[private] don't put my love on your back burner. || circinae - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98) +----- Forum: Tephra (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=85) +------ Forum: Ischia (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=87) +------ Thread: [private] don't put my love on your back burner. || circinae (/showthread.php?tid=17161) |
don't put my love on your back burner. || circinae - Canaan - 11-09-2017 Canaan Don't put my love on your back burner. Never let anything that hot get cold. Powerful, a force to be reckoned with – but deep within, yearning for influence, for control, and there is a small piece of him that cannot ignore the knot of discontent within his stomach. He had seen his mother fall further away from his father; he had seen what had developed between them fall away as ash and dust into the hungry and ravenous tide – so different, at the core. His father could not be what his mother sought, and his mother could not chase away the shadow of doubt from his eyes. He is left wondering if he is destined for the same heartache. He is left wondering if the same uncertainty in his own heart is the same that Magnus had felt with Ellyse. Was he enough? He does not want to lose her; he does not want to let her slip like granules of sand between proverbial fingers – Can he be what she desires, beyond the heat of his kiss across the column of her neck, or the warmth of his body coiled around her own once the sun has fallen beyond the horizon? She is reaching higher, and higher, but he has never craved power, and he does not understand the desire. Still, Circinae is a part of him, she carries a piece of his heart with her, and so he would stand beside her, against whatever force might resist her might – would it be enough? In the end, he is lonely for her, but he is careful not to stand in her way. She is striking, charming, desirable, and sociable; he can only watch with admiration as the depth of her affection for those she loves deeply becomes a higher purpose for her, knowing that she is striving for victory – for triumph, and he would never expect any less. When he does find her alone at last, he cannot suppress a smile from tugging at his pale lips, as his hazel gaze traces the delicate curve of her hip from behind his two-toned forelock. His heart hums against the confinement of his rib cage, drawing him closer to her, to where his mouth presses a heated kiss along the curve of her spine, trailing up to the tousled indigo tresses that lay haphazardly over her viridescent neck. His teeth rake slowly along the ridge of her neck, tasting her pulse within her throat before placing a warm, affectionate kiss to the crease of her jaw, and then to her cheek, while his feathers bristle in delight at the sensation of her feminine physique against his own. ”I miss you,” he confesses softly, as the jagged edge of his insecurity is made known to her, while the golden flecks of his eyes seek out the piercing blue of her own. ”I want you to know that I am here for you; that I couldn’t be prouder of you – but I miss you, terribly.” And if you ever change your mind and want to leave my love behind, Just let me be the second one to know. @[Circinae] RE: i won't give up on us. || circinae - Circinae - 11-14-2017 -Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me- Circinae @[Canaan] RE: i won't give up on us. || circinae - Canaan - 11-15-2017 Canaan Don't put my love on your back burner. Never let anything that hot get cold. Forever is all that he has – unyielding, time was, slowly stealing the youth away from the soft and feminine curve of her cheek, away from the ridge of her brow, and the crease beneath each eye. She is beautiful (as beautiful as she had always been – vibrant, pulsating with raw energy) and he is captivated, as if time merely stood still, as if time never meant to remind him that his time with her is fleeting. That his time with her is wasted on political obsession; that his time with her is lost on others. Jealousy does not boil within his blood; it never has, and it never would – but envy? Envious that her heart is so full, that her mind is so restless, that her will is so strong that she is consumed by the compulsion to push further, harder. Envious of those who attract her attention; envious of what fierce endeavor so often takes hold of her heart. She is searching for some sliver of wholeness to fill whatever void lay within her heart, and he is left wondering if she can even see it. He had thought himself enough; he had thought Jah-Lilah enough. The love shared, the love made (his loin stirs at the thought of it, remembering the undeniable chemistry). Was it enough? Would it ever be enough? When she presses closer to him, his heart aches. He only desired her happiness, but would power be enough? He is reminded again of his mother, of her tireless effort to make something of herself, to be something - to someone! But to whom? He cannot make sense of the desire to carve one’s name into history; history so often fades away with the ravenous tide. Gone with the wind. Forgotten in time. But he, pressed against her, languishing soft and affectionate kisses along her spine, feeling her tremble and shiver beneath his touch – that would not be soon forgotten. Forever etched into his mind, forever drawing out a soft and contented sigh from his breast as the wind urges her closer to him, as if he can somehow consume her and keep her for his own. ”Is that so?” He murmurs at last, pausing as his dark lips hover over her neck, but she is pulling away. Always pulling away. His lips seek out the warmth of her skin again, cheek brushing along her shoulder as he becomes parallel to her, gazing for a wistful moment out into the endless sea. Knowing that beyond the horizon, where the brilliant sky becomes dark and hazy from the endless plumes of volcanic smoke, the land of his upbringing lay. ”I think you might be mistaken, my love. If it were not for you, Jah-Lilah and I would not be here.” He muses softly with a chuckle, but the humor is lost in the storminess of his golden flecks, gazing into her own of soft blue. Have I made a mistake? His heart clenches. Deep down, he has asked himself the same question. He does not show her his uncertainty; his uncertainty does not lie within her. She is fierce, vivacious, a natural leader. His uncertainty is within himself, unsure if he can be all that she desires. Unsure if he is holding her back. Unsure if her doubt is because of him. ”No,” he says quietly (truthfully). ”you are following your heart, and you are doing what you feel you must to protect those you care for. Those you love.” But. The hesitance is thick and heavy in the uncomfortable humidity of dusk, and from the hearth of his chest, a heavy wind is born. Sweeping over the length of their bodies, entangling itself within the knotted tresses that lay across their necks, dampened from the salty brine of the sea and the granules of sand spread throughout. ”But will it be enough?” And if you ever change your mind and want to leave my love behind, Just let me be the second one to know. @[Circinae] RE: i won't give up on us. || circinae - Circinae - 11-16-2017 -Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me- Circinae @[Canaan] RE: i won't give up on us. || circinae - Canaan - 11-21-2017 Canaan Don't put my love on your back burner. Never let anything that hot get cold. In the same breath, it hurt him as much as it tore a wound through his own wayward heart. Where had the wild-eyed and wanderlust-ridden boy gone? He yearned for her to want him, to need him in some – in any capacity! But no longer does she seek him out (had she ever? It had always been Jah-Lilah that had kissed away her uncertainty; he had been captive either in presence or in mind), and no longer is she unwavering before him. She is as uncertain as to where she her place is in his heart, just as he cannot seem to find his own place in hers. When did it begin to unravel? When did something so beautiful, so deeply touching and heartwarming become so devastatingly tragic? ”You mistake me,” he says quietly, his gaze elsewhere – no longer looking to her, but instead to the distant horizon, alight with a splendor of color. He had seen the flash in her cerulean gaze when her doubt began to set in - there was no wolf beneath the sheepish; he had only ever been himself with her. Caring little for structure or for being bound to a single piece of forsaken territory, but he had followed her. He had stayed, because of her, because of love. She can only see his uncertainty as doubt in her, when his doubt is within himself. But will it be enough?, he had asked her. Am I enough?, he had meant. Too little, too late, and the realization of how vastly different she is from him rouses tears to brim the ridge of his eyelids, though his heavy lashes attempt to blink them away, not wanting to break before her. ”I will always love you,” he says finally, his breath uneven. ”all of me, all of my heart, my mind, my soul, will always love you. I do not love this .. Ischia; I do not love this island or the crown of thorns that you wear.” He pauses then, looking to her, savoring the caress of her lips across his cheek as if it might be the last. ”I will not leave you, but it feels as if you have already left me.” And if you ever change your mind and want to leave my love behind, Just let me be the second one to know. @[Circinae] RE: don't put my love on your back burner. || circinae - Circinae - 11-22-2017 -Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me- Circinae @[Canaan] RE: don't put my love on your back burner. || circinae - Canaan - 11-22-2017 Canaan Don't put my love on your back burner. Never let anything that hot get cold. She is rife with sarcasm and malevolence, but he merely stares. He does not indulge her in her pettiness, as each word seeks to drive a jagged dagger between the hardness of his rib cage, to pierce his heart. There is nothing but wretched melancholy to lace the golden flecks of his eyes as she becomes what she always had been beneath. How had he been so blind? His mother, scathing and biting, is standing before him, and he had been too much of a fool to realize the trope he had fallen into. He does not say a word. There is nothing to say; she had dragged the knife along the tenderness of his heart, just as he had reached out to her – seeking reassurance, seeking her affection. She had spurned him, turning away from him with an iciness where there had once been heat. Too consumed with her own emotion to see his own. Too consumed with herself to see anything beyond her own avarice. He was not the one lacking. With his wingspan outstretched and a heavy gust of wind to carry him, he is gone. And if you ever change your mind and want to leave my love behind, Just let me be the second one to know. @[Circinae] |