"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
08-02-2019, 12:30 PM (This post was last modified: 08-02-2019, 12:31 PM by Reia.)
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
”This is not me,” she told father quietly with an unyielding stare that first indicated Loess before returning to him, ”the kingdom life is not for me.” Castile peered down at his daughter with an understanding grin. ”No, it isn’t,” he wasn’t angry, not even disappointed. Since she was a foal, Reia was different and he never wanted to change her. He embraced and loved what she was. Nothing could deter him from admiring her ferocity, from loving his and Sochi’s first child.
Reia left Castile behind in that moment – not permanently, no. It was an agreement that she would explore and create her own agenda and forge her own path. He pressed a kiss to her head before she turned away and took flight.
The trek was not long at all. Soon the rocky hills of Loess faded behind her and the coniferous trees of Taiga were underneath. Oblivious to customary manners, Reia descends swiftly into the heart of the forest, nestling down through a small space in the canopy. Pines graze her sides and wings, increasing the difficulty of her landing, but she manages with a loud and clumsy thud. Gracefulness is another attribute that eludes her.
”PTERON!” She pursued his scent, recalling it from memory the moment she turned from father. The boy once frequented Loess, but has since become increasingly absent. She, herself, admittedly became reclusive in the cave as she watched her family disperse each day to tend to their own responsibilities. Although she won’t openly admit it to him, there was a piece of her that missed his company despite how brief their meeting had been.
Reia carelessly drags her wings across the leaf beds. Pines tuck themselves between the feathers and it isn’t until a fallen branch pokes her that she folds her wings roughly to her sides. ”COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE!” Her voice pierces the quiet morning air and echoes through the trees. Her eyes drink in the sights, awed by the grand heights surrounding her. ”Pteron?” She says again, her voice quieter as she wanders in search of him, disregarding the borders that are far behind her.
and I'll be next to you when the lights go out
Reia
You thought I was joking about reuniting them probably lol
08-03-2019, 11:11 AM (This post was last modified: 08-03-2019, 11:13 AM by Pteron.)
There is little opportunity for graceful flight in the Taigan woods, but Pteron is still glad that his amusement at @[Reia]’s rough landing is felt out of her sight. From his arboreal perch, the young winged stallion has awaited her arrival. She’d come from Loess, at first nothing more than a speck on the horizon, and Pteron’s olive green gaze had turned from his half-hearted survey of the canopy to focus only on the inbound pegasus. He had, at first, thought that it might be Marni, but the creature is too pale, lacking the navy edging that runs thickly in their blood.
No, Pteron sees as she wings nearer: this can only be Reia.
The realization of this is thrilling, and Pteron steps forward to follow where she breaks through through the canopy of pines, leaving his perch. Most of the thrill is excitement; it has been some time since he has spoken with anyone outside his family, and longer still since he has seen Reia or someone from Loess. As he plummets to a stop not far from where she has landed, he realizes that some of the thrill is fear as well. He knows the emotion well – it never truly leaves the mind of a horse in the company of dragons.
Yet her father, the dragon he knows best, has never inspired agitation in quite the same way as his daughter does. Perhaps this is because Castile has never bitten him.
It might also be because flickering flames cascade down Reia’s neck rather than a wind-ruffled mane, or because she glistens like the gold her kind are rumored to collect and even the tough edges of her dragonhide cannot hide the shapely figure beneath them. But it is probably the biting, as well as the demanding way she calls him, each word spoken around a mouthful of teeth that he knows are capable of tearing him to pieces.
“Welcome to Taiga, Princess Reia.” He says, stepping from the trees. His tone is deferential and polite; all traces of his earlier amusement wiped away. Perhaps if he is especially respectful he might retain all of his body parts for the duration of this meeting. “What brings you this far north?” His mental image of her had still been that of the feral child she’d been at their first meeting, and though he tries to keep his olive eyes directly on hers he weighs the potential outcomes of telling her she looks different than he remembers.
She’ll probably set him on fire, he thinks, but young bravado and the chance to take a better look at a pretty girl wins out.
“You look much less like a lizard than I remember.”
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
His voice is no longer quite so boyish and immature. There are depths of understanding and realization in addition to the baritone that’s creeping its way through his tone to signify – and further confirm – that they are no longer foals. A sharpened smile brightens her pretty face as she shakes off the pines and leaves to confront him in the same playful and confident manner that she always has. Reia lurches forward and leaps into the air, landing with her wings unfurled for both display and balance. The blue fire along her crest crackles as she alights nearly nose-to-nose with him. Her vibrant eyes lock onto his, beaming at him with fascination and exuberance. It has been far too long since they last saw each other and although it’s nearly obvious that the sense of missing isn’t entirely mutual, she doesn’t take pause or turn away.
Instead, her wings slowly curl back to her sides – calculated, deliberate. Her gaze doesn’t stray from his, caressing him even with a mischievous gleam.
One breath, two breaths.
Her mouth opens to respond, but then she lunges forward and gently nips him on the left side of his neck before dancing away with a flick of her tail. ”Stop with the formalities, Pteron,” her voice hardens beneath the spotlight of what she was born into. With a single, half-hearted chuckle, she peers back over her shoulder at him. ”You know I’m not a dainty little princess,” the title never suited her. She is unpredictability and havoc. She is not a gem or treasured piece of diamond like Cyprin.
Where her aunt possesses an air of elegance and charm, Reia is feral and roguish.
Whipping around quickly, Reia finds herself quickly in front of Pteron with narrowed eyes. ”A lizard?” Her lip stiffens in a hard line but with the lapse of a few seconds, her face softens into thoughtfulness, then amusement. They are still young, still eligible to be reckless, fun, and playful, even as he tries to stand upright and offer business-like formality. A coy smile blossoms as the flames of her tail hiss with a flicking movement. ”Are you saying I’m prettier now, Pteron?” Whether it’s true or not, she has no shame embarrassing him if the opportunity arises. ”I’m so flattered, even if you do remind me of a bird,” she tilts her chin toward his feathery wings, blinking slowly as she focuses again on his face. ”I didn’t expect to be courted and complimented so soon in our reunion,” she teases before reaching to bump his nose, inwardly wanting to feel his warmth again.
and I'll be next to you when the lights go out
Reia
You thought I was joking about reuniting them probably lol
08-15-2019, 07:38 AM (This post was last modified: 08-15-2019, 07:40 AM by Pteron.)
Pteron had shaken off his mother’s offer of a romantic arrangement, but he remembers it suddenly as Reia stands in front of him. She’d been one of the possibilities, but Pteron had scoffed, thinking he’d rather marry a hot spring than the dragon girl. He’s still not entirely sure he wouldn’t, especially with the way his breath catches in his throat during the silence she allows to grow between them. It is an uncomfortable sensation, and though he can see the wings curling deliberately to her sides from his peripheral vision, that does nothing to soothe him. She might be preparing to pounce, his subconscious prey-mind tells him, perhaps he should flare his own in response: as a threat or even a means of escape.
When she lunges forward his worry is confirmed, and he takes a sharp breath as he teeth click shut against him.
There’s no blood, no rending of flesh, and yet his heart had already sped away in anticipation, and the adrenaline is thrumming through his young veins. She turns her back to dart away, with laughing words spoken over her shoulder, as though he needs the reminder that she is no dainty little princess. Well, perhaps not the first two, but still the third, and he is just old enough that the fact tempers his behavior. He might have lunged after her otherwise, chivvying her scales with a nip of his own.
Despite his ignorance of her aunt and his recent comparison of Reia to a lizard, he has still placed the Loessian girl on a pedestal slightly above himself. Her added height hasn’t made her bites sting any less, but Pteron is a hopeful creature. Reia might not be fond of formalities, but Pteron is quite determined to use them as a shield. With them, he might be able to keep her teeth and fire at bay, and perhaps even avoid the paternal fury that would surely reign down were Castile aware of the thoughts that Pteron was having as the golden princess smiles coyly up at him.
‘Are you saying I’m prettier now?’ she asks, and he blinks his olive eyes and realizes that he’s trapped himself – or perhaps that she has trapped him. Definitely the second, he thinks as she steps closer. Can she hear his heart racing, he wonders, does she see the roll of his eye as he tries to decide if she’s about to spit fire? Yes, he decides, yes: and she is probably enjoying it as well if her smile as she reaches out to brush her nose against his is any indication.
There are no teeth and no flames, yet Pteron’s speeding heart now seems locked somewhere half-way up his throat, a rapid thrumming that is surely audible.
He is rarely lost for words, but being accused of courting and complimenting is nearly as terrifying as the possibility of being roasted and eaten alone, and so he simply stammers something that sounds like: “I...you, I’m not...I didn’t.” A bolder boy might have hidden his nerves by pressing his mouth back against hers like Pteron suddenly realizes he wants to, but instead he flounders and says: “I can’t court you.”, while thinking: You would eat me. Your father would eat me. I am not ready to be eaten.
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
There’s something exhilarating about the discomfort she infests him with. It echoes throughout his body and nearly reaches out to her. Perhaps, it’s her predatory instincts that make it possibly to taste fear – to almost dance in sync with a racing heartbeat. Reia’s eyes scour him, scrutinizing every detail including when his muscles flinch in response to her nip.
But it isn’t just the nip that makes him uncomfortably shift beneath her piercing gaze. He stumbles over his words and desperately gropes for answers to throw at her before she can advance again and repeat. They are already close; his scent slithers into her nostrils, his heat reaches toward her. An amused smile almost presses to her lips, but she holds back and gives him the opportunity to finally come to a decision – or lack thereof – regarding her coy and teasing question. Reia’s stomach flutters with excitement and humor until finally it surfaces in the form of airy laughter. ”Yeah, okay,” she quips in between laughs, unable to suppress it any longer. They may be taller and leaner, but this confirms how young they still are at heart and how romantic relations are still far beyond their true comprehension and comfort. It will be a while, maybe longer for her than Pteron, until life pulls them in directions of families and children. The idea seems so distant when she locks eyes with him and reads the uncertainty of his expression.
”Pteron,” she flatly states his name once her bouts of laughter have settled and quiet. Her own face stiffens except for a playful gleam, ”we need to work on how you talk to girls. I thought you would be a lot smoother by now.” A smile breaks the thin line of her lips, but it’s lopsided and a near replication of her father’s. Naturally, her thoughts assume it’s him and not the fact that she (or her family) is intimidating. Mother and father always seem at ease in her company, frequently smiling and wrapping her in warm embraces. Surely, she can’t be scary.
But such is the thought process of one still so young and inexperienced with life’s obstacles.
Ruffling her feathers, Reia peers up at the trees and notices how some pines are charred by her fiery descent. She says nothing of it, choosing to instead move on. ”So, why Taiga?” She doesn’t confess how disheartened she was to lose her only friend in Loess – especially since they are rare and far between for her – because Reia refuses to exhibit weakness or disdain in front of him, at least for now. ”Well, you’re not far away so I can visit all I want,” a devilish smile dashes across her face as it whips to the side to face him, finally looking away from the canopy. The fire crackling down her poll and crest hisses. And for some reason, Pteron’s last statement suddenly echoes through her thoughts. She doesn’t take offense to it, still in the mindset of pointing fingers, she simply adds, ”Honestly, I don’t think you could even court that log over there.”
Were a flame ever to turn solid, Pteron suspects it would not be much different from Reia. She is all sharp angles and stark beauty, close enough to touch but sure to draw blood if he dared try. The sheen of her scales seem almost to glow with an internal light in the dim green light of the deep forest, and Pteron finds himself reaching towards them for just a moment. Just long enough for him to realize what is happening, just long enough for him to feel a wave of cold guilt wash away the matching fire he had felt growing within him.
When she says his name again, it is with a flatness that causes his belly to tighten uncomfortably. She is disappointed in him, it seems, expects him to be better at speaking to women. He wants to argue with her about that; he is quite charming when it comes to women – and to men. It is Reia that is an exception, Reia who is terrifying and beautiful and royal. Reia who could easily rend him limb from limb and feast upon his roasting flesh, and who keeps a cold line of fear always dancing down his spine with her presence.
So instead of arguing he just looks down. He wants to embrace her and exalt her and ensure she keeps her distance from him all at once, and the resulting turmoil keeps him stone still, like some marble effigy of a young pegasus in front of her.
The soft sound of her ruffling feathers reaches his ears, but not until she asks ‘Why Taiga,” does he look up, and not until she mentions visiting all she wants that he begins to frown. That she might want to visit is puzzling – why not remain in her kingdom, attended by Pteron and her other followers whenever she desired and no more often than that? He considers her a friend in the same way he considers the roving wolves friends. Striking things deserving of admiration, respect, and a good distance kept between them. She is also more than a friend, and it was not until today that she was something other than the violent daughter of his leigelord.
She brings that up again when she speaks of his courting ability, and his olive gaze once more finds the thick carpet of pine needles.
“I could,” he tells her – and the ground at his feet - “But I don’t want to. I don’t like logs.” It’s a rather ridiculous argument, and he knows it even as he says it. “Or lizards,” he adds with an unexpected bolt of courage. It’s barely enough to lift his head to meet her fiery gaze, but it is all the resistance he has. Perhaps if she is angry with him, that will make this impossibly tense situation end. She can kill him or expel him from the protection of Loess, but either way he won’t be here, alone in the woods, all-but-frozen in indecision and uncertainty.
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
Reia doesn’t see what Pteron does. She doesn’t understand the fear that drives his reluctance, or what burrows deep inside him that adds hesitance and uncertainty to his voice. It’s him, she concludes. It’s merely his personality as he finds himself in her company, and so she assumes that it extends to all women. Why, she fleetingly wonders, would he be so leery toward a girl he has known a great deal of his life? Reia’s brash personality starkly contrasts with his, and it ignites amusement in her gut as she notices him reach for her only to stop and reconsider. A sideways glance finds him, but she looks away quickly, posing as oblivious.
But she is innately drawn to him. Even as she senses his reluctance, she draws nearer.
A coy smile tugs the corner of her mouth. Her eyes flash.
”Good thing I look much less like a lizard then. Isn’t that what you said, Pteron?” She eases toward him, sultry yet playful, dangerous but teasing. It’s insulting to be even remotely compared to a mere lizard – dragons are proud – but she disregards it and lets him off this once more. Soon, she imagines, she will need to remind him what her family is capable of, what she is capable of, especially when insulted. But the thought is suppressed for now, as her ambitions climb closer toward him. He seems so fragile. How easily can he break? How easily can she force herself on him and help him realize.
(We need each other)
”Prove it,” she reaches toward him, pressing a rough kiss against the slope of his left shoulder. She has witnessed the display between her parents, and so she mirrors it without considering the implications or the effects it will have on Pteron. ”I dare you to practice courting me, otherwise, I’ll find a dead fish you have to kiss,” the twinkle in her eyes brightens as she inches another step closer, the flames along her crest crackling with the adrenaline beginning to course through her.
Waiting for her to react feels like waiting to fall from a cliff. He balances precariously, torn between the safety of the ground on which he stands and the pale eye girl that beckons him closer to the edge. His feet are planted firmly though, and grinds one front hoof into the forest floor as though to remind himself of this. He suspects that Reia enjoys toying with others the way a cat bats at a string. She wants to see what they will do, how they will react. Before today though, he’s only been an observer in her games, only ever watched her as she bent the world in her favor.
With bated breath, he watches as she process his words, and as she begins to smile, the weight inside his belly grows heavier.
He can’t just order her away – she is his princess, after all – and there is ever the danger of angering her too much, enough that she might decide to destroy him rather than just ignore him for a few days. So instead he stands as still as he can, even as she comes closer. The playfulness in her gaze is familiar, and even the danger strikes a chord he knows well. One does not befriend dragons without coming to accept that there will always a little bit of danger in the friendship, after all. Even the taunt and tease is something he can look right through, though he feels the blood rise as she stalks toward him.
‘Prove it’, she says, close enough that he can feel the heat of her breath against his cheek. When she snakes her head toward his shoulder, Pteron forces himself to remain steady, to not flinch away from the bite of her teeth. But it is not a bite, not even a nip like a moment ago. It is something much softer, yet the adrenaline still courses through him as though she’d struck a blow. It’s not her dare that keeps him from bolting, nor the threat of having to kiss a fish. She’d find one, too, he knows. Nothing is too much for the wild-eyed girl who is still inching closer.
“I don’t want to.” He tells her, his voice tight. The heat of her breath and her skin and her flaming mane are all very close now; he need lean over barely an inch to touch her. This close, he can smell the fire, as much a part of her as the scent of Loess and dragons. “And your father would burn me alive for being this close,” Pteron reminds her, trying not to sound as breathless as he feels. His heart is thrumming in his chest, a confusing blend of terror and uncertainty and desire.
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
Pteron freezes much like a deer. There is a hesitance halting him, an uncertainty clouding his eyes as they level on her. Even when her lips fleetingly caress the skin of his shoulder, there is a palpable tension that nearly deters her from pressing closer. It creates a conscious wall in her thoughts, a battle between her amusement and Pteron’s comfort. Mother never acts like this when father leans against her, nibbling the outline of her jaw. Their voraciousness and strength pours from every fiber of their beings and they feed each other an indescribable passion that Reia assumes to be natural and common.
Yet Pteron doesn’t reciprocate in such a manner.
A blink of her eyes, a flutter of her heart before it sinks beneath the crashing waves of her confidence.
His rejection is terse as it builds between them. The gravity of it sinks her gut. She hesitates. For a suspended moment, there is only the sound of their breaths and a soft breeze tickling the tree branches. Reia’s eyes fall as she gathers herself and pieces together the discomfort of denial. It’s the first time she has experienced it. As it processes, a low hum vibrates through her. ”But—“ she cuts herself off because she is suddenly unsure whether she wants to know the reasons why except for the single one he offered. Grabbing onto it, unable to release and give up this closeness, Reia’s eyes flicker back up to Pteron’s. A coy smile hooks and lifts the corners of her mouth while her head tilts like a curious bird. ”But he doesn’t need to know. I won’t tell him if you won’t,” the heat of their breaths mingle in an intimate tango. There is no space to edge closer with their noses nearly touching.
So, she smugly lifts a brow, her pretty face illuminated by the crackling fire, and whispers, ”Do it,” with a voice as warm as the desire coursing through her veins.
For a moment – for one shining, glorious moment – Pteron thinks her finished with him.
The threat of her father had been the key, the reminder that Pteron will not be the only one that Castile is displeased with. While his own parents have been fairly lax when it came to the instruction of what was and wasn’t proper, he does know that princesses should not be making advances to soldiers in the woods – not even if the soldiers’ mother is the Comtesse. That Reia had been especially difficult to convince of this shouldn’t have surprised him, Pteron realizes; the girl has never met an obstacle she could not overcome by sheer force of will.
He lets out a long-held breath, doing so just quietly enough that it is not a sigh, and he regrets it the instant he hears the single word – But – fall from her lips. He must inhale sharply to get his breath back. Standing this close to the pale filly, her acrid scent fills his tender blue nose, overwhelmingly strong. Scale and smoke still burn as he breathes her in, instinctual reminders of danger, and Loess that smells like home. There is something more than that though, overpowering the scents he knows as Reia. It smells like the curve of her hip he can barely see over the flicking light of her mane, of the wickedness in her eye when she’d beckoned him closer. It smells, somehow, like the flutter of his pulse when he looks into amethyst eyes.
The promise to not tell doesn’t reach his ears so much as it reaches his chest, the soft exhale of her words fill the air ever more with confusion. She like the fog, he thinks, slipping in everywhere: inevitable. She offers herself like a present she knows he does not want, and though he protests Reia has always known the edges of his discomfort, known that he will all but perform backbends to avoid being rude. ‘Do it’, she commands, her words licking up the edge of his cheek where they nearly touch, and Pteron does.
He is unskilled, and more than a little awkward. His guide for action not much different than Reia’s: he mimics what he has seen from his parents. A step forward, and he presses his mouth just where her jaw meets her neck. He isn’t sure what comes after. Yet he finds that he doesn’t need to be sure, because her skin here is sleek and warm, and of course he should next nibble lightly at the pulse of her throat, and then place less than gentle teeth in nips along her neck and right shoulder. The taste of her is more overwhelming even then the smell, and it sweeps him away. She is pliant and delicious and there is something of a primal thrill in the way he knows that she would submit to him. He catches sight of his reflection in her orange eye, and freezes. His left foreleg falls back to earth with a thud – when had he raised it? Had he really been ready to do…that?
“That’s enough,” he tells her, surprised at how breathless he is, how rough his voice sounds. They have crossed a line, and he has made a mistake by caving. Reia has always known he will do as she commands, and he has shown her just how far he is willing to go. Yet even as he meets her fire-eyes, he knows she will ask more of him. Winning hadn’t been enough for her as children; Pteron had always needed to roll over and show his belly.
