, even somewhere he'd been so often. I have no idea what's caught his interest today and frankly with Zuzu's lips on my neck I don't care, as long as he is safe. Which he is. I'm much more interested in those sexy little bites, the way Zuzu's teeth graze my skin, the softness of his lips against me.
Ah, but then his eyes are on our son and it's my turn to taste the salt of his skin, trail gentle little bites along his neck and chase them with my lips. “I have no idea, love. Smart as hell, but that one's a given.” Has been from the start, those dark, almost black eyes seeing everything, filing it away in that clever mind of his only to pull it back out in the most unexpected ways.
It was a good month before he spoke at all. He just absorbed everything we taught him, and the depth of understanding in his eyes was enough somehow. Mute or not, he knew more than most other residents of this land cared to or dreamed of, and our Tycho was perfectly capable of expressing himself without words. Then one day in the middle of a complicated lesson that went over my head even though I'd been learning alongside our little demon for a month, he stopped, tilted his head in that curious little way of his, and drew a series of comparisons between the day's subject and the previous lesson that left my head spinning. Smart as hell is a bit of an understatement.
“I don't know. It's so hard to tell until it happens, really. We don't know what life will bring for him, how it will shape him, how he will grow in response to whatever is to come. I do think it could be time to encourage some social interaction though. He's a brilliant little hermit, but he doesn't have much of a social drive, and while I'm hardly one to talk, it might be good for him to meet and interact with others of his species.” I am hardly one to talk. I spent most of my time alone as a kid, or with family. And now that I'm not hooking up with random strangers I meet in the common lands, I have very little drive to interact with them either. But it's an area where he has little experience, and it might be good for him to at least give it a shot.
"What do you think he'll be like?"
Just when you think that you're alright, I'm crawling out from the inside.
Once again, Mother and Father are touching. They are frequently in close proximity to one another, and when they are there is nearly always physical contact. Muzzles, noses, teeth, shoulders, even full body contact. I have made a thorough exploration of this particular meadow; the violets are still in bloom, though I see them rarely elsewhere now that autumn is drawing to a close, leaves changing color and dropping to the ground, a chill in the air indicative of the impending arrival of colder weather.
Having exhausted other subjects of study for the moment, I have been surreptitiously observing the behavior of my sire and dam, under the guise of investigating the change in flora since our last visit (minimal, as it was recent) and comparing today's insect presence to that observed last time (a slight increase in the bee population, as most other flowers are dying for the season and the violets Father grew for Mother remain in bloom).
They have been excellent subjects for the observation of body language and tone; however, a larger sample set would aid me in determining socially acceptable interaction amongst other groups. Clearly the amount and nature of physical contact between lovers is different than that between parent and child. I have observed as much in their interactions with me. Good thing too. I would not find such a high level of physical interaction to be at all comfortable.
I quite like our current level, with significantly greater distance and space, and occasional touches. In sleep, I do enjoy being close to them. Sometimes even curled up next to one or the other, or even between them now and then. When I was smaller, I especially liked to be curled up on the ground while one of them stood over me. The gentle fussing with my mane, the matter of fact licks and scratches with teeth to groom me, they are all quite nice in small doses. How they stand the constant contact is unfathomable. I suspect different individuals have varying degrees of tolerance or desire for contact, and that mine is comparatively low.
However, ours are the only relationships I have had occasion to study, and of late I have begun to realize this gap in my knowledge is perhaps a significant one. I have an abysmally small sample set to draw on in attempting to reach conclusions such as this most recent one regarding physical contact. So when Mother mentions social drives and interacting with others of my species, I have to force my head not to raise, my ears not to perk up and swivel in their direction, my gaze to remain focused on a shiny blue beetle that looks oddly familiar instead of seeking out my mother's eyes. Interesting. That might work quite nicely, yes.
They were both my everything. I revolved around her, doted on him. Would draw my last breath to protect them. Not that I would play fair in doing the protecting but if it came down to my life or theirs it would be the latter choice....always.
I was watching our son, feeling Ryss's delectable little love nips on my skin. My ears flickering back and then forwards, until I had one facing her and one facing Tycho. Smart. Yeah, he was definitely smart and the world would tremble if he ever received any other kind of gifts. I had done my best to mold him to his own image. There were traces of gray in his personality, the kind that I had once had. Well, still had but rarely felt. The kind of gray where I could watch his eyes as he studied something a live, like the way a bug moved across the ground only to be smashed by his hoof so he could see what was inside.
It didn't scare me, that complete disinterest. Perhaps it should.
I wouldn't worry about it till later, but then Ryss mentioned social skills and I studied our son. A small smile curling my lips as he very subtly tried to not appear interested. I couldn't read his mind, but I could read his body language very well. He tried not to twist his head, angle those ears, but I was his father and I had been watching him quietly while he explored. Those muscles along his neck had tensed briefly as well as the muscles in his shoulders.
"What do you think he'll be like?" A serial killer. But I don't say that out loud, at least not yet. Not until I see how he reacts around others. A mad scientist. The villain in a story. No, not yet. I am still the villain and I wasn't planning on making my bouncing baby boy into my heir. I had been born with the darkness in my heart and my only hope was that he didn't inherit any of that from me. My hope was that he inherited the light that was in Ryss's heart, that spanned through her bloodline, even when there was sadness.
"Brilliant like the sun in the sky my love. Perhaps even a little misunderstood for being a genius." I turn to her, my black eyes caressing her body even as my lips follow. "I can't say I like being away from him, but I think you are right. However, he will need a guardian." I say, touching my lips to her cheek and then I take a few steps away. I pull my magic out, thickening the air with the power I could wield. The shadows from the midday sun are pulled towards me. I twist them and shape them.
He had expressed a great interest in panther form I had worn not long ago, showing him this and that. Predator and prey and the food chain. So that is what I made. It's body was as big as I was. And insubstantial. It's form was fluid, but solid. It would inflict some serious pain should anything happen to Tycho while he was out and about. My eyes flicker over this form, over the giant panther who settled back on it's haunches to wait for me to tell it what to do. I changed it's eye color to a vivid neon green, the kind that might give someone nightmares should they see it creeping through the dark.
It was almost all about the presentation.
"Tycho." I say, turning towards him, sure he would have wandered over to see what I was doing, despite his apparent disinterest in our conversation. "You can go to the Playground and interact. This is your guardian. He will be with you until you reach the boundaries and then he will wait for you outside. Should you go anywhere, he will appear to be with you." I walk around the sitting panther who by now had turned to look at it's charge. Those green eyes glimmer and gleam as they listen. Intelligence flickered in there. I had placed a piece of myself in that panther.
"Return by the time night falls, but should you forget, stay the night in the playground. Please do not wander past dark." The panther would be enough protection but a father still worries.
Just stay away from the white light. I'd say your worst side's your best side.
I can't help but grin at the guardian Pazuzu constructs from shadows and magic, a little bit of Tycho's blood telling in the dark feline that takes shape. Its eyes are a wicked green instead of sharp predatory gold, but there is an echo of Nocturnal in the curve of its back, the flicking of the end of its tail, the narrowing of eerie eyes as it watches its maker. Our little demon, whose attention was caught the instant his father started working magic, stares at the shadow beast with utter fascination, delight written all over the rich red-violet of his face.
He circles around the oversized panther, eyes just a shade or two lighter glued to the creature. He studies every inch of its surface as a familiar hunger for knowledge builds on his face, in the unblinking stare, the sharp pricking of his ears, the tilt of his head. He has learned to base his reference for what is possible among the less gifted on my significantly more limited abilities and his own experience. Still, I can see questions and yearning shimmering in the depths of those dark eyes.
Oh, but only briefly; that yearning is replaced by awe when Zuzu explains the creature's purpose. “For me?” he asks with subtle widening of the eyes, a hint of a curve to the corner of his lips, his breath coming just a little bit faster. I catch Pazuzu's gaze and smile. Oh, well done, love. Very well done.
“Yes, Father. Thank you.” In one of his most enthusiastic shows of affection to date, at least while he's awake, our little demon curls up against his father's chest, rubs his cheek against Zuzu's shoulder, and lets out a happy little sigh. “Thank you, Father,” he murmurs again before pulling back to study the creature once again. “How? Magic of course, I know, and it is fairly evident you harnessed shadows based on the nature of the body and the way it came together, shadows drawing toward you and molding into shape. But there is significantly more than the manipulation of shadows at work here.”
There is intelligence in the glowing green eyes. The panther exists for a purpose, to act as a guardian so our son can indulge his curiosity and wander safely. “Is it sentient?” Tycho asks, drawing close enough to touch, staring into glowing green and searching. “Can I communicate with it?” He pauses and glances at his father, head tilted. “Him, or it?” Then his gaze is locked once again to his new companion, studying the craftsmanship. The artistry. “Either way, you have wrought a thing of beauty, Father. How is he animate?”
Leave it to Tycho to get more caught up in the process and the mechanics of creating such a thing than what it means. Independence for our once-tiny beast. He's old enough now that he can wander beyond the demands of his belly, and this will be the first time he's truly apart from both of us. With his father's protection in the form of a guardian, yes, but he'll be on his own. Ignoring the tiny pang of sadness that my little monster is getting so big already, I smile and reach out to nudge his shoulder.
When he looks at me, his brow furrowed at the distraction, head tilted in inquiry, that smile widens into a grin. “Grill your dad later, huh? Go have some fun, get into trouble—not too much trouble,” I add with a stern look, but it melts quickly back into a grin. “Playground, son of mine. Back by dark or spend the night.” I kiss him on the cheek, grinning at the way he wrinkles his nose and huffs out an irritated breath at the touch. “I love you, kid.”
He grunts and mutters a quick “Love you too,” back, still clearly annoyed that I interrupted his interrogation. I fight to wipe the grin off my face while he hugs his dad, murmurs a much more sincere “Thank you. Love you,” against Pazuzu's chest, and then nods at the panther and sets out for the Playground. I watch as he walks away, ignoring the sad little hitch of my breath, the tightness in my chest. He'll be back in a few hours. Or in the morning, at the latest.
Which. Oh hello. Buys Pazuzu and I an awful lot of alone time. Without needing magic walls to keep little eyes from seeing or hearing things they shouldn't. Mmm, isn't that interesting. “Well now,” I croon, leaning into Zuzu and trailing my lips along the line of his shoulder, “whatever will we do with ourselves until nightfall? Or until morning...” I bite his neck, not hard enough to draw blood but definitely no gentle little nip either. “I have a few ideas about how we could spend that time.” I pull back with a wicked little grin. “Mountain climbing? Invade a kingdom, stage a coup? Know any good games?”
Just when you think that you're alright, I'm crawling out from the inside.
06-06-2016, 07:46 PM (This post was last modified: 06-07-2016, 02:01 PM by Pazuzu.)
I could see the spark in his eyes. I watched the way he circled the panther, the way his eyes gleamed with questions, the way his ears tilt this way and that. The way his head does the same. I could almost see the gears whirling in his brain as he processes it all. I could even almost hear the questions that he was asking himself before he would turn to me and ask me, but them my words seemed to have distracted him. Catching Ryss's eyes as our boy's eyes light up, makes my heart do weird flip flop things in my chest.
And then he is curling into me. Shock makes me pause but then my lips touch his back, nuzzling down his neck and across his spine even as his own brush against my shoulder. Too soon he is gone, but his warmth and smell still linger on my skin and in my nose, his eyes back upon his panther. How? Why? When? What? Who? Where? Words that always seemed to be a part of my son's vocabulary.
I smile at them, because I knew they were coming. "That is the basic concept. Yes. Yes. Him." I answer in one word answers to all his questions. And then the last one. "He has his own intelligence and can make decisions based on what he knows, which is quite a lot since I made him." A smug smile curls my lips.
Ryss is nudging him on the shoulder and I cannot help my quiet laugh. I love watching Ryss and Tycho interact, the typical boy faces that he makes as his mom interrupts him. "Love you too son." And then he is off. I tuck Ryss to my chest as we watch him walk away and then....
My wife is all over me. Okay, not really but she is insinuating all kinds of naughty things. Whoa...wait a minute? Wife? Where did that come? It fit, but huh, that was a little surprising. I do a mental shrug and continue on with my lips finding their own way across her skin. Her ideas make me smile, and I bite her back. No blood, no, none of that yet, but later if I have my way.
"I have a better idea." And I'm trailing bites and kisses across her face and then down her body, finding those really sensitive places that I know she likes.
---
Hours later, darkness has surrounded us. The moon was bright in the sky, high and full. I make the meadow glow once I can breath, once my breath isn't a ragged thing in my lungs and my legs can hold me again. Her little purple violets casting a soft purple-white light across the ground. I can see her and my lips touch her cheek. My heart stutter stops in my chest as I look at her. "You are beautiful Ryss." I say softly, oddly serious tonight as I take her in.
I step back after nudging her against the backdrop of our part of the meadow, looking at the way the white light of the moon falls on her mane and the way the violets add their own fairy lights in the background.
"Ryss, do you think....that....well.....can we handfast?" I duck my eyes in my nervousness, knowing she loves me but how much? Was she willing to make her more a part of my life with my past? With all the hate and the dark and the pain? Who the hell was I kidding? We both had darkness in our souls and our hearts, I don't know if I could ever be rid of mine. Sometimes it hung over me like a cloud. But Ryss, she was my light, my life, the only reason I felt anything.
"It's like marriage, only more us. We can make our own little ceremony, make our own symbols...make it all so us. Do you think that would be okay?" And here is where I finally make myself meet her eyes, because I am not a fucking coward, even if proposing to her scares the ever loving shit out of me.
**Disclaimer, posting to Pazuzu can result in maiming, torturing, and all kinds of nasty things possibly happening to your pony. If you do not agree, do not post to him or if you do not want your pony horribly maimed, please say so. Most of the time he will just leave some nice new scars, either mental or physical.
Just stay away from the white light. I'd say your worst side's your best side.
Have I mentioned that I love him? I could lose myself in his eyes, drown a thousand times over in their endless depths as he stares into mine. His lips touch my cheek, and I lean into the kiss, breathing out a happy little sigh. Beautiful, he calls me, and the corners of my mouth soften into a smile. You are too, I think, though I don't say the words aloud. Most guys I've met have not been crazy about being called beautiful. But it's true; the lines of his face are etched into my heart and I could trace them forever with lazy fingertips and the gentle brush of my lips. He is so damn beautiful I ache sometimes just looking at him, knowing he's mine.
Zuzu pulls back, and I have to stop myself from following. All I want is to be curled up against him, to feel the warmth of his body next to mine. That gentle nudge was enough to tell me where he wants me to stand, and the odd solemnity in his eyes has me nodding and acquiescing even if I miss the touch of his skin already. It's not until he stands before me that I notice the way the meadow glows, moonlight playing on the hard plane of his shoulder, dipping into the small of his back and beckoning my lips to touch, to taste.
His words redirect my focus, curiosity stirring at the hesitation, the nervous way his eyes break contact with mine. I don't recognize the word he uses, but when I understand the intent behind it, all the resolve keeping me in place melts away. “Oh, love,” I murmur as I reach for him. “I've already told you, you're mine. I'm yours. Forever. I'll declare it to the world in any manner you like, absolutely.” I draw his body into mine, holding him close and breathing him in.
A smile curls one corner of my lips, a half smile against his skin. This might be my favorite place in the whole world. Just a simple little meadow in the middle of nowhere, but it's where my son came into the world, where I fell in love, where I promised forever to the man who lights me up from the inside. “Here?” I ask, because the idea of adding another perfect memory to this place feels right. “We could do it here.” Surrounded by the violets that pushed me one step closer to diving headlong into love.
Just when you think that you're alright, I'm crawling out from the inside.
06-29-2016, 06:26 PM (This post was last modified: 06-29-2016, 06:27 PM by Pazuzu.)
I don't really know when I stopped diving into her mind to read random little thoughts. I don't know when I gave her control of my feelings, when I let her decide my emotions as to whether or not I would be happy that day. I don't really know when I stopped thinking only about myself and all about her and Tycho. When I stopped thinking what would make me happy, to what would make them happy and then make us happy.
I don't know when this all happened. So now to dive in blind after using my magic as a crutch for so long, my magic as a hammer and nail that drove itself into whatever I wanted it to for whatever answer I needed...well it was scary as shit.
She comes to me, unable to stay in place and when her skin touches mine I release the breath I hadn't realized I was still holding, waiting for her answer. She said yes, which is a miracle of it's own. She was mine, in every sense of the word and I would forever be hers. I trail my lips across her back as she continues on and I smile. I feel muscles along my back and in my neck relax even further with her occasional touches. "Yes, here." Because it would be perfect.
"In our violets." I smile, touching my lips to her neck and then backing away a little so I can touch her cheek. "After the girls are born, we will have it here and we can have who ever you want here. I have you and our son and your family, which is all I need. So, the guest list is up to you." I say with a smile, touching her other cheek. "Anything we want to add, well that will be my job." I puff my chest out in play.
"We will need to think of something so every one knows you are taken and I am taken." I say, my eyes glazing as I think of something. "Some marking, some piece of you and some piece of me." This would take a little creativity. "And probably some blood, yes? We seem to like the taste of it enough." A wicked smile curls my lips and I nip the curve of her shoulder. "Thoughts?" My lips and tongue soothing the bite mark.
Just stay away from the white light. I'd say your worst side's your best side.
It would be perfect here, wouldn't it? It feels right, to say whatever vows need saying here, a place that's ours more than anywhere else in the world. In our violets. “I don't care who comes. You and Tycho, our family, that's all. No one else exists, love. No one else matters.”
I almost wish, for just a moment, that the rest of my siblings would come too. Gendry and his lady, their girls. Hallows and his little family. Dröm, wherever the hell he is, not that he was ever really a part of my life. Drow was the only one who ever mattered to him. Xero, even if she did ditch us all when we were half-grown or barely grown. Nish. Little Strange, who must not be so little anymore.
Still. They've fallen out of my life, and it's been long enough that I'm over it. They wouldn't show up anyhow, and it would hurt too much to ask and have them all ignore the invitation. “No. Just us. Mom, Drow, his family. That's all.” I could ask. God, I want to ask them. Be there for me, fucking show up for once, and witness one of the biggest moments in my life. But they've missed so many already. I know better than to expect anything else. Fuck it. They'd only break my damn heart anyhow.
I smile as Pazuzu playfully puffs out his chest. With a gentle snort, I bump my nose against him, grateful for the way he so artfully redirects my attention. Though to be fair, it doesn't take much to draw my gaze in, pull my thoughts toward touching him, or just watching the way the light plays on his skin.
“I like that idea,” I murmur, trailing my lips along his neck. “Marking you as mine, permanently, for all the world to see. Your mark on me for the rest of my life. Somewhere very visible, like here,” I press a kiss to his cheek, “or here,” and another to his shoulder. “Nothing hidden by our manes like Mom's old Jungle tattoo. Something impossible to overlook. Classy, though, something beautiful. And blood, yes, and I'm sure Tycho would approve of that idea too.”
Just when you think that you're alright, I'm crawling out from the inside.
