"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
Sometimes life works in entirely unexpected ways. Ways even Heartfire, with all her insight, cannot see coming. And sometimes, apparently, her actions come with consequences (shocking, I know). Ones she had never expected.
When she had scraped him from the meadow, broken, bleeding, and delirious, she had not thought her actions would become such a… long term investment. Indeed, she hadn’t thought ahead much at all, beyond getting what she had wanted at the time. A small act of revenge that had not panned out as she had hoped (even she is not infallible apparently).
Making her way along the rocky cliff face, her feet leaving impressions in the pale sands stretching from cliff to sea, she idly sends her sight out ahead of her. She had learned long ago to never have expectations of him. He is far too bull-headed to ever do what she had expected anyway. With a sigh and a slightly agitated flick of her ear, she finds him with an ease born of practice.
By this point, she has had far too much practice. She should have just left him behind somewhere in the wilds outside of Beqanna.
But then, she’s not entirely certain he wouldn’t have managed to find her again anyway. He seems to have a disturbing knack. As she rounds a corner, she frowns, pale blue eyes wary. She has grown to know him far too well, and a part of her is always apprehensive at what she will find after having left him alone. As she realizes the level of familiarity such a thing requires, her lips quirk into a faintly sardonic smile. Who would have ever expected?
“Dovev,” she greets dryly. “Please don’t tell me what you’ve been doing. I’m sure I don’t want to know.”
09-03-2018, 12:41 AM (This post was last modified: 09-03-2018, 02:15 AM by Dovev.)
dovev
html by Toli, overall design and quote style based on "Dovev" by Laura
There were a lot of blanks in his past. The snippets that got through only pissed him off, set a burning fire in his black eyes. Nameless faces that brought unwelcomed depths of emotion with them, confusion and hate (and yearning) for these strangers, and the most disturbing sensation that he’d been in this situation before. When would it make sense? What was she keeping from him? And why was he here?
Restless was an understatement. He was bored out of his fucking mind with being here. So why didn’t he just leave? It’s not like he was being held captive - anymore.
Yeah, he could’ve left long ago. And he still would. But not until he was done with her. Because he was missing something and she’s the only one that could connect it for him. She was the key. She held everything. And damn did he hate her for it. What was he to her anyway? Just a toy, a mild amusement. Well, that’s fine. So was she.
The hunter and the hunted. They never really knew which of them were which. It’s what he loved about her. And hated about her. They were utterly catastrophic, anyone could see that.
But just give him something to do already. Give him someone to kill, something to hunt, something to taste. It’s what he was created for.
And as always, she must’ve heard these thoughts in those mysterious ways of hers. Because then she was there.
And he was both irritated and inexplicably thrilled. Finally.
“Dagger.”
A cocky half-smile tipped his mouth up and he turned his head to look at her over a boned shoulder. What’s he been doing? His eyes glittered and his smirk grew just a tad. “Not you, unfortunately, so it can’t have been that interesting.” And that was true enough. Of course he was fine with not telling her what he’d been doing, if he even would have at all. Better that she not know. Better that he not need to lie to her - or attempt it.
He turned slowly, blue-galaxy legs gliding him nearer, sliding in close enough to feel her warmth, smell her, almost taste her. His lips spread smiling whispers over the soft tissue beside her jaw, nearly feeling her and definitely wanting to. Just a tease, though. Mostly for himself. ”Come to remedy that yet?” One day, he'd have her. If he wanted. And it'd be fucking fantastic.
Your heart is like a renegade, hard to save. Settle down but never stay. Who's to say that I am not to blame
Sometimes she would much rather not know what he was doing. Of course, that is a damned near impossibility for her. At least, for as long as she wanted to keep tabs on him. And frankly, given all he had learned of her in their time together, it would be safe to say she would be keeping tabs on him for the foreseeable future. There are certain things she simply couldn’t have getting around.
Not that he is especially prone to gossiping, but one can never be too safe.
At this point, he is far more than a simple amusement to her. Indeed, he had surpassed that long ago. An annoyance, sure. And perhaps more, though that is something she absolutely would not admit, even under threat of torture. But also an investment. She has no other way to look at it. She certainly couldn’t simply let him walk away, at any rate.
He’s restless, that much she can tell. Such an edifying adventure followed by this inactivity must be eating at him. Frankly, he should learn patience. It could only do him good.
He can thank her later.
A soft sigh escapes at his greeting, followed by a faintly exasperated roll of her blue eyes. At this point, she’s fairly certain he does it mostly just to irritate her. Another small part of her (one she absolutely refuses to acknowledge) thrills at the attention. She’s far too sensible for that. His game only ever leads a heartache, and that is something she would do well to avoid. She simply cannot afford to fall down that rabbit hole again.
Besides, any relationship of theirs would no doubt end in absolute disaster and ruin. Glorious it might be, but they would utterly destroy each other. Neither of them had enough give to do anything other than push and push until they snapped.
Some days though, it’s far too tempting.
Fortunately for the both of them (or perhaps unfortunately), she is as stubborn as he is.
“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” she mutters in faintly amused exasperation. Quirking one brow, she continues more dryly, a faint smirk edging her lips, “No, which I’m sure is more the pity for you.”
Stepping closer, she narrows her gaze upon him, head tilting slightly to whisper along the bony ridge of his hip (close, but not quite touching) as she slips alongside him. After a moment a silence, she continues, voice a shrewd whisper. “Don’t tell me you’re bored already.”
html by Toli, overall design and quote style based on "Dovev" by Laura
"How many times have I told you not to call me that?"
He couldn't help that his smile grew, white teeth flashing. His eyes lifted from her skin to meet her stare with a mischievous glitter. Only until that faint little smirk crossed her lips and neatly stole his attention away, dropping his gaze to those soft curves. They were really nice lips though, you know? And it's been a really fucking long time.
And it's really fucking hard to be in close proximity to her for so damn long, platonically. That power and beauty, her grace, her strength. Basically everything he hates, and really wants. What was so wrong with a little fun, anyway? It's not like she had to stay with him. Obviously she doesn't want that.
But no fun for them, it seemed. Not this whole fucking time, his long and painful rescue, all through their little adventure that likely neither of them would bring up to anyone. Their little secret.
Couldn't they just have another?
Just one more.
A good one.
She stepped closer and any return sarcastic comment was immediately lost to him. He couldn't see anything but the bare inch of empty air between her lips and his hip, eyes sharp and intent on her. It took an extra few seconds for what she said to register as actual speech.
"Don't tell me you're bored already."
Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten to breathe. Only soft little whispers of his breath slipped across his parted lips, and every nerve in his body was lit with anticipation. She was teasing him. Or offering.
He liked offering better.
His hard stare flew to her eyes and he turned, solid steps bringing him deliberately closer, lining their bodies so that his hip was behind hers, his shoulder behind hers. And his mouth at her neck.
Heartfire.. he murmured, brushing his lips lightly over her skin, trailing higher up her neck with a slowness he was already despising.
It's been long enough.
You're heart is like a renegade, hard to save. Settle down but never stay. Who's to say that I am not to blame
It’s so stupidly easy to forget herself with him. A fact she despises nearly as much as she craves it. Fortunately for the both of them, she is far too sensible to give in to such senseless cravings. Platonic adventures are one thing. Maddening and challenging and more enjoyable than she would ever admit, but in the end, virtually harmless. Something she could write off as life experience.
But the kinds of adventures he sought? Those were far more dangerous. Too dangerous. Gods know she had already proven fertile enough. She certainly didn’t wish to push her luck on that front, no matter how much fun it might be.
Apparently though, she had inadvertently pushed a little too far. He seems to barely listen to her admonitions. His gaze locks upon her face, eyes darkening with a hunger that has nothing to do with food. Halting abruptly, her blue eyes narrow as he shifts closer, bone and black pressing against blue and lace as his lips unerringly find the skin of her neck.
As his breath whispers against her neck, she stiffens, a gasp huffing warily from her lips. Arching her neck and tucking her muzzle, she nips sharply at the air in front of his chest. Less warning than her own alarm at the abrupt shift in their conversation.
With his lips trailing heat across her sensitive blue skin, she closes her eyes, attempting to steel herself against his influence. It’s been long enough. A shiver crosses her skin at the words, quickly suppressed. Too long. Terrible thoughts. Even more dangerous desires.
But she shakes her head. “No, not nearly long enough.” The words are soft, gritted out from a throat suddenly dry. Frowning, she lifts her chin, twisting to press her mouth against his dark skin. After a moment’s touch, almost gentle in its nature, her lips part, teeth pinching his skin. Softly. A warning of sorts. “I have already told you his would be a dangerous path to tread.”
He loved the way her eyes narrowed at him when he came nearer, when his mouth was against her neck in a soft kiss, taunting his own desire for her as much as he was trying to coax her to finally fuckin feel something. Anything.
So damn cold, his Dagger.
He wanted to heat her up and make her glow hot.
She liked it though. He knew she did with that sexy little gasp, how she tensed up and was probably hating herself for how he was affecting her just now. So uptight. It made him smile. Maybe he finally helped her feel something. God, and he was just getting started. She had to know that. Had to know he had so much more for her.
But she clipped her teeth at the air in front of him and his ears flipped black, eyes hardening and jaw clenching. Always "no" from her. He turned his face away, muscles tensed.
And he held still as she set him aflame, a soft and completely rare touch of her lips to his sensitive skin, halting his breath. His eyes closed and he held back a noise in his throat, held back everything just like she always did. Ugh, god, until that little bite, her teeth pinching him so gently. He gave up a helpless hum.
"I have already told you this would be a dangerous path to tread."
Another "no".
When it came down to it, she was only fuckin with him. And not in any fun way. He could've kept pushing, loves to fuckin push her. But that's all he ever does and he gets no where. He was frustrated, felt toyed with, and he was tired of this shit. He drew his eyes to hers, dark and sharp and a little hateful because that's just who he is.
"Fuckin excuses," he told her quietly, his voice as hard as the bones guarding his body, and turned away from her to walk away.
It’s so tempting, to give in. To pretend for a moment that nothing else in this world matters. To pretend that her own self respect doesn’t matter. That she’s nothing more than a warm body made for pleasure. But her mind is too sharp, too hard. It will never let her forget. As much as she might want to, she couldn’t.
Why couldn’t he understand that? She is so much more than just another pretty face in a long line of even prettier faces.
And, so, she rejects him. Again.
He never takes it well. But somehow, this time is different. There’s so much pent up aggression, so much anger in his harsh response as he turns away from her. And something inside her clicks, a visceral response to his acrimony. Her own ears pin flat as she snaps sharply, “Always.”
Her own anger rises to match his, a fire she has always hidden so well. But today, something fractures inside her, splitting the calm facade she always wears so successfully. And suddenly, she is furious, the emotion bursting forth like a tide. A wave of utter destruction.
The earth rumbles in the wake of her rage, rocks tumbling from the cliffside as the dirt disintegrates beneath them. The rocks too fall into dust until it’s raining down upon them. But she doesn’t give him time. Instead, she’s crashing into him, teeth grinding down on bone as she wrenches sharply at him.
Breathing harshly, she doesn’t turn away, even then. Instead, she releases his armor and presses closer, her entire body nearly vibrating as she speaks gutturally through bloodied lips. “I’m nothing more than a body to you, am I?”
And she is, isn’t she? A prize he expects to win, if only he remains persistent enough. She’s as much a toy to him as he believes he is to her. “Just fuckable enough to keep you interested, right?” she spits venomously. “At least, until you get bored and leave, like everyone else.”
Her tirade dies abruptly as she realizes what she had just admitted. She stares at him for a long a moment, eyes burning. Suddenly, she straightens, pulling back as she struggles to slow her breathing. Allowing the mask to settle over her dark features, she squeezes her blue eyes closed. She remains like that, refusing to look at him. Let him leave then. It’s what he wanted.
Her voice snapped like the crack of a whip. Like thunder trapped in a valley. A thunder that set the earth beneath their feet to trembling, shaking free the wounds that were home to his armor and sending trickles of blood rolling down his legs. Shaking free the cliffside that threatened to overwhelm them.
His head whipped around to her, eyes alert, but the tumbling rubble snagged his attention and in the next instant she was crashing into him. Grunting, he caught his feet under him, watched her attack his bone plate like she could chew her way through it.
“Heartfire!”
He felt as though he was speaking through a tunnel, unheard and unreachable. Alone with this new emotion striking his veins with a charge of electricity. A sort of fear, believe it or not. It was the craziest fuckin thing.
He was afraid for her.
Yeah, he's been afraid of her, she's fuckin terrifying. Haven't you seen her? But this time was different, a bitter taste and an ice in his bones, a dark haze of panicked worry filling his chest like smoke.
The muscles in his legs locked up tight, bracing against her weight as she pressed -- finally fuckin pressed that gorgeous body against him. His eyes were locked on her face, brightened by that strange needling concern as he searched her furious eyes. He was the target, but he wasn't the monster she was hunting this time.
He took her beating because he chose it. He was built to withstand it anyway.
And whatever. He kinda liked it.
She accused him of things he probably couldn't deny, and shouldn't try to. But that last bit shut her up quick, got her moving away from him after a long moment. He straightened warily, keeping his eyes trained on her.
Well, obviously she got tangled up with a jerk like him. Or worse.
There wasn't much he could say as her eyes closed, shutting him out again, throwing up those walls again. It wasn't like he could give her a nice cuddle. Not exactly the snuggling type, was she? And she wouldn't want him to either. Hadn't she made that plenty clear? He wasn't particularly a cuddler either.
Maybe.
Kinda couldn't remember.
“If I wanted a body, I'd fuckin have one,” he quipped with a hard stare she didn't see, his voice low. And then he turned with a jerk in his shoulders like he could straighten out a leather jacket, started walking away again. Give her space to lock him out again. Take some space from her too because it shouldn't even fuckin matter how she feels about him.
She didn't give a damn.
And that didn't hurt.
And he didn't care.
Let him leave. It's a mantra inside her head, over and over again. Just let him walk away.
But she's never been very good at that, has she? Leaving well enough alone is not her strong suit. She had done it only once before, and it had taken everything in her not to leave a path of destruction in her wake.
But she can't. She can't seem to just let it go, to give him what he so clearly wants. Her acquiescence. Even in this, even in anger, she can't give him that.
In the end, she's not entirely sure they won't destroy each other.
“Walk away then,” she needles harshly, pale blue eyes snapping open. She should've turned away, but instead she stares coldly after him. “It's what you're good at, isn't it?”
He had withstood her physical attack so easily. There had been no satisfaction. He hadn't even tried to fight back. And though she knows she should stop there, knows that she shouldn't be so cruel to a man she had come to care for (even if she would never admit to such a thing), she can't seem to stop herself.
She doesn't even need to move a muscle to hurt him.
“I mean, that's what you've always done,” she continues. He has always called her Dagger, and she has always hated it. But, as she drives it home, it's surprisingly apt. “To all the others. Shook them off like so much dust on your feet.” She laughs then, a short, sharp laugh with no humor in the discordant notes. “And now, you don't even remember their names, do you?”
Her eyes have hardened, going icy with furious menace. It seems in her own pain, the only thing she knows how to do is hurt.
“Give it time Dovev, I bet soon you won't even remember mine.”
"Walk away then. It's what you're good at, isn't it?"
He kept walking.
It wasn't like he had a damn clue what she was talking about. Probably just angry ranting in that way women do, trying to get a rise out of him.
So he kept walking.
"I mean, that's what you've always done. To all the others. Shook them off like so much dust on your feet."
A frown clouded his face, but he kept walking. Don't listen, she's just digging at him. He didn't even remember any others and he damn well wasn't the type to walk away, not in the way she meant it. She should know that by now. Why the hell else would he still be here? In this place that was so damn boring, with no one but a cold-hearted bitch that kept him around and yet wanted nothing to do with him.
And now, you don't even remember their names, do you?"
He stopped.
His heart might've too for a moment there.
Turning slowly, his face was expressionless behind his mask, bottomless black eyes taking her in silently. She knew he couldn't remember anything. Had she just been manipulating him this whole time? Choosing what to give away, and when. Just in the right moments. Just enough to keep him around for whatever purpose.
Were they biding their time for a greater agenda?
"Give it time Dovev, I bet soon you won't even remember mine."
His face hardened, muscle in his jaw twitching. Was she taking his memories?? What the fuck kinda game was this? What were the rules so he knew which ones to break?
He walked toward her, his mind racing. The scar on his hip burned in taunting memory, half-hidden beneath a bone plate rupturing from his body. He didn't even know what it meant - couldn't remember - but he could feel it there, feel it reminding him in a sense at least, that he was more than this.
He was created on the mountain.
He was trained ruthlessly by a hard magician, beat down at every mistake to make him stronger, to teach him to withstand the pain, not cripple beneath it. Ignore it.
He was betrayed by the same man.
He learned a new lesson.
Dovev stopped before her, looking down at her with a chill in his blood and coldness in his eyes. The stars over his legs were turning pink with the blood flowing down from his armor, shifting and growing and splitting through. It mingled over the blue and turned a black-purple.
He was still being toyed with.
He leaned in close to her, growled a low, "Give me a reason to stay."
Because he's done with this. And he's getting the fuck out of here.
