• Logout
  • 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


    [private]  wild thing; lil
    #1
    Something.. was different. Something inside him was changing. Or maybe it had always been there, but was more noticeable. More powerful. Harder to ignore.
     
    He didn't have to see his reflection to know his eyes were different. He could feel it. His head was hung low as he met a brisk, even pace, and he could feel it. The beast in him that had once been his wolf. The piercing blue was even sharper, the bright even brighter. Wide and watchful. Alert, hyper-aware. Nostrils flared and seeking. The look of a predator as he hunted.
    And he was hunting.
     
    He'd made it into the permanent Autumn of Sylva, oranges and reds and yellows all year round, before he realized he was hunting Djinni. The slender woman he'd met, that he knew was the leader of this neighboring forest, painted so boldly with steel in her eyes and a strong personality to match. Rough. Confident. Strong. She'd be a fight, but he would win. No. Not Djinni. And he halted abruptly and immediately doubled back. Beautiful, yes. But no.
     
    Not Djinni. Not anyone.
    He just needed to run this off.
     
    So he ran.
     
    It had come on so slowly. He hadn't even noticed, had been able to ignore it and brush it aside as nothing. It wasn't nothing now. It wasn’t nothing the very moment an innocent touch from his daughter stirred the wild of his mind to imagine things he could never do. To take her beneath him. No!
     
    He ran harder.
     
    The season had never affected him this way. But then, he’d always had his wife. Why the hell would they ever abstain with a body like hers, and a love like theirs. As it had been. Before. She was gone by last season, but the urges must have been suppressed by his grief. His depression, loss. The Winter that used to rage around him in a gusting cold snap was now quieted, only a glimmer of frost just outside his body. Not over her. Not better. But maybe progress.

    His back and shoulders were damp with sweat and melted slush, and his chest was heaving as he pushed himself. Drove himself as close to exhaustion as he could get, then drove himself further. At some point, he'd ended up in the Forest. Hunting again? He came back to himself enough to glance around, taking in his surroundings even as he continued forward. Familiar, but most of this forest would be to him. No, more familiar than just places he'd passed by.

    Hawke.  He was hunting Hawke now.

    He snarled and doubled back again, setting off at an immediate run.
    But stopped short.

    His brilliant blue gaze immediately fell to her feet. Damn, and those legs. Black and so toned with muscle, used to being on the move. He was still sucking in gulps of air, but settled, held his breath as he cocked his head. His eyes walked further up her body, to attractive curves of more muscle and, damn, those hips. A strong figure, thick in all the right places, and just the perfect height for him. He let his breath return and his heavy breathing continued, heart still racing from his attempt to exhaust himself -and maybe other reasons now.

    He continued his open perusal, couldn't seem to help it and didn't want to. Wild, red hair and a generous black body. That... should matter somehow. But he roamed that neck that looked like it could use a bite or two. He needed flesh between his teeth and a slick of sweat between them. There must definitely be a bit of the wild in his eyes, this new state he couldn't seem to shake. Wait, that's why he was running, running. Need to run it off, chase it away. He didn't want this.

    Damn, and then his eyes finally made it passed that curve of jaw, to that beautiful face. A face he knew. God dammit.

    "Lilitha."

    God, he'd made this as awkward a situation as she'd probably ever been in. He should ask how she's been. No. He should leave. Should run more til he can't even stand anymore. And yet, all he could do was stand there in silent inner conflict. The wild didn't care that he knew her, he still wanted her. He should leave, he should run. He was just at the edge of turning away without another word.



    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)