"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
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
He supposes that dying has a way of changing one's perspective. As it should. He thinks that he can almost hear the Ice Fairy's sharp tone, so he wonders if that is his thought, or hers? But back then, he had just been too angry with her for not letting him die for real; he ran away and, though not intended originally, did it all over again. The dying part anyway.
It was only after the second time that he'd changed visibly, that his aura trait had transformed into a freeze ray of sorts (he still needs to sort that out), that he resembled a dragon perhaps more than he realized himself. That he finally has his mother's eyes like Breckin had said once before, although the default colour was ice and his mother's was fire. Quite opposite to the warm brown they used to be. Like his father's. Like hers.
He'd joked to Deiti that scaling might be contagious, though she had been very distressed at her actions. But he could forgive her. No harm was done after all. Not really anyway. He would survive, and, he had been hurt before. Way worse at that. Nothing to worry about now.
But his second death then, nearly grasping at the Afterlife, his slamming into an invisible magic wall, peeking in to see if Ea was there, if Rain was, if Wrynn was - not seeing any of them, he had been wondering about them. About the things he'd last told his mother - he's what's fucked up, and he basically caused it himself - he figured there were two someone's he needed to talk to. Three if Wrynn ever showed up, but she was nowhere to be found, for all he knew she might be too old to move by now.
And those two that were here in Beqanna, just happened to be best buddies in Nerine.
How very convenient of them.
But for once in his life, his mother wasn't the first one he'd turn to. Not even after they had basically fought last time - there was another he'd fought with earlier, so she deserved an apology earlier. Besides, Scorch and he were just too similar, which might cause them to tear at each other again, causing him to leave Nerine again. He knew that now. He just hoped it wouldn't be the same with Chryseis when she grew up. Maybe he'll be able to do better by her. Just maybe.
He hasn't paid much attention to who rules Nerine these days. He suspects he should call for Wishbone, if he did not want to call Scorch, and lingers on the coastal kingdom's eastern border, near the river. Still salty from swimming, but not drenched - only his fetlocks, mane and tail remain wet, whereas the scales have dried pretty quickly, and he's not at all cold in the winter winds.
He should call out for any leader, but he doesn't, yet, still. Voice stuck in his throat, moving in place, back and forth, back and forth, to and fro, to and fro, again and again like he'd done a million times without being seen. He's been stalling this conversation for so long, he's run through so many options in his head, he cannot yet bring himself to start it. What if she's still angry. What if she's not even in Nerine. What if she's with another now. What is she's gone from Beqanna. But still he's here - he has to know something.
Or perhaps he'll be kicked out before he reaches her. He's not your everyday knight or saint, after all. Someone might have talked, they might all look down on him like the scum he is, was, or has been. He might just about be hoping that they would keep him out, so it's not his fault that they haven't spoken, so he can say he tried and failed to reach her, that it's not his fault.
But it is his fault. All of it. He shouldn't have let her leave, should have followed when she told him no, be that irritant figure she could not shake like he'd done with Arthas earlier in Loess, he should have done something instead of leaving her alone with her thoughts. Because there was nothing to be thinking about. Feelings just don't work that way. They're either there, or they're not, and even though he's come to accept that on her side, there probably aren't any, not for him anyway, he'll just have to live with his own, because the fairy demands that he lives. Forever if need be.
But to do that, he just needs closure. Not a memory of yelling at her, of nearly-attacking, all to just make it stop.
He breaths in deeply - and out again. Snorts. Well, shit, this can take a while then. Glancing at the winter sky, he knows it's getting late. He should have whinnied hours earlier, upon arrival. And now it's getting dark. Dark? He looks up. Oh great, rain incoming. He can't keep standing here forever...
And yet he does. When the water washes over him, his now-scaly skin shimmering with water (he muses with an unamused snort that his black and white locks are the only parts not shimmering these days), he's just standing there. Pacing again. It's not even cold, this rain. Maybe it's an early spring storm. Or perhaps he's just not that susceptible to cold any more. Who's to say? He's changed so much.
An hour passes, maybe more, before he moves. Not to call anyone. But he walks, slightly north along the coast, looking for the nearest cave to hide in. He's technically trespassing now, but he figures that someone will find him soon enough. Chase him out, keep him prisoner, whichever. Or maybe they'll never find him. Or maybe they'll all avoid him. Too bad he can't die any more, so he wouldn't even starve.
Damn, that's frustrating, depressing and hopeful at the same time. Has he ever been so confused about his own emotional state?
He's heard vague rumours of Klaudius being captive here, so he doesn't move too far north. It's the first-best cave that he finds, that he sets foot in. Not too far from the border. The rainstorm is a perfect excuse should anyone find him. Though he hopes that the water will cover his scent tracks soon.
He just doesn't know what to do any more. And hasn't for a long time.
HTML by Vanilla Custard, picture by x-celebri-x on deviantart
@[Breckin]
Well he sort of disappointed me in not actually letting anyone know he's here, oops.
So I guess she can see him walking in from above the cliff or another distance, be in the cave herself already, or follow his scent in the rain or after the storm has passed (: At least he's not in K's cave because he wants to avoid Scorch
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
the truth that you'll find will always be the truth you hide
It had surprised her to see his familiar shape treading along Nerine’s borders, as if something had been trying to call him into the cliffside kingdom’s embrace, but he couldn’t find the means to actually pierce her boundaries.
She’d hardly noticed the soft pattering of rain on her pale back before it became to turn into sheets of heavier sky pouring--she'd grown used to the rain. Saturated, drenched, and captivated, she couldn’t stop herself from staying atop the cliff, watching with that God forsaken curiosity of hers as to what path he would choose. Come in, or don’t. A part of her reached out to his close existence, begging him to come nearer so that she could selfishly be closer to him without him ever really knowing. But the bitterness inside of her wanted nothing more to do with him, urging her to leave him in the past that he wanted to be left in
So since you're so set on avoiding me, do a better job at it and leave me alone!
His last words to her.
And like an oath she had kept them.
Today would prove no different; either he’d leave or someone else on patrol would be by to intercept him. Even now as she watched him finally make a move northward towards the cave system within the cliffs, she waits for someone, anyone to show up and meet him. The rain falls in cascading rivulets down her speckled coat, her jaw tightens and teeth grind together as her patience grows thinner. Perhaps she should try and reach for someone’s attention? Castile, or Rome, or Ardashir maybe. But no, it would take too long and the night was quickly approaching, she’d have to go herself.
Breckin sighs heavily as she turns away from the edge, placing her hooves with well trained steps along the intricate slag ridden paths of the cliffs. It takes her little time to make her descent, coming upon the curve that marks the first entrance to the caves with practiced ease.
”You make it hard to leave you alone when you come into my kingdom unannounced at this time of day.” She’d been trying so damn hard to hide it when she spoke, but there could be no mistaking some of the hurt her voice still stupidly carried. Stepping just into the mouth of the cave, her dark eyes readjust to what little light the cavern still holds, searching for his gaze.
your world is still lacking of me, how do you love?
@[Leilan] its okay because I'm a little disappointed she's being so cold right now. DX
09-15-2018, 02:23 AM (This post was last modified: 09-15-2018, 05:34 AM by Leilan.)
Leilan
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
The urge to shake his fur is so grained-in that he still does it, though it’s only making him spray water from his mane. Hmm. Takes some time to get used to the new attributes. Like the heat vision - sometimes when he blinks, it has just switched without him knowing what triggers it. Kind of frustrating but perhaps he’ll get the hang of it later.
When the rain drags in another wet horse, this is exactly what is happening. Unsure yet who enters because the rain drenches the smell and his vision is orange-impaired with heat signals, he stills only at her voice. It’s her. And she’s hurt and angry.
For a moment he’s silent, blinking and trying to switch visions furiously for a few heartbeats - finally the orange makes room for a familiar icy blue, that immediately darkens to a much deeper, dark blue, although he doesn’t see it himself. What he sees is a fully-drenched Breckin - he’s happy for her not to have changed as much as he - but feels sorry to have apparently dragged her through this rainstorm.
It’s a conflicting storm of emotions inside - hurt by the tone of her voice, but feeling that it is justified that she’s angry with him, a little afraid to speak and hurt or anger her more, a little afraid of what she’ll say. Regret at past actions - most of all that one, overshadowing the rest. His own hurt mixed inbetween, though his own anger at least he left somewhere - perhaps on the mountain - does she know she’s been that last drop that made him go that way at all, probably not; should he ever tell her, he doubts it.
He doesn’t know how much time passes, staring at her ghostly appearance here with the rain curtain falling behind her. And he can only guess, but it feels like she will be even more hurt if he says nothing, so he searches for the words.
Searches some more. An audible breath intake, then a reluctant confession, at long last. ”I don’t think I really want you to.”
He doesn’t register that ‘my kingdom’ may mean more than it just being her home. No idea he’s talking to a queen now - to him she’ll always be Breckin, and Breckin is always more than just another mare, another Leviathan, another queen. But the things he’d said... to her, to the others. No, it’s just the things he said to her, that matter to him now. The rest... the others - Briseis, Jenova - it’ll have to wait. One step at the time, as he’d always done with her. For her. She always needed him to be patient, though she never had to ask him to be.
There’s one thing important to say though, if she’ll let him, and he can’t be patient enough now that he’s finally started talking. He guesses he should better just throw it at her before she leaves - if she leaves she’ll never hear it. He cannot do this again, going and not-going. He can’t really look at her though. Evades her eyes. Afraid of what he’ll see, if there’s fury and coldness in them. ”I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry for all that I said, but, they’ve been said and done, so... I just wanted to tell you that... I said the stupidest things. Thought it’d go away. But if you want me to leave, I will.” Whatever she asks, he’ll do. It’s always been that way, it’s just that she didn’t see it. And that he hasn’t dare asking her before - afraid of the answer. But if it makes her happier if he doesn’t come back... well at least she’ll be happier.
HTML by Vanilla Custard, picture by x-celebri-x on deviantart
@[Breckin]
Sorry I just immediately jumped on this xP
Edited, sorry for double tagging
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
the truth that you'll find will always be the truth you hide
She had already turned to leave. He had been taking too damn long.
The repetitive focus on her breathing, inhaled and exhaled, could only last so long, and she had grown unable to spare the patience to drift into another cycle again. His silence had lasted entirely too long, and the silence of words unspoken can speak horrible volumes. And it was speaking to her then, he didn’t have to say anything for her to catch the implications. So he still didn’t want her around, then there was little else she could do but leave. Had it been anyone else, she might have feared for the safety of the kingdom leaving a visitor to their own devices, but he was no threat to the kingdom; he’d probably only ventured here to find Scorch. It didn’t really matter if she left him unattended at this point. It might have been more beneficial to have had that thought before she dragged herself through the rain to follow him.
I don’t think I really want you to.
She paused mid step, nearly ready to pass through the cave’s threshold and back into the frigid downpour. It takes a moment, for his hushed voice to register about the clash of heavy raindrops along the sheer rock wall just outside. But when it does finally settle, she lowers her raised hoof once, collecting herself into a tense stance, pale ears casting backwards to nearly lay upon her ivory crown. Rotating her head to glance at him beyond her shoulder, her expression remains stoic, eyes narrowing in subtle scrutiny noticing the way he cannot seem to look at her directly.
Though their eyes fail to align, he continues to speak—no—apologize. He doesn’t say it outright, but she knows he refers to that moment shared in the depths of the Forest. It had been one hell of a day, or entire week even. The leopard mare had set him off into bitter rage, and she’d left him again to happen upon his gold-blazed filly with her mother as she had made her way back to Hyaline, and the next day felt the onslaught of her empathic ability for the first time, followed shortly thereafter by Scorch’s news of Breckin now holding the weight of Nerine’s mantle.
The Leviathan turns back completely to face him again, stepping closer and dark eyes flashing heatedly, nearly begging him to look at her directly as she asks a single question, “You thought what would go away?”
your world is still lacking of me, how do you love?
@[Leilan] I know it doesn't really look like it now, but she is actually warming up a bit XD
09-16-2018, 04:00 AM (This post was last modified: 09-18-2018, 03:00 PM by Leilan.
Edit Reason: typos
)
Leilan
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
She’d already turned away from him, when the first words came. The gold-clad stallion had no composure left when she turned around, shuffling a front hoof, not looking at her directly when he stuttered out the other words, an apology, not the greatest one in the world, but still a relief that she has stayed to hear him out. He almost wants to thank her for it, but then when his eyes - still the deep dark blue of, well, feeling blue - meet her face, she is prying, perhaps not as cold as before but definitely not something he really dares to look at for long; flashing back to his hoofs a moment.
Thought what would go away?
He stirs visibly at her question. Attempts to raise his gaze again, forcing onto himself the pain of looking at her - he deserves that moment of suffering, she deserves that satisfaction of making it so - she didn’t send him away, instead latching on the one thing that slipped into his sad excuse of an apology and poking where it hurt.
His eyes switch colours rapidly while he looks at her, a shocked whitish yellow, then an ashamed pinkish orange (sunset perhaps) as he flushes, to settle back in a mixture of the deep blue with a tinge of red, ending in some kind of purple as if the colour doesn’t want to settle between shame and sadness. ”Oh, Breckin.” he can only sigh for a moment. Voice loaded thick with the mixed emotions, but now that he’s started with a confession and an apology, why not just throw it all out. If she really needs to be told, then so be it. She’s so blind to another’s emotions at times, even when there’s switching eye colours betraying him, even with her new ability to read said emotions which she had chosen not to use. He’d think it funny with every other situation if it hadn’t involved himself and his lack of a way to cope with it at the time.
One might think after all this she might have an inkling. Maybe she just wants to hear him say it. He wonders if it will be enough of an explanation? He doesn’t know if she or maybe, his mother, has ever visited Hyaline and seen the gold-blazed girl, knowing like he knew immediately, she is his. There will be questions when she finds out. She will be angry, furious probably, she has every right to - but then he blinks and somehow realignes his thoughts, his eyes settling on his normal basic ice blue as he hardens himself. Everything that she can throw at him, he’ll take it. He can take a bite. He can take a kick. And he can take the heat and passion of her anger, because it will be so much better than the coldness in her eyes.
His eyes lock unto hers again, when he subconsciously has slipped from her gaze - the deep pools of brown that he’ll gladly drown in, that so often find him in his sleep, pleasant dreams when he was in Loess, haunting ones after she’d implied not even wanting to be his friend, terrible nightmares of accusations and whys after that day in the forest, and back to haunting and asking ‘why’ still, when he was back in Ischia. He couldn’t take that. She has to know and perhaps then he can move on.
”I love you, Breckin.” There, out. Then he continues in a quick pace, not giving her room to get a word in because he can’t really deal with another immediate rejection. ”I think I always have and by the looks of it now, I guess I will forever because nothing I tried could shake it. Look, I know it’s not something you want to hear, I know I messed everything up and you probably don’t even want me near you, so, just - just say the word. I’ll do anything, but please, please, if you want me to go away, just tell me that it makes you happier. It’s bad enough if only one of us cannot to be happy, the least I can do is make life easier for you. I just want you to be happy.” He’s repetitive somewhere in the rambling, he knows, but if it emphasizes what he feels then so be it. Blue eyes find hers dark ones, broken like the way he was when he numbly, automatically, walked and drifted back to Ischia after his day on the mountain.
All he’d done since meeting her was for her, but they were things she could not know. The time in Loess spent away from family and from her, wondering if she thought about him at all, and if she did if she thought he had left her like he’d never contacted any other flirt again, triggering the need to escape and go see her -her and his family, but he would have been content to wait the year out if it had just been his family- or the realization that had hit him when she touched him then, a soft and easy touch that made him want more, but not daring to make any other move than a returned tease because she looked so fragile and uncertain. The shock and again not daring to intervene any more than asking once not to go, when she suddenly had turned to leave (as if she had realized he was carrying a contagious deadly disease and she did not want to tell him he’d die horribly the next day). The longing to soothe her for whatever had hurt her but not daring to intervene, the hurt when she never showed up to see him or explain what happened, his fake attempt to distract himself by going after others and taking from Briseis what he would never get from her - a touch, a caress, fake excuses for love. The excruciating pain when she eventually did turn up but pretended all was well. The anger, and words spoken in hurt that she’d triggered. Regret and more distractions when certainly this time she would never want to see him again, girls he’d courted because they attempted to ease his pain, but not even that had worked this time. Not long enough. He could not move on. The anger tantrum he’d thrown in the meadow, at the blue stallion, at his mother. The trek to the mountain, taking it out on a fairy that (of course) would not budge and save him, so he’d taken the step off the ledge deliberately. The numbness when all he’d tried had failed, causing him to be unaware of the predator living inside the mermaid, ending up like one himself. All things stupid, all things traced back to her and she wasn’t even aware.
But perhaps she would be now, because if she wanted an explanation or more answers then she would get them. She could ask anything and he’d readily answer, or do what she asked - if it would just make her happier. In the end, that was all he needed from her.
HTML by Vanilla Custard, picture by x-celebri-x on deviantart
@[Breckin]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
the truth that you'll find will always be the truth you hide
She’d known for awhile now, how he had started to feel about her in the past.
The memory had to come to her by sheer chance while roaming Nerine. Breckin hadn’t been paying attention to where she’d been walking, and inadvertently must have let the carefully kept walls containing her empathic ability to go somewhat lax. Because with the next footfall her vision had become marred, blurred as the ghostly images of her and Leilan flickered to life in front of her. The memory was one that she had suppressed deep within, simply unwilling to go back to the day where the downward spiral had began. But like most things in her life, it had only been a matter of time before the past would come back to haunt her.
And haunt her it did--it would--for many restless nights thereafter, as she was forced to relive the exchange again, this time being fed the wide range of both her emotions and Leilan’s alike. She could’ve shunned the memory away and locked it firmly behind sacred walls, but as the shadows of the past poured into her, she couldn’t find the means to turn away, watching entirely fixated through fluttering lids as she fed off of his emotions at the time, now easily recognizing the deeply rooted feeling within him that she had come to acknowledge that same day.
“Leilan,” she had breathed through her downturned lips. What had she done? You ran away, selfish and scared, the devil inside her whispered eagerly, dragging all her deeply hidden doubts back front and center again. Defeated, drained, useless, her head had hung low, knowing all too well that the growing voice within her was right. And she wondered what she should possibly do, to try to fix it.
The thought had crossed her mind, to track him down, admit all of her mistakes and failures and strange feelings; she’d even taken a few steps eastward towards where Ischia lied. But something stops her short, remembering again the last time she had seen him, and instead of travelling to the island kingdom, she’d found herself weaving her way back through the Forest, to the very spot the pair of them at eyed each other down not so long ago. She’d slipped through the images of the past, feeling everything again—how could it feel so impossibly raw still?—the heat, the anger, the rage, the pain. And hidden beneath weight of all those prevailing emotions, a withered love had managed to survive it all.
Like dust settling on the battlefield after war is waged, the pieces and parts had slowly worked themselves together. Breckin understood entirely now, where all those wicked emotions of his had stemmed from, why he’d verbally lashed out at her after the hasty retreat from the Field.
And in the Forest, she had been forced to hear his bitter last words again.
”So since you're so set on avoiding me, do a better job at it and leave me alone!”
Someone might as well have drove a dull stake into her heart and twisted, it probably would have been less painful than this time hearing those damned words. Because she knew, despite how much she wanted to hold onto the stubborn urge to find him now and question him and apologize and who the hell knows what else…she just couldn’t. The part that still loved him wouldn’t allow it, wouldn’t let her be selfish this time, would only make her stand idly by as a remnant of his past—just so that she could grant him his wish.
To stay out of his life.
And let him be happy.
But the distance between them had hardened her, sharpened her, made looking into his tumultuously changing eyes now relatively easier than it would have in the past. But as the roan stallion confesses to her tonight, the hardened side of her turns malleable, and the sharpness begins to dull; ultimately breaking her down to nothing more than the shadow of the girl she was when they had first met so long ago.
“Finally.” Breckin doesn’t think, only acts out of latent desire, and moves into him, pressing her ivory forehead into his scaled shoulder as if his solidness were the only thing keeping her from collapsing. “It’s not your fault, Leilan. I’m sorry I was the source of your pain for so long.”
Closing her eyes, she sifts through her own memories without difficulty, grabbing that one particular day with fluid ease before easing it into Leilan’s vision. Again, it was the day she’d found him on Nerine’s sands, but this time, she wanted to give him some understanding to her actions in the past. There was no need to show him his own feelings, and so she focuses solely on her own, while showing the vivid memory in its entirety. She showed him the humor she’d felt at first, then shyness she’d felt at his touch, the anger and worry having learned of his capture in Loess, then the worry spiraling out of control only to evolve into a burgeoning love. And how that realization had startled and scared her beyond the means of her understanding. The memory fades away as her past self turned away from him, the last of the emotions felt falling into the lap of sadness as the tears had filled her eyes that day.
Her eyes reopen, but she doesn’t move away, unable to move from the weight of her own admittance and out of rising fear of how he might react.
your world is still lacking of me, how do you love?
@[Leilan] I got tired and might've started rambling. hopefully this all makes sense because she confuses me sometimes lol
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
His words echo at the cave’s walls as they find a way to register with her. It seems forever until she says something, though it could be a split second in real life. But it’s what she says that catches him totally off-guard.
Finally.
Of all things he expected her to do or say - stay silent in defiance, tell him to go away because it does indeed make her happier to be alone than to see him, even tell him to stay, or starting to yell at him instead in well-deserved anger, or coldly tell him to drop dead, or that she doesn’t believe him - of all these things, the word ‘finally’ is the least expected and he can only stare at her.
He finds his voice when she finds her legs, so when she comes forward and he expects an angry blow but instead he recieves a soft touch, something like an embrace, he starts with a half question. ”What are you -“ Doing? Saying? Both could easily be the end of the question he’ll never have to ask, because the answer is suddenly in his head.
It reminds him of the swirls of colour he recieved when initiating for the brotherhood. But this time he knows the source, sees that damned day through her eyes, and understands that he’d triggered that fear in her that he was so afraid of triggering in the first place, that first day, when she would shyly and fleetingly react to his shameless flirting back in the forest’s creek - he knew then that going too fast would mean she’d run, but he’d never guessed that just the mention of a possibility of him being hurt, even when that danger had already been subsided, would do just the same thing. He’d honestly thought he’d said or done something to make her realize that she did not want his attention, not... not this.
And the fact that they hadn’t seen each other for so long had just implied that what he’d assumed then, was true. That she did not want him at all. That she thought they were better off alone, and if she thought so, it would probably be true.
Maybe his idiocy was contagious, or maybe they both always were equal idiots and he’d found his match in her.
Reaching down slowly when the vision she gave him ends, he rests his head around her neck and on her shoulder, thoughts running throught his mind without hold as he doesn’t even try to stop and look at them. He’s very silent, knows he shouldn’t be, but, he just can’t find the right words right away. He’s never been that good with words anyway. Sure, he pretends he is, but really, no. He’ll never make a diplomat, not a good one anyway, as he’s always told his leader.
He tries anyway, though. Perhaps he can make her laugh again after all this. ”You can’t just go and take all the blame here. I’m at least as much an idiot as you are.” he tugs her mane teasingly, though it’s a bit half-hearted. ”So does this mean I can officially keep annoying you from now on? You know I can do that forever if need be.” A serious question packed in an unserious tone - the usual, as it should be. It’s true though, the idiot part - he should have been stubborn enough to waltz back into Nerine and demand an explanation, or even just apologize for hurting her in the first place - the very thing he’d almost-done several times but, unlike today he’d always retreated and on his way back that very autumn, had stumbled upon the black Hyalini mare instead. Things went downhill then.
Somewhere in the wildly loose thoughts he thinks about what he’s done, is wondering what this new ability if hers is, and if it recieves (probably it does) just like it gives - hopes she’ll never visit the base of the mountain, she would be horrified. Anyone would, even the ones not knowing him. Maybe just tell her - later. It’ll have to wait. He doesn’t think he can handle telling her all that had happened right away, maybe tomorrow, if she’ll let him stay that is. With one eye he looks at the cave entrance - pitch black outside, but not that much better for the weather. But he realizes something else.
”You’re cold.” Worry flashes across his face as he retreats from embracing her (reluctantly) to look her in the eye and see if she realized this fact herself, at all. Sure, her skin tried it’s best to keep the cold out, but she’s totally drenched and the evening wintery air is unforgiving, especially the cold winds that come in through the open cave entrance. His scales have kept him from fully soaking, and perhaps his attunement to ice has made him more resistant to the current temperature, but that doesn’t help her in any way. In fact his thicker skin may be less warm to the touch than it used to be, not sharing his body warmth so effectively any more. His abilities aren’t very helpful in warming her up or drying her either (freeze-drying is immediately discarded as the worst idea ever).
He moves, considers blocking her at least from the cave entrance with his own form, shielding her from the wind, but that won’t do long-term, she’s already cold so it’s not enough. Looking from her to the entrance, he considers if there’s a way of blocking it, or at least partly. Hmm. Perhaps he can, though it’s a bit of a risk. An experiment with new abilities. Still, with no other option, he does as he did the day Deiti bit him - with a shake of his head and will of his mind, there’s an outburst of cold, freezing the water just outside. Looking at his creation, a patch of ice and sharp ice spike crystals, he hums a bit to himself. Not exactly a great ice wall like he’d hoped. But when more rain comes down, he tries again with the ceiling. Maybe if the spikes fall down it’ll keep out part of the wind.
It’s hailstones and snowflakes now, also not entirely what he had intended, but with this he can be content. Soon enough there’s a small wall on one part of the cave, made of snow and ice, but leaving enough room on one side for a horse to pass through. Stepping back to admire his work, he then turns triumphantly to the spotted mare. ”That should keep out the worst of the wind.” His eyes flashing turquoise-green, then emerald like his mother’s original colour had been, long ago, as he continues. Though perhaps his mother never had such a mischievous look in her eyes, or not as often as he. ”Though of course, there’s other ways to keep warm at night.” Ah, but he just can’t help it. He doesn’t expect any more cuddles though. Not really. He doesn’t deserve them, doesn’t deserve her, this perfect stupid little love of his, this perfectly cute dotted being with her endless attenpts to make the world good and right. And as the colour turns back to the ice blue, he wonders if he should tell her why he doesn’t deserve her right away, or leave her under the inpression that the world is finally back on track, that everything is finally all right.
Finally, he remembers she said, and only then does he understand why - and opts to not tell her about the children and the fairy and the mermaid, not today. There’s tomorrow for that. Unless of course, she already knows. But if she doesn’t start about it, then he won’t either.
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@[Breckin]
Just about enough rambling to make sense, considering the situation
And here’s some rambling from meeee
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
09-17-2018, 10:07 PM (This post was last modified: 09-17-2018, 10:08 PM by Breckin.)
Suddenly it’s warmer, feeling the pressure of his head resting over her neck and shoulders. And it’s comforting—him being this near—and she can nearly pretend as if the only weight on her shoulders is him.
Until he says something stupid, in jest, but still stupid.
Still she doesn’t pull away, if anything only leaning further into him, though her ears fall into the chest of her neck as she waits for him to stop talking. “Did you just call the queen of Nerine an idiot?” She murmurs into his side, teasing in her own way, wondering if he had already known that she had gained the crown of her home land. But quickly she realized it was unlikely; he probably would have made some joke about it already if he had. And she had absolutely no doubt as to his annoyance capabilities.
All too soon he pulls away, and Breckin voices her displeasure making a disapproving sound in the back of her throat. The absence of his body against hers allows winter’s breath to trace along her sides, sending an inadvertent shudder throughout. I’m fine, she thinks stubbornly, raising her gaze to focus on his. But he’s already further away, working on the opening of the cave with a different skill than she had known him to have before.
Now that the red haze of anger has receded from her eyes, it’s the first time the leopard woman had the chance to really look at him. The sharpness of his teeth reminds her of Ivar, the ever changing eyes remind him of Scorch, and the scales trailing across his body remind her of Viserion. She can’t help but wonder if they’re as tough as the scales that had lined her battle partner.
She watches now, ever curious, as he seems to shape winter herself into a dam of sorts, effectively blocking off the majority of the assailing gusts. There’s appreciation for what he’s doing for her, in the subtle tilt of her spotted head, and the way a fractional smile emerges on her charcoal lips while he’s still turned away.
The smiles runs away from her face however, when he does finally turn back, meeting the various shades of his eyes easily. Of course she’d heard the last of his words, and momentarily she considers ignoring them altogether in light of the heaviness this evening had brought upon them. But it had also been a freeing night thus far, so why should she be so willing switch topics and let it end now?
It could wait until tomorrow.
”There are,” she says demurely with a slow, singular nod. And finally she does allow a minor coy smile to bloom, softening her expression further, while turning warm brown eyes back to search his. ”And it makes me wonder why you’re still standing over there.”
@[Leilan] quick phone post! <3 Sorry no html, only had time for one post and since this was further drafted then the others, this was the pick! XP
09-18-2018, 07:27 AM (This post was last modified: 09-18-2018, 02:58 PM by Leilan.
Edit Reason: typos oml
)
Leilan
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
He nearly missed it; he’d expected the question, are you calling me an idiot, because, yes he was, at the same time he was calling himself even stupider but still. He did. He did it on purpose too, just to call her out, and he had simply hummed in agreement when he brushed past her to lock out the wind - he could not help but notice that she did not give him permission for annoying her, but since she did not object he would assume silent agreement was still an agreement of sorts. Just nothing permanent, it seemed. Maybe it was just too soon for her to agree to anything permanent but whatever, he’ll just stick around whether she wants him to or not. He keeps telling himself to slow down but he really has a hard time with it - he’s had to wait for her so damn long - exactly where that suggestion of keeping warm had come from, also.
But she again knows how to catch him unexpected, how to leave him tong-tied for a few heartbeats, or longer even. By treating his loosely serious-but-expecting-nothing suggestions, take his lame excuse for a half-joke - and take it serious, calls him out on it. It’s the smile he’s been wanting to see for some time now that takes him aback.
...makes me wonder why you’re still standing over there.
He blinks at her a few times. Wait what? But then the realization is there, and doesn’t know how fast to move to be immediately at her side again, nose pressed into her mane, because that’s the only soft part of him - that, and perhaps his mane, tail, fetlocks and belly (but it’s harder to cuddle and kiss with those parts of him). She could have said anything among the lines of come here, you idiot and he knew he’d always react that way. It’s a command he can never ignore. She’s been queen of his heart since the day after they met, the day he could not shake the memory of her. Ah yes, he’d been stupid enough to think it would not last on the day itself, but she must have stolen a piece of him when he wasn’t looking.
Mulling over her comments still, he moves across her neck and mane in an attempt to clean her from the rain and dry her coat at least somewhat, though she’s wet all over. But he can take all night, he’ll gladly do it, because for her he will do anything. But when his mind reaches the point in time not too long ago when she asked if he was calling the queen of Nerine an idiot, he tugs those creamy white mane gently and retreats his head to look at her, slightly worried again. Because she had said something that hadn’t sat well with him. His comments starts off more lightly but the tone can’t be helped to slowly droop down a little. “So, you’re queen of more than just me now? I’d like to say it befits you, but I mostly know you’re great at it because you look... ” He bites his lip, briefly makes a face because his teeth are too sharp, but otherwise ignores it, ”...a bit tired, honestly. Do you not have enough help? What’s my ugly mother doing for Nerine these days?” He needs to know, he’s sorry to break the spell again but he has to ask. To be frank, with the angst gone, and the immediate cold problem partly solved, he can see she hasn’t been sleeping well. Whether that is his fault or the kingdom’s, if he needs to take another load off her shoulder, then he will. It’s out of the question for her to do all of it alone. Apparently even the spirited Wishbone couldn’t bear it, and rightly so, because his mother always had had a habit of putting young girls on the throne and just stand beside them without intervening, she wasn’t stupid enough to take the crown herself after having worn it. But she expected them to carry the weight alone where she opted not to, even if she had father to fall back on. They might learn best that way perhaps but she could step in earlier to take some of that work away from them. At least in his opinion. Or just advise them to appoint another to a high rank to do it if the bald mare thought herself too busy.
Now, Breckin was a mare grown of course. But still he just couldn’t think of her other than secretly fragile underneath it all. She’s grown mentally stronger of course, since they met, but he was still afraid that when someone pushed a certain button she might tear at that point. Not break - she would be smart enough to move with it like a willow tree instead of an oak. So - as far as he was considered she needed someone in the shadows to chase those majority of the pokers away. If Scorch was capable of taking on some duties like patrol, greeting visitors, and some of the diplomatic visits, then that was all right. If not... if she thought she was too old for that... well. ”You know you can ask for anything, don’t you?” Had he voiced that earlier? Perhaps in other words. Perhaps she’d tied it to the previous context, but it was still true for any other situation. Anything for her. And even if she did not want to ask him anything, there must be others in Nerine to ask. Were there? Would it be enough? Were they enough for this precious mare? He’ll have to go find out before he can leave this kingdom.
Hmm, he supposes that means asking his mother what she’s up to, too, and perhaps apologize depending on how she reacts. Oh well. That meeting is overdue also.
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@[Breckin] I am sorry for keeping this on your list of stuff to think about :P he’s not exactly doing what I asked him to (stop talking).
I tried to keep it relatively open at the end because I don’t know what you want with his suggestion but he is living a life of his own and I guess he has overprotective urges and wants to stay/help -shrug-
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
That demure smile of hers grows wider with the small seconds it takes for him to fill the space between them again. It was the reaction she'd been hoping for, and she makes no effort to hide her pleasure in him burying his nose into her water logged mane. Her eyes close dreamily as he works his way across the tangled mess of ivory that lays flatly along her neck. Of course, she could have shaken the heaviness of her winter coat out, but she was much too enjoying the trailing touches he was gifting her with. It's only when he does break away, though thankfully not entirely this time, that she takes the chance at ridding herself of the majority of the troublesome moisture that had solace in her spotted pelt. Unfortunately, there's good chance that the droplets will clash against him, but some deeply rooted understanding makes her believe that he won't necessarily mind.
"My responsibilities have grown somewhat, since we last saw each other." The burden of the crown was much more than she had anticipated she could admit that, but would she go back and change the way the cards had been dealt? Highly unlikely. She smiles again, sadly this time, maybe more tired than anything else. "I'm exhausted, but it's given me a concrete purpose and oddly enough, I think it helps keep me sane." Her gaze hardens a degree, though the small grin doesn't fade, "Don't talk about your mother like that," she chides, "She's preoccupied with other things." Purposefully, she does not elaborate.
Instead to hasten things, and no longer imprisoned by paralyzing uncertainty or shyness, her onyx lips reach to meet the curve of his jaw and she presses a kiss into the same spot she had a few years ago. Only this time, she doesn't pull back, confident for the first time in her stance around him. "What if I'd rather make a demand instead? Asking is so beneath me now," she smiles against the smoothness of the scales that line his neck. Moving her lips downward, she withdraws slightly to spare a glance up at him. "Stay with me. Tonight... forever." Whatever, just stay here with me, at least for a little while. Breckin wouldn't make him stay if he didn't want to, she might hold some power but she had no desire to use it against someone in this context. Certainly not against him either.
That head of hers tilts curiously, watching him carefully beneath shaded eyes.
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