02-04-2018, 07:23 PM
|
Beqanna
Assailant -- Year 226
"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
you made hell feel like home; any
|
||||
02-04-2018, 07:23 PM
02-08-2018, 12:52 AM
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls. Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost. The Abyss throbs around us, thrumming: an eldritch energy. Its ripples caress our hides with their otherworldly fingers and push us together: bringing me closer to that which so quickens my blood and blinds my inhibitions. He seems more beautiful than I recall. Beyond lovely. Ethereal, bringing saliva to my tongue. A demonic beam of sunlight, piercing this forsaken Abyss. No, no they don't. Soundlessly his knees meet with a ground that is not there, the boy: falling in awe of his monster. I shudder as I watch, having followed behind the boy. Allowing him to lead - to weave through the complexities of his own imagination, to raise the hairs off my skin. There are tears in his eyes, on his cheeks, glistening, glimmering - they shine eerily, though no light source reflects off of them. You're incredible. I step forward at his words, ignoring Pollock, reaching for the one who commands every drop of attention from me. Head lowered, fanged mouth seeking out the star-bright tears lining his face, wiping them away, memorizing the hollow shapes of his bones. I shudder. From ecstasy, from fatigue - he is the first one I have brought into the dream world, and I can feel my power slipping. Pollock's figure becomes muddled, unfocused, and his mouth opens as if to speak. "We don't have much time left here, Rapt," I breathe into his ear, my voice cracking with raw emotion, as if I can feel the despair radiating from his boyish heart. "But I promise..." "I'll always bring you back." The horned stallion speaks then, surging back into focus, so forcefully that even I second guess the reality of his being. My ears press back at the sound of his gravel-voice, wincing in awe of the monster. "You waited..." In the next breath, he dissolves into the Abyss, surrounding us on a molecular level. My legs tremble, quiver, I lean on Rapt for support though how much he has to give is questionable. "Are you ready to go back?" I ask of him. "It's going to feel..." I close my eyes. There is no time to explain. Reaching out, I clasp his flesh between my fangs, tethering him to myself as we fall. And this time, there truly is a falling sensation - as if all the weight in our bodies sinks to our stomachs and drags us through the Abyss, a kind of psychedelic spiraling that leaves me needing to vomit. I open my eyes. On my tongue, flat teeth - but also, blood. His blood. Our eyes meet. Kagerus sweet nothing @[rapt] I don't know if you've ever laid down on your back in the bathtub while the water drains around you, and just went completely limp and dissociated from your body, but that sinking-sucking-falling feeling is what I tried to describe, except a horse has no concept of a bathtub lmao. dreamweaver
02-11-2018, 05:39 PM
02-16-2018, 01:40 PM
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls. Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost. Reality seems hollow after our fall through the abyss. The green leaves on the trees are dull, the trees themselves almost immaterial. The air is at once too thin and too thick, not uncomfortable but unsatisfying. He is the only figure that remains whole, golden, savory, the only one to whom I can cling as the disappointment of wakefulness settles beneath my skin. You are a wonder. He is shaking, trembling, and it shows in his voice. The dreamer in me longs to reach out, to pull him to my chest and whisper about where I will take him and that which we will see together. But she, the person I am when I am not dreaming, she is not pleased. She knows of my sins and disapproves: frowns at how my hands pull Rapt's strings, snarls as I call him my own and place my mark on his skin. I am at war with myself. The hollowness of our surroundings only feeds my frustrations, and though I try to speak, my mouth is only just too dry, jaw just too clenched, for words to form. Our eyes have not left each others. He is so golden - pure - marred by the monster. I want him. I want him. "This shouldn't have happened." My head is shaking, eyes finally falling, embarrassment and anger flush on my cheeks. "I --" But I am already gone. Kagerus sweet nothing @[rapt] I'd love love love to have another thread with them. If you want to throw up a post where Rapt finds Kagerus (it's not likely she would approach him) I'd be /so/ down. River, forest, anywhere. I'm down. dreamweaver | ||||
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
|