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    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


    [private]  but damn you've got the sharpest teeth
    #1
    GALADRIEL

    The change came immediately after Galadriel awoke from the Gods' quest. Her eyes shuttered, rapid-fire and panicked, paired with shallow breathing and anxious nausea. Suddenly, the blue of her coat held all new meaning: she was to water as the earth was to the sun.

    She lurched forward then, spun out and exhausted, blinded by an instinct she could not understand. Her vision tunneled to pinpricks, her ears rang, her legs twitched even as she tried to abate them with a reckless gallop. What was the last thing she remembered before being whisked away to that beach? Had it been a day? Had it been years? Did the magic keep her sleeping for longer than she needed to?

    It would make sense, wouldn't it? Such a transformation takes time. She wondered what she had left behind and realized nothing--

    Save for a wobbly, scaled girl. The memory of her first and only daughter manages to give Rel pause; but not enough of a pause, merely just a stumble in her gallop, for she has always been selfish and careless. She was never going to be a good mother anyway, is what she tells herself. The child surely found what she needed elsewhere, she thinks. (But did Rel ever find what she needed elsewhere? a thought nagging at the back of her mind. No, she did not; but that didn't matter like it might have when she was a child.

    What mattered were the cliff faces of the Nerine, the salt spray of the ocean, the sound of waves crashing dangerously against rocks.)

    It's there that she stops, chest heaving upon a beach. She might find it ironic if her skin was not crawling with the need to bury herself in the waves. Above her, Autumn storm clouds roll, foretelling of a dangerous ocean. She doesn't care, no--Rel rarely does. She splashes into the frothing gray water, stopping at knee deep and shivering..



    @Reave this is really bad bc i was desperate to get something out of my brain plz bear with me
    #2

    i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

    She is as reckless and heedless as he remembers her to be, no caution in her steps as she crashes against the surf as though she could break it like the stones behind her. He sees first, a wisp of future he isn’t entirely certain would come to pass. But he goes to that place along the cliffs because he has always loved to gamble.

    He has always loved the sense of satisfaction when the gamble pays off.

    The bone-clad stallion watches with undisguised curiosity as she arrives like the monsoon her skin has now become. He can see the changes in her even before he sees the rest of it. Memories of terror and pain. Memories of a stolen future and distant, faraway monsters. Memories of a filly with trembling knees left behind.

    His own thoughts stutter at that, but he quickly recovers. She has a life just as he does. He would be a hypocrite to begrudge her that.

    Perhaps he is a hypocrite though.

    Rune shrieks in the sky overhead as Reave begins his descent to the rock-strewn beach battered by thunderous waves. The storm building around them makes the salt-spray of the sea wild and unpredictable, but Reave has never balked at danger. Rune might chide him for it, but what sense of caution he’d ever had had been stolen and remade into the bird. The red and white Guardian is left only with his own clawing need to act.

    When he reaches the surf where she stands, Reave draws to a halt several paces behind her, blue eyes glittering in the skull masking his features. When he finally speaks, the words are threaded with an amusement that can’t quite cover the bite of the words. “You’ve been busy.”

    reave



    @galadriel
    #3
    GALADRIEL

    Galadriel feels Reave before she sees him. He is there, so very there, in her memories. She doesn’t rear her head away from his searching, doesn’t quiver in fright. The memories he finds are ones she offers, she’s sure of it. Rel invites him in, as she always will, with no shame to blanket her memories.

    When he comes to her as she hoped (and knew, deep down, knew that he would), Rel releases a reverent breath and turns her head, violet eyes bright with so many words that will remain unsaid. She doesn’t deny him the bite of his words, doesn’t deny him the brunt of his feelings; instead, Galadriel turns to face him, chest still heaving from the weight of her new magic. She might smile at him, welcoming, but neither of them are particularly warm—and she is certain she doesn’t need to offer Reave affection for him to know what swells in her chest at the sight of him.

    “With many things, yes,” Rel murmurs. Her ears twitch as the storm above swells and threatens to break. He has been busy, too, but she doesn’t need to dive into his memories to know that. Reave’s clever and restless nature shields him almost as well as his bones. “I won’t resent you for that bite, Reave, but—” Here she stops, jaw set, eyes unblinking. She watches him in the silence that stretches between them, allowing the wind and the waves to batter her ears.

    Rel is many things, but shy she is not. The woman she is now is a far cry from the one Reave first took home. When she sits in silence, it is only because she wants her words to come out exactly as they need.

    “I want to know you,” Rel finally states, lifting her chin to a proud and challenging height. “All of you.” Two simple statements. She does not know how else to elaborate. “I want you to know all of me,” she adds, words falling away into the crash of the sea. Her legs flutter between water and flesh, emphasizing the racing of her mind.

    Rel doesn’t admit what sits in the back of her head: she wants to be like him, too. To help him in all that he wishes to do. She just stands stubbornly, head high and eyes piercing, wondering for the first time in her life if she will be rejected by something that she wants.



    @Reave
    #4

    i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

    Something inside of him eases when she doesn’t flinch from the brutality he wears beneath a thin veneer of civility. He has always been a wild and wicked thing so much like her. And they had been drawn together like magnets, even from the very beginning. It’s so easy to forget though, the dual natures of magnets. The opposing poles that can both so easily repel and attract.

    Today however, as he erases the distance between them, the pull bringing them back together is undeniable. Right now, Reave chooses not to look to tomorrow, lest he find the poles reversed.

    She doesn’t deny his accusation. How could she, when he sees so much? Still, he finds himself glad of it. He would not temper himself, especially not for her. He doesn’t reply immediately. But then, he doesn’t need to. She may not be able to read the wash of his memories like he can, but he has never bothered to hide the sharpness of the emotions carving lines into his features.

    As his glittering eyes trace over her features, he relaxes a small fraction at what he finds there. Even now though, there is little in the way of softness. He is not a soft creature - he has always been a thing made of sharp edges. Still, he presses forward, leaving only a whisper of space to separate the jutting bone of his shoulder from hers. Even the slightest sway would bring the harsh lines of his body against Galadriel’s gentler curves.

    There is a challenge in his eyes that matches hers, the ghost of a smile flashing across his lips before disappearing once more. “There is a lot of me to know,” he replies. Though his voice is soft, there is no leniency in it. “You may regret asking for such a thing.”

    Behind the bright gleam of his gaze, there is something almost haunted. His youth has always been such a bitter deception. Though he has never tried to hide what he is or what he must become, he knows the tangle of his own truths run deep. She might not like what she finds there. But he would not stop her, because a far more overwhelming part of him wants to know if she could truly accept him for all that he is. For all that he wants.

    reave



    @galadriel
    #5
    GALADRIEL

    She is a lovely thing, pale in color and graceful in stature; but she doesn’t look lovely now, not with her features ravaged by magic and chaos. Galadriel’s eyes gleam with the wild nightmares she experienced, the rage of childbirth, the sudden surge of power.

    She feels so terribly, wholly powerful.

    “You would be a fool to truly think I’d regret knowing every sharp edge and shadowed corner of you,” Galadriel whispers, lifting her mouth close to his ear so as to be heard over the sea and the storm. “But I know you are no fool, Reave.” And with that she lets her mouth drift back down to the bone she once delicately explored, except this time the touch is hungry and too swift. Rel rears her head up and steps backward into the surf.

    “What is it you wanted to show me?” she asks suddenly, eyes narrowing. Rel remembers the invitation, the hint of a surprise. She wants to see whatever it is he wishes to divulge, to know him piece by wretched piece.

    Wondering if asking such a question might ruin or strengthen the intensity of the moment, Galadriel does what she has only ever done for him: concedes. She bows her head as if bearing the weight of the world and sighs.

    It’s as close to a please that will ever touch her lips.



    @Reave
    #6

    i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

    Regret is not something Reave has ever been terribly familiar with. The echoes of his desires are too wild and wanton to allow for something like regret to fill it. The gnashing claws of jealousy perhaps, or the distant call of rage, but never regret. There is too much in this world to live for to allow such a thing.

    Still, he cannot speak for her, no matter how similar they might be. For all his strength, he is weak when it comes to matters of the heart. And no matter how much he might recognize it, he cannot seem to beat it back.

    “Sometimes I wonder,” he replies softly, that shadowed smile flashing across his lips once more. He never liked to believe he is a fool, but sometimes he has to wonder if, in this, he just might be. Still he revels in her touch, the cool whisper of her breath against his skin. And he is left aching and hollow when she withdraws, her words demanding despite her acquiescence.

    She does not plead, but still he can taste it on the air.

    “You said you wanted everything.” There is a hint of ferocity in the quiet swells of his voice, in the prickly blue of his gaze. “So I will show you everything.” And he would. She would know what a truly faithless creature he is. That he has no right to be upset with her when she should be just as upset with him. And she would know the furious pull of his desires. The future that he wants. The way he enjoys how his insidious touch can bring the chaos of his heart to fruition. Would she want that with him too? Would she stand by his side to watch how prettily they could make things break apart?

    He desperately hopes she would.

    reave



    @galadriel
    #7
    GALADRIEL

    She’s wicked sharp when she wants to be, as sharp as a steel blade and biting to the touch; but when Reave admits to his wondering—this smallest flash of humility—she feels all of her intelligence leave in a flood. Rel breathes out, blinking rapidly but otherwise giving no indication of the gratefulness she feels for the little secret he just offered her.

    When Reave says he will show her everything, Galadriel is certain that he means it. That there is absolutely nothing the pair of them can’t do together. And what she doesn’t know, he will teach her; what he cannot do alone, she will offer all that she can. Rel blinks up at his armored the face, the grim set of his severity, the cleverness in his gaze.

    She thinks she could love that gaze, to learn some form of softness that works for the both of them.

    But at the thought of such a thing, Rel looks away. She sighs as rain begins to patter more rapidly against their hides. Water splatters violently against Reave’s bones, draining quickly along the lovely ivory. A deep breath, a blink, then:

    “Can we start with power, then? I want power.”




    @Reave
    #8

    i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

    The flash of vulnerability is there, tucked beneath the glinting edges designed to cut anyone who dared delve deeper to ribbons. It’s hard to say whether it is fortunate or not, but whatever it may be, Reave has never been frightened of a little pain. He has always dared the most biting of her edges, even when they were children.

    Now, as he watches that flicker of something more, he knows he has found his way through all the chinks in her armor. A knowledge he finds far too much pleasure in.

    It is easy to let her in though. He has never been afraid of his own vulnerabilities, even when he avoids them. But sometimes, avoidance is impossible. Sometimes, he must find ways to turn his own softer edges into strengths. Into something that would never have the power to break him. He has forged himself over and over again, working his own dull edges into something that would stand the test of time.

    Again, he forges himself anew, this time in the uncommon gentleness of her gaze.

    He steps closer, erasing the distance she had put between them, entirely unaware of the rain that beats down on him, washing blood from the grooves of his torn flesh. He reaches out, his lips finding her damp cheek. Beneath the chill of the water, there is a warmth that still beats there.

    “Then take it with me,” he breathes, his own warmth radiating from him. A smile begins to pull at the edges of his mobile lips, dangerous and seductive against her skin. “Did you know the Taiga stands empty?” It’s a dare and a promise. One he hopes she would take him up on.

    reave



    @galadriel
    #9
    GALADRIEL

    What a dangerous pair they have made.

    As the knowing smile pulls all the concern from Galadriel’s face, the air around them seems to shift. The wind whips and tugs and begs the storm closer. The heart in Rel’s chest races with the beat of the thunder above.

    Practically purring like a cat, all of Rel’s legs shimmer with a change into water. She shivers and leans her cheek upward to press into Reave’s, then pulls back to peer at him with fire completely opposite to the water that rages just beneath her skin. She gives him a small nod, the knowing smile still plastered across her face.

    “Empty?” she murmurs, then flicks her gaze over Nerine’s cliffs. A bit of sorrow twists his face as she thinks of leaving them. Of leaving Reave right when she’s found him again.

    “There’s no water there, but there’s no harm in taking a look, yes?” Rel tilts her head, knowing that she won’t leave the opportunity if it is truly free for the taking. She is, despite all her heady desire and gratitude, deeply self-serving.

    And is it truly selfish, if it might further them both?

    “Will you come visit me?” she asks lightly, though hangs a little too tightly on the answer.




    @Reave
    #10

    i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

    Power is such a heady thing, dangerous and alluring in all the ways that matter. Reave has never shied away from it. Even when he was young, more colt than stallion, he had taken it for himself the moment he found the opportunity. Interestingly, he has never been loath to share it. He is undeniably selfish, but in this, he recognizes he need not be alone.

    And Reave despises being alone. A fault of his, but loneliness gives him far too much time to consider the things he does not wish to think about. He has never told them though, his many companions. He has never told them why he is so reluctant to let them go.

    The smile, a wicked and tempestuous thing, pulls at his lips as she leans into his caress. The shiver delights him, and he finds himself wanting to draw another one out.

    But then she is caught upon his dare and pulls away. The subtle whisper of power for the taking right next door tugs at her. Yet, the sorrow that flickers over her draws him in. It is intimately familiar. He could have kept her here, but she had demanded all of him. And no matter how great the temptation of never releasing her might be, there is a deeper hunger inside of him.

    So he releases her to find that which they both desire, a knife-edged grin upon his lips. “No harm at all.”

    Still she surprises him. Will you visit me? He sucks in a breath. Those glittering blue eyes of his jump to hers, the intensity in them unmistakeable. “Of course,” he breathes, moving closer once again. He does not like the distance she had placed between them. There would be more than enough of that in the days to come. “But only if you promise to visit me as well.”

    reave



    @galadriel




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