"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
01-11-2017, 10:59 AM (This post was last modified: 01-11-2017, 10:59 AM by Kirin.)
Kirin
that girl is a real crowd pleaser
The wind whistles across the Mountain tonight, howling a sobering song against his skin as it prickles from the cold. Above the moon is big and round but it is not so beautiful. It would never be as lovely as he remembered it, shining silver against the ocean, lighting himself and the world around him like the very stars. Still, night will always be his favorite, the world dark and enchanting, possibilities endless. He did his best work at night under the cover of shadow, actions lit only by the moon and the stars, it was intoxicating and fearsome. Night was either nightmarish or wondrously beautiful and it all was dependent on you, Kirin liked holding that power.
Kirin liked power, period.
He’s not so pleased with the fairies though, always meddlesome, always getting in the way of world domination. Three setbacks for each leap forward and perhaps it is meant to be this way but don’t tell Kirin that. No, let him plot and weave fantasies in the dark, let him have that possibility of success, whether or not it be reasonable or attainable.
The Mountain seems to radiate with knowledge, knowing that there is something growing, being made whole. Not all is lost, as he sits and takes in the winter night. Even if the fairies foul him and the moon doesn’t shine just right, one perfect thing remains to him- Her. She is a constant, no matter how the years layer themselves in on her. “Nicia,” he almost sings, voice half whisper as it leaves him. “Potion will soon be restored and then we will reap the weak just as before,” in his mind they are promises, it gives him purpose, the world is not sunshine and rainbows.
There must always be something to lurk in the dark.
She moves with purpose. Head held high, and dainty steps. A silver queen just missing her crown. When the blasted fairies reshaped the land they had done her a beautifulness in one regard only. They let her keep her beauty. The years had melted away as she stepped onto the mountain, new found immortality keeping the spring in her step. Just as the mountain had reunited her with Kirin. They had lost each other during the cataclysm, but like magnets they would always find each other. No two beings were ever meant to be together more then they were.
She twines around her lover now, basking in his scent and the feel of his skin flushed against hers. His hide shines lavender to her silvery grey, and they are beautiful together. Even if the years had been less kind to him. But magic has always been fickle. He brings up their daughter now. A lovely creature with a lovely little talent for keeping her family beautiful. Potion always was one of her favorites.
"Yes, soon my love. Soon we will place our hooves on new land and make them tremble with delicious fear. Once more we will make our father proud"
Nicia trails kisses along his neck, teasing and wanting. Yes, soon it would all be theirs again.
Duty, a word she’s known even before she could begin to understand its meaning. When the world was intent on children being children, Father was eager for them to learn, to know. It seemed as if her duty was a ceaseless task and yet she did not stray from it, nor did she hold it against them for needing her. She was needed, vital to their existence and in some way she knew it gave her a power over them, though she was not one to disobey. It was too ingrained in her now, she was too far gone to ever fathom an interest to go against Kirin and that’s just the way he liked it if truth be told.
The Mountain looms but it doesn’t trace gooseflesh against her silver skin, it is almost welcoming, drawing her up it’s slopes with a hunger. Perhaps she imagines it, is too caught up in her task to see otherwise but perspective is a funny thing- everyone has their own, it is no one way.
When she reaches their grove, the spot of land worn smooth by use of plodding hooves she smiles, whistles into the trees and waits. She is ready, more than ready to bestow her gifts to him, to shave the years from his skin like a barber cutting away the split ends of a hair. “Father,” she calls, her voice dancing in the moonlight, bewitching, “I am whole, come now dear Father.” almost like a chant, a spell. “Mother,” she begs Nicia too, it’s been far too long without her and like a child she hungers for her Mother’s touch.
“I saw my dear sister, Kirke, she is round and swollen with child,” pertinent information never went amiss against her Father’s ears and she knew he would be pleased to hear the news.
She glows, lit in radiance by moonlight and it is enough to set his blood on fire. It is an insatiable feeling being so close without touching so he is never far, pressing against her warmth whenever possible. If they could simply melt into one another they just might but the world would no doubt miss them as separate entities. While he appreciated his wings left intact to him he could not help but to feel a jealousness at her youth, the smoothness of her face where his eyes had begun to show crow's feet. He’d hardly look at himself anymore, avoiding the glassy surface of the spring, and any ice formations he passed.
Jealous but not angry, not at Her.
A sigh leaves his parted lavender maw, ecstasy as she wove around him, curling like a kitten against a pole. She traced her lips against his neck, and he moved to mount her but before he reared, the quiet broke. A soft, sing-song voice called to him and then spoke of wholeness and for a moment his hunger for flesh was forgotten. Few thing could call his attention away but he knew that trance-like voice anywhere.
“Potion,” he hissed but it was not laden with venom, it was playful and excited, demanding she come out. When she broke the trees, he pecked her cheek, stepping aside quickly so the two women might have their special welcome. The mention of Kirke brought his ears swiveling forward and a light to his silver eyes. Kirke was always a good girl, he’d never forget the delicious way she and her sibling had disposed of her mother for him. Good, sweet, child.
She is giddy with excitement when she feels him shift position next to her, but before their fun begins, a familiar voice echoes through the trees to their little hiding spot. An adorable pout graces her features, but she can't be cross for long. Not when it comes to family. And soon they would have the family all back together again. Soon her powers would be restored and the real fun would begin, but first, Kirin needed to look his sexy self.
She peeks over Kirin's shoulder as her daughter enters the tiny glade, and can barely contain her excitement. Nicia wasn't exactly the most present mother when her younglings were small, but now that Potion is grown it's so much easier to care about her. Nicia never did well with children, but beautiful mares, that she could handle. None were as lovely as she of course, but having them around was good for her image.
She slips from behind her lover to greet her eldest daughter with a warm smile and soft embrace. Oh how she loves the lavender girl. She looks so much like her father.
"Oh! My lovely daughter, just look at you! You make us so proud!" she plants a small kiss on her daughter's brow, "Do hurry and fix your father so we can leave this godsbedamnned mountain."
With a tiny flick of her tail, she saunters back to her lavender lover, eyes glowing with anticipation, to watch her daughter's particular talent at work.
In quick succession they greet her, placing a kiss on her cheek and brow. She knows she has interrupted a special moment but that fact does not see to phase her, nor would witnessing it cause her embarrassment. It was a common enough act, vital to the continuance of the family line, it was a fact of life. One she had learned much too early for some, the Cove held no such views, innocence was not a nurtured characteristic.
It would surprise some at just how soft Potion was compared to some of her siblings. She was far from kind, a stretch from good but she had a certain quality to her that some of the others lacked. Even her own daughter was far more coarse in personality than she was and perhaps that was because Potion held time in her hands. It makes a big difference when you are aware of just how long your existence might be, she could be everlasting if she wished.
Nicia does not spend over long doting on her daughter, in some ways she wished her Mother was more interested in her but it was hard to compete with Father. The two seemed to live off of one another, leaving very little room for anything else. It was something she had accepting long ago.
“Of course Mother,” she replied as Nicia’s lips left her brow and the woman sauntered off in a flash back to the side of Father. She wasted no time thereafter, even if she was the one in power at this particular moment. It would only take a thought, a change of whim to reverse the effects but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, mostly because she didn’t want to. It was amusing though, to have that option, her lavender lips pulled into a sideways smirk.
Invisible threads left her, crawling towards the lavender beast and wrapping tightly to his aged body. It was like breath, the pressure of air and in a sense she did breathe life into them. She had become so very good at it, her gifts were often used and never suffered from neglect. The wrinkles began to smooth in mere moments, the lines in his face soften, skin stretch becoming taught once more. Every year that had passed since the mountain was erased and Kirin was left as vibrant and vital as ever.
