"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
“As real as I am.” Djinni answers. The mare knows that she is somewhat beyond the general scope of reality for most horses, but her continued and constant existence is fairly reliable proof. )The same thing couldn’t have been said even two years earlier, when she vanished from this world in the blink of an whenever the whim took her.) It seems she knows that her answer is slippery; her blank expression now carries a hint of mischief.
She says nothing as he examines the cave – first the entrance, then the long tunnel into darkness. This is the type of cave she had imagined; she supposes there is a possibility that it is not exactly what he had wanted. There are limits even to her power, though direct wishes are less likely to be intangible.
Djinni lets him break the silence, lets him tell her that it is perfect (she does enjoy that, and it shows). The brief moment of smugness does fade though, more quickly when she meets his gaze. She knows that look, knows that she’s shown him far more of herself than just her fanciful coloring and penchant for teleportation with this cave.
Stillwater says again that the cave is perfect, and Djinni chooses to break the strange stillness between them. She steps closer, presses her right shoulder to his left in a gesture that is both affectionate and completely platonic. “Of course it’s perfect,” she says, “I made it, didn’t I?” She pushes at him a bit – friendly – and looks out at where the pond glints below them.
current appearance: natural build - slim smokey grullo tobiano green eyes
Her magic was strong. It was possibly the reason he was able to humble himself before her as though he were nothing more than a man. In his mind, she had become off-limits a long time ago and so he allowed her to manage him like a sweet pet. It seemed to be something of interest to her, this keeping of a pet, and with a trace of suspicion he wondered if she knew just what sort of being she'd captured this time. Perhaps that was why she had snatched him, or had it always been a matter of convenience?
And now a house and a leash for the guard dog.
Frustration burned in him anew, and he looked away from her. "Of course it's perfect. I made it, didn't I?"
She pressed her shoulder to him, an act perhaps meant to further console him. His whole being centered on that contact, drawn to it. Awakened. Her warmth settled across the small touch, and his gaze slowly came back around to stare down at it. Dark eyes clouded as he traced her shoulder, to her neck, to her throat, his muzzle drifting closer and carefully tracking the pulse in her veins.
He'd always been curious how she would handle him, his malevolent nature tucked so sweetly behind kind smiles and dancing eyes. But then maybe she already knew. Maybe it was not only pure convenience that he had been leashed for her.
Djiinnnii, her name rattled from deep in his throat as his coat smoothed beneath her warm contact. He probably shouldn't. He definitely shouldn't. But curiosity only killed cats, and he killed them too. His nose barely tickled her neck just beside her jaw as his shoulder adhered to hers, attaching her to him. He held her, his eyes clearing and muzzle pulling away to see her, as he waited for her to notice. Just waited. And smiled slowly.
What will you do next? he asked softly, his voice once again silky. He meant now, as he toyed with her, but also what more did she have planned to stave her boredom. She needed mischief, trouble stirred up. Where would that craving take her next?
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
I've had this written for the better part of a week because i kept thinking that i wanted to add something but i can't decide what it might be so here you go!
djinni
She has said something, done something; has made him look away from her. She had only been being friendly, and yet it burns as though she has thrown herself at him and been utterly rejected. Djinni is not accustomed to being scorned, and the sensation stings more than she had expected it might. There had been times before, of course, but she had been a gawky girl, still unsure of herself and her place in the world.
Who is he to scorn her now?
She is beautiful. She is powerful. She is a mage and a queen.
She has given him this ridiculous cave and now he can’t even act grateful?!
The frustration is caught somewhere between her chest and her throat, sparking uncomfortably as she turns away when he looks back, refusing to meet his gaze despite the fact that she permits their continued touch. She ignores the way his cool breath ghosts across her shoulder and up her neck; she will show him. Her self-righteousness distracts her until he actually makes contact with his muzzle, and only then does she pull away.
Except she doesn’t, because her shoulder remains attached to his.
She tugs again, confusion flashing across her fading green eyes. “What’re you doing?” She snaps, fixing him with a brown-eyed scowl as she continues to try and pull away. Has he always been this way? Been this…whatever he is? She had not seen it in Nerine, and she does not like the smile and the way that his voice is smooth once more.
current appearance: natural build - slim smoky grullo tobiano brown eyes
Her pretty face turned away indignantly, incensed by his own frustrations as if they mirrored each other's mood. Could they be linked so profoundly? It was a deeply amusing thought as he held her in place at his shoulder, reaching to touch her so gingerly, so tentatively at her elegantly strong neck. Rich black to smoky-soft dove gray.
As soon as he made contact, she tried to pull away. Only to remain precisely where she was, neatly stitched to his broad shoulder. He smiled and looked down at it with a playful tilt to his head, admiring her skin perfectly adhered to his. What're you doing? she snapped, still trying to tug herself away. Dark, glittering eyes lifted to meet heated brown, and he reached to touch her again, aimed to drag his dark mouth along the line of her neck to her throat.
I think.. he began thoughtfully, absently, in a seductively warm voice as he breathed in the smell of her, soaked in the sight of her, that I am capturing sand.
He was hers; her loyal pet. But not a lapdog, no. Nothing like that. Pretty, maybe, but far from merely nice to look at. Shouldn't that please her? Or maybe she preferred a more benign creature, something that could never turn on her. Not that he would, not that he could. A promise was a promise. But maybe she wasn't aware of that, maybe she could feel just the slightest trickle of uncertainty towards him.
He didn't part his jaws for her, didn't bite, didn't sample the blood he so dearly wished to taste. She was off-limits, safe from him. Instead, he placed a delicate kiss, a faint little peck, just there on her enticing pulse, then pulled away. He didn't step away though as he silently released his hold on her, stayed there pressed to her unless she moved away herself. His skin reformed into his coat of flattened horsehair and held her steely gaze with dancing eyes and a warm smile.
So, he inquired casually, What will you do next, then? Take over Ischia?
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
02-18-2017, 01:06 AM (This post was last modified: 02-18-2017, 01:08 AM by Djinni.)
djinni
His playful smile has her gritting her teeth; the flippancy in his gaze as he regards her captivity elicits a dark scowl.
Dry, sand is everywhere and nowhere all at once. Hard to hold and often impossible to see, everything changes when water is added. That is why the djinn had chosen the desert, and why the grullo mare is so uncertain about the sea. She had left Nerine, both to keep her word and to keep away from the water, and yet here she is, trapped while stone-dry. She’s utterly still and all but snarling as he tells her that he is capturing sand.
Djinni has always been fine with contact on her own terms. She is openly affectionate, perhaps even overly so. Raised in a family that touched as often as they spoke, Djinni often comes off as exceedingly friendly. That has never been the case with Stillwater. Their first meeting had not ended well and has colored the entirety of their interactions since, even if the dislike she had intitally felt has changed to something far less negative.
She had thought that perhaps they could be friends now that he had his cave, that he could do whatever he wanted underground (as long as he kept Sylva safe) while Djinni did…whatever Djinni wanted. She’d thought things might be normal: or at least as normal as they could be while she kept him magically bound to a physical location.
But friends do not do what Stillwater is doing to Djinni. Friends do not drag molten fire up each other’s necks, do not send waves of volcanic heat roiling through each other that keep her pressed beside him (make her press more of herself to him, even, desperate to stay warm).
She is reaching out for something -
And then he disorients her again, leaving her head spinning as he talks of Ischia as if the little island is something important. She dangles, uncertain and very cold, and tells him that “No one needs an island. Don’t be…stupid,” while still catching her breath and struggling to regain her composure. This is even worse than the scorn; at least that she had dealt with before. This is new.
She doesn’t like it.
current appearance: natural build - slim smoky grullo tobiano brown eyes
They were like the tide of the sea; sometimes roaring and crashing, beating beach and cliffside alike, butting heads and scowling so fiercely as she did now. Sometimes burning in frustration and turning away from each other, overturning great ships in their mighty struggles for balance, struggled to find a way they may fit and cooperate. Become a heady force.
Other times they were quiet, a gentle whisper of seafoam washing up on shore to tenderly embrace the warm sand, cradle it so close until they were a loam of sea and sand, a beautiful blend of nature. Able to stand or lie so comfortably next to each other, lulled and calm and right. Peaceful, and perhaps even compassionate.
But they weren't like that now, though they had been just minutes before, swept away like an ebb of tide. Now they were crashing again, an attractive frown delicately folding her brows as he held her captive to him.
As she held him captive to her.
There was a subtle shift as he'd touched her so gently, as he traced a path of his craving into her soft coat. It was a change that had him wondering again if they could be linked in some way, finding himself unintentionally mirroring the new heat that crept into her sharp eyes, the flow of his blood rising to a stormy current. Dark and intense, he studied this new reaction with immediate interest.
He'd always persisted with her, poked and prodded and tried to get a rise from her without success. She had always been so cool and guarded. So he was skeptical when she finally seemed to be affected by him, even a little, but dearly wished to ignore that doubt. Wanted to sink into this moment without the nagging mistrust that she would want to trick him in some way. Trap him again.
Her response to his question was breathy, almost confused. As though she were off-balance. Somehow it was a natural response to flow into her, line his warmth along her side and fill the gap he'd chipped away, become her strength, the current that held her afloat. The soft line of his muzzle rested lightly on her neck again, on the curve of muscle in her lovely arch. But he didn't push this time, didn't poke and prod at her in his persistent way. Only held there, steady.
Perhaps this was where their balance lay hidden from them. Perhaps that was why he had always been urged to constantly nudge at her, dig and claw away at her impossible armor. To the eternal source beneath.
Djinni.. was all he said, a soft and hesitant question.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
The interest in his dark eyes does nothing to slow the racing of her heart, but Djinni is has always been quick to reach equilibrium. She cannot alter her own heartbeat, but she can easily convince herself that the cold she feels is simply a byproduct of their location – who would not be cold in a cave? Of course she is drawn to the warmth of the black stallion, of course she is. It is only natural. There is nothing else.
She’s convinced herself of this entirely when he reaches for her again.
At his touch she flinches away – violently so.
There is nowhere for her to go, the cave is small and she smashes her black muzzle against the stony walls. That sudden burst of pain accelerates her already rampaging heart, but it is also an instantaneous dose of clarity. She had told him once that she does not share; perhaps he had thought that she had no intention of sharing him with Nayl. That is not what she had meant. A hopeless romantic, her heart remains in Nerine and until now she has tied the rest of herself to it.
She does not share herself: giving a bit here or a bit there with as little thought as breathing. But why? Why shouldn’t she? Why should she stop herself from doing what she wants because of the morality impressed by her loving parents? She has always done exactly what she wanted, and as she winces at the pain of her cut lip, she decides that this should be no different. She does not owe herself to anything – or anyone.
His voice is hesitant but she is not, stepping away from the wall and pressing herself to every part of him that she can reach. Her black muzzle moves from his shoulder to his neck, leaving behind red streaks from the cut she ignores. Djinni does not feel her eyes go dark, but the lust that colors them floods unmistakably through the rest of her body as she pushes her chest against his side, slipping her head beneath his neck as she presses not-so gentle kisses to any skin she can reach. He feels soft, nothing to suggest that anything below her touch had ever been anything but sleek black horsehair, and the idle thought – has he always been hiding that from her? – doesn’t distract her from her goal.
She is not sure what the goal is, but there is enough fire in her veins that she does not care.
Now, this. This she likes.
current appearance: natural build - slim smoky grullo tobiano brown eyes
She jerked away from his seeking touch this time, launched herself violently away and straight into the rough wall. He tensed at the immediate difference, the warmth at his side, in her eyes, thrown into ice cold. Never would he get it right with her. Each time he tried to pull her in only shoved her further away from him. So cold.
And then hot again.
So burning hot.
Her warmth engulfed him as she returned to him. His breath caught sharply in his throat at the sudden urgency to her touch, the grabbing, the needing, the immediate soaring of his pulse in eager response.
The scent came with that short intake, fresh and heated blood. His jaws parted as he held stiffly beneath the shock of her lust, dark blue eyes clouding at the surface. He slid into predator, pulled himself forcefully back out of it, slid into it so easily again. Fought with himself. Fought with the hunger. She was supposed to be safe from him, he tried reminding himself. She made it difficult, maybe even impossible, to hold to that. He couldn't even warn her now.
The blood painted him as she dragged her wounded muzzle across his shoulder, along his neck, and he strangled a groan. His breath came shallow and heavy, panting from the mental exertion, the physical might to hold himself still. They were wild and crashing again, a whole new tidal wave he wasn't prepared to shelter from, wasn't prepared to withstand. Surprising and entirely unexpected from her.
She slipped beneath his neck, his chin, just as Karaugh would when he fed from her. His head dived down instantly, burying his mouth roughly in her hair and clamping shut to keep himself from latching onto her neck. He gripped it tight as she pressed fevered, impassioned kisses anywhere her beautiful, damned bloody mouth could reach. The tingling scent wafted to him again and he jerked her against him, locked her shoulder and side in a stony grasp at his hard chest.
Breathing didn't help, the quick breaths, the panting. Breathing made it worse.
And then the breathing slowed.
His skin smoothed against her, stitched her to him again and he released his physical embrace as he growled in enjoyment, an undulating rattle pressing into her --an unnatural rumble, prehistoric in sound. His eyes filled with a calculating, murky gray, and he curled his neck tight, tucked his chin to his chest where she was attached to him. So very slowly, tauntingly, he grazed bared teeth down her spine, dragging across tingling nerves and breathing hotly down her back from the base of her neck, over her withers, along the slight dip in her spine, the delicious curve of her rump.
So hot, her sweet blood, but not there yet.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
Any attempt to slow her breathing or steady her racing heart have been abandoned. There is some part of her that remains as she always is – a little cold, a little distant – but it is smashed into the smallest of spaces and overwhelmed by whatever part of her psyche now holds the reigns.
Passion she knows, and passion she feels when she hears Stillwater’s shallow breathing overhead. There is something else, something more, but that novelty is easily overlooked as the heat slides through her. The trees that create a bowery over the cave and the kingdom are perpetually autumn – why would she need to keep track of the seasons when it is always fall? - the changes in her own body have gone entirely unnoticed.
She’s not thinking of that as she arches up into his grip, pressing her side to him even as she feels him bind her to him. She is always held (Stillwater is not the only ones with chains at his feet) but never this way. Her grey sides shiver for a moment, sleek rather than haired, but they remain as firmly attached and she feels the last of her tension slip from her grasp. Always in control, she surrenders.
The predatory rumble in his voice is overlooked; some things die hard – like her inability to be appropriately cautious. Instead she shivers beneath his touch as his muzzle slides down her back, flicks her tail at the sensation without thought. “What will you do now, then?” She asks, parroting his earlier words in a low voice. Her eyes remain dark, though they flash to gold as she heals the cut in her lip. It has pulled when she had spoken and she had not liked it. She is no sadist – she finds no pleasure in her pain.
current appearance: natural build - slim smoky grullo tobiano brown eyes
Linked. They must have been, in some way. Because as she arched into him, pushed more firmly and wanting against his hold on her, the fog in his eyes became something more. More than just the hunger. A haze of lust that matched the darkness in her eyes. He ignored it, brushed it away even as his heart raced again. He was a predator, and he was in control. Even as she finally surrendered hers.
In the back of his mind it repeated though, that perhaps this was the way they were to find their balance. That this may have been why he was constantly urged to prod at her until she finally chipped away for him.
His teeth raked down her in methodical ease, seeking to arouse her further, heat her blood to smooth perfection before he would have it for himself. Ah, but he shouldn't. Something about not taking this one. There was a reason, he was sure, he just couldn't think of it just then. Still, it stayed him, but he could feel the sharp taste of freedom in his veins and knew he hadn't promised to never hurt her. Otherwise the binding of his words would force him back and away. He could have her if he wanted, he only chose to spare her. There was a reason, though. Somewhere. A reason not to kill her.
Instead, perhaps he would show her the power in her pet. He would show her who was truly master in this relationship this time even as her shackle was locked solidly around his wrist. He was hers; her loyal pet. Her driving master. You will beg me. You will learn. It was so intriguing, such an attractive thought that settled a dark mirth in his deep chest and had his body hardening with temptation.
But he'd only meant to tease her. To taunt her until she couldn't stand it. Til she ached for him and witnessed for herself who was really in charge between them. That was his sole intent, his only purpose, until she unintentionally tipped the world over and shook it up again.
Her skin smoothed beneath his teeth, losing the fine coat of horse and becoming as deliciously slick as his own. Calculating eyes stared at it, enraptured as a helpless moan slid from a rough and feral throat. It struck something deep within him, a shock of lightning to natural desires; a call to mate with his kind that could not be ignored. Lies, his mind hissed, Deceit, but she'd already pushed him over the edge, and his claws could not find purchase to save himself from this falsehood.
He couldn't force the predator to heed when a mate appeared. Nothing could.
His hold on her dropped instantly, retracting his adhesive secretions as he rounded her. She'd said something, but words lost all meaning now. He'd rather do this beneath the blanket of smooth water, where they belonged, but the beast could not wait. The pressure and heat built, and he wasn't even sure if draining her of her blood and devouring her whole would have been enough. Not against this call.
He paused, seeking to dive deep into her eyes as tsunamis waged war against the world in his own. The only control he had left was not drinking her, and even that was a brittle clasp, tenuous at best. He locked their gazes as his lips slowly tasted her skin, hot tongue pressing and licking against that flawless, sleek surface that matched his own, a perfect dolphin-gray.
Then he lifted, held her hips; held himself precariously at the edge of a lot of good things, probably also a lot of bad things. He growled again, low and long, a challenge to this other perfect predator. Eat or be eaten. I will devour you in this way if not another. But his pause was not askance; he was master in this moment and she would learn it. His arms slid forward and adhered firmly to her sides as he pulled her deep into his hips. Her heat surrounded him and he exhaled.
How's that, little monster.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
