stillwater;

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails Nayl waited, but not for very long. Her mind reeled when she drew in his scent mingled with Djinni’s, and she bided her time for a short while before deciding to venture out and see him. Traveling to Sylva takes hours. She abandoned her post on the Cliffside at dawn and navigated south toward the peeking Mountain as it cuts through the wintry, gray clouds. For most of the trip, that is her compass – her beacon – and she follows it loyally until she noticed where her turn veered off the developing path. A soft gale tousles her locks as she takes pause to admire the change of scenery where deciduous trees and rocky mountains meet. Her fiery eyes are lit with curiosity, but they roll to turn her attention on Sylva as it looms ever nearer. The faintest hint of him reaches her and guides her to the invisible walls that mark the new land. Perhaps it would be wiser to wait at the edge again, but the formalities have escaped her. Curiosity slips barbed tendrils into her mind and lure her deeper into the forest until he is in front of her, standing quietly amid the shadows and dappled sunlight. With a face of steel, Nayl inches closer, but never like they were in Nerine. ”Let’s see that pretty little crown on your head,” to imagine him a King is to laugh, and though it bubbles in her core she maintains a more stoic expression beneath his observation. He had left her – although she doesn’t know the stipulations or what transpired – and it wracked her so violently and so unexpectedly, but why? She turns her head and looks up at the trees, then back to Stillwater’s slate eyes. ”Nice place,” she lies, knowing well he would prefer his cave, his ocean, his freedom. Despite loathing the idea of having him gone (away from her sight and away from her power) she manages to mask it all behind contentment and amusement. A glimmer of a smile reaches her lips now as she shrugs. ”Don’t flatter yourself,” she takes a few steps past him before turning to face him again with the trees engulfing her, ”I’m only here to make the alliance official.” Nothing more, she repeats to herself again and again, forcing herself to believe it. Nayl covet and myrina's creation

[Stillwater]

Stillwater

They'd parted on poor terms --entirely his fault-- so he hadn't expected her to.. visit. But damn if he didn't know she was here. No breeze brought her scent to him. It didn't have to. His pulse spiked of its own accord, and his head turned to meet fiery eyes lit with far too much amusement in them. Perhaps his demand that she leave him be had not affected her at all. That was irritating and yet also a little.. relieving.

"Let's see that pretty crown on your head."

A joke, a mocking jest. He thought he should have been able to smile, but he couldn't. His face was locked into a blank stare, confusing emotions reeling through him in surprise at seeing her here. Some bad, some... good --no those were bad too. All bad.

But really. Had she come for him? To see him?
"Don't flatter yourself."
 ....
God damned woman.

So she was here on official business. Part of him was a little smug at that; that he was raised to her level in a way, no longer her underling to screw with. Not literally, as she made explicitly clear on a number of occasions. Although, he supposed he had made the same clear to her as well. Suddenly that seemed so trivial.

Because his heart was in a panic, and the air became harder to breathe.

The rest of him was agitated. Because if he was stuck thinking of her randomly throughout the damn day, he would hope his absence would have at least ate away at her. Shriveled her up to a pathetic waif starving for him; his smell, his eyes, his touch. Ah, but never his touch. Fragile Nayl would fall apart.

She stepped passed him, and he couldn't help it, he breathed her in. So deeply. God, how long had it been? Nayl.. he purred. He hadn't meant to do it aloud, but then, there it was. Regardless of how impassive he appeared, his eyes revealed his torment to her, and he let them. He didn't shift to face her, carefully keeping his right foreleg planted solidly on the earth, and only followed her with his head. Water once again slid down his slick coat to pool at his feet. A familiar look to this one. And she'd better enjoy this openness while it lasted.

Only here on business? He pulled a dark shroud over the torment. Ah, what the hell, he wasn't standing still any longer. He stepped slowly to her, a faint tinkling, his eyes intense. An almost-whisper...

Would that change if I told you: you are the first thing I see each morning, and the last before sleep takes me?

He stopped mere inches from her skin, a favorite place to be, melting into her heat. Only his breath touched her. Dark blue eyes smoldering. Melt for me..

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails She hasn’t forgotten their parting and how bitter had been. The memory prods her like a thorn even in this moment, but more so during her lonely venture here. Alas, she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction that it irks her and that it affected her. I’m a Queen, she reassures herself as though that should shield her from his barbed words. Always she wants the upperhand, but why does it seem like its slipping through her fingers when he is near? Nayl’s skin crawls when she hears the way her name slithers from his tongue, unwarranted but lusted for. Say it again, she almost says, but when her eyes meet his, the words catch in her throat. There is something more in his gaze this time, something that draws her deeper into them like an abysmal pool. She is lured – enticed – by how he stares back at her in this moment of silence, but she forces herself to break the spell and glance away. Her body stiffens momentarily, but relaxes as she sighs a warm breath. For years, she avoided stallions for this very reason. While a great part of her – the Queen part of her life – wants so bad to disregard him and focus on Nerine, there is still that little gleam of reality that is festering in her soul and wanting much more out of this life than mere royalty. Again, however, she cannot bring herself to admit this. There is still a want for power, a need to be admired and wanted. If she caved into Stillwater then what of Lior? Reversely, she has considered to also lean herself against the burly stallion, but then Stillwater springs to mind. Would they both toss her away in the end? Considering this darkens her eyes as her tail sweeps across her hocks. Either way, there is pain and torment, things that she would rather not endure. But what is life without peaks and valleys? When she blinks, Stillwater is closer. He is inching toward her, tasting the air between them as his steely gaze roves across her hungrily. The muscles in her body quiver with anticipation, and yet she doesn’t reciprocate or lean toward him. Nayl holds herself steadily with curiosity playing with the edges of her pretty face. ”I would call you a liar,” her response in nonchalant as she breathes in his scent, mingled with those of other women. ”You had a cave before, but now you have an entire forest.” The thought of it rips her apart, but she tries desperately to maintain an eerie coolness when the words drip from her lips like poison. But then she smiles. It isn’t amiable or loving, but coyer and darkly smug. ”Just know that you can’t do better than me, Stillwater.” I am a Queen, she doesn’t add, but her head slightly elevates in physical arrogance and play. Nayl covet and myrina's creation

[Stillwater]

Stillwater

God, he hated this. How his heart sped up when he stood so close to her. It was like she reflected his lure back at him, turned it against him. Made him want her. He needed to touch her, just once.

"I would call you a liar. You had a cave before, but now you have an entire forest." He jerked away from her with a snarl, just as he had the last time. Burned by her. Singed. If he could only lie and break vows, his life would be so much easier. Instead he was here with her, hating her, wanting her, hating that too. He wondered if this attraction for her was part of him, or part of her. Regardless, it pissed him off.

He didn't care to hide any of it from her tonight.

And cave? Forest? They didn't matter. He didn't give a damn. Cave was just him, blissful solitude. This forest had people he had to tend to, pretend he cared that they lived instead of sitting warm in his belly where they should be. He probably reeked of Karaugh, the little temptress rubbed against him like a purring kitten. He'd gotten his taste of her, craved more. He should be smug about that, that it might make Nayl jealous. Hope that it would. But instead he was seething. Hating her.

"Just know that you can't do better than me, Stillwater." She was cocky, arrogant, though she probably meant it as a joke. He wasn't sure. He knew he liked his name on her lips. He knew he was sick of her damn games. He wanted to stride back to her, demand she touch him, force her to -hold him, kiss him, something, anything- to break this tension.
Free him. Let the beast out.
Danger. Get her out of here.
No, just take her.
A Queen. Consequences. Nayl..

He was losing it. It was slipping away. Control this.

You have your alliance, now get out, he growled, spinning away from her before he did something stupid. He thought he'd make it a game, make her work for it. Hold it over head, make her beg. How he wanted her to beg, but not for that. Instead, he threw it at her. Gave her what she wanted so she could be on her way, back to her precious coast where he wasn't.

He hated this. She made him lose control. Not like Karaugh, who tempted his hunger, made him want to play. Nayl tore down every shred of who he was, laid him bare. She'd never accept him, and he shouldn't want her to. Didn't want her to.

I told you to leave me be, now do it! Once again blades tossed over his shoulder as he walked away. Fending her off. Keeping her away.
Danger.
Get her out.

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails His – their – hunger is mirrored in the way they look at each other. Their desires are starved and suppressed, building tension between them that is ever thickening. Nayl’s body shudders under his stare, but she plays it off as though it’s a mere winter’s chill. She, like him, hates the way she is affected by his presence. This was never supposed to happen, but it has. There was never supposed to be a stallion that was enough to distract her from her responsibilities, and yet she left the security of Nerine to find him here. To want him and to see him was clouding over her better judgment; Nayl was desperate to breathe him in again, but she convinces him – and herself – that she is here only for business. What a lie, that is. The lust in his eyes is overpowering and she almost crumbles into him, but then she sees how his gaze darkens and the ridges of his face sharpen. The transformation amplifies her curiosity. She watches him warily and closely listens to the venom in his voice. ”Good,” but there was no way that she would be denied the alliance. Djinni took over Sylva in Nerine’s name, and Stillwater is merely her placeholder. The bind between herd lands was instantaneous with Djinni’s ascension, but Nayl took it upon herself to come here and ensure it, and to let it be broadly known of the diplomatic ties. ”I suggest you let,” she pauses to coyly lick her lips, ”your people know of this change.” Just as she would proclaim it to the men and women of Nerine. But this conversation is quickly shifting. This is so familiar, she thinks, as his expression turns rogue, glowering at her. This is how they had last parted when he dismissed her, growling at her like a forsaken monster. She had obeyed him then and carried herself proudly as though she had wanted to leave him, but this time, she is stone. Her legs are rooted to their place, and she doesn’t move. Her expression is equally as dark, but her autumn eyes are lit by an inward fire. ”No,” she retaliates with an icy tone freezing over voice, ”I will leave when I please.” Why should she obey him like a dog? Why should she buckle to his whims no matter the rage that may course through his veins? The placidity that he is known for is melting in the face of his anger, but still, Nayl does not waver from her place. ”Do I frighten you?” She asks, half-knowing the answer. ”Do you fear what could happen to us, what could come of this?” Because truthfully, she does. Nayl covet and myrina's creation

[Stillwater]

Stillwater

His goddamn pulse was unbearable, roaring in his ears, making his breathing heavy. He had to get out of here. She needed to leave.

But the fool woman refused.

The sharp chill in her voice halted him in his tracks, her blunt defiance. Was this not his land now -sort of, mostly- and did his word mean nothing to her? Nothing he said ever seemed to sink in with her. He didn't look at her, didn't turn around. "I will leave when I please." How could he even hear her over the rush of blood? God, he could barely breathe.

"Do I frighten you?" He could laugh, but he really couldn't. She was not frightening, he was. Whatever was wrong with him was terrifying him. This wasn't normal. It never did this. She did this somehow. So maybe she was frightening.

"Do you fear what could happen to us, what could come of this?" What could happen to her. What he would do to her. He was tensed, still facing away refusing to look at her. He couldn't force himself forward, couldn't turn back around. He knew if he turned, he wouldn't be able to stop. He would go to her, he would take her. His teeth would sink into her, he'd taste her. Crave her. He wouldn't stop til it was done. Til she was gone. Drag her down, pin her to the ground. Make her scream, taste her fear. Oh, how he wanted it. Needed it.

This was more than a crown saving her. No crown would keep this much heat down, keep him away. It was her. It was Nayl. Some stupid part of him cringed at hurting her. He didn't care why or what it meant, only that he really didn't want to harm her. And he would.
Don't turn around. Walk away.
No, just take her.
Walk away. Run away.
She wants you to take her. She wants the pain. She wants you.
She doesn't know what she wants.
Just do it.

Somehow his eyes had shut tight, his head bowed. Wet hair plastered down his face. His legs trembled, teeth clenched tight and throat closed painfully. Don't move. Don't move.
Take her.
Don't move.
A low keening escaped his throat. It begged for her. Tears mingled with the water on his face, fighting for his life. No, for hers. So hard. Please don't take her.

Goooo he croaked, his voice deeper. God, woman, just listen for once in your life.

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails ”Tell me the fuck why,” the words shoot back at him, cutting into him like knives. Quickened heartbeats punctuate her demand as her fervent eyes singe him. She inches closer, not realizing how grave of a mistake this could be, and she takes another deep breath. The compassion has fled from her expression, now replaced by an outward irritation as he grounds himself and snarls through clenched teeth. ”Why the hell do you chase me away,” that statement leaks her hatred for rejection and she clambers for a mask to protect herself, ”You cannot tell me what to do.” Nayl is seething. Her ears lace down and submerge into her unruly mane. Even despite how grim his face is and how low and threateningly he growls at her, still she remains unyielding. ”I’m not leaving,” the level of her voice lowers, but it doesn’t lose its edge or ferocity, ”not until you give me a fucking reason why.” She should be afraid of his response, but she is far too stubborn to turn her back to him and retreat back to Nerine. The crown is weighing heavily on her head and although she repeats to herself that she is still his Queen, the words never fall. There is a reluctance to chain him down with that simple statement for the fact that she doesn’t want to hear his denial, or hear him decide to stay here and far from her. It’s as though suddenly her grasp on him is slipping. Her power over him is squandering in this unsolicited rage and aggravation. She doesn’t want to lose him, but she won’t appear so desperate as to beg for him. There is no other option than to hold her head high and retract back into the confines of her shielded mind. He is chasing her away. He wants her gone, but she has already sunken knee-deep into the mud, planting herself in this predicament until it boils over and they can’t take anymore. It will be her decision to leave. What seemed like a distant thought is now coming to a head. A long breath opens her options for abandoning him, but then everything would change in that instant. Her walls would be built and her heart would find itself encased in an iron casket, far from anyone’s reach. She doesn’t want it to be like that, to be so hostile, but the consideration of it looms over her head like a thunder cloud while she stares into his slate eyes. Nayl covet and myrina's creation

[Stillwater]

Stillwater

They were both seething. Or he had been. Now he was too consumed in holding control. Don't think. Don't listen to her. Just wait until she leaves. Make her leave. But nothing, no one could make Nayl do anything she didn't want to. He loved it. No, he hated it. He hated her. She needed to leave.

Why didn't she want to?

Focus.

Her words were lost in his struggle, only her tone pierced him. Furious. Low, edgy. So sharp. Hurting? Why wasn't she leaving. Why did she demand to stay. Was it only misplaced stubborness? Was it something more? Was that a spark of hope? No.
No.

Keep your head down. Don't look at her.
Just taste her. Only a little.
What was he becoming? Jekyll and Hyde. Madness. She was doing this to him. Make her stop. His whole body ached, standing so tense, quaking in his efforts. Water dripped down him, a taste of home. Stroking. His mind fractured, a tug of war between the man and his nature. He was growing fatigued from it. What would happen to her if he just let go?
She would taste wonderful. You would love it.

Another tear joined the water on his cheek, his jaw ached, keeping his head down. Shielding her from his war as best he could. Why the hell did he care? Just take her. No!
Nayl.. A plea, almost a whimper. Please just go.
His heart hurt. How does a heart hurt? Just an organ, buried deep. Nothing could puncture it. Not from the inside. But the pain was there.

His teeth were bared, clenched painfully tight. A snarl, but fear in his shuttered eyes. Fear for her. No, just take her. She wants you to. Look she won't leave until you do. And then he made a mistake. Fatal mistake.

He looked at her.

Go to her. Touch her. Make her melt for you. Then make her scream. She'll love it. You want her happy, don't you? It will make her happy. She wants it. You want it too. You want her.
A strained whine stretched from his throat. His eyes flickered; hunger, lust, fear, sadness, regret, glee. Control this! What was it about her that unhinged him? It doesn't matter, just give her what she wants. You want it too. He didn't need the reminder, he knew damn well he wanted it. To taste her, devour her.

He straightened slowly, his grip was slipping. So tired. Yes, sleep. He turned smoothly, faced her. Stared her down blankly, smiled for her. A tear called him a liar. Just sleep. Nayl.. His tongue lined his teeth, hating their smoothness. Sharp was much better. I'm sorry. The predator chuckled, sickly sweet.

You don't want to leave me? Come here, then.

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails She should have run. She should have fled when the opportunity presented itself, but she is too fucking stubborn. It had been a bluff. This wasn’t supposed to escalate, but it is. When she regards Stillwater it’s with an underlying want that shudders through her entire body. Curiosity is consuming her. Nayl half-expected him to be unyielding and still demand her to leave. It was to be his last chance; she would have left if he asked only once more. Her corded muscles quivered in anticipation of fleeing his touch and obeying his wishes. But he doesn’t. The words that Nayl anticipated – go home, leave me – never come. She hears her name spoken in a low whimper, but nothing yet follows. Her ears strain to hear him as he keeps his head and eyes turned away from her as though she were too grotesque, too painful, to even consider. Another step closer and another slow blink underneath her unruly forelock. Another demand is formulating on her tongue to make him look at her, but then he does without warrant. A hooded glare, a primal hunger, and a sickening lust. Run now, she muses, but her legs are still rooted to Sylva until she receives the answer that is holding her prisoner. The need to understand him is far greater than her judgment to retreat. Give me answers, the statement chokes her and immobilizes her much like Stillwater’s steady gaze. Suddenly, she can’t speak. Her inner-strength is dwindling the longer she is with him – wanting him – and that alone frightens her. He is draining her, depleting her energy to be strong and formidable. As the minutes (or has it been hours?) swim past she knows that she is crumbling. Then he tells her to come to him. With her strength gone, she obeys. But when she approaches him, it isn’t with a drooped body like a reprimanded hound. It’s with confident steps and a fiery gaze that closes the distance between them. They are so close – his heat fans across her skin – and she almost reaches to touch him, but stops. It won’t be her that will cave despite how starved she is for his attention and for the curiosity that thrums in her veins. Will she shatter under his touch? Will her power as a Queen be undermined by this? The questions churn relentlessly, but this time she doesn’t reel away from him, afraid. She stands alongside him with an occasional side glance, her ears swiveling in desperation to hear his voice in a time of uncertainty. ”Stillwater,” her voice is hardly a whisper, caressing him like a lover. Nayl covet and myrina's creation

[Stillwater]

Stillwater

There was not two of him.
There was not a good side and a bad side to battle for supremacy.
There was not a man to rip control from some beast in his mind, or reversed.

There was only him.

But there had been a struggle, hadn't there? It had never happened before -and would never happen again. It was fought and won, humanity had been stamped down. Humanity. It wasn't in his nature. He wasn't sure where it even came from, why it had poisoned him then, but the infection was burned clean. Now there was only mild amusement that it had even happened. So curious.

Nayl was certainly a puzzle, wasn't she?

She came forward at his.. suggestion. His smile drew wider, softer, pleased that she had finally lowered her walls just a little. Only a little, mind. There was still a fire in her eyes burning so brightly, a proud lift in her chin. She didn't do it because he'd said to, she did it because she wanted to, chose to. Always her own woman, even through the power of their combined lust.

They were so close now, so near. She almost reached for him, he almost purred for her, but she stopped. He didn't feel frustration at that, only further amusement and a quiet chuckle. She still fought it so hard, even when her body begged differently. Stubborn, Nayl. Would she ever relent? There were so many questions in her eyes, so many doubts and fears. Did she know she was showing them to him? Was she so consumed in them she forgot to shutter her thoughts?

"Stillwater.."
His name on her lips, the sound of it in her breathy voice, pulled his eyes closed in a flux of desire. She was doing it again, that odd way of reflecting his lure back at him. And damn if he wasn't beginning to like it.

Nayl, he murmured so near her delicious skin, wishing he could touch his forehead to hers, gently brush her hair from her face. So near. He could practically taste her. He wanted to taste her. Mmm, she was going to be worth this wait. How long had they played this game now? Would she really let him touch her, at long last?

But she was so strong. She didn't really think he'd let her take the easy way out, did she?

Nayl. He stared into her eyes, dark-blue gaze deep and calm and steady. Just like his namesake, still water. He knew what lay ahead of them, but she did not. This was her challenge to overcome. He would not do it for her.
You won't break, you won't crumble.

There is no other like you. A truth, always the truth. Such a curious truth.
You're not weak. So strong. Do you really think I could change that? That any man could?
His eyes roved her face slowly, memorizing each curve and perfect plane, imagined her skin on his. Even for just a moment. A moment is all she would need to finally see. Tranquil, heated stare made its way back to her eyes of fire.

Do it, he whispered.