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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


    Tell me true - Castile
    #1
    It had been weeks now since the winter battle, weeks since he had visited her in the golden wood. Now shed intended to make good on her promise. Trusting Jesper and Lavendel to oversee things for the day, she flew confidently the short distance between their kingdoms. Delegation was an important skill which she was trying to improve on. 

    The heat of the summer sun felt amazing on her wings as they stretched across the air beneath them. The sky held that perfect, impossible summer blue, and was only lightly dotted with whisps of white cloud. The brilliant sunlight almost bleached the pale queen. Only hints of color teased through when the light was just right, then faded into the pastel pinks of her points. Wind streamed through her mane and tail and for the first time in such a long while, she felt free. 

    She cast large, lazy circles through the air above Loess, searching for the distinctive ebony and white of the man she sought. The trees were thinner here than in her homeland, making her quest less daunting. Before long she spied him in an open area lush with emerald grasses. She descended in a precise spiral pattern. Alighting feet away, the windswept mare smiled like the sun to see him. 

    A peculiar thudding started in her chest and a battalion of butterflies went to war in the pit of her belly. This kind of excitement was foreign to her. She was not a blushing filly, to be enthralled with the first handsome stallion to cross her path. But that was how it felt. It had been time since their last meeting, though. Perhaps the post battle thrill had exhausted itself for him, and she was alone in her feelings? Well. There was only one way to know. She moderated her expression, prepared for the potentially impending disappointment. 

    "Castile! I hope this isn't an intrusion. I promised you a visit, and today seemed too nice of one to waste." She called, dipping her head towards him in comfortable greeting. At the very least, it was a beautiful day for diplomacy. 

    @[Castile] <3
    #2
    She wants him to release the creature, to accept it. It’ll overwhelm him one day, she had suggested, but Castile’s fear greatly outweighed his hopefulness. He couldn’t stand idle and let whatever monster lurked inside him to surface and control him. It would mean chaos. It would mean others would get hurt… or worse…

    When they parted, it ripped a piece of him, but he forced himself to adapt. It provided an opportunity for his mind to settle and his racing pulse to calm.

    But it didn’t stop him from missing her warm touch.

    A breath catches in his throat when her scent wraps lustfully around him. How long has it been, he begins to ask himself, but he’s too distracted to construct an answer. Every step is instinctual as he scales the hills to reach her. The brightness of her voice is a beacon in the dark crevices of his mind. ”Sabra,” he murmurs as he consumes the distance separating them. His skin prickles with desire, sated by the moment he reaches to touch the gentle curve of her jaw. ”Welcome to Loess,” he adds with a casual glance back over his shoulder, but what he sees is different from what he knew when he visited Sylva. ”There have been changes in the monarchy though. I do not know the new king and my position has been stripped away…” there is a subtle tone of disappointment. For the past few years, he has honed his fighting abilities to encourage the idea of becoming a general.

    But it’s gone.

    Nothing is tying him here now.

    Is he free?

    But he shakes his head to let the musings slip away because Sabra is here and more deserving of his attention. ”How are you?” Is the first thing that comes to mind, already forgetting the changes in himself since they last met.



    @[Bruja] @[Sabra]
    #3

    It seems their fates had taken similar turns since they'd last met. The pied stallion's glance to the surrounding area mirrors the emotions she herself had been battling recently. The light touch on her face is a balm to the chaos, however, and a sigh of contentment exhales from her lips. Suddenly, the world felt approachable again. 

    Leaning her head against  the curve of his neck, the pastel mare nodded in understanding. "Loess too? I'm... sort of in the same situation." A delicate hoof kicked at a stone absently as the reality of her situation crept back in. Castile was reassuringly warm and solid beside her, warmer than most horses. His smoky masculine scent surrounded her like an embrace. Sigh... "Sylva has fallen into darkness. I'm no longer queen. Otherwise, I'd be offering you a home. As it is..." a pained attempt at a laugh cracked the air for a moment. Her velvet nose wrinkled in distaste at the cloudy feeling settling over them. That wasn't what she needed right now. 

    Castile was a wild soul. And if she had to face things, she was more than a little wild herself. She wanted to rule, not be ruled. But if she couldn't rule, she wasn't sure she had it in her to bow her head to another. She was harbored in Hyaline for now, but it was not her home. Home was gone. Now... perhaps she was more free than she realized. "How am I? I'm a mess, honestly. But... I'm glad I found you. I think I'm less of a mess when I'm around you." It was a soft admission, still cautious. She couldn't resist him, it was true. Physically, she loved the way he fit against her. The flame of his personality was a parallel foil to the cool exterior she tried to present. They could have fun together. "I don't want to think about what's happening, Cas. I want to think about you, and me, and... That's all. For now. I can't think about the future yet. But I hope it has you in it. I really do. I know we don't know each other very well yet, but..." Why was she suddenly nervous and rambling? Her feet had carried her from his side, until the flame haired woman was facing him again. Her forelock clouded her vision. After that word vomit, she wasn't sure she could look him in the eye.  But she wanted, no needed, his touch. Her world was falling apart. If the world would just hold on and let her catch her breath... But that wasn't how the world worked. 

    SABRA

    I'm Hell on Heels, Say What You Will



    @[Castile]
    #4
    Castile stands and listens, asking himself how so much can change in such a small amount of time. Confidence and joy emanated from Sabra back in Sylva, yet here she is crumbling right in front of him and forcing a laugh to her frowning lips. The touch he offers, a gentle caress of her other cheek while she presses her face to his shoulder, is the only consolation he can provide in a moment like this. Unfortunately, he cannot win back Sylva for her. Much to his dismay, there is very little Castile can do now. Together, they hold no ranks or titles; they are powerless in this political world.

    He quietly holds onto what she says about Sylva and how it has slipped into darkness with the new monarchy. A brow lifts underneath his bronze forelock as he weighs the possibilities of this. There isn’t a sense of righteousness in him that calls out for his help. In fact, deep down, there is a curiosity to chisel away at the cage inside him where a monster most certainly lurks. Castile isn’t a knight; he is troubled, wild… dangerous.

    But Sabra’s confession on a voice so soft and hurt draws him from the darkening pits of his thoughts. A slow blink returns him to her. Resting his chin against her neck, he hums thoughtfully. ”I wish I could help more,” he admits before pulling away just enough to reach and lip at her forelock, ”I don’t like seeing you so upset.” It sparks an instinct in him to continue cradling her, to keep her warm as her world slowly begins to darken with only him as a beacon. Gingerly, a wing extends across her to embrace her against his side. Even when she begins to draw away, her words spilling like water, Castile still tries to keep her close, to reassure her. He, however, isn’t as eloquent or comfortable with such confessions. There is no doubt as to how closely he listens or how it brings a smile to his face.

    But they aren’t a delicate pair.

    Their relationship stemmed from a fiery passion on the battle grounds.

    Holding her near, Castile nibbles down the length of her neck, breathing her in and inwardly deciding to keep her as his own. ”I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs into her opalescent skin. Someday, he will find a place for them. He may one day acquire a land and have his own herd to protect and shield, but for now Loess is his shelter and another escape for Sabra as her kingdom crumbles in the face of darkness.

    #5

     There's no use crying about it. Tears could be a way out of uncomfortable situations, and sometimes they were just a necessary release. But they solved exactly zero issues, only put them off for a while. They couldn't be held back forever, and she was too stubborn to let them carry her away. That left her a single alternative, which was to face them with as much moxie as she could muster. That plan included smashing in the clown-faced bastard's subversive face. That imagery gave the pale mare almost as much pleasure as the feathery tracing of his teeth on the skin of her neck. 

    The memory of adrenaline pricks at her nerve endings, making her lean in to the feeling of his mouth on her skin. She wanted to drown in the sensation. He wasn't offering her solutions, wasn't acting the white knight and killing himself over her lost cause. The burly stallion simply offered comfort and a touch of security. It was nice, she realized. As he made his way along her throat she drew her own teeth over the tight muscles of his crest. 

    I'm not going anywhere. An innocent enough proclamation. Harder to believe in than it should have been. She found herself wanting to, though. She felt hot and cold, shy and violent. Castile was the Unknown, and if there was anything she knew about the Unknown, was that it would always be there. It was an oddly comforting thought, she mused. 

    Pressing the length of herself against the muscle and sinew that built up the night and day stallion, she kissed his cheek lightly. "Well good, that makes two of us. You're stuck with me, stud. You and the homicidal lizard." Playfully, she nipped at the swell of his neck. Amid the chaos, this felt like normalcy. As normal as life could be when ones love life involved a draconic stallion. Cuffing him lightly with one wing, she spun to face him again, taking time to slide her hip suggestivly against his shoulder. Looking at him in his entirety, her expression shifted from affectionate warmth into a look of pure, molten desire. "You ready for that rematch?" She purred, a taunting dare in her eyes. Inhibition evaporated as physical need took hold of her. 

    With a whinny of invitation, the shimmering mare flared open her wings, preparing to take to the skies. 

    "Come and get me, Cas."

    SABRA

    I'm Hell on Heels, Say What You Will





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