06-23-2017, 09:05 PM
don't put my love on your back burner; never let anything that hot get cold
. Her explanation is paltry at best; poorly executed. His mother was capable of many things – physical and verbal, but he was left with little else but his own imagination as to what she had done to elicit such a response. A shiver traverses the surface of his broad wings, which twitch irritably at each side, a wayward glance given to the pale sky overhead. Darkness was already beginning to descend, and its shadow gently touched his cheek, where a different kind of darkness lie.
There is some vague mention of his mother learning to hold her tongue, and he can only imagine the ego required to take simple words to such an elevated level. His gaze is settled upon the piercing cobalt of her own, following their sweeping motion towards a dark, rather insidious looking cave – and a shiver traverses the length of his spine, as an uneasiness sets in.
”You’ve brought me here because my mother hurt your feelings?” he asks flatly, the crease between his eyes deepening into a scowl – a perplexed one, at that. ”Is that it?”
But her steady gaze is boring into him, and he is uncomfortable, feeling her trace where the muscle and bone come together – rippling beneath his pale, golden skin – she is looking for weakness, no doubt – looking for any semblance of strength, too.
Then, the atmosphere shifts - changes - and with nothing else but a softly spoken warning, the edges of his feathers are nothing but dust in the wind, carried off to some distant corner of Nerine, while he is left incredulous, flexing the length of his wing and observing the gaps where the long, finely preened feathers had once been. A glance is spared to her, while dread stirs and rolls in the pit of his belly. He knew there was more to her than visual illusion alone – and nausea drapes over him like a heavily stitched cloak at the idea of what else she could disintegrate.
All I want from you is your presence, she murmurs softly, and he hesitates.
His presence, or something else?
”Look, you seem like a .. a nice .. something – well, maybe not even that – but I have a family.” His voice is quiet then, his mind drifting to Circinae wading through the crystalline water with their sons – their beautiful sons, with laughter bubbling up from their little lungs, and his heart is suddenly aching as the reality of the situation settles between his shoulders.
”I have a family to get back to; don’t do this - please. Let me go.”
There is some vague mention of his mother learning to hold her tongue, and he can only imagine the ego required to take simple words to such an elevated level. His gaze is settled upon the piercing cobalt of her own, following their sweeping motion towards a dark, rather insidious looking cave – and a shiver traverses the length of his spine, as an uneasiness sets in.
”You’ve brought me here because my mother hurt your feelings?” he asks flatly, the crease between his eyes deepening into a scowl – a perplexed one, at that. ”Is that it?”
But her steady gaze is boring into him, and he is uncomfortable, feeling her trace where the muscle and bone come together – rippling beneath his pale, golden skin – she is looking for weakness, no doubt – looking for any semblance of strength, too.
Then, the atmosphere shifts - changes - and with nothing else but a softly spoken warning, the edges of his feathers are nothing but dust in the wind, carried off to some distant corner of Nerine, while he is left incredulous, flexing the length of his wing and observing the gaps where the long, finely preened feathers had once been. A glance is spared to her, while dread stirs and rolls in the pit of his belly. He knew there was more to her than visual illusion alone – and nausea drapes over him like a heavily stitched cloak at the idea of what else she could disintegrate.
All I want from you is your presence, she murmurs softly, and he hesitates.
His presence, or something else?
”Look, you seem like a .. a nice .. something – well, maybe not even that – but I have a family.” His voice is quiet then, his mind drifting to Circinae wading through the crystalline water with their sons – their beautiful sons, with laughter bubbling up from their little lungs, and his heart is suddenly aching as the reality of the situation settles between his shoulders.
”I have a family to get back to; don’t do this - please. Let me go.”
CANAAN
(son of magnus & ellyse)