"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
In another universe, he is suave and beautiful: both shadow and light and twisting endlessly beneath the stars. He tucks a beautiful woman close to his hips, wraps lithe fingers around her hand, and spins her wildly until she bursts into delighted and dizzy giggles. He smiles, impossibly white teeth just a little too small and glittering against the moonlight.
Talk like an angel . . .
He presses his lips to her ear and whispers something silly just when she thinks he is going to completely sweep her off her feet. Maybe she’ll smack him away playfully or tug him in closer—either way, he will have her exactly where he wants her. Wrapped tautly around his fingers and relaxed in all of the most vulnerable ways, he whisks her in a slow circle.
But I got wise . . .
One cool hand winds up her spine and to the back of her neck. He finds his fingers mingling with the silky locks of her raven hair, her lips turn up in a shy smile, both of their heart rates pick up . . . The wind blows just hard enough to break him from his reverie, the smell of her perfume overwhelming—he blinks the haze away and draws back, his pointer finger and his thumb dragging a thick piece of her hair to the side.
You’re the devil in disguise . . .
Draco blinks away sleep, a late morning breeze tangling the rough white locks of his mane. He peers around as he realizes he has slept late. Huh, I’m depressed, he thinks, and with a shrug of already bored shoulders he slowly climbs to his hooves. Maybe I should just go back to sleep.
The fantasies there are much better, yes; but the budding young man can’t let his sister go unattended for too long (what exactly is he up to there?). There are some exciting things, like his horn-eyed half-sibling he is still observing. Litotes did not mention his children to each other very much, but the ones he was proud of he could not help but speak their names’ a little more often. Ghaul, this one is, and Draco thinks he might be only truly fascinating thing in all of Beqanna.
Speaking of the hell-spawn, the demon-boy knows he must be wandering somewhere in the red dust and clay; so he sets off to find him.
this is a stupid thing i had stuck in my head so i made into a post that doesn't make sense because starters do! not! matter! anyways
do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?
Ghaul was never meant to be something beautiful and regal. He was carved from granite and forged from discarded metal, an amalgamation of failures and dead gods alike. But the dying words of all the forgotten titans formed a prayer, an invocation for something greater than them and for more terrible. When he moves, each step leaves a trail of claw marks and the smell of burning forests. But he is the son of the dawn, the Morningstar that guides the hand of fate, and today he is drawn to his brother.
His scent reminds him of Litotes and he hunts it ravenously as he weaves through the gullies and the ditches of Pangea, stepping over ancient squid beaks and sun bleached coral. Those great curled horns turn slowly from left to right as he searches for the smear of bright yellow and red among the blues of a chilly spring. While his brother is charming and debonair, Ghaul is brute force and gnashing teeth. They are two sides of the same coin and his bones hum in delight at their impending meeting.
He pauses to breathe deeply and then he hurries off, his claws tearing deeper tracks into the clay as his wings tuck tight to his back. The morning sun warms him and urges him forward until he spots something meandering at the curve ahead. The wyrm spreads his wings to bring him to a sudden halt while a grin spreads across his face, all crooked teeth and scarred lips. This one. This is his brother, he thinks as his tail flicks eagerly.
He wastes no time skittering forward with a pleased sort of chittering coming from his throat. Ghaul feverishly traces his nose over Draco’s cheek to map his face and he can’t help the laugh that comes bubbling up his throat. Together, they will bring the world to its knees. Empires will topple at their feet and shout prayers of thanks to them for the honor. His nose reaches Draco’s temple and he places a brotherly kiss there before pulling his head back.
“Brother, light to my shadow,” he says with a grin. His talons anxiously paw at the red dust beneath him. “I am Ghaul, devourer of legions.”
ghaul
@[draco] theyre going to get into SO MUCH trouble together. i can already tell.
11-30-2019, 12:58 AM (This post was last modified: 11-30-2019, 01:57 PM by Desire.)
sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants —
She liked to watch the residents of Pangea, but she did not often approach them.
Most of her time was spent with her brother, admiring him as he further perfected his craft. There was something so terrifyingly beautiful about Stave, with his blanket of galaxies across his skin and his innate ability to control death and everything surrounding it. She doesn’t think she would ever grow tired of watching him; like she never grew tired of staring at the stars in the night sky or the dawn as it first breaks, or watching the waves crash against the shore or the way snow glitters on mountain-tops. He was beautiful, in that way – beautiful enough to outweigh all the danger he weilded.
It never occurred to her that she was equally beautiful. She wasn’t old enough to realize that one day her body would be her weapon – that her galaxy-skin hugged tightly over svelte curves would be more than enough to lure anyone in, and if it wasn’t? She could paint them a picture of anyone they wanted; she could be absolutely anything they wanted her to be.
She would remold herself, for them, and she doesn't know how dangerous that is, either.
Today, she watches the two boys – Ghaul, and another one that she does not know the name of. He is striking, with his own constellations and magnetic darkness, and if that was not enough to draw her in, listening to Ghaul’s introduction certainly is. It was similar to what he had said when Anaxarete became queen, and she can't let it slide past her. Her laughter precedes her approach, and by the time she draws nearer to them there is still the echoes of it written in the smile on her pale lips when she asks him, “Do you eat everything?” She knows he cannot see the way her black eyes glitter with amusement, but she casts her gaze to the other boy and gives a teasing roll of her eyes. “Empires, legions...he’s got an interesting diet.” She slips forward until she is nearly alongside Draco now, the stars and nebulas across her back set alight by the cool spring sun. “My name is Desire, by the way.”
your breath frozen in the air, newborn droplets of iceyou were the one thing i got right
She’s been in Pangea a few days now, and Castile hasn’t rained hellfire on the kingdom yet, so she figures that she’s either in the safe or he just hasn’t yet realized that she’s left. The bit of freedom she has begun to experience makes her crave even more – she doesn’t know if she’ll return to Loess after this. Pangea is strange and new and sandy and while Loess had a plethora of new things to discover on the daily, this place is alien and almost scary and it fascinates the angel child.
The girl keeps her wings pulled to her sides as she explores, hoping to run into Ghaul or her new friend Draco. She is surprised that Ghaul hasn’t found her yet – with his heightened predatory senses, it would have been a quick game for him to locate her amongst the kingdom that lacks in foliage. She wonders if the fire in her burns red, or the blues of the hottest of the flames in his mind... maybe she’ll have to ask him. No, she will ask him, next time she sees him here. If this is to be the place where they settle while he topples empires, she needs to know everything there is to know about him.
It doesn’t take her long to hear his delighted chittering, not far ahead. She hurries forward eagerly, but a feminine laugh slows her pace. Is he with another girl? She’s told herself before that she doesn’t mind if he finds company with other girls, but nothing prepares her for the white-hot flash of jealousy that almost throws her into a full shift; she finds her talons digging anxiously into the ground and she rushes around the bend, nearly colliding with Ghaul and Draco.
Awkwardly she slides to a halt and looks over at the unfamiliar girl, trying to force herself to relax. The galaxy marked girl isn’t anywhere near Ghaul, but the way she teases the blind boy makes Clarissa uncomfortable and she entwines herself into her Ghaul, her feathered wings brushing against his leathery ones and her taloned feet brushing nervously against his. She hasn’t had much social interaction outside of her family and she feels awkward and nervous, but she forces herself to look at Desire and smile softly.
“If you knew Ghaul, you’d know he’ll destroy anything in his path to greatness,” she tells her, her golden eyes sparkling as she talks of the boy she loves. “I’m Clarissa,” she adds, dipping her head politely at the starry stranger. As awkward as she is, it is good to not feel so lonely, and she hopes that they can be friends.
12-05-2019, 12:01 PM (This post was last modified: 12-05-2019, 12:02 PM by draco.)
draco
hitch a ride on my violence
“Hmmmm,” Draco hums to himself as the constant breeze of Pangea ties his flecked mane in knots. He drags a curious gaze across the horizon before picking up the crash of an approaching equine. The dust stirs at his hooves when he halts, finding a home in the fur just above his hooves that tints his glimmering black red. Briefly, he admires the sunset red color—and when he returns his gaze to ahead of him, his horn-eyed brother is rushing toward him.
While most will fear Ghaul’s headlong rush, Draco’s chest merely swells in anticipation. He grows giddy with the feeling: a fiercely wide grin splits his lips, a little shuffling prance moves his hooves, a ballooning in his head clouds his emotions. The demon boy leans into his brother’s studying, eager for him to know every cut of his chin and knit of his brow. For the first time since Litotes’ disappearance, Draco feels almost . . . content.
He smiles a smile that hums and lives and births futures.
“Ghaul, shadow to my light,” he murmurs back, dragging glowing crimson eyes over every line the drake possesses. “I am Draco . . .” he trails off while swallowing back a laugh, feeling as if he should have a title but knowing it is not quite his style.
“They call me a demon.” That feels right.
Draco realizes that he is so focused on Ghaul’s physical presence that he has not yet touched his thoughts. As he is about to immerse himself, the persistent thoughts of another flood in. The demon whips his head around, feeling almost protective of the creature that is certainly much fiercer than he. Disrespect and irritation that someone would interrupt their meeting sends waves of fear from his eyes; but the second his peering finds a dark and pretty girl, the light immediately shuts off.
Patiently and politely, the demon remains quiet as she jokes. A charming smile curls his mouth as he thinks how Ghaul probably wants to devour her. His expression might be creepy if he had not spent his life molding a debonair prince to hide a hideous king’s son.
“Desire, a darling name,” he murmurs and actually means it. A sensation he has never felt in his life churns in his stomach: anxious anticipation. His stomach does a flip and he forces himself to look away from the illusionist. “Not as darling as dear Ghaul, here, though.” Teasing makes him feel better, so tease he will.
Another girls persistent thoughts make an intrusion, forcing Draco to swallow back an exasperated sigh. Hers are insecure and very clearly about Ghaul—both facts that make Clarissa recognizable even before he sees her face.
As the angel curls around Draco’s brother, discomfort blooms in his chest. He casts a curious look over to Desire before straightening out and leveling Clarissa with an amused gaze. “You seem to know him very well, Clarissa. Just how well do you know him? I don’t think Desire here has heard enough.” He punctuates his questioning with a flick of his tail against Desire’s legs. A suggestive grin gleams in his teeth but he keeps himself in check, merely leaning on one back leg and cocking the other out in the galaxy girl’s direction.
draco is thirty flirty and thriving
@[ghaul] @[Desire] @[clarissa]
do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?
He can see the outline of Draco’s legs as they eagerly step in place while Ghaul rushes toward him. His wings snap open to an impressive width while he examines his brother’s face, content with what he finds. Draco is much like their father and this thought draws immediate approval from the depths of the nightmare boy’s heart. The brother counters his greeting and a wild clicking emanates from his throat when he introduces himself. A demon! A boisterous laughter fills the air as Ghaul folds his wings back over himself.
All demons were angels, once, he thinks. They all knew the Morningstar and still they chose the night. Likewise, the pair will choose the twilit path and carve the earth to their liking.
Another approaches, though, and he turns his head when the sound of her laughter comes trailing after his own. Blindly, he follows the blur of her warmth as his smile fades to gritted teeth coupled with a brief snort of disapproval. Desire. He opens his mouth for some hissing response but there are feathers trailing their way along the membrane of his wings that distract him. Immediately, his annoyance is extinguished and he curves his head beneath her chin in greeting. There is a short purr as he bumps his nose lightly to her jaw, then he turns back to his brother and Desire.
“Clarissa is my twin flame, whose burning shames the sun,” he explains, nodding to himself as he speaks. “She wishes to aid us in our conquests, Draco. If we are united, dynasties will crumble beneath the enormity of our greatness.”
The corners of his lips regain their curl to form a toothy grin as he turns to look at Desire once more, horned face tilting to consider her for a moment. Would she be a fourth member of their party, he wonders? There are four kings in Hell, after all, so he supposes it would only be right to have four on this plane as well.
“And what of you, Desire? Will you walk our path or do you only like to watch?”
His expression is eager, though for which answer remains unclear. Slowly, his wing drapes itself over Clarissa while a single talon on his foreleg taps the ground with an impatient click click clicking.
sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants —
She is nothing like her companions, but she doesn’t yet know all the reasons why.
Her mother had said that her and Stave came from the stars, but she cannot fully comprehend how. She is too young to realize that they are an almost impossible creation, that from the stars does not logically make any sense at all; that most cannot just go to the stars and create children. They were set apart from the rest in that aspect, but Desire doesn’t understand it – not yet, at least.
She does know that she is different, though. She is different because she does not understand the insecurity that reads so plainly on the other girl’s face when she approaches and secures herself next to Ghaul. The idea of not being entirely confident in yourself was a foreign concept to her, and it causes her eyes to flicker across Clarissa’s face with something that is a mix between curiosity and pity.
She is different because she does not understand why Ghaul feels the need to verbally announce his greatness, when true greatness can be seen. Her father is great, but she cannot imagine that he ever has to tell anyone. He is great enough, in fact, that Ryatah hasn’t ever told them much about him – at least, not her experiences with him. But the stories that run rampant in Beqanna are plentiful enough that her and Stave have filled in most of the blanks on their own, and it’s why Ghaul can tell her he’s going to be great all he wants, it still stirs nothing inside of her.
Her dark eyes look back to Draco when he speaks, silently observing his own wants and desires that seem to radiate from him. She is surprised that with him, it’s relatively easy to pinpoint what he wants – a brief image of a silver girl covered in curious dapples and snowflakes that shimmer on her nose flickering somewhere in her mind – and she isn’t sure why she finds this amusing. She of course has no idea who the girl is, and it doesn’t make a difference. It was the fact that he was one of the first she has come across with a clear want rooted inside of him, and it is all she can do to stifle the need to cast an illusion just to see what will happen.
Ghaul addresses her, and her shark-black eyes look to him, roving over the place where his eyes should have been. “I don’t have to conquer anything. The world is already mine.”
