08-31-2017, 09:26 PM
** marked mature for brief reference to intimacy
It felt as if there were a gaping wound, festering within his chest, leaving him breathless and longing like he had never been before. He had been given a taste of her – so sweet, like droplets of rainwater – and of the passion that simmered beneath her skin, arching to his ravenous mouth, gasping against the urgency of his body melding into her own – a dance as old as time itself, and it had sated his desire, if only for a moment in time.
He had spent much more time caressing her beneath the pale moonlight, drawing her closer to him and brushing his dark mouth across the column of her throat, the curve of her jawline, while her dark tresses draped over his own. He had tasted the gentle hum of her pleasure under his tongue, and he had brushed away the fallen tears away from her emerald skin. There was so much meaning within his gentle, deliberate caresses – hidden within each soft kiss were apologies that no words could ever convey, and each time that his body became one with her own, he felt closer to her, and it was a feeling he would not soon forget.
Alas, dawn inevitably came, and with it, they had parted ways. The wanderlust within him was dormant, and he yearned to stay by her side, to follow her to whatever end of the Earth she so craved to see, but she had convinced him that taking the time to brace their sons for his arrival would be in their best interest. Thus, she had moved to the north, and he to the south, despite the heavy, roiling knot of dread slowly building within the pit of his belly that told him to follow her – to not leave her side.
His instinct had known better than he.
His broad, heavily feathered wings had become stiff and sore from disuse, and he longed to be amid the rolling clouds once more, drifting across various wind currents (both those created by his own sheer will, and those as natural as the blinding sun itself) – and after many hours of flexing and stretching the hollowed bones and their neglected ligaments, he had finally taken flight, soaring over the wide, open sky.
His mirth was short-lived, however, as a swell of darkness bloomed over the woodland toward the north, followed by a distant rumbling as the ground and sea began to untangle itself from its own delicately woven threads, bubbling up with seawater and magma as a corner of the forest fell into pieces.
No. No, it can’t be –
Taiga.
But it is, and his heart is beating faster, wildly pounding inside of his chest as the angle of his broad wingspan is shifted, and a gust of forceful wind carries him swiftly across the landscape. He does not dare enter the darkness of which has inevitably swallowed the copse of trees it once loomed over precariously, choosing instead to plunge himself into an open clearing a mile south of the wreckage, while his long, golden legs outstretch for a stunted landing, surrounded by tall and winding vegetation, his hazel gaze searching the shadow of the dark tree line.
Nearby, the river roared, echoing throughout the dense foliage, but he did not seek the solace of its ravenous ways now – and a deep, urgent call (a plea, his heart racing still) echoes through out the land – a call for Circinae, for Jah-Lilah, for his sons.
@[Circinae] @[Jah-Lilah]
Canaan
And maybe, I'll find out a way to make it back someday.
To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.
To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.
It felt as if there were a gaping wound, festering within his chest, leaving him breathless and longing like he had never been before. He had been given a taste of her – so sweet, like droplets of rainwater – and of the passion that simmered beneath her skin, arching to his ravenous mouth, gasping against the urgency of his body melding into her own – a dance as old as time itself, and it had sated his desire, if only for a moment in time.
He had spent much more time caressing her beneath the pale moonlight, drawing her closer to him and brushing his dark mouth across the column of her throat, the curve of her jawline, while her dark tresses draped over his own. He had tasted the gentle hum of her pleasure under his tongue, and he had brushed away the fallen tears away from her emerald skin. There was so much meaning within his gentle, deliberate caresses – hidden within each soft kiss were apologies that no words could ever convey, and each time that his body became one with her own, he felt closer to her, and it was a feeling he would not soon forget.
Alas, dawn inevitably came, and with it, they had parted ways. The wanderlust within him was dormant, and he yearned to stay by her side, to follow her to whatever end of the Earth she so craved to see, but she had convinced him that taking the time to brace their sons for his arrival would be in their best interest. Thus, she had moved to the north, and he to the south, despite the heavy, roiling knot of dread slowly building within the pit of his belly that told him to follow her – to not leave her side.
His instinct had known better than he.
His broad, heavily feathered wings had become stiff and sore from disuse, and he longed to be amid the rolling clouds once more, drifting across various wind currents (both those created by his own sheer will, and those as natural as the blinding sun itself) – and after many hours of flexing and stretching the hollowed bones and their neglected ligaments, he had finally taken flight, soaring over the wide, open sky.
His mirth was short-lived, however, as a swell of darkness bloomed over the woodland toward the north, followed by a distant rumbling as the ground and sea began to untangle itself from its own delicately woven threads, bubbling up with seawater and magma as a corner of the forest fell into pieces.
No. No, it can’t be –
Taiga.
But it is, and his heart is beating faster, wildly pounding inside of his chest as the angle of his broad wingspan is shifted, and a gust of forceful wind carries him swiftly across the landscape. He does not dare enter the darkness of which has inevitably swallowed the copse of trees it once loomed over precariously, choosing instead to plunge himself into an open clearing a mile south of the wreckage, while his long, golden legs outstretch for a stunted landing, surrounded by tall and winding vegetation, his hazel gaze searching the shadow of the dark tree line.
Nearby, the river roared, echoing throughout the dense foliage, but he did not seek the solace of its ravenous ways now – and a deep, urgent call (a plea, his heart racing still) echoes through out the land – a call for Circinae, for Jah-Lilah, for his sons.
If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all,
then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you.
then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you.
@[Circinae] @[Jah-Lilah]