"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
There is no other word for it. Her very world had crumbled, and there was nothing left of her. And yet, the magic that she was expelling to hide her most recent pregnancy was stifling. She was tired, and angry. Tear stains drained down her face as the old mare reverted to her pre-magic self. Dingy, scarred, and green tinged hair. Sad eyes frame her face as she walks out of the Taiga and through the forest. She knew these trees by heart now, and it was with a sad bow that the branches dipped for her, pushing downward in respect of her. The wood underneath her cracks under the weight of her body. There, in the dark, the lone woman takes solace in being alone—if only for the purpose for cathartic release. Her body shakes with her tears, and though she can feel Ruan is somewhere in these very woods—he is as her, finding her peace between the trees—she does not seek him out. Alone in the night, the moon hangs low, casting a white light and massive shadows. The woods are eerie, but still she wanders, almost aimlessly. There was no place left for her to go back to. No warmth. No love. Nothing.
well, I'm a lion in the haze and the lamb in the lightning oh, these spears and chains of flames around my neck are tightening
Even though he had a home, a home seemingly abandoned and in turmoil but a home nonetheless, Alek still found himself wandering, his feral nature taking him far and wide on most days. Today, he had risen with the fog in the forest, his body damp from the humidity and pointed his dark nose to the border. He had shaken the rust from his coat and broke into a jog and then a gallop, and it was at this pace that he had travelled for most of the day. It had felt good to stretch out, to run, to wind his muscular body around the winding trees and beat out a new path, but now, the day having long folded, he felt exhaustion set in.
It was just the tendrils of it, sweeping through his belly and winding up his throat, and he welcomed the ache of it. His body was slick with sweat, the cool night air causing steam to rise off his haunches, and his eyes were fever bright. He loved this feeling, loved the lather on his neck, the heaviness of his body as he wandered, his belly full on the freedom. Sleep would be good tonight—dark and deep and endless.
He was reaching for it, almost there, when he heard her tears, the sound of them soft and eerie in the otherwise silent forest. For a moment, he considered ignoring them; after all, he had no obligation to hunt out an unknown female. But, curiosity took over and he began to search, following the source of the noise until he came across her, the small dark mare looking devastated. A frown crossed his handsome features as he took a step forward, predatory grace clear in the way he moved, markedly feline even in this form.
“Hello, love,” his voice was husky, his dual-colored eyes searching her face. “Make a habit of haunting these woods?” One corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile, although concern laced his expression.
No one else had ever called her that but Ru. Not even Plug, whose body she had bathed in and reveled in during their sordid love affair. She could never get enough of him—and he had been beautiful. Treated her like a Queen—something she had never been. And would never be.
Her ears flick at the sound of the voice that reminded her of aged whisky—smooth, earthy, and intoxicating. He looked at her with a concerned face that looked nothing like Ruan’s. Eyes that were open and kind. She could get drunk on those eyes. And then inwardly chastised herself for such talk. She was still married. Sort of.
Wasn’t she?
And yet, this stranger was beautiful in the way he moved, the pale light cascading off of his profile and highlighting his every muscle. Every hardened carved plane. Every curve. Even in her sadness, she could feel her mouth watering just a little. And she did something she had not done in a long long time. She started saying her prayers once again, clutching her rosary to her chest. Hail Mary.
She sniffs, her nostrils flaring as she turns to him, and straightens her posture to better give him visage of her. She is nondescript. Neither powerful looking, nor imposing in stature. She is small, stocky. Muscular and athletic, and her body shows that to the best advantage. Make a habit of haunting these woods? A breathy laugh escapes her throat mid cry; she cannot help herself.
Dulcet tones emit from her, tears still falling from her eyes as she starts to make the effort to dry her eyes and collect herself. She had had enough pain for one day. Perhaps, just this once, a conversation could end with a smile…rather than tears, a broken heart, and extreme loneliness.
“I guess you could say I haunt them. We…I mean, I, usually come to this part of the forest for a night hunt. Voles, mice rabbits, and the like.” She attempts to smile, looking up at him. Let herself simply forget who she was and be someone else for the night. Someone who was wanted. Someone who was beautiful; trusted.
Someone who was loved.
Another small chuckle as Reagan clutches her rosary beads and continues to spin them furiously, working prayer after prayer. Lord, this man was beautiful. Another small laugh, as she turns away from his face, and settles her sight on the way the moon was cast against the trees. Against her trees. “I am the caretaker of this forest. I am Reagan.”
But in her mind, she could still see the way his body cut across the night, lit up by the moon. Wondering what could happen if she willed the moon to darken its light. Feeling guilty over her husband... and then suddenly not caring. She continues to say her prayers, and turns her green eyes back to the stranger, shutting off her magic, turning off he thunderous beating of Ruan's heart inside her chest.
Father, forgive me...Because I am preparing to sin.
03-17-2017, 12:47 AM (This post was last modified: 03-17-2017, 12:53 AM by aleksandr.)
well, I'm a lion in the haze and the lamb in the lightning oh, these spears and chains of flames around my neck are tightening
He watched as she straightened, as she dried her tears and turned her focus to him. That’s my girl, he thought, approving of her collecting herself, pulling herself inward. His dual-colored eyes sparked with interest, the corner of his mouth quirking as he took a small step toward her, testing the waters. He still steamed from exertion, but this was altogether more interesting than an evening run and certainly more interesting then finding a place to close his eyes for the night. The witching hour was always his favorite.
He didn’t miss her correction, the ‘we’ that became an ‘I’ and he wondered, briefly, if that was the cause of the tears he had heard—of the sorrow on her face. Was it a present ‘we’? He tilted his head, looking at her with open curiosity, his stance open and masculine as he considered her. After a moment, he shrugged. He didn't know who the other was and decided he didn’t care. Whoever it was wasn’t here, and Alek had a habit of taking what he wanted, when he wanted. His crooked smile turned devilish at the thought of it.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve hunted,” his dark voice filled the space between them, smooth and yet ragged around the edges. When his lips pulled back to reveal even teeth, it was clear it was the smile of a predator, although perhaps not the kind she was used to hunting alongside. “Although I prefer big game.”
Another step toward her as she glanced up at the moon, the stallion continuing to test the waters between them. “Reagan,” her name was rich on his tongue, and he savored it. “That's quite the name, love.” His head dropped just slightly, just enough that he could look her in the eye, capture the green of her gaze. He was close enough now that he could smell her, could feel the heat of her, and this is where he paused, the air between them thick with tension. He dangled the opportunity out for her, but left the final step to her.
“My name is Alek.” His eyes glinted as he felt the charge in the otherwise silent night, the forbidden fruit right before her, his dark face open and knowing. His voice dropped, humor lacing his whiskey tone.
“So, if you’re the caretaker, does that mean I am trespassing?”
And when he smiled, Lord she wanted to sin. She looked at him, and kept her body still, but inside her head, her thoughts were running. Blurring, changing, washing clean. She was looking for a change—looking for something. Ruan. Don’t forget about Ruan. She loved her husband. She loved everything about him. But where was he?
He’d left her. Again.
She sighed, exhaling a low, warm breath. Her chest rose with purpose and she took one small step towards him… Towards, Alek. The air had taken on a warmth, an electric charge that was unexpected, and exciting. A new hunt. A new place to call home. Something different, something changed. Mother Mary, hear my prayer. The Irish lady spun her rosary once again, and she lifted her head towards him again, sadness twinging the corners of her eyes, slowly replaced by purpose. The silent whispers of his mind were always there—she could not shut off her magic entirely—and she hears his thoughts come and go, just slightly. There’s my girl, he says, and she finds that even in the dark, she worries that she could be caught blushing, and immediately tries to wipe the embarrassment from her face.
She’s not a young woman anymore, to be sure. Not by a long shot.
He speaks further… his voice gravelly, turning thick and rough, like the after effects of her favorite bourbon. The back of her throat burns as she drinks him in, and there in the dark, she sees his smile; he talks of large game.
The corner of her mouth turns up and her tail flips around her body like a black cloak. “These grounds are open. It is when you cross the river and go west that you reach Taiga. That is my home. But feel free to peruse them at your leisure, Alek.” She tests the name on her tongue, and finds that she likes the taste. Is afraid of how good it feels to speak someone else’s name. She had not had much company in recent months, save for the disastrous family meeting she had tried to gather. “There are many stag in those woods. There is a bear also, but he is a guardian. ” She speaks of Siberian, and her face falls again, almost to the point of being crushed. Siberian. The very reason her marriage had dissolved into tatters around her feet. A shifter.
Her mind sparks, and pushes forward past the painful memory, pushing it away from her eyes. She would not think of that. Not tonight. But it did bring about her next thought process… “You must be a shifter also.” She brings her vision back directly in line with his. “And, judging by your build, and preference for large game, I would venture to say you were of the family Panthera, am I correct?”
She of course has the unfair advantage, but she uses this opportunity to shamelessly look at his body, determining quite honestly what her findings were. He moves with the gracefulness of a cat. Sleek and sexy.
Like he knows he owns it. That dangerous take charge.
Reagan smiles small, as she looks up at him. “I have some abilities as a shifter also.”
well, I'm a lion in the haze and the lamb in the lightning oh, these spears and chains of flames around my neck are tightening
He was still as she spoke, but there was something about him, something about the way he held himself, the way the lines drew him up that made him look in constant motion—a wildness, a restlessness that simmered beneath his flesh. But his eyes, green and blue and gold, never strayed from her face. He was blunt with his eye contact, direct as he watched her, studied her, tracing the lines of her face with an open seriousness that would have been impossible to miss. He was a hunter, that much was clear.
At the mention of Taiga, his smile grew wide, a swath of white against the black of his lips. “What luck,” he practically growled, his voice low and throaty. “I had just visited Taiga’s borders. I’d been considering a new home.” He tilted his heavy-jawed head toward her, lips flipping in one corner. “I have to say that it is even more,” a pause as he savored the word, “tempting now that I know who also calls it home.”
Of course, such plans could be tricky, depending on just what she was hiding from him, but he rolled with it. He had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. He was, and would always be, unabashed of his nature; he lived lavishly and selfishly, taking life’s pleasures as they came. If they came in the form of a grey mare with secrets in her green eyes, then he would not feel bad for indulging in them.
Still, for a moment, just a moment, the conversation turned, the mention of the bear bringing a shadow to her face. “Never had much taste for bear,” he said easily, shrugging his powerful shoulders. “I would be happy to stick to the deer.” He was grateful when she rolled on, letting the moment of tension slide as she began to guess at his abilities. His laugh was low and thick rolling from his tongue. “Is it that obvious?”
He didn’t bother to hide his amusement at her looking at him. Not that he minded. Alek was well aware that he had been graced with swarthy good looks, dark as midnight minus rare patches of ivory. “Panther indeed.” He gave a rakish grin. “Or, I was, until it was taken from me.” He had resented that—resented that his very nature had been cleaved in two, the predator ripped from him and held apart. “I have every intention of getting it back.” At the mention of her own abilities, he made a low noise of interest in his throat, studying her openly, gaze moving along the lines that drew her up until they found her eyes.
Back to those eyes of his. They were a miasma of color that flashed in the dark. A wild array of pigment that revealed the hunter they belonged to--and his wanderlust way of life. She found that she could level his gaze and look him in the eye, and feel connected to the very center of the earth. She had heard somewhere that those with multi colored eyes had the ability to see both heaven and hell. If Alek was any indication, Reagan had no doubt that the stories were accurate. Alek looked like an angel who wanted to commit a felony.
When he mentioned Taiga again, she attempted to look pleased that he was considering the forest her home, but memories of the bear still haunted her, casting a shadow across her face. Instead, she keeps her voice light, tipping her head at him slightly, as if trying to get a better view of his face. "Taiga is unusual among the lands here. In place of formal ranks, we live more as family. A magician and her husband live there with their many children, and a passel of others who have come to make it home. Quiet perhaps, but I can quite assure you, the quiet is preferred." Reagan sounds far away, her voice coming as a low echo on a breeze that that sets the branches to shaking. Are they warning her? Applauding her?
For the first time, Reagan is unsure of her next step. She is unable to dwell on it much further before he smiles and laughs, low and thick. -Is it that obvious?-
"Yes," she says, dropping all pretense from her face, genuinely settling in to enjoy this man and his attentions. "Your body is perfectly lithe and lean. And you ooze sexuality." Reagan's own voice has dropped, and tries not to look embarrassed as she roves her eyes over him. "You are athletic, but not stocky. And lets face it, you know you're gorgeous. All of that... A cat of some sort was obvious." Reagan swallows, knowing she has said too much, but presses on anyway. "Within the cat family there are two options. Felidae and Panthera. You are much too dangerous looking to belong to the former."
Reagan blinks and looks past him, her ears rotating backward in embarrassment. Until he mentions the fairies. Then her ears are erect and she has put a hard look on her face. "They have stripped everyone," she says with annoyance. "I am sure you will get your gifts back again. And then we could hunt together. That is... If you're interested..."
Reagan leaves it open, her smile broadened when he asks to see her abilities. She nods, her green eyes shining as she has become a perfectly formed white wolf before his eyes. Beautiful and lean, her arctic white pelt glimmering in the uplighting of the moon's glow. In this form she is young and powerful, and her green eyes flash with joy as she turns about for him, as if trying on a new dress.
well, I'm a lion in the haze and the lamb in the lightning oh, these spears and chains of flames around my neck are tightening
He murmured low as she discussed the forest, as she talked of how the way of life was there. It was unusual but he didn't mind, and while his interest peaked at the mention of the magician and her husband, his strange eyes sharpening on her, he let it slide. If she was the magician he would let the woman have her secrets, let her have her mysteries. It was more fun to have her out here alone regardless.
"I don't mind the silence," his eyes leveled with her, mischievous grin ghosting around his mouth, "although you will find that I am much better at breaking it." And he was. She'd find that out in due time.
At her compliments, he grinned, no inch of shame or discomfort crossing his features, no feeble attempt at brushing off the observations. Instead, he let them sink in, simply nodding and rolling his shoulder. "Astute," for at least some of it. It wasn't difficult to make note of his good looks, but it did take some mental brain power to narrow it down to cat and then panther, some level of know-how. "Although I will say that I would make a fine looking house cat." A swarthy smile breaking across his face in good humor.
He didn't like to linger on his anger at the removal of his traits, these things that make him him. It was that very rage that had sent him catapulting through the trees that day, the reason his body was still slick with sweat, but he didn't want to focus on it. Not here. Not with her. Instead he just shrugged, eyes only brightening at her offer. "Oh, I think that I would like to hunt alongside you very much."
As she shifted, he didn't bother to hide his appraisal, his eyes hungrily searching over her, his belly tightening with excitement. "You are marvelous, Reagan," his voice was huskier, eyes gleaming with his approval as he studied her in this shape, moving from her tail to her powerful shoulders and then to her wolfish green eyes. "You are magnificent in both forms," he offered the compliment casually, a cigarette he flicked to the side with both confidence and sincerity. "But to see you harness that power..."
She looks up at him, the white of her fur tingling as she feels the thrill of doing something for her for once. Something she didn’t have to share—didn’t have to pretend to care about. Her power grasped within a black silk glove, counting her prayers like blessings as they dropped from heaven like trees drop their fruit. Reagan could gain her fulfillment from these blessings, and as she bathed in the rainbow of color that was Alek’s eyes, she knew that for once, her heartbeat had nothing to do with the stress of leadership, or the pain of heartbreak. She was living the rush of a momentary glance. She was not sure of the black sabino’s intentions, but for the moment, she didn’t care. Reagan would take this chance, come hell or high water. And when she saw his eyes change, and turn to liquid hunger, she found her mouth had gone dry. It has been so long since she had felt attractive. Always powerful—but only wanted for power, and then not wanted at all.
She turns then, pulling herself back into the form of her birth with an ease and a grace that belied her heritage. She steps out, and shakes her pelt free from the scars that marked her skin, and her hair goes black under the light of the moon. Would he notice? Would he ask questions? She did not wish to invite too much information about herself too soon, and the subtleties of who was, rather than what she was, remained of utmost importance. Once again, Ruan’s imaged flashed before her eyes, and the guilt that lay in the back of her throat threatened to choke her, but she swallowed it down and refused to give it another thought.
She smiles up at him, suddenly becoming quiet—almost girlishly shy. Never mind that she is older than most of the trees in this wood. Alek reminds her that she still has life to live. That maybe, there was something else out there for her besides a failing marriage and a dilapidated crown. That maybe…
“Power is in the eye of the beholder,” she says absently, almost gasping at the look of his smile as he appraises her body in the dark. “You could be born with the world in your hand, only to spend the rest of your life trying to keep it. To…” her voice catches here. “well, I find these days I would much rather be happy, than wield great power.”
well, I'm a lion in the haze and the lamb in the lightning oh, these spears and chains of flames around my neck are tightening
There is an internal battle waging within her, something that rolled in her belly, flashed in her eyes, even as she melted beneath his gaze. He found it interesting, a puzzle, a knot that he scratched at, easing his way around it until it gave, until she came undone, until he figured her out. But he was a patient man, or he was at least right now, and he did not mind the journey of it—did not mind waiting, even though there was a restlessness about him, a need to consume, a need to move and devour. He found himself content to wait, to feel the tension building, her navigating the path of her mind; he found himself content to wait.
The final step had to be hers, he knew. She had to be the one to direct this ship.
As she shifted back into her true form, his gaze remained ravenous, that molten heat never leaving it. He watched as her grey deepened, darkened into a color that matched more of his own, and while it solidified his suspicions about her being the magician of the forest more, he didn’t speak of it. She had mysteries that she wanted to keep, and far be it from him to disallow a lady her desires. If she didn’t want to divulge certain secrets with him, he would not pry. Heaven knows that he had his own from time to time.
Still, the corner of his mouth quirked at what she said, a familiar hunger stirring in his chest. “There is more than obvious power,” practically a whisper as he tilted his head. The power to undo a woman, to watch armor come sliding off, piece by piece—was that not power? He thought so, his handsome face growing more serious as he reached out, the velvet of his damp nose hovering over her flesh, the sweat from his run still beading on the thin skin. His breath rolled over her neck as he lingered, drawing in her scent, committing it to memory. He turned hunter here, focused, determined, strange eyes sharp.
And then, a challenge, growled into the night air:
“If it is happiness you want, why do you not come and claim it?”
