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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


    Borrowed Peace [Warrick]
    #1
    tangerine
    face to the sun

    Tangerine runs. No, Tangerine tears across the borders of Hyaline and into the common lands east of Amet’s Kingdom. Despite the short distance she has traveled, the landscape around her is changing drastically as she moves east. The trees transition into heavy oaks and the air is cooler under their shade. The fog rolls in waves off the river, casting the lofty oak trees in a chilling twilight.

    After the openness of her mountain summits the trees and the damp feel claustrophobic, heightening her feeling of anxiety.

    “Warrick!” she calls loudly, her voice straining to project as far as possible in the fog. She held her breath and listened as his name echoes of the oak trees in a ghostly way. But Tang can’t hold her breath for long and she pants in the gloom, feeling defeated and confused.

    When she had left him in Tephra she had thought they had an understanding. Her heart hurt to think she had injured him in some way. Molotov had revealed more of his thought than he intended, maybe he was embarrassed by his feeling for her and wanted to keep them hidden. She was naive, but not so naive that she could not imagine what had caused his disappointment in her. At first, she had been embarrassed but also encouraged my Molotov’s disclosure - but now she felt sickened when she thought back to the encounter.

    “Until we meet again.” Those words stung her, the coldness she perceived in them, and the finality. She swallowed hard to rid her throat of the acidity building there. She wouldn’t lose Warrick.

    But if he doesn’t want to be found, what then? If he is done with her, sees no more value in her friendship, then there is nothing she can do to change that. She wants to break down, curl up and cry. But she is stronger than that, she wants to make it better – she always wants to make it better. And the only way she can do that is if she finds him. So, she keeps moving, calling out his name. Her pale coat seems out of place in the greens and greys of the world around her, but she doesn't think of what could be lurking in these woods and pastures, she only thinks of finding her friend.

    Should she have waited for Warrick? Was she wrong to have feelings for Amet?

    When she had chosen Amet over Warrick she hadn’t even known she was choosing. Maybe the auburn stallion had come to tell her he had changed his mind, that he wanted to be with her, maybe he had intended to stay in Hyaline for a while… she would never know.  The happiness he had shown at first seeing her broke her heart now.

    She would keep running all the way to Tephra if she didn’t find him, she would sit in that cave and wait for weeks if she had to.

    Tangerine had only ever wanted to help heal him, but not it seems she has done more damage than good. 

     Once again, she had proved to be the silly girl who asked for too much.




    @[Warrick]
    Reply
    #2
    He is a storm of emotion, reeling and spinning so passionately that he feels light-headed. So much had happened, so much is happening – he is at a loss. He does not run, for he knows he cannot outrun anything that his mind feeds him, so he is walking slowly and almost painfully. He could not help but feel as if he had ruined something back in Hyaline, like his presence had stirred something unexpected and unwanted; stirred thoughts of doubt and uncertainty through her, like there was a choice she had to make and it was his presence that caused it. She is so free-spirited and wavering, like the tide against the shoreline. To try to restrain her, to make her choose one way or another – it was impossible and so terribly unfair. He wonders if she felt it, felt the noose close in around her neck that would break her, in the realization that it might very well be impossible to make everyone happy.

    It would be easier, simpler, for him to make the decision for her.

    His name is on the wind, frantic and distant, hauntingly finding his ears as he heads home. With a snort, vapor leaving his nostrils in a cloud, he lifts his head. “Tang?” he murmurs to himself in confusion, though without hesitation he stops and turns around, searching the thickness of fog and forest for the pale gold of her coat.

    When he finds her, he’s unsure how to approach her; because, of course, he isn’t upset with her but he feels awkward. His head is low, ears flipped passively to the side as he moves towards her, the blue of his muscular legs unable to stop until he is before her. His cerulean eyes rove her features, a thin frown forming at the distraught that lingers on the soft angles of her face, shadowing the curve of her cheek. He shakes his head at her, his brow furrowing in confusion as she pants before him; he could nearly feel her heart racing as it pounds in her chest.

    “Tang,” he murmurs, his voice terse with concern as he reaches out to run his muzzle against the slope of her cheek, moving to her pale nose to idly brush the darkness of her forelock away from her eyes. He doesn’t need to ask why she’s followed him or why her face is plagued with distress; he knows the reason and with a sigh he closes his eyes, realizing that yet again he has caused pain where there shouldn’t be. “I know you,” he says with a shuddering breath, eyes still tightly shut as he steps forward so that his shoulder is against hers, neck and neck, his muzzle on her withers. “In your absence I have forgotten that you do not grow roots like the trees; you are the ocean, constantly moving and unstoppable.” There is a hint of a smile, even though his words pain him. “My visit reminded me of what I promised you when we first met - roots are not necessary, maybe not ever…

    “I will not hold you down. You are bound to no one but yourself. In my selfishness and loneliness, I have forgotten this. Forgive me.”
    like the sun,
    swallowed up by the earth
    warrick


    @[Tangerine]
    Reply
    #3
     
    tangerine
    face to the sun


    Threw the mist she can just make out an approaching dark form. Her already pounding heart pounds a little harder and she takes a gulp of air as the form becomes Warrick.

    He is a picture of calm and passivity, (even if he does look a little dejected, or is it just awkward?)  and that sooths her. To Tang, the only thing worse than not finding him would be to feel his fury. If he were angry with her, it would be so different from the Warrick she knew, she wouldn’t know how to act. But he isn’t angry, he touches her gold cheek gently and her gaze lingers on his frown, afraid to meet his eyes.

    Now that he is here, what does she expect? She hadn’t thought that far when she had left the group in Hyaline, she had only been furiously intent on finding Warrick. And now she had found him, or he had found her, and her mind is reeling. “I don’t love Amet.” She could whisper, but it’s not true.

    And she won’t lie to him.

    But his deep and voice rescues her from any rash words, and as he speaks she can’t help but let he eyes drift to meet the familiar comfort of his. “I know you,” He says, his words on shaking ground.

    There has been too much left unsaid between them, the secrets which she had never meant to keep made her feel dull. Tang didn’t want to think sex, denied or given could drive a wedge between their friendship. She wants him to understand, she aches to be understood. And his words make her feel as if she knows her unfathomably well.

    She melts into him as he pulls them together.

    She takes a deep breath, drawing courage from the nearness of his body supporting hers and hers supporting his. With her head resting on his withers, she finds the words come easier.

    “I don’t know what I am, Warrick.” She admits, dropping her filter and searching for the truth. “But I know that you, your soul, is loved by mine.” Even though he can’t see it, she smiles a little hearing the words out loud – the confession she hasn’t known she had been aching until the truth fell from her lips.

     But her contentment is fleeting. She would feel dishonest if she stopped there. She pauses, and her ribs seem to be growing tighter and smaller like a cage around her heat. She doesn’t want to say it but she must, he doesn’t deserve half-truths. The tension is crackling electricity in her throat. “I cannot promise you anything.” She whispers because she hates the sound of those words. She hates the way they seem to devalue what she had said before. But she wants no mysteries left hanging in the air, and she needs to be truthful. “I will understand, if you need someone… Who will be yours, and only yours.” She forces the words out into the fog and squeezes her eyes shut.

    I will understand if you go.

     “But, you will always be mine, even if you went to the stars tonight, you would always be with me.” 

    In that moment, her heat is fully his. But she can not promise beyond that moment, so she does not tell him. When they look back on this meeting, two hearts glowing in the gloom, she will not accuse herself of manipulating him.

    She was unusually self-aware for someone her age- It was something her mother had fostered in her. Be true to yourself. We’re not words simply spoken, they were modeled daily. Continuity between her life and her heart were paramount. And no matter how much it would shatter her to lose Warrick, she would not sacrifice a part of herself to be with anyone.

    Her own emotions are tearing her apart. She waits for tempest or tender touch, knowing her happiness will be decided with his next move.

    “Let’s always tell each other the truth.”

     Don't go.




    All the feels @[Warrick]
    Reply
    #4
    He could never be angry. Anger doesn’t suit him. He’s unfamiliar with the emotion itself and it rarely rears its ugly head into Warrick’s mind. No, he is too selfless for anger and instead dives into a state of guilt and defeat, realizing that even though he had told himself that Tang would not ever be one to stay with him, only him, he let himself entertain the thought, let it consume him and comfort him in his loneliness. No one has caused the tension but himself – he is extremely self-aware and logical in that fact, thus when he greets Tang, it is with concern and a little bit of sadness, but anger is the furthest from his mind. He frowns a bit knowing that she had been so frightened to think he would be upset with her, but he wonders now if she was more frightened at how fragile he really seems to be.

    When his words leave him, so quiet and so hesitant, yet extremely certain and sure, as they tumble from the indigo of his lips, he feels the tension in her body relax. She pushes into him as he pulls her towards him, an embrace that has been long overdue. She begins to speak, her voice no longer frantic and unlike herself, but calm and beautiful, like he remembers. He buries his head further into the black and ivory of her mane, their colors spilling over his neck and melting with his own. She does not know how much his body aches to hear those words, longing to be valued and cherished, even if it was only friendship – a need he has gone so long without. However, he knows that though her confession causes his heart to swell - ‘Your soul – is loved by mine,’ - it will have a limitation. He ignores that sense of foreboding for now, feeling her smile into his skin, soft and gentle, a velvet smooth brush against him.  

    Her smile fades as the mingling of her soul against his diminishes, fading back into herself and becoming meek and small against his body. It concerns him that she curls herself into him, almost afraid to continue her confession that he already knew she must tell him. In encouragement, he takes a step back so that her head rests against the strength of his neck, letting his muzzle rest sturdily beneath where her jawbone and throat meet, feeling her pulse rapidly beat against him. He does not need to tell her to continue; he feels the ragged breath she takes as she inhales, and then the words come rushing out.

    ‘I cannot promise you anything.’

    Warrick knows this, but it seems so final, so bitter, as it leaves the pale of her lips. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, focusing on the tingling sensation of her mane against his face.

    She knows him, probably far more than she realizes, just as he knows her. She knows what he needs, what his soul calls for, just as he understands hers.

    “I will carry your heart in mine,” he says weakly, wishing that there was some other way that this could turn out, but it is impossible; he could not force her to stay with him always, just as she could not force him to live as freely as she does. His breath is warm against her patterned skin; his chest turning as he realizes that this might be their last moments together for a while – it was unknown, how their relationship would blossom. It frightened him.

    At the same time, he knows that life is too short to be frightened.

    He breathes her in, the scent sweet and soft in his nostrils, takes in the courage that she so freely emits. Stepping closer to her, without hesitation, he runs his mouth down the crest of her neck, kissing her skin so softly and tenderly, savoring the taste of her on his lips. “Always,” he murmurs to her, a promise that he knows he will not easily break. His heart begins to thrum even more wildly than before, his lips tracing the ivory and gold patterns of her withers now, slowly extending his reach as he begins to explore her spine, his kisses so purposeful in their placement.

    The truth.

    “We have each other now, in this moment – let’s not think of the future anymore…”
    like the sun,
    swallowed up by the earth
    warrick


    @[Tangerine]

    <3333
    Love them
    Reply
    #5
    tangerine
    face to the sun

    Warrick lifts his head from her back and nestles his crown below her jaw. The fluttering of his lashes against the softness of her neck unsteadys her already quaking heart. Her emotions have swung in a wide arch, now circling back to the joy and nervousness she had felt when the wind had first carried his scent to her in the peaks of Hyaline earlier that day. Had it really only been a day? It seemed so long ago. She has felt so much in a short amount of time and she leans against his steady presence for support physically and emotionally.

     Tang is ashamed that she had so little faith in him, she was wrong to ever doubt that Warrick would treat her in a way different than he always had. She had let her imagination get the better of her, he had always been steady and pure and she should have known that. The words between them have been heavy… yet necessary. But now they are finished and he moves them forward, and she is glad for the change.

    All is well. Everything is better. 

     “We have each other now, in this moment – let’s not think of the future anymore…” The timber of his voice reminds her of their night spent in the heart of the volcano. It reminds her of the winter heat, the heavy tropical air full of spice and smoke. She realizes this has been waiting below the surface longer than she realized.

    “Yes.” She murmurs, to his statement or his touch… she can’t be sure.

    And then he is moving, tracing her topline with his muzzle, his mouth. His kisses fall down the mountain of her withers and traverse her back, gold and rolling like the plains of her homeland. As his touch electrifies her spine she wonders if she could be his.

    He has more of her than she ever intended to give him, to give anyone. Quietly, the stargazer has taken one small piece after another from her heart, and she finds that it is not quite so vast as it was a year ago.  But he is kind, and he is good, and the thought of him having such power over her does not scare her the way it had in the winter.  She trusts him, and her trust was harder to gain than her love.

    But the thought is not fully formed or recognizable, it only the start of this erosion, the unrealized beginning of something eternal. Their stories are forever intertwined, he is dusk and she is dawn – his darkness is quiet yet deep and her brightness is new and untainted.

    His touch is demanding, and her thoughts now wander only with his kisses. Her hips of cream and honey, press into his side as he journeys farther.

    Something inside of her blossoms, and she is his - fully and unapologetically.  
    In this moment. 

    Reply
    #6
    He is searching her, exploring her physically instead of mentally, longing to discover more of her that he already did not know. He knew her heart, her soul, and her mind – yet, her body was unfamiliar to him, despite it being as much a piece of her as the parts he already knew so well. He didn’t want her to ever leave him, though he knew it couldn’t be helped, and he instinctually pulls her closer, the blue of his lips tracing the delicate slope of her back and then to her hips, kissing the gold and white patterns fervently. He needs her now and he cannot think of the future, for the future is what saddens him and deepens his wounds, the thought of her being lost on the wind despite her promises he knows she will never break purposely. He gives into this moment of pure fleshly desire, a passion that, for him, intertwines with his very being. He could not think too much, for he knew it would end the way the night in the volcano had – he did not want that.

    He wants her.

    He wants her fully, all of her, everything else stripped away.

    She responds to his touch, encouraging him with the gentle way her body gives into him as he brings himself to her. His breath feels hot against the warmth of her skin, the rapid pulse in his veins burning and boiling with longing. He murmurs her name, a whisper as it leaves his indigo lips, tracing the letters onto her skin. He is gentle, so gentle, as he moves around her, unable to allow his touch to leave her even for a second.

    He was no longer the darkened stallion, shrouded by pain and aching memories. In this moment he is illuminated and reborn by the light that shines warmly beneath him, his lips intertwined in the darkness of her mane.

    No words were spoken, for none were needed. The dance they share – the sun and the moon – did not need words to orchestrate itself. As naturally as the sun rises and sets, as naturally as the moon crosses over the sky, they would have found each other. This moment was inevitable; unavoidable. The shadow in him calls out to the light in her, a balance that the world knows it needs.
    like the sun,
    swallowed up by the earth
    warrick


    @[Tangerine]
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