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  • Beqanna

    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


    are you ready for a perfect storm? any. {M}
    #11
    so you want to play with magic?
    you should know what you're falling for.
    As it creeped up, bathing them all in the burning embers of warmth of an indian summer, Reagan would remember the following hours as if they were happening immediately every time she’d recall the memory. The images of a dark shadow pulling against her heart, urging her to play in the shadows of coy fragility, played to her mind, and with a smile she would remember the exact moment her whole world changed. And for someone who has lived as long as they have, this was a very defining moment indeed.

    She had not known when she came here to the river, seeking solace and thought that she would be standing here pushing against the thought that this man could hold her heart. That perhaps, in taking his and protecting it—nay, setting it on fire, showing him the power in his own blood—that there would be a future for her away from the trees. She had not known that in the weakness of her own fragility, that the greed of wanting to whisk herself away to another life would lead to this—would lead to him—and that she would be able to lean into the shadow and darkness. If the light led to her broken heart, then maybe the darkness could heal her.

    Hell, he already had.

    Mended by the physical ability of his fire, Reagan found her body quivering under the brimstone that was the effervescent heat that Offspring gave off. She could read his thoughts—soft, sheer images that quietly kissed his pain and torment, setting it free and soothing the turmoil within—and looked in his eyes while his gravelly voice spoke to her about weakness. Reagan eyed him, and knew that this moment had come.

    Their moment.

    There was no weakness in his eyes when he kissed his way down her body, pulling her against his heat and stretching her legs. There was no weakness in the trembling that took over her body unconscionably when he murmured quiet nothings in the dim light. There was no weakness when she found she was able to take his weight, and contented with a gasp when she found that he fit so well. The rhythmic dance that took over their minds, plunging them into silent blackness—it was instinctive. It was their hearts pounding in unison. It was the time of year—it was the love drug. He could call it what he liked, but the scent that she was now bathed in was not weakness. It was greed. And she found that she was greedy to feel his body against hers like that for always. And when he retreated, the pounding of his heart was in her ears, a thick sweat that lined her pelt that marked where he’d been like a lover’s tattoo sunk into her bloodstream, and quickened her own pulse. She was hungry for more of him.

    She wanted all of him.

    She has resolved to take him on, pushing on his supposed weakness, giving into his own darkness—the strength he could garner from her power—and when he comes to stand before her, he speaks again, his voice thick with lust, with no wish to push it aside, no want to pretend it didn’t happen.

    No Regrets.

    She instinctively pulls him to her, marking his own body with her scent, until they are both drowning in each other burning bright with the bright red fire of lust and the morning sunrise. She has tasted him. He has set her free—and she now intends to do the same for him. No matter what it costs her. You hardly know me, Reagan. True. She knows of him. She knows his dealings, his friends. But she longs to know his mind, to get inside his soul. To bathe in his darkness until there is nothing left but heat and liquid silk between them. You have no idea what I am capable of; what I can do—magic cannot protect you from darkness. He is most wrong on this count. She has played with dangerous men in her previous lives. Playing with powerful men was her hobby—dealing in hearts was something else entirely, but She has spent the last years of her life playing with Ice—it was time for another animal all together. And her magic may not protect her, but she damn sure would make sure that it protected Offspring from himself.

    She has no need to be anyone’s soulmate. She’s been someone’s soulmate twice in her life—she’s been loved, and she’s lost the game both times. She just wants to set friendship on fire.

    She wants to set the world on fire.

    But as to the last charge, she laughs and pulls back from him—just barely enough so he can see her eyes. “Make no mistake, Offspring. I am not like any woman you have ever met. Do not presume to tell me my thoughts. I am not some simpering flower. You set your enemies ablaze—I can set them ablaze and then bury them with earth until they are shattered and have the roots of the trees seeping through their decomposing eyeballs. I have lived in the dark, and within the light. I am what I am. I pretend to be nothing more than that. I expect nothing more than that from you. I want Offspring… not some shadow of who Offspring thinks the world should see of him. I want all of you.”

    Her ears are pinned back as a cool breeze picks up and the trees are waving their greeting to the morning. The birds are stirring, and the voles are rustling in their holes. Their time here is coming to an end, and already her heart is breaking for it. But she knows that this story is far from over.

    Reagan takes one last breath and breathes him in. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. I am grateful that you saved me, but make no mistake. My days of needing anyone, are over. If you want me, then take me. But I never want to ever need you. You need a partner—a confidante. Someone to share in your power.”

    A basking glow, before she breaks away from him, swallowing her heart, dampening her own girlishness to bring the politician back to the fore. The mask of perfection. He would have to make the decision to choose her. Until then, she’d stand at his side, and be whatever he asked of her.

    Or she wouldn’t. That too, was up to him. She knew he still had much to decide within his own head. But she hoped that images of her would now swirl in his mind when he thought about his heart. Just a little. Maybe.

    “I want to be everything you want. I want so much…I want you to…” she stops, finding the mask was slipping again. She wants so much to just take him in and forget the world. But the world would always be there to greet them. “I want to get to know you. In every way in which you will let me. In every which way you want me to.” She breathes, and stands, her breast rising and falling, her green eyes drinking in his stony perfection, silently begging him to take her again.

    But the night was over, and it was time to face a new day.


    Reagan
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