[private] Offspring

[Offspring]

You're looking at an absolute zero;
I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.

  There is a flicker of light in her gaze, as her own focuses upon his, boring into him as he had already begun to do to her. A glimmer of mischief, perhaps, or a gleam of warmth – he could not yet say; she seemed as unpredictable and as strong-willed as the tempestuous storm that had ravaged the island no more than a fortnight ago. As her finely preened feathers bristle and flatten once more across the hollow plane of her wing, he is reminded once more of the gale force wind that had tangled itself within the thickness of his matted tresses – a force to be reckoned with, and he is no fool – he can see that she is no less breathtaking than it had been.

  He cannot deny her beauty. She is slender, and carved of shapely muscle and a seemingly flawless bone structure – her hip was heavy and rounded with femininity, and he would be loath to admit his gaze had not lingered longer than it should have when she had chosen her fate and sought refuge to the west, to Nerine. She was far from coy – her bold and glistening gaze had held him steady, captivated, and even now, he is titillated by the confidence and bravado of her stature, and the self-assured and borderline demanding tone of voice.

  He was a towering force of heavy muscle, thick bone, and scar tissue layered upon dark, pitchless skin – not many dared speak to him without treading carefully, but he is not at all the beast of fire and brimstone he is seen to be. Upon her brash and daring demand, there is a gleam of amusement stirring within the flickering ember of his darkened, reddened eyes, while a rumbling chuckle is pulled from somewhere deep within, where the fire burns brightest. With a gentle and fleeting nudge of his cheek pressed against the crook of her jaw, he is gesturing her away from the wild and tumultuous sea, and to the rumbling hearth of the isle – the pluming, towering volcano, itself.

  ”Nayl and I do not see eye to eye,” he says after a moment of thought, glancing to her with a trace of amusement in his voice, deliberately slowing his hefty and elongated stride to match her own. ”I do not anticipate an alliance being forged between Tephra and Nerine in foreseeable future, but I suppose I could be moved to make an exception for one,” he says, his voice a rumbling baritone, a gleam of teeth shown with a crooked grin. ”should you inevitably grow tired of it and seek refuge elsewhere, however temporary.”

  And then, suddenly, the humor is gone –

  ”You ruled the Amazons for a time?” he inquires, though it is more of a statement. His gaze is settled upon the shadow of the volcano once more, while the vegetation is parted around the girth of their bodies, revealing a large river winding through the island, parting it from a smaller island closer to the wide and open sea to the north. He is quiet, studying his reflection for a moment, stoicism settling where comedic wit had been moments before, and then he is looking unto her own reflection, russet and dappled. ”I ruled the Tundra for the better part of a decade, and I miss it every day. It is difficult, to start over, but we all manage, I suppose – in our own way.”

OFFSPRING

another zealot with the weight of the fucking world