04-15-2017, 08:27 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-15-2017, 08:28 PM by Stillwater.)
Stillwater
His attention was drawn away at the boy's movement. At his son's movement. So odd. So new. Dark, blue-gray eyes watched as he stood quickly, then landed face-first in the water he was born in. Would maybe be raised in. Small, little splutters coughed out of him, and a strange instinct made the father urge to lift his nose from the water. But his boy was moving again, righting himself on his own without aid and scrambling in between them.
Stillwater reached toward him with a curious sniff, memorizing the scent of this one that was a part of him. A part of her. The colt wiggled further in between them, laid his head on his sire's large chest with soft little noises. Would he come to like the monster that created him, he wondered as he bent to clean his nose free of any lingering water. Or would he learn to fear him and never seek him out. And which one was best for him.
"He looks like my father," she said, and he studied the colors a little more, trying to picture a full-grown version that might have raised Djinni. He was about to look up at her when her lips met his jaw, and instead closed them, releasing a slow breath and leaning into the contact.
"I thought you were angry with me," she admitted, her eyes turning to look out across the water of their home. The water he belonged in deep, deep below the surface if only he could free himself from this body. "I wasn't sure you'd want to know". He thought on it a moment, idly touching his nose to her shoulder and reminding himself of her scent. Of theirs together, the three of them.
Would he have chosen this for them? No, certainly not. But neither could he be angry with her. She hadn't known what would happen -he hadn't either. Maybe at first he'd blamed her. Wrongly, of course. But maybe the monster was to blame, it's primal nature. Or himself. Unless that was one and the same. Sometimes he wasn't even sure. Nonetheless, it hadn't been her fault. He knew that now, and he should have done better to let her know it too.
He sighed quietly and touched her neck, silently asking for her eyes to meet his. I'm sorry, Djinni. Truth, always the damn truth. He shook his head, slow and a bit sadly. I want you to be able to tell me anything. Any time. Even things like this, that maybe had been hard for her. She hadn't had to do this alone, but saying so now wouldn't change anything, wouldn't make anything better. She didn't have to continue to do it alone either. Could he really say such a thing, though? Bind himself with his own words even more solidly than her chain at his wrist. Hers.
He glanced down at it, just a flicker, then stared out across the water. He wanted to be under there, even if this attractive anklet never left him. Even if it cut into his flesh as he changed, returned to himself. Maybe that would even force the creature to remember the kindness of people. Humanity. Morality rather than mortality. It didn't matter though. He was trapped in an in-between state, a battle between man and beast. Maybe it was best this way.
What more could he do for her though? Did she even want anything at all from him?
Let me help you in this, he said quietly, firmly, yet almost a question. Almost a request. His eyes slid back to hers again, studying the earthy brown of them. Secretly admiring them, the real and natural her. Or would you prefer I stay away from him. Away from you. They were safer that way, after all, weren't they? That was probably the wisest choice. But with his gaze slipping down to him, nestled between their bodies, he wasn't sure it was the solution he wanted.
But it was safer.
Stillwater reached toward him with a curious sniff, memorizing the scent of this one that was a part of him. A part of her. The colt wiggled further in between them, laid his head on his sire's large chest with soft little noises. Would he come to like the monster that created him, he wondered as he bent to clean his nose free of any lingering water. Or would he learn to fear him and never seek him out. And which one was best for him.
"He looks like my father," she said, and he studied the colors a little more, trying to picture a full-grown version that might have raised Djinni. He was about to look up at her when her lips met his jaw, and instead closed them, releasing a slow breath and leaning into the contact.
"I thought you were angry with me," she admitted, her eyes turning to look out across the water of their home. The water he belonged in deep, deep below the surface if only he could free himself from this body. "I wasn't sure you'd want to know". He thought on it a moment, idly touching his nose to her shoulder and reminding himself of her scent. Of theirs together, the three of them.
Would he have chosen this for them? No, certainly not. But neither could he be angry with her. She hadn't known what would happen -he hadn't either. Maybe at first he'd blamed her. Wrongly, of course. But maybe the monster was to blame, it's primal nature. Or himself. Unless that was one and the same. Sometimes he wasn't even sure. Nonetheless, it hadn't been her fault. He knew that now, and he should have done better to let her know it too.
He sighed quietly and touched her neck, silently asking for her eyes to meet his. I'm sorry, Djinni. Truth, always the damn truth. He shook his head, slow and a bit sadly. I want you to be able to tell me anything. Any time. Even things like this, that maybe had been hard for her. She hadn't had to do this alone, but saying so now wouldn't change anything, wouldn't make anything better. She didn't have to continue to do it alone either. Could he really say such a thing, though? Bind himself with his own words even more solidly than her chain at his wrist. Hers.
He glanced down at it, just a flicker, then stared out across the water. He wanted to be under there, even if this attractive anklet never left him. Even if it cut into his flesh as he changed, returned to himself. Maybe that would even force the creature to remember the kindness of people. Humanity. Morality rather than mortality. It didn't matter though. He was trapped in an in-between state, a battle between man and beast. Maybe it was best this way.
What more could he do for her though? Did she even want anything at all from him?
Let me help you in this, he said quietly, firmly, yet almost a question. Almost a request. His eyes slid back to hers again, studying the earthy brown of them. Secretly admiring them, the real and natural her. Or would you prefer I stay away from him. Away from you. They were safer that way, after all, weren't they? That was probably the wisest choice. But with his gaze slipping down to him, nestled between their bodies, he wasn't sure it was the solution he wanted.
But it was safer.
go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it