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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    lior;
    #1
    She spun the stars on her fingernails
    With hardly an effort Nayl found herself guiding Lior home. This isn’t just hers now, but theirs. She looks at him with eyes lit by fire and a grin fueled by lingering curiosity. There is so much to learn about him and now she has him here, all to herself. When her momentum quickens, she hesitates and slows herself in order to return to his side. The trek is long and arduous, but it’s rather a test of strength and stamina. She doesn’t doubt him; she can see the strength in his eyes and the muscles rippling underneath his skin. ”You’ll enjoy it here,” she finally says as the coast looms ahead. Already she can hear the crashing of the waves and the squawking of the sea gulls; they are a beacon even on the darkest nights, but fortunately, there is still some daylight left in the scarlet sky. ”If you so wish, you can find caves here to stay in,” but she doesn’t want him to isolate himself again. She wants him nearby where she can hear him, see him. Feel him.

    The offer lingers there, however, and she spares him a glance as they walk from soil to sand. ”This is Nerine,” the kingdom unravels in front of them and it ignites a deeper grin that surfaces from her soul. The disinterested tones in which she spoke of home to him at first have since been abandoned and replaced. There is passion in her voice, a rekindled flame that she had once thought sputtering and dying. She has hope for this place and plans to help it thrive after it had spent a year in turmoil and depression.

    With the ocean in front of her and the mouth of a cave behind her, Nayl stops. Her body is so close to his and his warmth gropes for her with twisting fingers, but she doesn’t fall into him. As a statue – a soldier – she looks fondly at the horizon and listens to the lull of the noises. It isn’t the Jungle, but it’s still something great (so she is learning), and it’s hers. An excitable chill cartwheels down her back and quickens her heartbeat when she looks at him. ”I am Queen now,” she whispers into the warm air surrounding them, her eyes bright. ”This is all mine,” she tastes the truth and savors the sweetness of the words. There is more tiptoeing on the edge of her tongue, but she refrains for now.

    This is all mine, she thinks, and so are you.



    Nayl
    covet and myrina's creation
    #2

     
    I look inside myself
    Gone away was the venom on her tongue. There was no longer a void in her eyes as she speaks of Nerine. Instead, fire and passion are ignited as she speaks of the coastal lands. Her quick, delicate steps give away her eagerness to lead him home but she is mindful of his lumbering walk as shoulders roll and thick haunches glide from tall field grasses to the sparse and spikey ones deposited by the sea. Pewter eyes can not help but fall in love with the way the waters lap against the shore, the sea air making him feel heady and unlike himself.

    It's frightening.
     
    Lior looks to the Nayl, -no Queen Nayl-, as the words slip from her lips like honey wine. The dark male wishes to watch as she tells of this place and the secrets that it whispers just beyond the eye. Pools rotate to follow her gaze as she mentions the caves and he finds that he likes that she has remembered this little fact about him. The smile that changes her features, brightening them, are reciprocated upon his own whiskered and cracked lips for the first in months. The stallion, in response to her infections grin, splits his lips to do just the same. Something lightens from his heavy burdens. He can feel as though he would be able to belong here amongst the mares and their siren's land. "You have a beautiful home, Queen Nayl." He is practically whispering the words to her, enclosing them in the space between them, weaving them closer. Lior finds the heat of her skin is welcomed where so many others were not.
     
    The great black monster, the caveman, the nomad.
     
    Lior admires the woman before him. Her queenship had unlocked a secret compartment somewhere in her depths and it suited her well. She stands before him as a new mare, embraced and worshipped by Nerine and her people. Lior settles in next to her with the heavy thud of his hooves to look over the vastness of the ocean. Never before had he seen the sea and it still mesmerized him with it's rhythmic lull. Lior soon feels the quiet tendrils of calm begin to creep into him, the smile that had cracked his lips still present upon his dark features.
    And see my heart is black
    #3
    She spun the stars on her fingernails
    Of course, she remembers. Their time together had not been wasted. Every breath and every word that slipped from his whiskered lips cradled her ears and burned into her mind. He wasn’t to be forgotten; he wasn’t an irrelevant figure in her life. Somehow, she knew that their paths would once again collide. When he spoke of home she had then wanted to lure him to the coast (perhaps she truly is a deadly siren?), but the idea was so far-fetched that before she could even let the words tiptoe the length of her tongue the idea was gone.

    But the field? Seeing him standing alone fueled something primal inside her and she couldn’t resist sidling toward him and inwardly – officially – claiming him as her own.

    Now to have him here trailing her to Nerine, there is something far deeper brewing inside her. When she grins, Lior mirrors it. Electricity courses through her veins, her skin flinching delicately under his stare. She revels in hearing his voice (hearing him call her Queen), her pulse quickening for a fleeting moment before composing herself before she can betray the anxiety and curiosity she has for him. Underneath her stony face there is a want to touch him, to feel him melt against her side, but that would ruin her. She would be the weaker one if she were to cave into her impulses (and no one wants a weak Queen) and so she stands unyieldingly with her fiery eyes flickering between the caves, Lior, and the ocean.

    ”Thank you,” she finally urges herself to say with a softened regard of him. While he is here due to her own selfishness, there is also a purpose for him though it isn’t so tiresome or all-consuming as positions for the women. He is a body. He is strength. He is hers (or so she strongly hopes).

    Nayl turns slowly, moving with the same metronome as the calming waves nearby. Their eyes meet and hold steadily onto each other as she searches for more to say. Burdened by her wants but fueled by her political needs she tries to simply talk to him, to know him, before bringing herself to delve far deeper than she has ever been comfortable to explore. ”Tell me something about yourself, Lior,” she enjoys the taste of his name on her tongue. Admittedly, she wants to repeat it, but she purses her lips tightly shut, albeit a grin, and quietly plays with it in her mind.




    Nayl
    covet and myrina's creation
    #4

    I look inside myself
    Oh Lior, Lior, Lior

    The woman cloaked in smoke and sin. The Queen of the coast. How was it even possible for Lior to say no? She was capturing and elusive from the day they had first met. Had she been queen then? Lior wonders briefly as stony gray eyes watch her move away, a chill sliding in where her warm skin had previously stroked his own dark pelt. For a brief moment, Lior can almost swear he feels a searing tear from where she had stood seconds ago.

    Something urgent and hot wells up in him to watch as Nayl dips away to look over the sea. He is a man after all and it is only natural to want to comfort, help someone you are concerned for. (He is careful to even allow himself to feel as though he may actually care). Heavy hooves draw him close to her once again as though he could not bear to be far from her.

    This witch. This temptress.

    Lior swings along side his new queen without meeting her gaze. Lobes catch her words, inquiring something about him but Lior shrugs it off. Nothing about him was worth talking about. Instead, as he is now shoulder to shoulder with the painted woman, he dips his heavy head to gently nose her neck and mane, inhaling the scent of her skin as the sound of waves kissed the shore.

    "I spent a long time alone-" The words are muffled, mumbled against her skin as he closes his eyes, crawling up the length of her neck. "And it feels good to be home." The dark stallion speaks in hushed tones as he draws to her cheek now, hot breath coming almost jaggedly at the closeness that he dared for the first time in years.

    He hesitates as something primal beckons him to stay this way, drink her in and never let her go but the stallion moves and breaks his contact. How dare a bastard creature such as he touch the queen mare in such a bold way? Feathered limbs reverse him a pace and then another before stopping, mercury pools drifting to look out over the land in quiet reserve. He attempts to build the wall back up, brick by brick, to guard against something he should not have allowed himself to conjure up. Unless Nayl chose for him otherwise. "And you, my Queen, tell me of yourself."

    Brick by brick.
    And see my heart is black
    #5
    She spun the stars on her fingernails
    She had almost touched him; her whiskers fondled his coat, but their skin never met. Part of her is afraid. She has never touched a stallion; their warmth and their strength beneath her lips is a mere figment of her imagination. While there lies a great lust (ever building, ever growing) thrumming in her veins to feel a male, she doesn’t crumble in the face of her temptation. A greater part of her savors the idea of being untouchable, of being a virgin Queen. She hasn’t been marked or forced into subordination by the opposite sex. They – Stillwater and Lior – stare hungrily in her direction, but she doesn’t sate their desires (or hers). Let them suffer and groan, wishing they could have her beneath them wanting more.

    That’s when he reaches for her neck, but she withdraws just enough so that only his whiskers scrape along her coat. ”I’ve never touched a stallion,” she isn’t quite sure why she admits this to him or why she is able to say it so nonchalantly despite the curious rush of blood through her veins. ”I’m sure that’s a first,” the airy laughter that floats past her lips is a beautiful sound, but it’s so rare that Nayl startles herself and falls immediately quiet. ”I’m actually sixteen years old, but I guess that’s the beauty of immortality,” she pauses after having realized how long it has been since she first breathed in the Jungle and saw her father. ”I’ve never been in a rush to do anything.” As though she has to justify herself to him and explain why she can’t throw herself at him.

    But the focus does not remain on her for long (nor would she allow herself to dwell on her trivial shortcomings) as she turns her fiery eyes to the beach and ocean beyond. ”Welcome home, Lior,” this is his now, just as he is hers. Nayl shudders in desire, wanting so bad to claim him and to forever keep him, but she doesn’t make the mistake to reach toward him again – not yet. ”You won’t be alone here, unless that is your wish." But she hopes that it wouldn’t be, and that he would choose her company above all others.

    Nerine is almost forgotten when she peers up at him. For a fleeting moment Nayl loses herself in his gray eyes as they, in turn, drink her in. They are drunk on each other, but it’s she that composes herself faster and takes a single step away. Although they hadn’t been touching, it still seems odd to have space between them. The wind – so salty and warm – cradles their empty sides and yet there is a coldness that runs along the side of her body. Would it be considered weak to fold herself into him? It crosses her mind, but her hooves remain buried in the white sand, rooting her in place as she mulls over his reciprocated question. ”There isn’t much to tell,” or so she thinks as her life replays in her mind. ”I was born into the sisterhood of the Jungle; it’s all I’ve ever known. My parents died when I was young, and I only had my sisters to cope, but I was in and out of their ranks. All I knew was that the Jungle was home.” It was more than she cared to admit, but the truth spilled from her mouth in relentless waves, unable to be stopped by her better judgment.

    While the sense of vulnerability coats her, she can’t help but ask a simple question that carries far more weight than anything else she has said. ”Would you ever betray me, Lior?” Would he let slip her secrets, her stories, her plans?




    Nayl
    covet and myrina's creation
    #6

    I look inside myself
    He closes his eyes to her.

    He shuts out her image at the rejection of his warmth, of his endearing touch. The dark man has not troubled himself with such a burden as this woman before. Her lack of reciprocal response sends cold tendrils deep into his depths. He did not need much...a gentle tap, a playful nip, a simple caress would melt and mold him. For many years after the rape by his father, had left him broken and dying. He fought for so long to remain nothing more than a gasping carcass but one day he mustered the last of his will to fix what was broken. He tended to himself, growing and filling where once bloody flanks and patchy hair stretched like the land of Pangea. Lior had allowed himself to live, to try again.

    But Nayl, and her dismissal of his lips, reminds him of his inability to be caressed, his undeserving and unmet need to feel desired. A slow inhale draws his chest out as he falls deaf to Nayl. She may be Queen. Lovely, immortal, pure. But he had chosen to allow her to rule him. Lids lift to reveal the new hardened steel of his eyes. Nayl assists to build the wall he had dared to lower.

    Lobes catch her words as they tip toed between his ears, the bone cage in his chest. "No. " He responds with the single word to her question, flat and distant. But he was, after all, loyal in return for her offer of a home...but not her bed.

    Heavy hooves shift his weight to return his attention back to the ocean with its rhythmic dance and glinting sun. Behind him was the crevasses and cooks of the caves. Lior would make his home there till Nayl chose otherwise...if ever.
    And see my heart is black
    #7
    She spun the stars on her fingernails
    Oh, how slowly he blinks his eyes and how quickly he rebuilds his wall.

    Nayl watches as it unravels and how the bricks are cemented together and fortified. Her mouth opens to speak, but uncertainty strips her of the ability. There is nothing she can say or do to save him; she already began burning the bridge that tethered them together. She wants desperately to quench it, but she can’t give him what he wants – needs – and so she looks on with an uneasiness in her stare. ”There’s something about you,” she manages to mutter even as he withdraws and continues constructing his wall that she had once broken down, ”and it keeps me here next to you, wanting you to live here with me.” Nayl can’t pinpoint it as to why. When she looks across the ocean she remembers seeing him for the first time and how burly he had looked with his winter coat. Conversation was – is – difficult and yet she still wants more of him. This was to be strictly a sisterhood – a motive she supported – and yet she has brought men here and has given one (so far) a greater meaning and purpose. For that reason, she wants to trust him; she wants to turn to him and lean against him when the burdens weigh her down.

    ”Thank you,” is all she whispers when he denies betraying her. There is an unfamiliar tenderness when she addresses him, masking the iron-clad thoughts that support her answer. If betrayal ever happened, she is powerful enough to distribute punishment for anyone; nonetheless, she hopes to never harm him or even threaten him.

    But even as she diverted the conversation toward betrayal and trust, her mind is still wrapping around him trying to touch her. The idea of his warmth against her skin is enthralling, and had she weaker resolution, she would have succumbed to her temptation and melted into his side. Perhaps, there truly is a sliver of fear that dictates Nayl’s actions. She peers up at him, her eyes the colors of a raging fire, and her shoulders ripple in an uneasy shrug. ”You were the first stallion I had ever spoken to,” she admits this quietly as though ashamed, but her steely posture reads otherwise, ”and none have ever touched me.” Certainly there are days that she imagines how it would be to experience an embrace, to fold perfectly into another’s side, but that would require her to be vulnerable which is difficult for her to grasp.

    ”Would it make me weak to crumble in the face of temptation?” Even as she seeks his answer, all she can hear is ‘yes.’




    Nayl
    covet and myrina's creation
    #8

    I look inside myself
    He wants to go. To find a cave to hide in and to snuff out the world and the cruel tricks it insists upon testing him with. Was he simply made as a cruel joke, destined to suffer and be a martyr to all the unjust existence that is his life?

    The mare -his queen- still remains by his side as he attempts to steel himself against the honeyed words that drip from her perfect lips, threatening all the damned rsolve he has. He feels the heat, the vibrations, cruelly teasing him. She smells of honeysuckle and sage and it fills him with weakness and desire. Jaw is clenched and working to remain motionless when all he wants more in this word is to grab her and hold her and melt into her skin.

    (he wants this more than life itself)

    Unseeing eyes play it all out in his mind but he remains motionless save for the way the salt sea breeze lifts his dark mane up and over the thickness of his neck. Mercury filled pools blink rapidly to clear away the images that sends his heart racing.

    She begins again, much too close and much too gently, with words that could have been placed among the constellations. It is when she says the word 'you', the silver of his eyes tear from the horizon and he clutches her in his gaze. The way desperation floats just beyond the amber of her eyes, the way her voice seems to quiver at it's very edges.

    He needs her.
    He wants her.
    And still like the great redwoods, he stands unwavering, listening.

    The dark stallion quiets the rugged breathes that he is suddenly aware of. He calms his nerves, gives nothing away. But her question, the syllables that tip toe from her tongue, dissolve him. He wants to tell her what she wants to hear. He wants to tell her yes for that is what she thinks she deserves but no, she deserves so much more.

    And he is a man in the very most savage, selfish, and primal way.

    The stoic unwavering features soften as he is the one who starts to crumble under the beautiful orange and red gaze. "No." He is the weak one. There was no way he could have denied the rush of emotion that surges like a broken dam. Lior is turning to her, facing her, pleading with glinting gray eyes. He would never cross her, betray her, hurt her.

    He would also never lie to her and now stands tall and shameless in her shadow.
    And see my heart is black




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