"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
He liked the idea of ownership; he liked it very much.
Looking upon her walking through the land, beautiful, even though slightly broken, he imagined that he could do worse. She was sweet and soft and easy on the eyes. It was a shame about the curve in her spine and the way that she felt the need to backtalk even when she could hardly look him in the eye, but she would do. For now, she would do. He softened to her at this thought, pleased with his newest acquisition.
It had been some time since he had last called upon her, but he’d kept tabs on her and her whereabouts. It wouldn’t do for her to wander into someone else’s clutches, for some other man to take possession of what was so obviously his own. And today, he decided it would do her well to see him again. As he walked near her, he felt the Fear rise up within his chest, but this time, he toyed with a different idea. It was tempting to paint a new picture for her. To cast himself in a different light. Could he pull it off? Could he make her see something else?
Not for long, of course.
Just long enough to see her soften. To see her fall prey to his pretty black eyes and handsome smile. Wouldn’t it be sweet to rip that all away? Would that be enough to break her?
The pleasure of the thought warmed his face as he approached her, his smile soft, his eyes bright. He curled around her possessively, mouth trailing along her side as he came to a stop. Bruise was young but he was continuing to fill out, his slender frame beginning to harden with muscle, his angular face becoming less boyish. As he came to a stop, he reached over to lip affectionately at her mane as he had seen couples do, successfully pantomiming the motions. “I have missed you, Rhae.” Not entirely a lie, although not true in the sense that he hoped she would take it. “Have you missed me as well?”
She knew it was only a matter of time before he came for her. Or, she didn't know, but she thought there might be a chance of it. Sometime. Maybe. Why would he, really? There was nothing special about her, and why was she even thinking of him anyway? She should be enjoying her freedom in his absence. Although, in truth, not knowing where he was and what he was doing was far more terrifying than seeing him. It was worrying to know there was a bullet coming to the back of your head, and having to wait for it.
And with a Pop. Pop. he was there with a warning shot.
She'd been walking with her head a little higher than she normally did, growing more confident. Or, she thought she'd tried to anyway. At least to appear that way if she could. She couldn't really recount it, actually, as soon as he touched her.
He coiled around her and she froze, her heart racing. She watched tentatively from the corner of a blue eye as his lips trailed along her skin. Her breath quickened, disturbed by how good it felt. Nothing he did should be good. She knew it and yet here she still was, deafened by the wild beat of her heart.
He looked...Bigger. Thicker. Aging into the impossible beauty of whatever creature he was. This was his magic too, wasn't it? This...fatal attraction. It only happened when he was near, so it must be. Another of his dark tricks. A play on her emotions.
But knowing it didn't make it any less real.
She ripped her eyes away from his handsome face as he lipped sweetly at her hair. So sweetly. Nobody had ever touched her like this. Could he really mean it? Maybe it could be real, right? She wasn't truly that terrible to look at, was she? Maybe he could see through her flaws... "I have missed you, Rhae."
She was unaware of the flicker of hope in her eyes as she hesitantly curled her neck to see him. "Have you missed me as well?"
Could this be real?
Missed.. Me? she repeated dumbly in a whisper. Why did that sound so nice? Why did she want this? God, he's so handsome. There's no way this is real. He could have anyone.
She swallowed and tried again, her voice surprisingly steady.
Why would I miss you?
Oh. God. Did she just say that? She held a shaky breath, though her eyes held his with more courage than she truly felt. She was not this bold thing, and still she foolishly seemed to challenge him. There was no trust for him. Everything he did and said would be a lie, no matter how badly she might wish otherwise. She did wish it, didn't she?
Frustration flared in his chest at her dumbfounded response, but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he kept his gaze calm and soft, doing his best to bring the stupid glow to his eyes that he had seen on the faces of those who had tricked themselves into thinking that they were in love. “Yes, darling,” he said softly in his velvet voice, lips trailing along her pretty neck until they reached her jaw where they lingered. His breath expelled there, and he took in her scent, thankful that she at least smelled pleasant enough.
“You should miss me because you love me,” there was confidence in his voice as he breathed it next to her throat, pulling back slightly so that he could search her eyes. “You do…you do love me right?” He placed a hitch in his voice, breaking his features softly with confusion. There was a hint of hurt as he turned his horned head away as if overwhelmed, looking away and breath coming faster than it had.
“I just assumed,” he said when looking away, dark eyes gleaming and then closing as he turned back to her. When they opened, the hurt was palpable on his face. “I just thought you did.” His mouth turned into a frown and although he wished to touch her possessively, to own her, he held back, restrained with this play. “I mean,” he dipped his head and looked up from beneath his thick lashes, “I love you, after all.”
He loved the way she will break, is what he thought, but he kept it locked away. He loved the way that she would bend to his will. He loved the way that she squirmed beneath the pressure of the Fear. But for now, he pantomimed the motions of a stallion in love with her beauty, her kindness. For now, he placed himself in this faux vulnerable position, handsome and hurting and waiting on her to confirm their love.
He was a different person. This wasn't the same one that had claimed her with his menace, smothered her in fear and uncertainty. Well, the uncertainty stayed. This new Bruise was confusing, conflicting. Frighteningly desirable, saying the things she wanted to hear. Touching her the way she wished to be touched. By him? She...wasn't sure. Yes and no.
Her face flushed with heat and she shied away from his caresses. Darling. Even a pet name, an affectionate one. She had to be dreaming, but would she really dream of him? Probably. It couldn't be helped. He was attractive, and the danger hiding in his eyes set her blood to racing, her adrenaline rising. Instead of a warning, it was a lure to her. She seemed to challenge the silent threats, dare him to care instead of harm. Please, please care.
"You should miss me because you love me." Did she? She wanted to, didn't she.. Yes. But she was afraid to. He wouldn't stay by her side truly, would he? He would find someone better, prettier, more desirable, and she would be alone again. So alone. He couldn't really want her, anyway. Just silly Rhae, the girl who was often invisible. A fly on the wall. Who only wanted to be loved. Just once have someone see her and really care, really stay. So unwanted.
His perfect face slowly fell, morphing into confusion and hurt. Her brows lifted in surprise, but she was instantly concerned. Had she hurt him? She never wanted that. He looked away, came back with eyes closed, and when they opened.. yes, she had hurt him. Oh no, she was terrible. Maybe he really was different now. He didn't possess her again as he had before, only stood in his place, his head lowered and voice soft. "I love you, after all."
She stopped breathing, doe eyes wide. No no no, it was fake. She was dreaming. It's not real. God, but she wanted it to be. It wasn't impossible to love her.. She could be worse, right? What if this was her only chance with him? What if he turned away from her forever? No, don't leave.
Bruise, she whispered, ignoring her fears, all the doubts. Have faith. It could be possible. She stepped closer, reaching for him this time. Mine, please be mine. Let this be real.Is it a game, Bruise? She was afraid of the answer, afraid to search his eyes and find something false there. She wanted this. She wanted him. Tentatively, hesitantly, she pressed her face to his strong neck. His scent had once put her on edge, and it still did, but it also soothed her just a little. Please be with me.
I... want to love you, she said honestly under her breath. Afraid of him hearing it but still wanting him to. Maybe. He'd held fear over her before, but this was somehow stronger, more terrifying. And it was entirely real. Natural fear. She could barely breathe.
01-08-2017, 01:57 AM (This post was last modified: 01-08-2017, 05:05 AM by bruise.)
I call him the devil because he makes me want to sin (and every time he knocks, I can't help but let him in)
“How could you say that?” His voice was hushed, strained, his dark eyes radiating with palpable hurt. Inside, he thrilled at the way she was proving herself to be so malleable—the way that she melded beneath his hands. Like his father before him, he fancied himself a builder. Unlike his father, he preferred to think of himself as a sculptor. He did not craft dreams and new realities; his medium was…dirtier, more personal. He liked to work up close and personal with his victims, work them until they turned into his own masterpieces. Rhae would be his first and his most magnificent.
“This is not a game,” he breathed out, fully aware of the picture he painted now. His eyes burned bright, and with age he had become quite the specimen. Slender without being feminine, muscular without being overly so. He was a fine blend of beautiful lines and handsome angles, his coloring a perfect blend of both gold and soot. He turned toward her, dark eyes fever bright as she closed the distance between them. His heart raced in his chest but not from love.
He closed the distance further, mouth reaching for her and racing over the edge of her flesh. His breath stuttered and he moaned slightly as he pulled closer to her. “Does this feel like a game?” he said into her, his voice husky. He roamed his mouth over her again, tasting her flesh in the way of an ardent lover, an admirer. When he came up to her jaw again, he whispered. “You undo me, Rhae.” He pulled back slightly so he could look her in the eye. “I want to change for you. Be better for you.”
She could just die here pressed against him, if he were hers. Her face was hot and her breath short at this wonderful newness. How could he go from something frightening and threatening to... everything she wanted? She knew he could change things around her a little, but this wasn't like that. This was real. He was different.
Her heart flipped and fluttered when he confirmed it wasn't a game. It was real. She didn't have any reason to believe him, really, but she did. Because she wanted to. It was not so impossible for him to love her. He was here with her right now, when he could be somewhere else, doing anything else. When he could be with anyone, he chose her.
He met her touch with his own, his lips burning a blissful path across her fevered skin. Her coat shuddered and he pulled her in closer with a soft moan. She could only gasp in response, a quiet little sound of surprise and shock. Shocked that he'd want her at all. Delighted that he'd want her. Does this feel like a game.. No, it felt wonderful. Terrifying and beautiful, both. Dangerous, too.
Her chin tipped up, giving him better access to trail his lover's administrations back up her neck and to her jaw. It was all so new, and somehow dark. Like something wicked or sinful. Her blush deepended. She shouldn't be encouraging this affection, should she? But then he whispered, "You undo me, Rhae," and she was lost again. Until he pulled away and met her clouded eyes.
"I want to change for you. Be better for you."
She nodded slowly, her mind gradually clearing. Yes, she wanted that too. For him to be nice, and hers. And to belong with him. Not to him. Be mine, Bruise. Stay with me, she wanted to say, but she was afraid to shatter this perfect illusion. And she was not a bold thing, really. Only at those rare occasions when she challenged something he said, she wasn't even sure why. She should do that now, challenge it. Find the lies. But she wanted it all to be the truth.
There was one thing though. Why? Why did he choose her when he could have anyone? What made her worthy of him? But would it break this wonderful spell to ask it? Like a lucid dream she was fearful to wake him. Afraid the monster would devour him again. So she shook it away, all the confusion and conflict still helplessly in her eyes. Say something.
I am yours, she promised softly, her eyes falling to the ground. Embarrassment, fear of rejection; she wasn't sure. Maybe both. No, not rejection... afraid he wouldn't reciprocate. Not truly. Not how she needed him to.
She shifted so that she was flush against him, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder. Then, hesitantly, she took up what she learned so far and mimicked his actions, her mouth lining the contours of his perfect skin at his shoulder, exploring the shape of his muscle in his neck. She breathed into the base of his mane, shaky and uncertain. She was his. Maybe he could be hers too. Maybe they didn't have to wake up.
I call him the devil because he makes me want to sin (and every time he knocks, I can't help but let him in)
She comes undone at the slightest touch and it takes all of his effort to not show his glee. Instead, he buries his head into her mane and breathes hard, exhaling in large gasps that come across as passion and unbridled desire rather than the more accurate thrill of the chase. “You are mine,” he repeated, the possessive nature of it racing through his veins, riding along the edge of his hunger. “You are mine,” he says again just because it feels good, although he softens his voice, blurs the intensity of it.
He is glad she is beautiful, because it makes this easier.
It is easier to stomach this portrayal of complete adoration for something easy on eyes. Were she hideous, he would have had to work harder—would have had to fight his natural instincts. She, however, is pretty, and he does not mind the taste of her flesh salt on his tongue and the lightening of her mane it billows around the velvet of his nose. She would be perfect if she were to have green eyes, he muses, but the blue will do. Some day, he will find a green-eyed beauty.
For now, he has Rhae. He would always appreciate her for being the first.
“Come with me,” he says under his voice, rather enjoying the parallel to the last interaction when he had not asked softly, but demanded that she run. Now, he curls a metaphorical finger at her, coaxing her along; it is a different kind of control, but control is control—no matter whether he demands it with the Fear and the supernatural speed racing through his veins or commands it with the soft words.
“I have something to show you,” he promises under his breath, moaning as he peeled away, as if stepping away for even a second made him ache. “Please,” he asks softly, waiting for her to join him.
He repeated it back. His every touch was a burst of fire against her skin. She found she couldn't think straight when he was like this with her, and it had nothing to do with his magic. At least, she didn't think it did. It was too real, too raw. Too natural. A fog of passion.
"Come with me" he beckoned so softly, his rich gold reluctantly parting from her chocolate brown. She felt the loss of him immediately. So odd. This new Bruise contrasted so completely with the other, the monster. This one was perfect. Too perfect? It was a frightening thought, unwelcome and quickly swept aside. No, this was real. He was hers. This is what she wanted.
"I have something to show you," he said. Her heart tripped around in her chest. Something for her? Dark skin quivered, various thoughts coming all at once. Something, though... Something was solid and cold in her breast. A warning? If it was a dream, she didn't want to ever wake. He wouldn't -couldn't- be pretending, right? The fear of it gripped her with icy fingers, piercing into her. Her heart bled, and she hesitated.
Bruise? she said uncertainly. Her weight shifted, her eyes looked away, glanced around. That was odd, too, that she could hold his gaze so easily when everyone else only saw a curtain of milky hair. It must mean something. That this was meant to be. He was meant for her, this new Bruise. Everything was perfect. Don't mess this up. But her eyes shook with the fear of losing him. Him? Was it Bruise that she wanted, or the connection?
Both.
It was his please that ended it. The monster would never say please. Never. He would demand, he would take. A shy smile washed away the conflict in her face. She stepped in then, following his small retreat from her side, filling the distance. Faithful little thing. Her dark mouth reached for him again, her Bruise.
Anywhere, she whispered, her doubt held close and secret.
I call him the devil because he makes me want to sin (and every time he knocks, I can't help but let him in)
He likes to fancy that he can see each protest that flares within her chest, as easily as he can see the way that it quickly snuffs out—the way she so desperately wants to believe him that she ignores her base instincts. He likes that idea, that he can override her natural wiring—that he can tempt her so far down that she doesn’t even realize she is presenting her throat to the fangs of the wolf and doing it willingly.
He shivers with delight and then, realizing what he had done, reaches down to press his nose into the curve of her neck, breathing her in deeply. “Thank you, love,” he whispers into her, the word bitter on his tongue, but the purpose of it pressed firmly into his mind. To create a masterpiece, you had to feel pain; true artists bleed for their work. If he was to feign this love-sick sap to further it, he would pay the price.
They walk, slower than they had last time, but following much the same path that he had chased her down last time; he glances down, deeply smug about the clear pattern of their frantic hooves clear beneath them as they walk. Reaching over, his mouth travels along the edges of her jaw, his breath rippling outward. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” his voice is throaty, rough around the edges. “The first time that I saw you, I couldn’t control myself.” He glances downward and then looks up through his thick lashes, feigning embarrassment, his voice dropping. “I was so scared of how you made me feel.”
As if he was prisoner of the Fear and not master of it.
For a moment, he lets the faux confession hang between them as he guides her with hesitant nudges and lingering touches up a sloping hill, the path narrowing so that their bodies become pressed together. When it opens up, he lets out a shuddering breath as if the sight of the wasteland affects him. He closes his eyes, taking a moment to steady himself, before glancing back to her, face raw and open with emotion.
“My father is King of this place,” and god of the Fear, although such truths lay untouched. “This could all be ours someday, Rhae.” He moves back toward her side, pulling her to him and then motioning out to the land that expands seemingly forever. “I want that for us. I want you to be my side while I do it.”
Love he called her. Love. How can just a simply word, a simple name, take her breath away?
She walked at his side, happily soaking in the gently guiding nudges each time his skin touched hers. Her eyes were downcast shyly, a serene smile glued in place, but she couldn't help but steal little glances at him. His perfect face, the way his muscles moved beneath his skin, his strong cloven hooves, his lips perfectly forming his words. How did she get so lucky? The most beautiful thing he ever saw, he said, and it sounded like he meant it. Truly. Blue eyes glanced down again, ducking her head to try and hide the wild blush conquering her face. Her smile would never leave again.
"The first time that I saw you, I couldn't control myself," he explained. Oh, a bad memory. The smile faltered just a little, eyes fading sadly. "I was so scared of how you made me feel." Oh! She did that to him? That she could have any kind of effect on someone, especially him, was surprising. But also pleasing. She hoped it was a good thing. But her eyes were still sad and confused, thinking on that day -when he chased her, hounded her so cruelly, made her promise to obey- and her voice was shaky.
You frightened me. Chased me, she accused softly, her eyes welling up at the memory. Would that side of him come back again? She didn't want to be afraid of him, she wanted to love him. She wanted his touch, his affection, those eyes drinking her in like she was something beautiful. She wanted the way his nearness made her heart race. But she didn't want to make him feel bad, not when he couldn't control it. I'm sorry..
The path narrowed and they were forced to press tighter together. She blushed more and tried not to let it show how much it affected her just to feel him. When it opened back up, the wasteland of Pangea spread endlessly before them. Her brows knit together, unsure why they were here. Pangea was..scary. Out here in the open where they could see her was scary. She slid into the safety of his side. It made her feel like she claimed herself his so none would dare touch her. He wouldn't let them.
Her lips parted and she looked at him in surprise at what he said next. King? That made him.. some kind of a prince? A prince? She knew the king looked much like him, but only thought... maybe a nephew or even just the same creature without relation. There's no way a prince would want anything to do with her. But she saw he was serious, and he pulled her back in closer to him. She followed his gaze back out to the scene before them, chewing the inside of her lip nervously. It could all be theirs, and he wanted her at his side for it all.
Butterflies panicked in her belly, erratic and twisting and fluttering. Did she want all that? No, she would be a terrible..um, queen. That was so ridiculous to even consider. Her? A queen? No way, it wasn't possible. He meant it though, and he pulled away a little to make sure she wanted it too. A kingdom? No, not really. She was just.. her. Pathetic little Rhae. But she wanted him, she knew she did, and if he wanted her -and this- then she wanted it to. For him. Anything for him.
"Don't you want to be here with me forever?"
Her head said no but her heart demanded yes, so she smiled up at him and nodded. She melted so easily into him, burying her face against his neck, breathing in the comforting -not frightening anymore, no- smell of him. Her blood raced in her happiness, in the perfection of this moment, here at his side. Where she belonged. She finally belonged somewhere. With someone.
Yes, she confirmed into his skin, kissing the muscle in his neck so boldly. Hers. I do want to be with you forever. I love you, Bruise.. With that whispered confession, she felt more terrified of him than she ever had before. The truth was so much more frightening than his illusions ever were.
