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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening

    COTY

    OCEANE -- Year 208

    QOTY

    "Because if she had not met him, she knew she would have been searching her whole life for the piece that he filled her heart with." -- Eva, written by Shelbi


    [private]  save me from the nothing I've become - carnage
    #1
    “I know when you go
    down all your darkest roads
    I would have followed all the way
    to the graveyard.”
    She used to hate herself for missing him. Missing him used to feel like chaos trying to take a physical form inside of her chest, like bottling up a storm that she knew she’d never be able to control and would shatter her if she tried. She used to get hung up on how it must be wrong – something inherently wrong with her, a flaw in her design, if you could even pin it down to just one thing – to miss someone like him. She has loved the darkness all her life, but this was different. It was a want that has turned into a need, a fascination that morphed into an addiction.

    Her days are spent chasing a high she knows she is never going to find, because no one seems to be able to break her apart the way he can. Their teeth are sharp, but she can heal their wounds as quickly as they can inflict them. They touch her and they take her, and she lets herself think that she is theirs or they are hers, but it would be a lie to pretend he does not constantly haunt the back of her mind.

    Some of the thrill is lost in knowing they cannot scar her, could not even actually touch her anymore if she decided she didn’t want to allow it.

    She knows she is not meant to be an angel because she nearly resents the power it has given her, but she knows, with him, that he could take it all away.

    Having resigned herself to the idea that she will miss him whether it is wrong or right or immoral or completely absurd, she doesn’t dwell on it anymore. Missing him now is a strange feeling of emptiness clinging to her like an invisible cloak, like the storm in her chest has finally worn itself out and left a reluctant kind of peace and acceptance in its wake.

    And when she stands alone in this far corner of the meadow, soft and glowing in the twilight as it fades into dark, she remembers how quickly she grows tired of tranquility.
    ryatah



    please appreciate the Evanescence subject line.

    Carnage
    Reply
    #2

    lord, I fashion dark gods too;


    He isn’t sure what drives him to her, this time. But before he knows it he is there, hidden in the shadows, and for a moment he watches her. She is lovely, in this twilight, but that is easy – there are many lovely creatures in Beqanna, they come a dime a dozen. No, she is something more, that strange and indefinable thing that keeps him returning to her, that keeps him finding new ways to test her.
    (And oh, he has a test biding its time, a thing that is tethered and quiet in the shadows.)
    He emerges – the thing that was beside him does not – and he walks to her side.

    It is infinitely more gentle than their last greeting (where he had torn her throat out, jealous, insulted), as he brushes his muzzle against her. He savors the feel of her skin, the way her ribs move in their breath. He recalls how still they’d been, her corpse unresponsive to his magic, how, for a moment, he had felt something like helplessness. It had been such a disquieting feeling, unfamiliar, for he is a man – a god – used to the world bending to his wills. When she had not listened (not her fault, of course; it had been Gail, whose powers unnerve him in a way he does not entirely admit) he had, for the first time in a very long time, not known what to do.
    And perhaps that feeling should have kept him away from her, lest things go awry again. Yet he is here, touching her.
    He lingers on her throat, now unscarred. As if the whole thing hadn’t happened at all.
    Perhaps he should have left a scar there. A reminder to her. To both of them.
    Ah well. He removes his muzzle from the unblemished flesh, looks at her, instead. Speaks, finally. 
    “Hello again, Ryatah,” he says, “how have you been?”
    As if everything was normal. And perhaps, for them, it was.
    [/size]

    c a r n a g e



    Ryatah
    Reply
    #3
    “I know when you go
    down all your darkest roads
    I would have followed all the way
    to the graveyard.”
    She feels him in the moments before he reveals himself; an inexplicable quickening of her pulse, an almost electric shock that races up her spine. A feeling that she’s being watched, and instead of being afraid there is an ember of hope threatening to spark in her chest – she is afraid of it being him, but more afraid that it might not be. She is afraid that it will never be him again, that the last time really was the last time, and knows it would be impossible to find a god that doesn’t want to be found.

    It’s this feeling that causes her to turn, to catch those familiar wine-red eyes when the shadows fall away from him, and what a foolish girl she must be that her instinct is to smile rather than to run.

    “Carnage,” his name is nearly a whisper in the twilight, spoken in the same soft way of hers despite their last meeting; she doesn’t seem to remember that he had slain her on the mountain top, instead only remembering that he had eventually brought her back. Her memory had a way of doing that to her, and maybe that is why now he makes her heart race for reasons other than fear.

    She can feel her pulse buzzing in reaction to his touch, the way he traces a path across everything he already knows. When he pauses against her throat there is a moment where her heart seems to stop and her breath goes still, and she remembers choking on blood, and Gail, and reawakening at his feet. But then he withdraws, and she lowers her haloed head to touch her mouth to his dappled shoulder, because she misses the feel of galaxies and magic and him beneath her lips. “I’ve missed you,” she says quietly in response to his question, and maybe it’s a strange thing to confess to the man that has blinded her once and killed her twice, but she supposes it’s a useless endeavor to think she can hide it.

    But then she too pulls away, gold-tipped wings tight to her sides when she looks up at him with the faintest hint of trepidation finally edging its way into the dark of her eyes and the questioning lilt of her voice, “But I assume you aren’t here just because you missed me, too.” 
    ryatah
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