07-23-2017, 05:57 PM
Ellyse
I know some things that you don't; I've done things that you won't
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
Slowly, the bleeding subsides, drying along her muscular legs beneath the briny ocean air carried by an inland breeze, traversing the jagged edges of the hollowed cave. Though she is weary and worn, it is only a matter of time until she will be hardened and resolute once more. Until then, beneath the warm and tranquil light of dawn, she presses into his sharp ridges of bone and tense, coiling muscle, resting in the hollowed void where a thicker layer of muscle and a deposit of fat should be. The splendor of morning is slowly seeping into the cavern, illuminating it with a soft glow, and gently she presses her damp cheek against the line of his shoulder, shielding her light hazel eyes from the blinding sun.
Her pale mouth brushes gently over his skin, longing for a connection she had not felt in so long – she had kept herself secluded, hidden away into the various crevices and rifts of the volcanic isle, wary of unveiling her fragile and delicate state. She had never favored pregnancy – even with thick muscle lining her bones and strength bound within her agile limbs, it was arduous, difficult, and exhausting, and she had never felt more vulnerable. Even now, leaning against him for his strength and stability is out of her character.
Alas, her anger towards him had faded long ago with the waning light of the moon – but her pride and frustration kept her at bay, wary and unwilling, with uncertainty stirring within the pit of her swollen belly. She had never thought herself desirable – she is scathing, biting, and bitter, with a sharp wit and sharper tongue, and too often, she found herself destroying a relationship rather than building upon one. Beneath feminine curves lain over rounded hipbones lay a shadow of darkness of steadfast stubbornness, of coiled aggression. She hardly saw herself as anything but a fighter – in life, in love, in everything that drove her ambition.
And yet, her weary heartstrings had become more complicated and tangled with every breath.
Beneath the pale moonlight, she and Dahmer had become entangled (an unexpected development; one that causes her heart to beat a little faster if her mind lingers on it too long), and then she had found Ledger, and a passion she had never known unfolded like a powerful pyroclastic eruption –
When his jealousy had unfurled itself and stirred Ledger to shift into a dangerous creature with a salivating mouth and sharp, perfectly lined teeth, she had been faced with a demon darker than any she had known – and her heart had clenched within her chest. She did not fear his transformation – it seemed everyone she had ever known had a secret kept locked away – but a weary dread had descended upon her with the realization that he felt some sort of possessive desire to keep her; she had hoped that she meant more to him than that. She still hoped.
She did not want to be a possession –
No more than she had wanted to be a distraction.
And as Dahmer makes himself known, her heartbeat is pumping faster, and faster – her own heart is forgotten and her focus is solely settled on the wide-eyed, curious son nestled against her folded wing, and his awestruck father kneeling before him. She cannot suppress the shadow of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, glancing between the two. Gently, she brushes her mouth across the soft and slightly curved spine of her son, urging him to move away from her shadow, to move closer to the blackened beast before him.
Your eyes, he has your eyes, he muses, and she quietly observes Smoak – his downy, creamy tufts of hair, the bony plating, his bright hazel eyes – there is a pang of disappointment that he is not more of his father, along with a glowing pride that he is so much of her.
”He does,” she murmurs softly, merely tracing the soft line of her newborn son’s cheek, and the pure innocence that lay within each watchful pupil. ”we can only hope that he does not have my temper.” There is a faint simper at the corner of her mouth, but it fades.
”Smoak, this is your father,” she breathes, her golden flecked eyes shifting to Dahmer, observing the mirth bubbling at the surface – she had rarely seen such glee in him, and it stirs a warmth within her chest. Curiously, their son brushes his muzzle across the broad plane of his father’s forehead, inhaling the scent of the salty sea and the sulfur of the ashen land on his skin. He shakily lowers his small and petite body before him, folding his gawky legs beneath him and into the moist ground lining the cavern, before resting his cheek along his forearm, tucking himself beneath his neck and closing his eyes.
Ellyse can hardly stifle the chuckle from rising within her throat, tired as she is, and once more she is leaning against Ledger, with her unkempt feathers pressing uncomfortably against the visible ridges of his ribs.
”It would seem that he likes you,” she murmurs, resting against the comfort of Ledger, while watching the emotion across Dahmer’s face.
She can feel the tension rising with their banter and tersely spoken words (if they are a veiled threat, she is unaware), but she is too riddled with fatigue to cut through it – she is too tired to realize that the tension is because of her.
Her pale mouth brushes gently over his skin, longing for a connection she had not felt in so long – she had kept herself secluded, hidden away into the various crevices and rifts of the volcanic isle, wary of unveiling her fragile and delicate state. She had never favored pregnancy – even with thick muscle lining her bones and strength bound within her agile limbs, it was arduous, difficult, and exhausting, and she had never felt more vulnerable. Even now, leaning against him for his strength and stability is out of her character.
Alas, her anger towards him had faded long ago with the waning light of the moon – but her pride and frustration kept her at bay, wary and unwilling, with uncertainty stirring within the pit of her swollen belly. She had never thought herself desirable – she is scathing, biting, and bitter, with a sharp wit and sharper tongue, and too often, she found herself destroying a relationship rather than building upon one. Beneath feminine curves lain over rounded hipbones lay a shadow of darkness of steadfast stubbornness, of coiled aggression. She hardly saw herself as anything but a fighter – in life, in love, in everything that drove her ambition.
And yet, her weary heartstrings had become more complicated and tangled with every breath.
Beneath the pale moonlight, she and Dahmer had become entangled (an unexpected development; one that causes her heart to beat a little faster if her mind lingers on it too long), and then she had found Ledger, and a passion she had never known unfolded like a powerful pyroclastic eruption –
When his jealousy had unfurled itself and stirred Ledger to shift into a dangerous creature with a salivating mouth and sharp, perfectly lined teeth, she had been faced with a demon darker than any she had known – and her heart had clenched within her chest. She did not fear his transformation – it seemed everyone she had ever known had a secret kept locked away – but a weary dread had descended upon her with the realization that he felt some sort of possessive desire to keep her; she had hoped that she meant more to him than that. She still hoped.
She did not want to be a possession –
No more than she had wanted to be a distraction.
And as Dahmer makes himself known, her heartbeat is pumping faster, and faster – her own heart is forgotten and her focus is solely settled on the wide-eyed, curious son nestled against her folded wing, and his awestruck father kneeling before him. She cannot suppress the shadow of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, glancing between the two. Gently, she brushes her mouth across the soft and slightly curved spine of her son, urging him to move away from her shadow, to move closer to the blackened beast before him.
Your eyes, he has your eyes, he muses, and she quietly observes Smoak – his downy, creamy tufts of hair, the bony plating, his bright hazel eyes – there is a pang of disappointment that he is not more of his father, along with a glowing pride that he is so much of her.
”He does,” she murmurs softly, merely tracing the soft line of her newborn son’s cheek, and the pure innocence that lay within each watchful pupil. ”we can only hope that he does not have my temper.” There is a faint simper at the corner of her mouth, but it fades.
”Smoak, this is your father,” she breathes, her golden flecked eyes shifting to Dahmer, observing the mirth bubbling at the surface – she had rarely seen such glee in him, and it stirs a warmth within her chest. Curiously, their son brushes his muzzle across the broad plane of his father’s forehead, inhaling the scent of the salty sea and the sulfur of the ashen land on his skin. He shakily lowers his small and petite body before him, folding his gawky legs beneath him and into the moist ground lining the cavern, before resting his cheek along his forearm, tucking himself beneath his neck and closing his eyes.
Ellyse can hardly stifle the chuckle from rising within her throat, tired as she is, and once more she is leaning against Ledger, with her unkempt feathers pressing uncomfortably against the visible ridges of his ribs.
”It would seem that he likes you,” she murmurs, resting against the comfort of Ledger, while watching the emotion across Dahmer’s face.
She can feel the tension rising with their banter and tersely spoken words (if they are a veiled threat, she is unaware), but she is too riddled with fatigue to cut through it – she is too tired to realize that the tension is because of her.
head of war of tephra
daughter of elysium & speck
daughter of elysium & speck
@[Dahmer] @[Ledger]