"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
When Ophanim left, he had asked Malone to watch over his younger siblings and keep them safe as Meraxes had done for him. He chewed his lip and agreed without ever asking why, but he has come to regret the promise as he realizes the wild child of the family has gone missing. Ciara normally slept tucked against him and occasionally kicking in her fitful sleep with little chirps from time to time. When he awoke this morning, however, the pale pink bundle of joy was nowhere to be found. She seemed rather anxious since their parents left and now he worries she may have wandered off to find one of them. They had, after all, been the first thing she saw when she hatched from her strange egg.
Malone sighs in frustration as he completes his search through Loess. He had really hoped she didn’t leave their home on such a miserably hot day but a promise is a promise, he reminds himself. His elder brother would search the ends of the earth if he had run away too.
The golden star boy spreads his wings and with one great beat, he is skyborne. Father had never been a graceful flyer but he has been practicing, learning to dip and dive and ride the currents of warm air as far as they could take him. Now he utilizes all that he has learned to sweep across the land, keeping an eye out for that pastel brat. He leans with the wind and watches the trees rush beneath him with no sight or scent of her. (In the back of his mind, he fears the worst but keeps it crammed far from him.)
The sun is mercilessly hot against his back and it takes no time at all for glistening sweat to coat him. The depthless black splashes across his body greedily gather heat until he’s certain he must have caught fire. By now, he can see the river below and he wonders if his dragon-sister may have stopped here to rest – if she made it this far at all. Malone tucks his wings and dives, forelegs drawn up against him until the last second, when they snap forward to catch him and his wings unfurl to slow his descent. The mud of the river makes his landing a gentle one but he stumbles from the weight of his efforts. He must take a break, he supposes, if he is to continue his hunt.
Malone steps closer to the waters and slowly wades in, letting the cold current wash away the dirt and sweat of the day. Once the grime has been cleared from him, the burning rose gold ring is more easily visible against the starry patch it occupies. He dips his face into the waters and gives his head a little shake when he lifts it once more. Little droplets roll off his handsome chin and he smiles faintly at the relief. In this moment, he keeps all his worrisome thoughts locked up in some overflowing closet where the door struggles to keep on its hinges. For now, he can pretend his world is spinning perfectly on its axis.
08-04-2019, 04:26 PM (This post was last modified: 08-04-2019, 04:27 PM by larke.)
Larke does not often venture out from Tephra.
She does not have her brother’s courageous nature—does not have his thirst for adventure—and she is more than content to wile away the hours watching over their newest siblings and watching her mother hard at work regrowing bits and pieces of Tephran land. She is a serious child who is content to keep mostly to herself—content to focus on honing her gifts and spending time with family and thinking.
But today she wanders.
She is coming up on two years of age in a few months and she is no longer the fuzzy, youthful girl with the mohawk mane and too long legs. She has her mother’s build in so many ways and is lovely in her movement, fluid and soft like the calm banks of a river, flowing around the crowds and ducking her horned head to avoid eye contact, sticking to shadows and watching quietly—observing by herself.
Once or twice, Larke tries out her gift of healing when she thinks no one is watching. She feels the golden light of it and closes her eyes like her mother had instructed. She lets it pool in her chest and then guides it forward, feeling it unwind from her with a soft exhale. It is getting easier to direct it and she lets it settle into passersby, feeling it root through their body to find aches and pains and wounds.
It is exhausting work, tiring work, but she finds that she feels more like herself when it is done.
There is something about it that feels important—that feels right.
When she sees the boy land and stumble into the mud and the water, she bites her lip and steps back behind one of the large tree trunks nearby. She arches her head slightly and watches him with her light green eyes. He doesn’t appear injured, but he appears tired and her heart twinges in response. It’s already been an exhausting day, and she knows she has little left to give, but she acts without thinking.
Quietly, she sends her healing out toward him to find whatever she may soothe. When she is done, she feels a sheen of sweat on her neck and leans heavily against the tree, smiling to herself.
—LARKE—
there is not in the wild world a valley so sweet as the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet
When he lifts his head, little drops of cool river water run down his chin and glisten in the sun. He sighs slowly in frustration as he realizes there is no scent of his sister here, only of strangers and humid summer air. He has never been terribly opposed to leaving his home and venturing out to explore the world and yet he has never felt compelled to either. The star boy has only ever gone where the wind takes him, so to speak.
Suddenly, the heavy blanket of exhaustion seems lifted from his shoulders and the ache in his muscles eases from him. All the knots untangle themselves until he feels more relaxed, more prepared to continue his search today. He blinks a few times in surprise and turns his head left, then right in search of the source for this burst of energy. The deep blue irises land on the dark girl hiding behind a tree with her lovely head peeking out. If he still had a heart, he might be enthralled by the flowers cascading down her mane or the strange horn growing from beneath her forelock.
Still, he tucks his wings back against his sides and climbs from the river and the mud to approach her. “Hello? Are you.. Was that you?” he asks, black and gold head tilted curiously with a nervous smile across his face. She seems suddenly as tired as he was and he finds himself brushing his lips against her cheek. Malone admires the soft lines of her gorgeous face and the gentle green color of her eyes. Has he ever seen someone with that color iris before?
“I’m sorry I’m so rude, my name is Malone. I live in Loess. What about you?” His voice is oak and bourbon, smooth and strong when he spreads one wing to lightly fan her for a bit. He isn’t sure why he felt the need to touch her face just moments ago but he’s seen others trace their lips over someone’s face as they speak gently. Still, he refrains from repeating the gesture for now, much as he’d like to. Instead he busies himself by thumbing through her thoughts and examining little snippets about her – a princess, a healer, a twin. He smiles faintly satisfied with himself.
He is so smooth and sure of himself and she feels meek in front of him, unable to match the brilliance of his glow. When he comes out of the water and toward her, she feels a flurry of butterflies in her belly, a little explosion of nerves although such things never rise to the surface of her expression. Instead she just stands there quietly, calmly composed, studying him with a face that is always a touch too serious.
“Hello,” she greets back before his mouth finds the gentle, youthful curves of her face. “Oh!” she says in surprise although she doesn’t draw back—doesn’t increase the distance between them. She has never been touched by someone other than her family and the sensation is queer; her skin dances beneath it and she feels the water from where it had dribbled down his chin. “Yes, that was me,” she admits and feels that strange little guilt for healing without getting consent first. “I’m sorry—I should have asked first.”
But she can’t stay there for long.
He carries the conversation forward and she breathlessly follows along, enamored with the rose gold and the stars and the confidence that seeps from him. “My name is Larke,” she says, slightly flustered and her attention getting snagged by the cool air coming from his wings. “I live in Tephra.” She doesn’t mention that she had been born in Loess or that the word was somehow always whispered in her home—in ways that she is not certain that she understands. She doesn’t know why but it feels almost forbidden.
And she feels a rush of excitement and fear and guilt when she realizes that’s where he lives.
“What are you doing here today?”
She imagines that he has all kinds of adventures; he doesn’t seem the kind to not.
—LARKE—
there is not in the wild world a valley so sweet as the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet
Her voice is sweet like honey earned without a single sting from the hive, he notices when she greets him back. It warms him and he’s delighted when she doesn’t pull away from his sudden touch despite her surprise. He can’t help but laugh – a glowing sound that feels like fire after a day in the snow – when she grows timid beneath his questioning. But he is careful not to be cruel and so he turns so they are standing side by side, lightly bumping his cool shoulder to hers in reassurance. Water still drips from him and he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care on a day so hot as this.
“I don’t mind, really. I think I liked it,” he says as he watches her curiously, exploring the finer movements of her face as she speaks. He watches how they line up with her thoughts and he’s flattered that she finds him so regal in comparison to her. But perhaps she doesn’t realize how lovely she is also?
His smile loses some of its luster when he reaches her thoughts of Loess and its wars, the one that nearly ripped his father from them all. He remembers the blood and the sleepless nights after. Malone is drawn so easily to dark thoughts like these that he nearly forgets to pry himself from them before they drag him under. Besides, she seems to find it exciting that he comes from the ‘forbidden’ kingdom.
“Larke,” he repeats, and the name draws a smile back into his expression. He turns to face the river once more when she questions his plans and he wonders if he should explain that his sister is missing. It sounds far more dire than it really is, he thinks, considering she breathes fire and gleefully sinks her teeth into anyone who gets close enough. “My sister wandered off while I was supposed to be watching her. This isn’t anything new, though.”
Still, Malone finds himself searching the tall grasses for some flash of pastel pink or those sunshine wings bobbing and weaving as she navigates the meadow. The wild child of the family is most likely back in Loess eating some bugs she found under a log, knowing his luck, though.
She wonders if he knows just how magnificent he is. He is like a flower in full bloom, like the richest of her mother’s gardens and the correlation brings a smile to her gentle mouth—turning the corners of her lips upward. “Really?” She brightens and all of it radiates through her, causing her to nearly glow with the pleasure that her healing had been received well—that he had liked it, that he hadn’t rejected it.
Larke tucks away the joy and lets it bank like a fire in the pit of her belly.
It warms her as she continues to watch him quietly, studying the angles of his face and the unique tattoos and the way that the heavens seem painted on him. The joy, however, quickly fades when she realizes what he is doing. It is replaced by worry that etches on her lovely features, the delicate porcelain of it nearly cracking as her lips pull in the corners, large doe eyes sweeping the area around them.
“She’s lost?” Her delicate voice is tenuous as she reaches out to press a reassuring touch into the curve of his neck. “I am sure that we can find her. Do you want me to help look for her?” She blushes prettily at the compliment, her lashes sweeping down and her teeth finding her lip as she rolls her shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know how pretty I am.” Her voice fades off and she looks back up. “But it’s so sweet of you to say.”
She’s never been called pretty before and it feels queer to think it, but such things do not sink in too deep. She lets the glow of the compliment fade and she focuses on the issue at hand—the idea of the missing girl. Taking a step forward, she pauses tentatively, a single hoof dangling in the air as she looks back.
“I bet if we start looking around, we can find her. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”
—LARKE—
there is not in the wild world a valley so sweet as the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet
He’s happy to go along for the ride as her thoughts compare him to flowers and things she loves so dearly. She seems so eager for his approval and he’s quick to offer it up for her, nodding when she questions whether he actually enjoyed her healing or not. He hasn’t learned quite how to lie at this young age and so he can be trusted for the time being. But even in the future, he will only tell little lies meant to smooth over arguments or to woo girls as beautiful as her.
“I wouldn’t say lost, I think. She knows the way home but she likes getting into trouble,” he explains with a laugh. “I just want to get her home before our parents come back. I wouldn’t mind if you helped me look, though. You could even stay with me forever if you like.”
He wonders why no one has ever complimented her but it only compels him to continue further. A gold and black wing extends from his side and curls over her, pulling her to him in a gentle embrace as he follows her step forward. From here, he can’t find Ciara’s chaotic thoughts in the crowds around the river. But should he tell Larke that his sister won’t be found anywhere in this area? He worries she may not stay with him as long if there’s no demon child to hunt down. His first real lie, he realizes as he continues forward.
“Maybe she’s hiding away from everyone else. She’s not big on crowds,” he explains, gesturing a short way from the river and past the tree line. Instinct tells him to find somewhere secluded where he can whisper in her ear without being seen. He’s young and naïve enough to obey as he takes a step in that direction, watching her curiously and perhaps too eagerly. The memory of her soft face beneath his lips has awoken a quiet hunger deep in the core of him and he’s more than happy to stoke that fire a while.
“Tell me about you while we look, lovely Larke. Do you have a boyfriend or anything?” Here, he keeps his eyes trained forward so that he might watch her from his peripheral vision so as not to seem too interested. Would he stop himself if she said she did already have someone to give her heart to or would he pursue her anyway? He doesn’t quite know but he listens carefully to her thoughts as he takes another step forward.
Larke is a quiet girl and she grows shy beneath his glowing presence. He tucks a wing over her and she just smiles a little to herself, curling into his side and wondering at just how right it feels to be there—at how right it feels to have his warmth next to her. At his suggestion that she stays forever, a laugh escapes her like sunshine. It is bright and warm and all of the features on her turn to a light golden glow.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” her silvery voice is light and low. It never crosses the line into delicate but is like her mother’s: calm as the river, steady as the rain. Even her inflections are subtle, and when she tips her head up to look at him, her sage green eyes are soft and kind and just a little struck with wonder.
“Forever is such a long time.”
She has no real concept of it, even with morality slipping through her bloodstream, but she knows that it is long enough that her family would miss her (and she would miss her family). She would miss spending lazy afternoons with Chronos, or teaching the newest members of the family all of the nooks and crannies around Tephra, or just walking amongst the flowers with her mother as she teaches her how to heal.
But she doesn’t share these secrets of her heart (rather, she thinks that she doesn’t). Instead, she just tucks it away and turns her attention back to the task at hand of finding his sister. She nods when he gestures toward the trees and doesn’t think twice about following him. As they move forward, he asks her a simple question and she would blush if she understood the meaning behind it—the meaning of the word.
She is silent for a second, trying to piece together what it means.
At first, her mind goes to her sweet Midnight. He was, other than her brother, her closest friend and her dearest companion, but her boyfriend? They had never used that word before.
She hadn’t even heard it before.
So she does the only honest thing she knows. She shakes her greying head and smiles.
“No, I don’t think so. Do you?”
—LARKE—
there is not in the wild world a valley so sweet as the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet
He runs his fingers so carelessly through her thoughts when she leans into him. Malone is pleased at how comfortable she is here, curled safe beneath his wing, and it grooms his ego into something awful. Certainly, having her against him floods his veins with the serotonin he gets from touching her, but his heart doesn’t sigh in delight at the feel of her skin. Or maybe it does and it’s fluttering somewhere in Djinni’s grasp? He isn’t entirely concerned with it and so he doesn’t wonder about these things.
He’s entirely too focused on pressing his lips just behind her jaw and placing innocent little kisses there when she thinks of how she’d miss her family. “I suppose I could bear to lose you for a day or so, but only if you promise to come back to me,” he says with his face resting against her neck as they make their way from the river. More secluded now, he stop walking forward and lets himself playfully nibble at the skin just past her ear. She is quiet and he worries his question has crossed some line for her. When Larke thinks of Midnight, he pulls back enough to watch her face. Was he important to her?
Did her heart yearn for him?
But then she says she has no one like that and she’s smiling, so he leans back against her and breathes in the scent of her hair. As much as he would like to say that the rose gold woman was his, he knows it would be a lie to ever claim her. She will always reject him in even his wildest dreams. The thought summons a soft ache in his chest that makes him sigh against Larke’s neck even though he doesn’t care to explain why her question pains him.
“No, I’m afraid I’ve no one to call mine. Maybe some day a girl as perfect as you will want me.”
He laughs softly and closes his eyes, kissing down to the space between her shoulders now as he imagines what it would be like to have someone love him. Malone wonders if he would ever try to buy his heart back from the genie so he could offer it up to someone else. Could it ever hum and sing for another woman, now that it’s learned to yield itself to only one? The star boy suddenly lifts his head and watches Larke for a while, wondering if the future could ever let them be together.
Her heart is a soft and timid thing and it lies untouched behind the vines and bramble of her rib cage. She keeps it away. She remains a quiet thing, mostly interested with spending time with her parents and her twin brother and the rest of their ever-growing family.
She has never thought about what lies beyond that.
Even though she feels a soft fluttering in her belly at the way he holds her close and presses kisses to the side of her cheek, she doesn’t understand what else there might be. She doesn’t understand that there could be anything beyond that. Anything that means more.
Still, she blushes and smiles at his touch.
She dips her head and lets her mane curtain her face.
When he replies, there is a laugh that blooms on her lips like a flower. It is quiet and calm and flutters just barely on an exhale. “Oh, I am not what you would call perfect,” her teeth flash white behind her graying lips as she looks up behind her lashes. He might be, she thinks. He is so handsome and bright and so kind, with the way that he cares about his sister.
The thought jostles her and she startles a little.
“Your sister!” she exclaims, but even this does not get loud. It doesn’t boom or take up any more space than absolutely necessary. “Shouldn’t we be looking for her? We still don’t know where she is!” Not that she truly desires to leave, but she also knows it would be the height of selfishness to stay and steal these moments with him when he is so worried about his family.
—LARKE—
there is not in the wild world a valley so sweet as the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet
