05-05-2015, 09:49 AM
and when I breathed, my breath was lightning
They all fear her. That’s the truth of it. Even though they pretend they don’t, even though they tolerate her well enough, even though some of them are her friends. But they all keep their distance. They have learned that touching her is equivalent, more often than not, to pain. They all flinch when she slinks through the Jungle in her lioness form; they all look a moment too long. She knows that she scares them, and there’s a part of her that revels in it while the rest of her feels alienated and strange and wrong.
She doesn’t know exactly who she is anymore than Kratos does. But she wonders sometimes. Wonders who she might have become if she didn’t follow in her grandmother’s footsteps. Wonders what she might do if life had taken her to the Valley instead of the Jungle, or if she had simply stayed in the Dale. She could have been so very different. She still could be. She could see Scorch’s point of view, could see where an alliance with the Valley and the Chamber might be fun. They could rule Beqanna so easily, with those three forces combined.
Being with him though, she’s alive. Whatever, whoever she may be. She knows that she’s alive.
His blood is warm as it seeps between her padded toes, his flesh beneath her claws is soft and delicate in comparison. He leans closer, towering over her and yet she’s still as powerful as he is despite her smaller size. She laughs as he calls her kitty, laughs again as the lightning singes the hairs on her hip. Beautiful gold and white marred by what she really is, a patch of truth on her so carefully crafted mask.
The lightning trickles through her leg, through each claw, directly into his skin, seeping into the flesh and muscle and blood, pumping through him now like a current. If he were anyone else, he’d already be dead. But instead, she only makes him stronger, leaning closer to him so her breath is a breeze against his neck, laced with sparks that dance along his skin. She pulls back, finally removing the claws from his skin, her foot a hoof again, and she grins as the sky cracks. Again and again. Waiting for him.
She doesn’t know exactly who she is anymore than Kratos does. But she wonders sometimes. Wonders who she might have become if she didn’t follow in her grandmother’s footsteps. Wonders what she might do if life had taken her to the Valley instead of the Jungle, or if she had simply stayed in the Dale. She could have been so very different. She still could be. She could see Scorch’s point of view, could see where an alliance with the Valley and the Chamber might be fun. They could rule Beqanna so easily, with those three forces combined.
Being with him though, she’s alive. Whatever, whoever she may be. She knows that she’s alive.
His blood is warm as it seeps between her padded toes, his flesh beneath her claws is soft and delicate in comparison. He leans closer, towering over her and yet she’s still as powerful as he is despite her smaller size. She laughs as he calls her kitty, laughs again as the lightning singes the hairs on her hip. Beautiful gold and white marred by what she really is, a patch of truth on her so carefully crafted mask.
The lightning trickles through her leg, through each claw, directly into his skin, seeping into the flesh and muscle and blood, pumping through him now like a current. If he were anyone else, he’d already be dead. But instead, she only makes him stronger, leaning closer to him so her breath is a breeze against his neck, laced with sparks that dance along his skin. She pulls back, finally removing the claws from his skin, her foot a hoof again, and she grins as the sky cracks. Again and again. Waiting for him.
rhy
the electric lioness of riagan and rayelle
