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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


    Circinae;
    #5
    Ruan
    Nonsense, she soothed, and he felt both reassured and foolish for feeling that way in the first place. Why would Circinae ever want to avoid him? He didn't know what he'd been thinking.

    I still remember the first time we met, years ago, she said, a small smile trying to match hers. He remembered too, but he'd been so different then. Did she see it? All the changes. He'd been so warm and open, still cautious but so easily loving, so very giving of affection and care and kindness. And now... Maybe he was still the same, in some way. But yet so very different. Stand-offish, distant. And so cold. Isolated. Something.. a little darker. Something dangerous.

    His eyes snapped to the ice as she flicked her tail, the glittering dust unintentionally throwing him almost bodily into a memory. A time when he was exactly that: cold, numb. Unfeeling. Almost feral after the demon had attacked him. He'd stood there in the forest, his eyes on the thick and strong tree in front of him, staring so hard at the bark as his mind was elsewhere. As he was trapped in a frozen rage.

    Let it burn, let it all burn, he'd thought viciously.
    No.
    Let it
    freeze.

    All the leaves for as far as he could see had solidified, fully encapsulated in ice. Without thought, without feeling, without caring, he obliterated them all with the ease of a blink in a shower of glittering particles. A darkness had entered him, and it was so tempting to fall back into that, where the pain couldn't reach him. Into the embrace of his unfeeling Winter. So cold. So powerful.

    He was dimly aware she was speaking again, and fought to bring himself back. Feel the pain and the hate, the hurt; welcome it back, feel it, feel it. Shutting it off was bad. And he slowly came back, came aware again with his eyes still on the icy dust she'd shattered to see that he'd formed it into a lethal point, so sharp. It could have sunk into her so easily, he knew, so very little resistance and rimmed in warm blood, red against the perfect green of her. Or curled into a shackle, an iron of solid ice to hold her in place. His head tilted, eyes distant and almost glowing.

    It was the foreign beast in his mind that woke him fully, as though bitten. It didn't want her hurt. Of course he didn't either, he snapped silently at it. He dragged in a shuddering breath, his eyes sharpening and focusing on her again. He blinked, drinking her in, letting her steady him. That was not a burden she should carry, but for now it would have to do. He was so different from the man she'd first met, wasn't he? So much had changed in him.

    It seems like so much has changed, doesn't it? He could almost laugh at how she always seemed to speak his thoughts, except that he was so disturbed at where he'd gone, what had passed through his mind. He glanced away, guarding her from the guilt sitting so heavily behind his bright, blue eyes. Then he was aware of something else, another something new, and his gaze came back curiously to see her more fully.

    She swirled little patterns gently into his shoulder, then her lips swept up and over and along his spine before she settled against him. Suddenly breathing became a chore and his heart reacted to her tender touch. He frowned, couldn't seem to speak, and shook his head in a silent and tight No as he shifted a step out of her embrace. She didn't mean anything by it, he was sure, just comfort from a friend. It didn't really mean anything, maybe not to her. But it meant something to him, to be touched and cared for even on this shallow level, and he retreated from it. It wasn't right to him, even as friends, not when he was with someone else.

    It meant too much.

    "But no one ever really changes, Ruan. They just make the wrong choices... You haven't changed...
    Still Alpha. Still my King.
    Choose what you know is right."


    His face softened, his tension eased, and he turned much warmer eyes to her. He ducked his head and pressed his forehead against her neck, tangling his hair against her coat as he dragged across her briefly, a playful nip at her skin as he retreated. A wolf's affection in a horse's body. Perhaps it was easier to give touch than to receive, he didn't really think on it as he met her gaze again with a disbelieving little shake of his head.

    I've never been called King, he admitted with a crooked grin, eager to bury his earlier tension in shared smiles. It's easy to forget in other lands that is what they would see me as. Here, I am just another of the pack, of the family. Only a steady guide when it is needed, a protector. Is that strange?

    The sadness, the anger, the pain. He must choose them.
    The alternative is so much worse.
    The alternative would kill her.

    Or worse.




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    Messages In This Thread
    Circinae; - by Ruan - 03-10-2017, 01:46 PM
    RE: Circinae; - by Circinae - 03-10-2017, 04:32 PM
    RE: Circinae; - by Ruan - 03-11-2017, 09:02 PM
    RE: Circinae; - by Circinae - 03-13-2017, 01:08 PM
    RE: Circinae; - by Ruan - 03-16-2017, 12:52 AM
    RE: Circinae; - by Circinae - 03-18-2017, 05:41 PM



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