"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
01-29-2019, 12:47 AM (This post was last modified: 01-29-2019, 12:48 AM by litotes.)
boy what's normal to you? 'cause that sure ain't normal to me.
A lion, captured and pacing: unruly away from his ruling. There is no one here to save him, much less give him friendly company. Instead, he is left to his thoughts and his loneliness.
Litotes has not left his lion-form much since he was caught within the borders of Loess, a fact that blurs his days and passes time far too quickly. No small animal finds mercy beneath his furious, itching paws. As a feline, he does not need to think, feel: his only desire to eat those rendered worthy of his wrath and to nap irately beneath what shade he can find.
Most days, he is splayed out like a true lion: flicking his tail atop a boulder, seething in a way only felines are truly capable of. This day is no different from the rest. The Primarch has found a smooth rock lined with moss, cushioned in a natural way he finds familiar to his home in Hyaline. Here he observes the flat area spreading before him, wryly considering his temporary space a kingdom to survey. Survey he does: golden eyes glittering and ruthless against the white of his fur, forbidding any to approach him.
Was it a mistake? Rash? Uncouth? He does not ponder his actions for terribly long now, his first days in Loess offered enough time to regret. Yet, he does not regret it, for the most part - even now, in his fury and displeasure. He considers Vulgaris to be just as rash, and the whispers of a surprise war on all of Beqanna went against everything the East stands for.
At least he hesitantly believes so for now.
The lack of communication on the Council’s part leaves him wondering.
None of that is any matter, though - not in his mini-kingdom.
and if i fall would you know that to do? and if i'm caught up would you stay?
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me, do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
She had seen him arrive, but she had not yet approached. She was brash, but not entirely foolish; she wasn’t about to walk directly into a lion’s jaws.
And so, she watched him, observing him for a few days as he paced. She could see the tension as it spiraled off of him, could almost smell the fury that roiled beneath his pallid pelt. She imagines she would feel the same if she had to be kept caged, whether the bars were real or imaginary, solid or invisible. She didn’t feel bad for him, but she could empathise – or imagine being able to, at least. It was difficult to feel pity, however, when he had essentially brought this upon himself. He had delivered the first blow, and Loess had struck back.
Beneath the warmth of the spring sun, she finally decides to flesh out their visitor. There is a certain calculation to her steps when she walks towards him, the glowing dapples of stars that spread across her skin flickering with the roll of her muscles. There is a sudden toss of her head, sending her dark, almost black forelock away from her cobalt blue eyes, letting her gaze settle on his feline face. ”You must be Litotes,” There is nothing accusatory in the way she says it, her voice honeyed and smooth, as it so often was. She has stopped what she considers a safe distance from him, a knowing, almost impish smile lifting at the edge of her steel gray lips. ”I’m Starsin.”
Here, a soft, but overly-exasperated sigh is expelled from her lips, as she tilts her delicately crafted head and says almost derisively, ”I probably wasn’t worth all this trouble, was I?” She can’t help but to laugh, and it is nearly mocking and harmonious all at once, her dark blue eyes glittering with a childlike mirth. It had been so long since she last pushed someone to the brink, and she wonders if he will be unfazed by her clear attempt at getting a rise out of him, or if he will just tear her open right there.
boy what's normal to you? 'cause that sure ain't normal to me.
Starsin’s sultry scent comes to Litotes faster than her physical form. The quick breeze ruffles his lion’s mane as he turns his head to the direction it came - eyes falling into cold, detached slits. The wind tells the Primarch that a mare is wandering closer than most of the residents of Loess, but still he pays no more mind than the previous glance. If she approaches, then she approaches; the captive has not a care in the world.
As the minutes pass, he dreams of his Kensa: her soft golden fur just beneath his lips, the melody of her laugh, the fire in her eyes when she whispers about how beautiful their home is. Just a passing glimpse of their youthful conversations from years ago presses a longing into his chest like nothing he has felt before. Who he was before leadership, pain, sickness - oh, how the time has twisted his mind.
Just like his father.
A snarl curls his lips back, but before a noise can be uttered, the gray mare stops a short distance from his place atop the rock. Surprise passes over his face, warmth that appears misplaced amongst the negativity he typically feels. The thought that he likes the sugary sound of her voice passes through his mind, quickly followed by interest at her wicked smile. If their meeting had come sooner, her well-hidden snideness might have sent hot anger up his throat; instead, he merely cocks his head and twitches his ears.
Yes, the couple of weeks in Loess have furthered his dark attitude, and he takes quite a liking to her poorly illuminated manipulation. A smile just as coy curls dangerously up his lips, revealing the cruel points of deft canines.
“Is your worth based in psychopathy or just poor self esteem?” he asks, smile fading into a suggestive line. Litotes is almost certain the girl has an inflated sense of self, but finds it amusing to play her game.
Before offering her anything else, he stands suddenly - drifting lazily into a signature cat-stretch (legs outstretched, butt in the air, tail pointed to the sky in a pleasurable quiver). The ground is soft beneath his paws when he leaps to the ground, offering her a faux open gaze as he pads closer.
“Maybe you’re not worth anything at all, Starsin,” he purrs, wrapping his tail over his paws when he settles into a relaxed sit, just a few feet from her. “But something tells me that you are. Humor me, does your snake-king take orders from you or is it the other way around? Perhaps you can advise me just as you’ve been doing with Vulgaris.” The growl in the back of his throat is charmed, a hoarse feline laugh.
The Primarch is no idiot. Beqanna talks, and when a new king does something as rash as to declare war the day his rule begins, people will listen. Litotes did just that: analyzed the rumors as they came. There is something terribly suspicious about a two year old advisor that has been unknown until now. Certainly there is manipulation involved. He knows nothing other than his assumptions, but perhaps time and a little conversation will tell. The lion shrugs: “I’m sure the East can offer you far more than a new king.”
and if i fall would you know that to do? and if i'm caught up would you stay?
02-12-2019, 03:45 AM (This post was last modified: 02-12-2019, 03:45 AM by Starsin.)
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me, do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
He reacts perfectly. She always appreciated someone that could play the game in return, instead of forcing her to make all the moves. It was amusing to be completely in control, but it became dull and monotonous when it happened every time. She has not fooled him, and she can see that, even without reaching into his mind. It shows in the knowing glint in his feline eyes, and in the way which his line is delivered. It sparks a laugh from her tongue, silver and sickeningly sweet. ”Psychopath seems like an awfully strong word,” and she slips forward a few steps, the glowing constellations of her side glittering with the roll of her muscles as she moves, and she says with a quirk of her brow and a mock nonchalance, ”I guess it must just be my low self-esteem, then.” Another sigh, though it is accentuated with a cheshire-cat smile. She had her insecurities – more than she would ever admit, and so for as long as she has been alive, she has crafted a facade to keep them hidden. She buried them all beneath layers upon layers of pretty smiles and even prettier lies, until she was so full with her own deceit she almost didn’t notice the void that still lay beneath.
She watches the relaxed and lazy way in which he stretches, and perhaps it is foolish of her to feel no fear when he settles just a few feet from her. She might ignorantly see herself as an equally matched predator of sorts, though certainly she would think better of it should those teeth ever find themselves sinking into her flesh. He incites another laugh from her, and with a shake of her head she looks up with her glittering blue eyes and says tauntingly, ”What makes you think I would reveal anything to you, prisoner?” But the smile that is threaded so loosely across her lips reveals that she is not at all irritated by his prying questions; there wasn’t much to risk being revealed anyway. ”If Vulgaris chose to take my advice, that’s not really my fault, is it?” Of course not. She didn’t wield the necessary power to force anyone into doing anything. All she could do was plant the seeds in their minds, and water and nurture them until they bloomed.
Or, alternatively, let them die because she forgot, or lost interest.
When she watches the pale lion, she cannot help but to wonder what kind of seeds would do well in his mind. She studies him discreetly, admiring the raw power that lay within the compact mass of his lion frame, and she cannot help but to wonder if he is just as fearsome in his equine form. But moreso, she is intrigued by his mind. He is clearly angered and irritated at being here, which is not surprising. But there is something to be said for the way he was able to carry on a smart and bantering conversation instead of resorting to slinging insults, or shutting down entirely. ”You must miss Hyaline, but don’t worry,” She pauses, with that artful tilt of her head to steady her gaze with his, and that same rolling purr of her voice when she continues, ”You’ll be back in your sanctuary home soon enough. I’m sure your sentence will fly by.”
boy what's normal to you? 'cause that sure ain't normal to me.
Litotes is certain that his purring companion does not lack self-worth: the presumptuous way she presses closer, the pretty gleam in her eyes, the unadulterated quips. He is pleased every second of their conversation - finally entertained and perhaps attracted. The laugh from moments before echoes like pretty bells in his ears (they swivel around, following the noise as it swings back and forth).
When Starsin avoids responsibility for her manipulation, his mane swishes with an interested nod. He rises slowly to his feet, attention focused on her voice all while making sure his movements are not too predatory. A little version of of the Primarch prances uneasily in his mind, murmuring about wanting to climb into Starsin’s brain. He allows his little thought self to pace, tucking those anxieties away for a much angrier rainy day. For now, he has a mission - to help the East while he is confined (and maybe to find a little personal intrigue within the woman offering deception).
As she finishes, Litotes winds a tight circle around her legs, studying the glowing constellations as he goes. “Prisoner . . . sanctuary . . .” he rumbles, the diction rattling in the back of his throat. “You just know all the buzz words, huh, Starsin?” He pauses when the circle is almost complete, takes a single teasing sniff at her neck. Facing her once again is where he stops, this time much closer and his gaze much more daring. She can’t be totally loyal to Vulgaris, he thinks - that would be far too boring.
In a split second, Lie makes a decision even he does not expect: shifting back into his equine form. The muscles are a bit mechanical when they settle, but soon he is back in his handsome horse countenance.
“I didn’t want you to think I was threatening you with anything other than a good time,” he quips, long tail swishing capriciously against his hocks. “Mustn’t harm the king’s only line to the rest of Beqanna . . .” he pauses, glances behind Starsin then back again, “Though you must be wanting to relax from all that pressure, hm?” By the end of his sentence he is only murmuring, the faint smile on his face revealing the sharp canines that still linger.
and if i fall would you know that to do? and if i'm caught up would you stay?
Litotes
@[Starsin] i'm going to beat him with a stick the stupid whore
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me, do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
When he curls close to her legs it does not occur to her that she should consider backing away. That to be so close to the clutches of a predator was not something to trifle with, but in her youthful naivety, this does not cross her mind. The steel-gray tip of her muzzle is dangerously close to his pale pelt, although she does not minimize the space enough to create contact. They are close enough, however, that she can nearly feel the rumble of his voice, and it brings a smile that is saturated in satisfaction to her lips. “It’s easy to find the buzzwords when you know where to look.” She does nothing to hide the clandestine way in which the statement is delivered, though she does not divulge what she means by it – not quite yet.
Her cobalt-blue eyes are unwavering when locked with his, and for a moment her heartbeat quickens. It was not often that anyone got under her skin, but he incited something in her; something that she quickly smothers away, and if anything had faltered in her cool stare, she is quick to amend it. He shifts then, almost suddenly, until he stands before her as a stallion rather than the prowling predator he had been. She cannot help the way her eyes appreciatively study the sharp angles of his face as she looks up at him, taller than her now. With a quirk of her brow she slinks a slow half circle around him, not attempting to hide how she admires his masculine frame. “You certainly clean up nice, don’t you.” Briefly, her mind drifts from her previous thoughts of manipulation and curiosity, a quick flash of desire licking like flames across her skin. She extinguishes them hastily, as she responds flippantly, “A good time, huh? Maybe someday as a last resort I’ll let you show me what you mean by that.” And with that she side-steps away, her movements deft and light, casting him a coquettish simper. “I can assure you, I’m completely relaxed. Don’t worry your pretty little head about me and my fragile nerves.”
She quiets, then, sifting past his current thoughts – of her and their little game they had started – and delving into something deeper. Into the meat of what she was really after. “One of your queens came to visit you – the dreamweaver, Kagerus. It didn’t go well, did it?” She’d let him piece that puzzle together; it was more fun that way. “You could stay here, you know. Loess would appreciate you far more than Hyaline ever did.”
I manipulated the timeline a little since technically Kag talked to him "after" this convo, but, I wanted Starsin to not-so-subtly hint that she could read his mind, so, here we are.
