"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
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me, do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
It is strange, being born into a world you don’t fit in with. She is not like the rest of the children, and she knew this from the moment she slid into this cold world and met her mother’s frigid stare. The smile on the stark white mare’s face had not been genuine, and her jade eyes seemed vacant and disconnected, but it did not disturb her. Instead, she had smiled right back.
She can hear their high pitched laughter when she enters the meadow, she can hear their naive thoughts as she walks straight past them, her cobalt blue eyes hardly sparing them a glance. She is delicate and dark, her coat shadow-black, and there was something decidedly wrong with the way her hips swayed when she walked. There is something akin to a simper that curls at the edge of her lips, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her small back. There is a purpose to her walk, ignoring the way the spring grass tickles her legs, and she does not notice the beauty of the pastel blooms that dot the landscape.
She is after something, and only Starsin knows what that is.
It’s short and I hope this gets better once someone talks to her. She was born this spring so she is baby.
She walked differently. His eyes narrowed.
She knows something.
It didn't matter that she was a damn child. She was damn well going to tell him where his brother was.
He stomped right up to her, every step as solid and deliberate as his resolve to find that idiot brother of his, no doubt getting himself into trouble and needing a beating - and a rescue. That jerk couldn't keep his damn nose clean if it were sculpted from soap.
"Where is he!?" he demanded, stepping right up to her with dark, curling waves cascading over his red-brown neck. Shit. He should be more polite or something. She may not actually know anything, after all. So, fine. He straightened, looking down his fine nose at her, his eyes still hard. Okay. Let's try this again. He wasn't completely hopeless, right? Softer this time.
"I'm looking for my brother. He's a bit like me," and he took an impatient step back in demonstration of his pattern, "but black. Also - " and god, the part that got that fool in trouble the most, " - better-looking. Hot," he ground out between gritted teeth. Oh, right. He pulled his thick wings back, shifted them into thin see-through membranes so they were nearly invisible. "But no wings."You'd think I'd be better at this by now. And replaced his black wings how they were before.
Oh, hell. "He.. also may have been a giant black cat." Idiot, brother. Whatever. It definitely got him the ladies, that was plenty clear. Which also got him a great deal of the trouble. Just saying.
10-04-2018, 11:35 PM (This post was last modified: 10-04-2018, 11:36 PM by Starsin.)
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me, do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
It doesn’t take long for someone to come, and before she turns around, a satisfied smile plays across her lips, hidden from his view. But it disappears as she twirls to face the agitated stallion, not at all deterred by his demanding voice. She tilts her baby-doll head upwards, her night sky colored eyes settling on his. She is still mastering her gift, and it takes her a moment to find her bearings within his mind. For one, his mind seemed just as wild as he was. His thoughts are racing, flinging accusations at her, which makes the encounter all the more amusing. But eventually she is able to pick out the information she was looking for, and she stares up him from beneath long lashes. ”Oh, you mean Aleksandr?” Her voice is trill and child like, but the way she lingers over the name is anything but innocent.
She giggles, but it’s almost a mockery of what a child’s laugh should sound like. It is honey-thick, dripping from her mouth as she trots a few lively paces away from the older male. ”Did it occur to you that perhaps he doesn’t want to be found?” Her words are too annunciated, like she was a child puppet with a grown voice. She pauses, letting the words linger in the air, before she gives a careless roll of her shoulders and offers flippantly, ”Maybe he just doesn’t want to be found by you.” The impish glint in her eyes sparkled like stars, and her too-long legs lead her in a frolicking circle around him. ”What makes you think little old me would know anything about your brother anyway?” She asks sweetly, flicking her short tail and looking up at him with doe-eyes.
She hadn't even blinked at him, at his hurried insistence.
She was definitely suspicious.
"Oh, you mean Aleksandr?"
Once again, his eyes narrowed on her. How the hell did she know his name? He hadn't even said it, hadn't even thought it. What kind of wicked little imp was this tiny girl-child?
"Did it occur to you that perhaps he doesn't want to be found?"
He rolled his eyes. Well, obviously. And yes, most certainly Alek did not want to be found by his twin brother. If she was so all-knowing, she would've known he was chasing Alek down to save him from himself, the idiot guy. He was always getting himself into trouble, though he didn't seem to believe that, and Dominik was always in his wake coming to set things right. And hopefully beat him for his stupidity before the panther stalked off into the night again without a single thanks.
Always escaping him.
She pounced a circle around him and he half-expected her to conjure something, really. What was with the circle? Was that a ritual of some kind? It didn't seem familiar, lacked all the runes he knew of, all the symbols or vague gestures. All it was was a circle. Just that.
Maybe she was new at this. She was quite tiny.
"What makes you think little old me would know anything about your brother anyway?" she asked him, her little voice honestly kind of hurting his ears with how brittle and sharp it was. Children had the worst voices, though he supposed they couldn't help it. Hopefully she'd run another little magic circle and suddenly be older. That'd be helpful.
"Maybe it is because you know his name without my having said so." Duh. Seriously, this girl was so new at this, clearly. He should teach her, save her from herself too, but he was clearly very busy hunting down his stupid twin brother. Or possibly a giant black cat. Same thing.
"If you have nothing useful to give me, I'll be on my way." But he wasn't completely convinced she didn't know at least something about Alek's whereabouts. So his eyes narrowed again.
"Are you certain you haven't seen him? Because I can spot a liar five hundred miles away, you know." Maybe not, but she was a dumb kid anyway. Or looked like one. You know, he wasn't entirely sure, but really didn't have the time to care.
10-21-2018, 11:36 PM (This post was last modified: 10-21-2018, 11:37 PM by Starsin.)
do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
He thought she was stupid. He thought she was an ignorant, naive, useless child. Well, she was a child, he at least had that part right. But she wouldn’t be this way forever. Would he still think her stupid if she was an adult saying these things? Would he still find her stupid when she grew into her curves, when her sweet lips could caress his skin, when she could get into his mind in a different way? She ponders that as she watches him, her baby-doll head still cocked askew, her long lashes brushing her cheek bones as she blinks innocently up at him. ”Do you hate all children, or just me?” A look of hurt mars her youthful face for just a moment, but her cobalt-blue eyes glitter mischievously, and her laughter chases the look away. She was impossible to offend.
Toying with him was fun, but what if she just told him the truth? She had never actually told anyone what she could do. Most never even knew the ways in which she invaded their minds; she often kept to herself, taking it all in, storing it away, and then disappearing without a word. ”You didn’t say it, but you thought it. You didn’t even really consciously think it, but we tend to do that when we think about those that we know; we think their names without realizing it, putting a label with their face as we picture them.” Again, her words are spoken too precisely; she had the nauseatingly sweet voice of a child, and yet her way of speaking didn’t seem to match it.
”I’m Starsin.” And here, a bemused smirk twists across her lips, as she says almost nonchalantly, ”You don’t have to say your name out loud. Just think it, and I’ll know.”