05-24-2016, 01:54 PM
keep you like an oath
may nothing but death do us part
may nothing but death do us part
Skin and skin, more like fur and fur and he flinches at the touch because for moments he has forgotten what was. He doesn’t know why his body betrays him so, sinks away instead of responding with bold actions as it would have before. Kirin feels almost alien in his own body for a moment, a breath of air and even though the occurrence is fleeting it does not pass unnoticed. Silver eyes float to her face, taking in the familiarity of the curves of her jaw and the fine lines of her regal head. “Misra?” he asks, as though uncertainty still fills him and in acknowledgement to the fact that for a moment there he was uncertain- quite. If he had them still, his hands, he would shakily bring them to her dark face, cupping her cheeks in his palms.
Even as the bewitchment wore off he shook. It was not a reaction to or a quiver of anticipation, it was something new. Something he had not felt in so long that he had forgotten what it was. It took him a moment to even remember what to call it, and when the word finally came to mind he recoiled. Fear.
When the wretched feeling subsides he trembles still, aftershocks taking him as he struggles to control his own motions but already he can feel the emotion replaced with one more familiar. Anger ravaged him when he placed blame on those responsible for his state of being, when he knew who should be held accountable for the very unnatural way his body and mind were reacting. Kirin didn’t know how he would return the favor to the fae but when he figured it out, boy, they would be sorry. Now that was a more Kirin-like thought, and the return of normalcy was welcome as he hissed out a breath when his nerves eased. The light returned to his silver eyes as he looked over the grown girl before him, sucking in the salty air as the crispness of it put a stitch in his side. His whole body hurt now but the pain was welcome, pain was something Kirin understood though more often was he the one inflicting it. When she asks him his eyes harden, narrowing as he bristles not at her or the inquiry but the answer.
“Yes indeed it appears I have been. It was the fairies Misra, they took me away, made me a man and now I am back, thrown in the sand like a used seal.” His voice is bitter, chilled, poison on his lips and he seethes as he speaks. “And they’ve not left it at that, they’ve done something else it seems, bewitched my mind to think in ways it shouldn’t!” Every word became a growl, growing in intensity until he was shouting. Very rarely did Kirin have cause to yell, it had been some time since he last raised his voice and never was it in Misra’s presence. When he had said his peace he took another long breath, curling into the female as if she were a soft, down-filled blanket. In inhales her deeply, sucking air into his lungs as though he strains to breathe and then his heart races and his mouth salivates. Slowly he finds what is himself and with it the insatiable ache to be close, to be in control of both himself and others.
Even as the bewitchment wore off he shook. It was not a reaction to or a quiver of anticipation, it was something new. Something he had not felt in so long that he had forgotten what it was. It took him a moment to even remember what to call it, and when the word finally came to mind he recoiled. Fear.
When the wretched feeling subsides he trembles still, aftershocks taking him as he struggles to control his own motions but already he can feel the emotion replaced with one more familiar. Anger ravaged him when he placed blame on those responsible for his state of being, when he knew who should be held accountable for the very unnatural way his body and mind were reacting. Kirin didn’t know how he would return the favor to the fae but when he figured it out, boy, they would be sorry. Now that was a more Kirin-like thought, and the return of normalcy was welcome as he hissed out a breath when his nerves eased. The light returned to his silver eyes as he looked over the grown girl before him, sucking in the salty air as the crispness of it put a stitch in his side. His whole body hurt now but the pain was welcome, pain was something Kirin understood though more often was he the one inflicting it. When she asks him his eyes harden, narrowing as he bristles not at her or the inquiry but the answer.
“Yes indeed it appears I have been. It was the fairies Misra, they took me away, made me a man and now I am back, thrown in the sand like a used seal.” His voice is bitter, chilled, poison on his lips and he seethes as he speaks. “And they’ve not left it at that, they’ve done something else it seems, bewitched my mind to think in ways it shouldn’t!” Every word became a growl, growing in intensity until he was shouting. Very rarely did Kirin have cause to yell, it had been some time since he last raised his voice and never was it in Misra’s presence. When he had said his peace he took another long breath, curling into the female as if she were a soft, down-filled blanket. In inhales her deeply, sucking air into his lungs as though he strains to breathe and then his heart races and his mouth salivates. Slowly he finds what is himself and with it the insatiable ache to be close, to be in control of both himself and others.
Kirin
son of khaos