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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    [open]  like atomic bombs in reverse
    #11

    That grin he wears makes her want to wipe it off his face - that knowing look is something she is known for sporting and she finds it less than amusing on another’s face. However, because it is Isakov, she allows it; he is beautiful and mysterious and lovely, and if anyone is allowed to be smug (beside herself), she decides that it is a look that suits the galaxy-strewn boy quite well. She returns his smile with her own knowing smirk, something like fondness twinkling in her vibrant gold irises.

    Sunlight watches him carefully in the darkness, inspecting the soft glow he emits. It’s curious to her and in the darkness she draws nearer to him, unfamiliar with the starlight as compared to her firelight. It is soft where her flame is bold and brash - a gentle glow, cool and inviting, like meadow grasses in the shade of a sunny day. She watches as the spirals move on their own accord, shimmering splendid now that her light does not steal from him. She’d never admit it, but in this moment, she didn’t mind that she was not the center of attention. She nearly touches him, taking the gold of her mouth to the dark patches that run in spiraling nebulae across his face.

    When he speaks is when she realizes she had been lost within his galaxies. She snorts softly, lifting her chin slightly and raising her brows, her expressive eyes finding his. She returns his smile as he affirms her dislike of silly games by announcing he doesn’t either and there is even a trill of a laugh that expels from her throat.

    Her flame brightens the darkness that had surrounded them, making their shadows dance on the nearby trees that have gone unnoticed by them for quite some time. “I’m not sure yet,” she replies with a grin, wondering if she should follow the urge to let her lips sweep across his cheek. “Maybe I’ll trust you with nothing.” She’s lying, of course, and he would see that easily in the way she smiles at him, “but maybe I’ll trust you with everything.”

    There is something in his mind that is suddenly out of place, jumping out at her. She plucks it carefully, her own expression becoming thoughtful for a moment. “What do you see beneath my surface, Isakov?” An innocent enough question, brought to life by a thought of his own.

    sunlight




    @[isakov]
    Reply
    #12
    throw me in the water, don’t think about the splash i will create
    leave me at the altar, knowing all the things you just escaped

    For the space of a breath he thinks she might touch him. He nearly trembles with the anticipation of it. The way she’s looking at him, so quiet in the darkness that he is forced to wonder if they exist at all. If he has merely dreamed this. It gets his head swimming and it is only after she draws away that he releases the breath he had not realized he’d been holding. There is some new ache in the cage of his chest, something like a crater, like she had carved something out of him when she’d come close enough to breathe her but had stopped just short of touching.

    He shifts his weight and studies her smile. Listens, quite intently, to the sound of her laughter. It has its own gravity, he finds. It tugs everything in him in her direction, even if he does not physically move any closer. She tilts her head and, absently, he mirrors her.

    He exhales a thin breath as she answers, shakes his head subtly. Enough to be seen but not enough to disturb the rarified air around them. He searches her gold eyes a moment before he speaks. “I don’t think you could trust me with everything,” he tells her, honest. Because he knows, even now, that he cannot be trusted with hearts. With emotions that matter. In this, he will bring nothing but ruin. But she will be the only one he ever warns.

    He is not disarmed by her question. She can see into his mind and he has made no effort to stop her. It is natural that this thought would catch her attention, isn’t it? Wouldn’t she want to investigate this way in which he thinks they might be similar?

    They are still close enough that either of them could reach out and touch the other and it makes his heart beat sideways. But he tips his head to peer steadily at her chest. He sees nothing but fire there. The flicker of flame in the shimmer that lives in them all.

    Fire,” he says and his smile deepens as he shifts his eye back to catch hers again. “Is it fire that you love?

    isakov



    @[Sunlight]
    Reply
    #13

    It is his answer that makes her act on her idea, her daring smirk remaining on her golden mouth as she brings it to graze across the deep violet black of his smooth cheek. Sunlight presses her smile into his near-sparkling skin, slightly surprised that there is any substance to him at all; she had been certain that he would fall away the moment her lips dared to touch him. “I think maybe you’re right,” she replies in devilish agreement, realizing that his honesty brings a single and poignant thought to her forefront: perhaps no one could be trusted, at least not fully.

    She has not attempted to put any distance between herself and him. It feels like it had taken so much to get to this point - nearly chest to chest, cloaked in shadow and an intense mixture of starlight and firelight. But as her next question leaves them in a moment of silence, she draws her face away from him so that she may see his reaction more clearly. He is not shocked in any way by the gravity of it and instead seems to give her that knowing smile that she has already come to enjoy.

    Then his eyes fall across her and she wonders if he could see her shiver beneath his golden gaze or if the darkness of the shadows and the gentle flicker of flame keeps it hidden.

    Is anything hidden from him, truly? Are secrets not really secrets to him, just like they are to her? Isakov must be able to see in the same way that she hears. She decides this is so when he speaks of love and fire - for her, the two are synonymous. His handsome smile darkens as his sharp eyes flash to hers and she wonders why he asks her things when he already knows the answer.

    “I do,” she admits without hesitation, “and perhaps one day I will learn to love other things.” Does he find her selfish for doing so? She wonders if he can see beyond the flame, that it is not the heat that draws her in; it is the power within it, the ferocity, the unpredictability. Those are the things she loves, but all she knows is the fire that represents it. “What will you do, now that you know such an intimate thing about me?” In the time she had been speaking, she’s drawn close to him again, pressing her muzzle against the darkness of his jawline and throat.

    sunlight



    @[isakov]
    Reply




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