like going on a wild hunt; zoryn

[leliana]

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

 

Days did not last for long. 

Or maybe they lasted too long.

It was hard to tell anymore. 

The days all blended together, one bleeding into the next. She slept, but it was thin and fitful, his image haunting her most every night. She woke with the appendages wrapping around her, the leather and ivory a sharp, painful reminder that she quickly shifted, moving them back to the softer, more familiar down. It was enough to ease the ache in her heart, but not enough to stop her dreading sleep, the mahogany and crimson mare walking further and farther each night, hoping someone that she could avoid it entirely. 

Tonight was no different, although her path took her outside of Tephra and to the meadow. The reminders here were no less painful than those in the forest, but they were at least kinder. The memory of her sleeping with him wrapped around him. The bittersweet memory of finding him that day. It was all that she had to sate her hunger, all that she had to ease the bruises that blossomed, the wounds that weeped. 

Still, not enough to ease the fidgets beneath her flesh. The ripples as she shivered. 

When she saw him, her wings shifted unknowingly, taking on the form they had the last time she saw him. They turned copper by her side, the silver light of the moon reflecting off of them. The edges were sharp but tucked into her sides, defensive but not threatening. She remembered the last time that she saw him; the last time when he had charged her, when Dovev had been just barely able to slam him away.

When he took Dovev away.

She remained calm at the sight of him, but her pulse hammered in her throat. Her eyes held onto his gaze, steady, but it would be impossible to miss the bruised depths, haunted edges, the pain. She swallowed for a moment and shifted, but didn’t run away, didn’t call for help. She just waited for him. She just mourned.

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow

[Zoryn]

Do something.

Zoryn

It builds and builds. More and more everyday, even as he tries to tamp it down. So long it's been since he has been given what he wants. It's risen to a level far beyond craving. At this point, it is full-fledged need. His skin itches with it. His blood burns, boiling to fever pitch. But it isn't enough to hurt, no. It is a beast pacing his mind, growling. It drives him wild, restless.

It had been weeks since he had left Dovev to his mare and new daughter. A true act of selflessness, for him, as he had still been denied, and denied himself by leaving. He'd searched for Diz, his beautiful sister and the only one who truly understood him- knew every way to please him and torture him. But he has yet to find her, so his need continues to intensify, contort. He returns to the meadow because... well, there is no real reason. It isn't planned, he simply finds his hooves striking familiar turf. Perhaps in hopes of finding his sister, or Dovev. Or perhaps some unsuspecting stranger. Or perhaps...

Her scent reaches his nose then, familiar and oh so sweet. Yet before he truly has a chance to put recollection in place, the beast is howling in his head and yanking against its chains. Its fangs are bared, claws extended and reaching for her. Zoryn turns slowly, amethyst-flecked brown eyes seeking. It doesn't take much to spot her. She truly is a pretty thing, easy to see how Dovev had been drawn to her. There is such a healthy glow about her and the way her mahogany coat shines in the moonlight. Silver reflects down on her, the crimson of her points standing out in such a pleasant way. He drinks in the sight. Those soft curves and changing wings. A slow, crooked grin curves his blackish lips as he stalks toward her, leisurely pace shifting to something altogether more predatory. She has felt his prying eyes, and her wings shift once more to the shape they'd been when he'd seen her the first time. There is a tingle somewhere inside him that almost has him laughing as she clutches them defensively to her sides. She remembers him. Good girl. And she has the sense to be wary. Very good girl indeed.

She tries to wear a calm facade, but she hasn't been resting well, so it isn't hard for him to read the emotions showing in her eyes. It pleases him to no end that she stays put, ready to face him as he nears her, gazes locked. He does so slowly, almost willing her to give way and run, always game for a little chase. But at least for now, whether it be from boldness or stupidity, she remains, and he takes the opportunity to move in a steady circle around her.

Her sadness radiates from her, and he imagines he hears her heart racing at his nearness. Having most certainly been the root cause of these effects sends tingles up his spine and tightening in his chest. He's almost gleeful, but feigns a look of sympathy at her. "Poor, poor little doll." He croons, coming up closely on her right side, enough to feel her lovely warmth against his tan and white hide. "Miss him, do you?" He moves to press his muzzle to her leanly-muscled neck, almost shivering at how pleasant it is. So soft and pretty. "Too bad he's all tied up with his mare and their little child, huh lil doll?" He lets his voice drawl as he speaks the words into her mane and inhales her scent. If she moves at all, he will follow, far from through. His hunger magnifies as close as he is, all the potential to fulfill his needs so easily within reach.

She is such a lovely thing, so damned perfect it hurts. But not in the way he likes. So his lips move against her skin along her neck, soft and slow at first as his touch creeps up toward her jaw and back down to the broad muscle. "Is this how he touched you?" He can't stop the smirk that plays the left side of his mouth. Exhaling hot breath against her he suddenly lands a bite to the meaty part of the muscle there, and recoils in preparation for her to strike him back. It wouldn't have been enough to break skin, but plenty enough to sting. The anticipation racks him and his senses heighten. He turns that twisted grin on her then. "Perhaps the pet has need of a new master." The idea has him hardening, the beast growls in his head, drool forming on its lips. Mmm, and he licks his own. The taste of her is fresh on them now. Delicious. Yes, a fine pet she is indeed. If only for tonight.

Leaving it open for her to retaliate >

[leliana]

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

Seeing him brings it all rushing back.

It is like the world is moving in fast forward and she is standing still, everything rushing in around her. She does not move—she is not even certain that she could if she tried. Everything warps, her pulse thudding violently, her hazel eyes holding onto him, her crimson lips pressed together into a flat line. She remans still, save for the feel of the copper wings at her side, the weight of them sturdy, reassuring. She is not a violent creature, but it is good to know that she had some level of defense; some protection.

Whatever fight she may have had though, whatever fury may have boiled in her veins, rushes out at what he says. A child. Dovev—he had a child. Not only did he have another mare, but he had given her a child to carry and to raise and to love. The image sears into her mind and she closes her eyes for a moment, feeling her knees lock. How could she have been so dumb? How could she have been so utterly foolish?

His touch brings her back, causing a flinch, the edges of her flesh rippling without her consent underneath the warmth of his breath. So similar to the possessive way Dovev had touched her, but so wrong—all wrong. Where the touches of Dovev had always been tempered with something else, this was just ugly.

This was all wrong.

Warning bells sound in her head, but she is rooted to the spot, mind still reeling from the revelation.

It isn’t until he bites her that she moves, that she reacts at all.

She sidesteps quickly, neck stinging from the pressure of his teeth, but the pain nothing when compared to the agony that thrashes within her. She lifts her gaze to find his, and although the pain is unmistakable, the crippling ache, there is steel there too—a strength. “Do not touch me,” is all she says quietly, because she is not anyone’s pet to own, and certainly not this stallion’s. She belongs to the stars. Not mortal claim.

That does not stop the fear that ripples beneath the surface though. That does not stop the uncertainty the causes her belly to clench, red flags thrown as she holds his gaze. This was more than just a way to throw it in her face. This was not just a sadistic game. Her wings shift and the metallic clink is unmistakable but she doesn’t move. She just lifts her chin defiantly, staring at him silently with her bruised eyes.

She would not run.

She would not cry.

She would not give him these things that he craves so easily.

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow

[Zoryn]

Do something.

Zoryn

He watches as his words sink in and take root within her, blossoming a deep pain and anguish that is bare for him to see in her eyes. Tingles of pleasure spread within him at the sight, having little to do with the act of touching her. Though, when he feels her muscles ticking under his lips, it takes very much for him to stifle a dark laugh. It pleases him, and he rewards her with his bite. He'd remained where he stood, expecting her to react and hoping she would lash out. Instead, the pretty thing darts out to the side and turns those pain-filled eyes at him.

This time, he does not stop the slow smile tugging the edges of his lips back as she tells him not to touch her. He does not miss that reservation in her stare, the boldness to stand and face him rather than flee. "Mm, so there is some feist in you." He croons, voice deep and rough. There is a flash of teeth in his twisted grin as he turns to her and oh-so-slowly takes a step and then two toward her. His amethyst-flecked eyes dance daringly at her as he comes to place his muzzle very closely to her ear, provided she lets him get to that proximity. "Or what, lil doll?" He all but whispers, daring, letting his whiskers graze her ear and the side near her temple.

He pulls away enough to stare into her eyes once more, letting her see what lays just below the surface as he measures what he sees in her in turn. The beast inside him purrs at the closeness. So much potential. His gaze slowly slides from hers, creeping along the curve of her neck and shoulder, taking a peek at what he thought he'd heard a moment ago. A sound like chimes softly tinkling in a warm spring breeze. His heart skips a small beat as he eyes the metallic sharp edges of the wings she wears now, and suddenly his blood courses with another level of anticipation. He imagines just how easy it would be for her to fling one out and slash across his side. How it would sing through his flesh and send blood dripping from the wound. He hums at the thought, so eager for it that for a moment he closes his eyes and lets them roll back. The beast snarls and roars, pacing again, spit dripping from its lips.

Eyes snapping open, he breathes in sharply and turns attention back to her. A muscle in his shoulder twitches, and his ears mildly flick back. He moves in close, muzzle reaching to slide across that mahogany pelt at her shoulder, nearing the top of one lovely wing. "How much do you miss him, sweet lil doll?" His eyes dance, his words delving. He is moving then, past her to her rear and then around. "Does it keep you up at night?" At her hind end, his mouth waters for a taste, but he fights it, nosing her tail and then continuing around to her other side. Pressing. How many buttons could he push on his new toy. "Do you dream of him by your side? Touching you, tasting you? Only to wake alone." He puts weight into the word 'alone', seeking to drive his words like knives deep into her brain.

He stops moving when he is beside her, watchful and expectant. "Does your mind spin fairytales of him running back to you? Leaving his love and child behind in favor of you" He bristles at his own words, contemplating the possible truth lying deep behind them. The beast snarls, growing ever impatient. His heart races, like hers, but in anticipation and pleasure. He is moving again, circling once more. "Did you think you were so special?" It grows in him. The anger, the need. Images flash, of her and him wrapped so tightly and passionately together.

His shoulders twitch and roll as he comes to her rear once more, this time unable to keep himself from rapidly snaking his neck out to snap at the tender flesh of a cheek where her wings do not cover. If successful, he would get a mouthful of her, pressing down enough to surely hurt, the potential to break the skin. When he pulls away, and it would be quick, he steps out and angles himself at her right flank to avoid a kick to the ribs (but not in a way to avoid a kick at all). He hesitates a moment before setting into motion again, coming up beside her and darting out to snatch at her shoulder. So pretty, but her blood would match her hair, her muzzle, her legs. "Do you think he will save you now?"
Come, doll, and join me in this vicious dance.

:|

[leliana]

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

She was not feisty. She was not strong—not in the way she needed to be for this interaction. She had no thirst to engage in battle with him and she knew that the metallic wings at her side were more warning than actual threat. Leliana had spent her entire life, short as it was, devoting herself to healing. She poured herself wholeheartedly into the task, giving herself over to the power of her healing, the purpose of it.

To reverse on that? To inflict pain instead of soothe it?

She couldn’t do it.

Not even now. Not even when her very self was at risk.

Still, she was strong in her own right. Strong in the quiet ways. In the way she held his gaze, even when her insides screamed at her to turn away her gaze. (No, she would watch him.) She was strong in the way that she remained silent, even when she could feel the moan, the sobs burning in her throat. (No, she would not give him the satisfaction.) She was strong in the way she refused to tremble, despite the fact that each time he touched her,  her very flesh revolted. (No, she would not, could not, break.)

He asked her questions and she felt her knees weakening at them, but she pulled herself away from the moment. She protected herself. That bright light that was Leliana was shielded as she stored it in the back of her mind, safeguarding it against this pain. She did not answer him—could not, even if she wanted to. There were no words to describe the agony that was missing Dovev, the crushing reality that was finding out what meant so much to her meant so little to him. She could not describe it, explain it. She couldn’t.

So she didn’t try. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes to center herself, to fight the tears as they formed. When she opened them again, he was moving again, his nose near her tail and she was dizzy from delirium. This couldn’t be happening. But he moved on, and although she should feel relief, she only felt pain—and fought to control her pulse, the only signal of her internal war. Her amber eyes found him and they hold his gaze, not understanding the predator that lay beneath the surface, the pleasure that he found in tearing her apart, laying her bare beneath the constellations—salt rubbed into her wounds.

When he finally lashed out, she closed her eyes again, although even she could not stop the soft cry that left her lips as her own flesh ripped, her blood beginning to drip down her haunches. He whirled away, but she didn’t retaliate—not even when he came back and ripped a chunk from her shoulder, the flesh peeling away, the blood flowing more freely there. She didn’t fight back, locked herself internally, a single tear beginning to fall down her cheek.

She ignored his question, ignored the pain flowing through her body. She did not lift her own healing powers to staunch the wounds or close the flesh; she didn’t deserve it. If she was honest with herself, all of this was brought upon by herself. She had been foolish, she had been childish. She deserved all of this.

So she stood, bled freely, and lifted her gaze to his.

“I do not deserve to be saved.”

A pause.

“But maybe you do.”

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow

[Zoryn]

Do something.

Zoryn

He waited, anticipated. But nothing happened. At least, not in the way he wants. Craves. Damn it, he needs it! As much as he loves the mental anguish he was successfully laying down with her, he finally understands he would not fully win the game of breaking her. She is indeed too strong for that. She really is too perfect. Too lovely. Oh yes, he can definitely see what Dovev saw in her. And lucky for her, he is almost certain she will see him again. She is too tempting, in every way.

Her blood on his lips- mm, so good- Zoryn moves to face her, glaring. She barely even flinched as he'd attacked her. It took some serious courage (or copious amounts of stupidity) to just stand there and take that kind of abuse. Maybe he had broken her... just not the way he had intended. He huffs as she speaks, beginning to hate the softness of her voice, which had almost been as sweet as the windchimes of her metal wings. Which she hadn't used on him. Pity. "Doll, there ain't anything that's gonna save me." He let it drawl from his lips, making sure she can see her blood smothered there and then he licks at it, savoring her taste. Sweet and smooth, like the rest of her. His stomach growls, along with the beast within him, although it quiets and lays down at the back of its cage. Damn near pouting.

Something about her draws him in, but he begins to resent it. He doesn't want calm and sweet. He wants the burn, the passion, the ache. The stinging that she undoubtedly feels in the wounds he'd so generously given. But she won't give it to him. He can see that now. The pretty thing before him is just that, a pretty thing who'd provided him momentary relief from his need to torment. Just not his need for pain. "When you get over your self-wallowing, go find him. Find him and tell him what I've done. See if he gives two shits." Ah, there is some hope in that. Zoryn has dirtied Dovev's pretty little plaything, and the bone-armored brute surely wouldn't be too pleased with such. Let her find him, tell him. Maybe then Zor would get what he needs. And now, it would seem, he needs to be punished. That slow grin plays his lips once more as he turns, flicking his tail and leaving the mare to her pain in peace. "Here's to hoping we never meet again, lil doll." His words are nonchalant, but full of promise. He doesn't look behind him as he departs, but the precipice is there. Next time, he wouldn't be so nice to her. Next time, he would take what it was that he wanted.