08-30-2016, 08:43 AM
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
The way she’d felt his breath around the back of her neck as he prepared to give her an undue attention of affection—whether or not she actually would have allowed it, she was not given the thought to process, for it never occurred. He spoke then, almost frantic, the ice blocking his throat as he backed up, his purple polka-dotted pelt pulsing through his emotions. She blinked and stepped back. She considered him for a moment; remembering that she was a full lifetime older than him—perhaps by now, more than a few lifetimes—and allowed herself to display the full force of her power.
The white lighting of the deep magic swirled in her eyes as they lit her soul from within. Her mouse-grey pelt once again displayed the scars that showed her age, but this time they glowed, pulsating the blood that beat within her, scorching her body with all the force that was required to reach into his past. As she crawled around inside his head, she made no inch of secrecy to let him know she was in his mind. As she moved, his own spots glowed, and his eyes began to mirror hers as she showed him the images from the past—ones he was not privy to, but should see.
Memories that were not theirs crept up from the depths of the beach, those shallow salty waves lapping lazily upon the shore, the souls of the dead clawing outward towards the dull sun, clamoring for a taste of life. Images flashed before their eyes as they crawled into Ruan’s soul, using Reagan’s power as the projector for what the dearest depths of pain and suffering could muster.
She gasped as she showed him images of their mother flinging herself off a cliff to escape her insanity. Knees buckling, the madness that drew Torne away from real life—and her children—wracked Reggie to her core, and in her mind the whispers of her prayers overtook hers and Ruan’s soul; the sound of Gaelic verse becoming the backdrop for earthquakes, for war, and of raids, and of the separation of two siblings—Morigan and Ruan—who loved each other dearly. Age and maturation had a way of doing that. While Morigan found family, Ruan became restless on his own, struggling to become at peace with himself, until it had become too late.
And then she shook, her voice taking on an ethereal, incorporeal echo as she spoke to him. She spoke outloud, but within her consciousness, she knew he could hear her within his head as well. “The bones of the dead have been scattered like dust. The children of the one that ye seek may not yet be beyond your reach. Where there is love, there is sadness. Where there is fire, there is also ice.”
The white lighting of the deep magic swirled in her eyes as they lit her soul from within. Her mouse-grey pelt once again displayed the scars that showed her age, but this time they glowed, pulsating the blood that beat within her, scorching her body with all the force that was required to reach into his past. As she crawled around inside his head, she made no inch of secrecy to let him know she was in his mind. As she moved, his own spots glowed, and his eyes began to mirror hers as she showed him the images from the past—ones he was not privy to, but should see.
Memories that were not theirs crept up from the depths of the beach, those shallow salty waves lapping lazily upon the shore, the souls of the dead clawing outward towards the dull sun, clamoring for a taste of life. Images flashed before their eyes as they crawled into Ruan’s soul, using Reagan’s power as the projector for what the dearest depths of pain and suffering could muster.
She gasped as she showed him images of their mother flinging herself off a cliff to escape her insanity. Knees buckling, the madness that drew Torne away from real life—and her children—wracked Reggie to her core, and in her mind the whispers of her prayers overtook hers and Ruan’s soul; the sound of Gaelic verse becoming the backdrop for earthquakes, for war, and of raids, and of the separation of two siblings—Morigan and Ruan—who loved each other dearly. Age and maturation had a way of doing that. While Morigan found family, Ruan became restless on his own, struggling to become at peace with himself, until it had become too late.
And then she shook, her voice taking on an ethereal, incorporeal echo as she spoke to him. She spoke outloud, but within her consciousness, she knew he could hear her within his head as well. “The bones of the dead have been scattered like dust. The children of the one that ye seek may not yet be beyond your reach. Where there is love, there is sadness. Where there is fire, there is also ice.”
[OOC: Okay so esseentially they are still in "magic connection" mode. I left it that way on purpose to see what his reaction would be to it, and to see if you wanted to further it by either continuing, or disengaging. Either is okay with me]