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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    hold back the river; ainlif
    #1
    Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes.
    Apparently there was a great big hullabaloo recently, though Revol barely noticed. The sun still rises, the world still turns - though somehow it seems like the passing of the days has taken on a more relaxed pace, a deliciously lackadaisical flavor to the turning of the seasons that she could definitely appreciate. But aside from the new shape of the world, not much has changed to her pale blue eyes, the color of the sky near the horizon on a sunny day - oh, not the rich, vibrant blue of looking straight up on a clear blue day, but the softer, gentler blue of far-off skies.

    She does so love watching the sky. Especially when great white fluffy clouds float on by, delightful shapes coaxing stories out of her all too active imagination. Those ones there, a daring princess and her beloved dragon companion, fighting off the wicked knight trying to steal the dragon’s treasure. Oh, or those, fluffy bunnies, looking so cute and innocent most people wouldn’t notice their devious expressions, or the way they look down at the world below just waiting for the right moment to pounce and bounce their way out of the sky to take over.

    Oh, right, of course. The world. Changed and all. New places to explore, and so many of the old ones recycled back into the earth, swallowed by the sea, pieced together into the patchwork mountainside where things like magic still reigned for those who’d ever cared about things like that. What was magic next to the wonder of story, though? She still has her silver-eyed friend, her very first imagining, and he didn’t seem much fussed about the new face of the world, so why should she be?

    And anyhow, her favorite haunts are still the same, relatively speaking. As same as any place ever is, really, when what matters far more is who you are as you wander through it. The forest is still lovely, dark and deep, and the quiet still makes her heart light. And that same forest would probably still be much more exciting if she shared it again with a certain far too appealing man who’d growled so deliciously and warned her about dangerous parts in a tone that just sort of melted her insides.

    What? Oh, yes, the forest. Still here, still fairly similar to its old shape, still brimming with glorious possibility. Including the perhaps rather improbable one of her once again getting caught up in her own thoughts and bumping into a stranger, and that stranger being the very same stallion whose gravelly voice made her sit up and take notice not so long ago. 

    Isn’t life grand?

    “Oh my. I can’t seem to stop myself from bumping into you and your dangerous parts. Though I’ll admit I don’t mind, not one bit. I don’t think I managed to catch your name last time, though.” Which isn’t all that surprising, as she was a little distracted by his eyes. Ohhh, eyes it’d be really easy to get distracted by all over again, dark and deep just like the forest itself, and with hints of something more. Something hungry and haunting and hard to pin down. “I’m Revol.”
    Lonely water, won't you let us wander?

    @[Ainlif]
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    #2

    It'd been days since he'd seen her, the image of his daughter. Her ghost had seemed to haunt him, chasing him from his isolation. Now she was gone, like she'd never been there at all. Perhaps she hadn't. It pained him at first, as if he'd lost her yet again. The mourning had returned, the anguish and deep sorrow. He could hardly survive it, could hardly breathe anymore.

    Now he was numb to it. Dead inside.

    He was breathing, so he was still alive. Whether that was a good thing or not was still debatable. He'd lost his first and only mate, and his precious little girl; what more was there for him? Why did his heart refuse to stop. As he'd done countless times before, he wondered why he couldn't have been the one to die and spare them.

    His eyes shut slowly, neck curled and face tucked low. A dark curtain of mane and forelock shielded him from everything but the pain. No, there was no pain. Just emptiness.

    Someone approached steadily, as if he wasn't even there. No hesitation. He thought the beast within him would lash out, as he normally would, but instead it lay dormant in his mind. Silent and watchful. Lying in acquiescence. Acceptance.

    He frowned. That the creature would allow someone near was strange. His hard eyes lifted to see who -or why. Staring coldly, it was a long moment before recognition swept over his face before disappearing.

    Ainlif held still, and watched her come, oblivious to his presence just like the last time they met. He nearly shook his head; had he not warned her before? He had to admit, he was a little curious why the one locked away in his mind did not react to her.

    She tagged him hard, then met his gaze. Mild amusement lit his eyes.
    Oh my. I can't seem to stop myself from bumping into you and your dangerous parts.

    He glared at her mocking words, but felt no heat in it. Maybe his senses were too dulled to rouse his darker side. Subdued, sedated. Or perhaps he was just getting old. His gaze blatantly scrutinized every inch of her figure as she continued talking, silently considering how much younger she might be. Pure curiosity, was all it was.

    "Though I'll admit I don't mind, not one bit. I don't think I managed to catch your name last time, though."

    A corner of his mouth quirked upward just a hint, so subtle. Revol, she introduced. He ignored her unasked question and instead replied with his own.

    "I thought I mentioned these parts are dangerous." His voice was firm, but like his glare, held none of the heat she'd previously seen from him. All of his attention was directed at her, full assault, even his dark ears faced her boldly in waiting.

    Ainlif
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    #3
    Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes.
    The flash of humor in his eyes is brief, but so very promising. Oooh, and that glare. There’s no real threat to it, not even genuine reprimand, just a matter of principle, and it evokes the tiniest of smiles, a little quirking of one corner of her mouth that grows as those lovely dark eyes rove her body. And she takes that delightful ogling as an invitation to do the same. Don’t mind if I do.

    Hard planes of muscle, something familiar and oddly comfortable about the rugged grace written in the sleek lines of his body. Just the right size to curl up against, not so big he’ll tower over her if they ever get a little cozy. Mmm, and wouldn’t that be nice, nestled into his side, him making that adorably grumpy face and glaring down at her for wandering off without a word of where she was going (and how was she to know where she was going when her feet never tell her ahead of time anyhow?), all cute and concerned and gruff.

    Silver eyes dance with amusement in the corner of her mind, and isn’t that curious?

    Oh, and there’s a smile, just a tiny one, barely even a change in his expression, just the slightest softening of one corner of his lips. The subtlety of the change makes his face all the more intriguing, demanding a person pay close attention in order to even begin to read him properly. “You did indeed mention something along those lines, yes,” she grins, continuing to eye all of his dangerous parts that are in her line of sight. Lips can be very dangerous. Teeth too, and that broad, solid shoulder, that could be quite dangerous to cuddle up against.

    “Thing is, you have this way of making danger sound awfully appealing.”
    Lonely water, won't you let us wander?
    Reply
    #4

    His eyes traced slow invisble lines across her skin, calculating. She seemed so young. And he felt so damn old. He'd seen so much, but then who was he to assume she had not as well? Perhaps she had and was just better at handling it than he was.

    He'd never imagined how deeply death would effect him. It wasn't as though he'd never battled, never considered how it may haunt him to take a life. Their deaths hit him harder than he ever thought possible, though. He never thought on how easily someone could take them away from him. Maybe he just never considered how much they really meant to him. He was a horrible mate, a terrible father.

    His eyes glinted like steel as the tang of self-hate snaked back into his blood, still openly roving her figure. He could almost feel the monster in him respond to his emotions and try to stir. The sweeping curves of her body agreed she was young, so strong and graceful. Ripe. A prime treat. Young...
    But not too young.

    What?
    He didn't just think that.

    Shame chilled his veins, tossing icey water on his heart. One minute he was thinking of his dead family, passively calculating their age difference, then the next moment he was practically salivating with primal lust. Barbarian. There was no way in hell he should be thinking of -shut up, already.

    He jerked his gaze off her figure and to her face. But instead of reproach for his improprieties, her glittering eyes boldly returned his attentions, scouring his body with interest. Something within him answered that call despite his reservations. His mouth felt suddenly dry, and his eyes heated with intensity. And her next words hadn't helped at all.

    "Thing is, you have this way of making danger sound awfully appealing."

    He ripped his eyes from her, ears flicking back in irritation and shoulders tense with strain. This was not going in a good direction; he needed to stop this, now. She couldn't know she taunted a beast that would sooner harm her than love her. There was no affection in him, only feral hunger and greed. He couldn't allow it to defile him in this way.

    He'd meant with his warning that it wasn't safe for a girl to be on her own out here, but with every passing moment, the greatest growing threat to her was him.

    Finally, he could feel the soft brush of bitter pain return to him. So many times it had eagerly fueled his wild rage, and he welcomed it as an old friend, joining forces with its supportive strength. The flame tempered his defenses, forged his heart in iron. A barrier behind his glaring eyes locked into place as he returned to her face.

    "Time for you to go now," he said coldly, "Where do you live?"

    The little part of him, a sliver of his old self, insisted on escorting her. The rest of him, though, either wanted to chase her off or... something else entirely. Something he knew he should not explore. His feet shifted restlessly, itching to get her moving and out of his hair.

    Ainlif
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    #5
    Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes.
    Revol can almost feel his gaze sweeping along her skin, interest evident in the way it caresse her body, lingering on her curves. Now that’s more like it. She sways a little closer, narrowing the distance between their bodies just a fraction, not even quite a step. Ah, but his reaction to her banter stops her from doing more. Probably for the best; if a few words make him tense up, her body pressed against his definitely wouldn’t have gone well. Sadly.

    She just grins as he gets almost adorably huffy, chasing her away instead of indulging the hunger she saw in his eyes before he shut it down. A little too forward, huh? Well. That was fair enough, though it was pretty clear at least a part of him had liked it. Even if that part had pissed him off a little.

    “I live wherever my hooves take me,” she answers, glancing down at the body parts in question, raising one to consider it idly. “Everywhere and nowhere, really. I’ve grown a bit fond of this forest, you know, all its delightful hidden dangers and everything.” And her blue eyes sparkle just a little as she glances over at him out of the corner of her eye and sets her foot back down on the ground.

    “But the meadow’s nice enough too, and I hear there have been new lands cropping up all over, all sorts of new places to explore. What about you, where do you live, honey?” She would, of course, use his name, but unfortunately he still hasn’t mentioned it. Honey will have to do for now. And if it gives her an excuse to put an extra little purr in her voice, well, so much the better. “Do you have a home, or are you a bit of a nomad too?”
    Lonely water, won't you let us wander?
    Reply
    #6


    He was visibly dismayed at her admission, and grimaced. She had no home? Perfect. How the hell would he get rid of her then? Somehow he didn't think acting on primal lust would frighten this one away. If anything, she'd probably welcome it, if that flare of interest in her eyes was anything to go by. Best he ignore the light flush of pleasure it gave him as well.

    And yet he couldn't see this little spitfire balking from his more aggressive side either.
    This would take some creativity.

    Dark golden gaze watched her passively as she lifted a hoof and examined it, his ear flicking back in uncertainty at a fleeting glance of those mesmerizing blue eyes. She chattered easily, as if running across strange and dangerous stallions were an everyday occurrence. Hell, with her boldness, it very well could be.

    He smirked at the thought. Foolish girl. So forward.
    "What about you, where do you live, honey? Do you have a home, or are you a bit of a nomad too?" she asked. Ignoring the endearment, and the effect her seductive voice was having on his thundering heart, he turned away and stalked off.

    "I don't live," he tossed coldly over his shoulder, amber eyes flashing briefly before dying out.

    Ainlif
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    #7
    Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes.
    Now, Revol wasn’t exactly expecting a wicked little grin to flirt with the corner of those far too kissable lips in response to her little endearment, but that flash of dismay? Oh, honey, that’s too precious. His lips may not be suffering from an excess of wickedness, but hers are certainly beginning to, the edges quirking upwards despite her best efforts at restraining them.

    Well okay. She isn’t trying that hard.

    She’s about to drop some more playful banter on his poor head when he wins the fight against the side of him that would be more than happy to see where a good bit of flirting could lead. Probably she’d just let him stomp right off too, and leave it up to chance or fate or dumb luck to place him smack dab in the middle of her meandering path again tomorrow or next week or a fortnight down the road, but he doesn’t just walk away.

    No. He throws up an SOS as he stalks off, a plea for help wrapped in barbs and thorns and prickers, and somehow she’s coming to find she’s a bit of a sucker for a good pric--uh, prickly attitude. And he does so have a good one.

    Instead of stomping after him, chasing too hard ‘til she chases him away, she pauses and tilts her head, studying his retreating form. (Okay, and taking a moment to admire his ass as he walks away, so sue her.) She waits just long enough that he might think he’s gotten away, and then gently suggests, “Maybe that’s your problem, honey. Just maybe you ought to try it sometime.” Or try it again, because there’s something in the depth of the ice dripping from his last words that suggests it’s there to numb some very deep pain.

    “It may not always go right, but it doesn’t always go wrong either.”
    Lonely water, won't you let us wander?
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    #8

    If he'd expected walking away would free him of her company so easily, he would have done it in the first place. He chuckled quietly as he made it a few more strides away. But of course, before he can fully bask in the success, her molten voice slaps at his back.

    "...maybe you ought to try it sometime." He rolled his eyes, shrugging off the sting that sank into him.
    "It may not always go right, but it doesn't always go wrong either."

    His ears flattened and he stopped to cover the falter in his step. What the hell did she know? He turned his head enough to pin her with a glare. They never seemed to effect her, though. She seemed to have an annoyingly high tolerance for his moodiness, and he was half tempted to walk over there and test the limit for that. All he'd have to do was let loose all the control he held so tight, step into her and feel a body again. Then let the beast take his aim and fire.

    She'd like it, maybe even want more of it. A blaze heated his eyes as he considered it. How much could she stand? Would it burn her to know it wasn't real? Did he even care?

    He shifted slightly for a better view of her, his liquid amber eyes once again tracing her figure openly. He teetered at the edge of a precipice; jump in or walk away to safety? It was dark and dangerous down there, a world of unknown tragedies sure to plague him with pain and regrets. Maybe a little warmth there, maybe a fleeting bout of fun, but she'd just be gone in the end. No, he thought he rather liked her alive, lord knows why, and he didn't care how irrational his logic was.

    "...doesn't always go wrong either."
    "It does for me," he snorted, turning away again but pain slowing his pace as he eased back into safety away from that threatening precipice.

    "And it would for us."

    He was being melodramatic, perhaps, but he didn't give a damn. It was best he didn't get attached to anyone, especially a wild temptress like her. If she didn't fatefully end up dead one day, then she'd just leave him or reject him. One day she'd realize how old and boring he is and move on, and he wasn't all that interested in that kind of pain either. Of course, not that he was interested or even considering these things. Not really, anyway.

    Ainlif
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    #9
    Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes.
    Oh, she knew her words weren’t going to be well-received. Truth and dare wrapped up together in a sentence or two rarely go over smoothly. So Revol is hardly surprised when he stops dead and turns to glare at her. But the heat of his gaze is part temptation too, and she’s hardly the type to cower anyhow.

    He angles himself just a little towards her, his eyes raking her body again, and she would happily melt into the fire in his eyes. Looks like a hell of a lot of fun, if he ever decides to stop holding himself back. She stares right back, letting that fire catch just a little bit, feeling it flow through her veins and start to turn her liquid, adding a languid note to her movement as she takes one swaying step closer to him, and then another.

    Damn. Should’ve waited, should’ve held back, but that’s never exactly been a strong suit of hers. And maybe she’s a little too impulsive, but hell. It’s too easy to miss out on the great things if you think too hard about how things could go wrong. He speaks again, and she tilts her head, wondering about the past that led him to this point. Wondering if there are words that can drag him back to life, or if pushing again will just drive him off into the woods.

    But only wondering for a moment. It’s not in her nature to spend too much time fighting her instincts, or holding back when words feel like they want to spill out. “Honey?” she says, and her voice is quiet this time, gentle in a way it hasn’t quite been ‘til now. “What if walking away is the moment where it goes wrong this time? You can’t know ‘til later, and if you’re going to regret something isn’t it better to regret what you had the guts to try instead of looking back and wondering?”
    Lonely water, won't you let us wander?
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    #10

    Damn this girl. Damn, damn, damn her. So close to his freedom, her voice once again rips him into a dangerous situation he was becoming more and more wary of. And less and less resolute in fighting. He wanted her, a greedy, lustful want without proper meaning, and she continued to tempt him by staying, by verbally reining him back to her. He grit his teeth painfully and tensed, once again rendered frozen by her power over words.

    Honey.

    It was all she said. It was all she needed to. The endearment had no effect on him, but with the sudden gentleness in her tone his fortifications came crashing down to dust and rubble. Tremors rippled through him as he desperately fought to control himself. The fire and sharp tongue he could handle, violent lashing out he would love to endure, but the tenderness was his undoing. A noose of silky lace coiled about his neck. The sweetest executioner lay in wait at his back. His heart ached for the soft promise in that voice. He needed cruelty and pain, and with naive kindness she unwittingly unlocked his prison of hate, releasing a beast he could no longer deny. No longer wished to.

    “What if walking away is the moment where it goes wrong this time? You can’t know ‘til later, and if you’re going to regret something isn’t it better to regret what you had the guts to try instead of looking back and wondering?”

    He bowed his head, tight shoulders hunching forward. Only half of her speech seemed to reach through the darkness shrouding his mind. A long, low growl slipped passed the cage of his teeth, and a feral light gleamed in his eye as he peered around his ribs at her. Like a rabid wolf, or even a much larger, leathery sort of creature, he slowly turned and stalked forward, head still lowered and ears melted to his skull. His teeth were bared in threat. Somewhere deep in his mind, a tiny voice of honor battered uselessly against solid walls, unheard and unheeded.

    Flaming eyes locked on to the most delicious prey, never straying from the gaze. Another rolling growl, slightly louder. Firm and promising. What he wanted, he would take. The self-loathing for it would come when he woke, toss it with the rest the weaker side liked to hoard and collect. It didn't matter to this one.

    What he wanted, he would take.

    The skull lifted enough to pair the muzzle alongside hers. Softly, too gently. Barest touch, feathery light. Hungry growls still echoing through the chest, salivating on the tongue. Poised and stoic, a little too still. Let the man curse it all on the morrow. Tonight he was free to feast.

    Ainlif
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