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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


    so pay attention now; daemron
    #11

    she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees
    make you thinks she means it this time

    She loses herself in this moment—forgetting the fear, forgetting that which held her back.

    She leans down when Red begins to wind through her legs, bumping her nose against the thick fur of Red and then watching as she disappears into the trees. Pyxis doesn’t have the same connection that Daemron has to the wolf, that supernatural connection that ran through his blood, but she could still feel her near—near enough to keep a watchful eye over the pair, content to know they were together.

    Together.

    At last.

    Pyxis turns to him as he draws her close, murmuring her agreement, her pulse racing as the fire that began in her chest spread to the rest of her. She is alive with him, burning with need and love—feeling everything that she has never let herself feel before. She reaches out for him, tentative at first and then more confident as she sheds the shyness. She has no need for such things with him, she has no need for anything but the closeness that stitches them together, letting herself slip into the raging river of him—

    and she would be fine if she never surfaced again.

    ***

    In the afterglow, she dreams next to him, her body finally still, her muscles lax. She can feel the gentle warmth of him next to her and she smiles even with her eyes closed. This feels right. It feels horrifying, but it feels right, and she lets the terror slip away, turning hazy in the background.

    In this moment, she isn't scared.

    She is only his.

    She stretches and then leans into him, nestling closer into his side, hunting for more of his warmth. At his question, a corner of her mouth quirks with humor. “Around,” she answers elusively, finally opening her eyes to look up at him. “Red and I traveled for a long time. I didn’t have a clear destination.” She pauses, holding back the truth of it before relinquishing it to him. “I was just trying to outrun you, if I’m being honest.” She takes a steadying breath, a laugh escaping her. “This honesty thing will be difficult.”

    But then he asks about her family and the humor bleeds from her face momentarily, her blue eyes turning sad with memory. “I-I don't know.” She hasn’t seen them for years. She misses her parents, even though she’s still not sure she doesn’t hate her father (and has no idea of their reunion), but she misses Malis the most, aching for that stern and wild sister. “I lost track of them a long time ago.” She pauses before trying to pivot, searching for more stable ground. “What of you? Have you seen your family recently?”

    she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair
    but I still love her, I don't really care

    Reply
    #12
    ‘Around,’ she murmurs, causing a wry half-smile to answer hers. The sensation about his mouth feels odd after years of disuse, and yet with Pyxis settling into him – with the way she looks at him, her ice-blue eyes as clear and unimpeded as he’s ever seen – Daemron finds himself being mollified despite his lurking fears. He listens to her as though drinking her in, a dying man whose thirst has suddenly been slaked.

    After hearing her concession however, he hesitates, feeling compelled to respond with one of his own. “I… didn’t come after you. Not at first, and not soon enough afterward.” He remembers letting the days drag past, caught in a prideful smoke that cloyed and festered after the burn of their heated encounter. Alone, he had brooded in anger at the disappearance of both wolf and woman until it was far too late. “You were long gone by the time I got over myself. I tried to find you through Red, but I’d lost all sense of her, too.”

    Huffing a breath, he watches its vapour rising briefly into the cool air between them. He smirks. “You must run pretty damn fast.” The reassuring touch the maned wolf had given Pyxis earlier is mirrored in the way Daemron nudges into the slope of her shoulder. His lips wander then, trailing tenderly against the soft curve of her withers before coming to rest amidst dark locks of mane. He can’t help but take pause there simply to breathe her in.

    “You smell good,” he murmurs offhandedly against mahogany skin, though they both grow more sombre at the mention of family. Daemron shakes his willowed head. It still pains him to think of the rifts among his own kin. “I haven’t, but then again, I’ve been a bit of a recluse these past years,” he allows gruffly, thinking of his self-imposed solitude among the wolves. “I don’t know where they are or what they’re up to anymore.” A thought begins brewing in his mind, and he adjusts his position in order to better meet her gaze.

    “Do you want to track them down? Your sisters… your parents?” He ventures.

    daemron
    lost to the hunt as I was to you
    Reply
    #13

    she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees
    make you thinks she means it this time

    His words should hurt, maybe, but they don’t. Not really. She had pushed him away for long, could she really be surprised that he had finally stayed away? Part of her recoils from that truth, but she brushes it off, determined to not let it derail the moment that they are sharing now, soft and sweet—golden and silver. “It wouldn’t have mattered,” she glances up at him, a sad smile curving her mouth and then dissolving into humor. “I am extremely fast.” A trait she learned from a lifetime of running. A lifetime of trying to escape the kind of vulnerability she felt right now, bared and exposed before him.

    “Faster than you, at least.”

    She smirks, a playful glint in her eye, exhaling at the feel of him roaming over the curves of her.

    How many nights had she dreamt of him curled around her like this? How many nights had she woken up, unsure of whether it was a dream or a nightmare? The feel of him so achingly perfect, devastatingly right as it presses into her. Her heart squeezes in her chest, throat tightening with emotion.

    It suddenly makes sense—all of it.

    Why her father broke the world apart in the name of love.

    Why her mother let him.

    She would break for Daemron, she thinks. She’d shatter right here and now, just to pay for this moment.

    She’d spend the rest of her life trying to piece it together again for the chance to shatter once more.

    But she doesn’t break—not yet—and she just savors the impossibility of the quiet, the way that it cradles the two of them, nestled away from the rest of the world. “You smell horrible,” she teases, her voice soft enough to expose the truth. She twists to press lips to his jaw, to his neck, nibbling at the willow of his mane. “You smell like home,” she admits, loving and loathing the knife as it presses through her ribs.

    “I guess it was about time I came back for a prison break,” her tone remains light, but it hurts to think of all of the time they’ve wasted in both fear and hate. All of the time running. All of the time avoiding.

    “I do,” her voice trails off, “but I wouldn’t know the first place to start looking.”

    she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair
    but I still love her, I don't really care

    Reply
    #14
    For now, they are cocooned in a world of their own – languid in warmth after the heat of their passion. Her soft teasing is met with a rumble in his throat, the sound made in amusement as much as idle protest, while the impish retort about his smell does manage to draw out a low laugh. “Let me guess,” he mutters self-deprecatingly, the shadow of a grin about his mouth, “Wet dog?”

    Then Pyxis turns to caress him, and the feeling of her touch – the hush of her voice as she calls him home – it is all Daemron will ever need. Deep in his conscience, he knows that he will never cease gravitating toward her. And if she were to run again? If she were to run again, she would form a black hole her wake; for without her, he would be left spinning into nonexistence until the end of time.

    Her next words bring Daemron back to the present. “Yes,” he agrees quietly. “About time.” The corners of his mouth turn up, for he, too, puts on a good face despite the hurt of lost hours, days, weeks (years) – all the moments they might have had together already – moments like this.

    The chestnut lifts his head after Pyxis voices assent to his question. He looks around, expectant. As soon as the maned wolf had garnered his intentions, she had begun moving from her hiding place; presently she slinks forth through the dimness and pads toward them. Daemron acknowledges her with a look in his grey eyes before he shifts his focus, moving his consciousness beyond her.

    From deep within the forests he summons more – among them, a hulking black timberwolf and the wiry brown female that was his mate – those he knew to be swift and cunning from the hunt. Across an unseen link, their collective wildness briefly seeps into him. Unaware, he tenses and emits a low growl. His features glaze; he senses their instinct and their primal drive, feels their movements (sinew and bone) as though they were his own.

    Yet when he glances to Pyxis again, the feeling has passed and his eyes have cleared. He motions to Red. “She knows you – your scent – which will help. Your family should bear similar… notes.” His grin is appropriately wolfish. “I’ve sent for others, too. It’ll be quicker than if we went searching on our own this way.” Those he’d called would be some hours before arriving, at which point they could scent her as well. Then, with Red to lead them, Daemron fully intended for the wolves to scour Beqanna in search of Pyxis’ kin.

    daemron
    lost to the hunt as I was to you
    Reply
    #15

    she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees
    make you thinks she means it this time

    The moment between them ebbs and flows, going from frothy and light to painfully deep, and she savors each different note. She loves the way that he teases her, lipping at her mane and touching her so quietly, and the way that he grows serious and feral, the growl rising in his throat as he draws the predators out from the forest. She doesn’t shy from them now, even though there is part of her that still feels that same instinctual fear she felt the first time she saw Red. She, however, has learned to dampen it. She has learned to control it, muscles tensing but her heart expanding with appreciation for them.

    When he explains why he has drawn them forward, she can feel the emotions rise in her throat, can feel the way that they nearly drown her with their intensity. This is the depth she was always afraid of; this was the whirlpool of emotion she always sought to avoid. The way he could play her like an instrument, drawing her into passion, buckling her knees with desire, and then smothering her with appreciation. She had never known someone so intense, someone who loved so fierce, who cared so deeply.

    All she can do is turn into him, burying her head in his mane, hot tears creeping out the corner of her eyes and falling down her cheeks. She breathes in the smell of him, the smell of spice and earth, and trembles slightly, overwhelmed by how quickly her love has expanded within her once she loosened her grip on it. She has always known how she feels about him, but it was easy to turn a blind eye to it, easy to bury it, easy to simply run so that she could only feel its teeth on her heels and its whisper in the wind.

    But now?

    Now she has relinquished her grip and it has swelled, flooding through her and rooting into her veins. It has buried seeds in her that have flourished, her chest a forest of her feelings for him. “Thank you,” she finally manages, her voice choked. He has to know just how much it means to her. He has to know how much it means to her that he would look for her family—for those she has left behind.

    “How do you do this to me?” she asks, not sure she wants to know the answer.

    she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair
    but I still love her, I don't really care

    Reply
    #16
    By her tears, Daemron is baptized into new life – one he lives for her, and her alone. Welling with the unforeseen depths of her vulnerability, a ferocious protectiveness crashes into him. Wave upon wave of it washes over him, the emotion violent and irrepressible, sinking to the very marrow of his bones. A shudder runs down his spine at the sheer intensity of it. She overpowers him, and that sudden and uncontrollable feeling – (submission) – rattles him to his core.

    He takes a steadying breath and turns to hold Pyxis close, raging fires and wild rivers coursing through him until he cannot distinguish whether he is burning or drowning in her. What he does know is that he cannot be saved from this – and, against all instinct, he knows he doesn’t want to be.

    He places a kiss upon her brow. “I could ask you the same thing,” he responds quietly, every fibre of his being immersed and enraptured and conquered by her. The truth is that he would do anything for her, and so there is only one thing left to say in answer to her thanks. “Pyxis,” he exhales, “I love you.” Earlier Daemron had used the words to assault her defenses; now they are a confession that exposes him instead.

    And with them, he seals his fate.
    He is entirely  – (eternally) – at her mercy.

    daemron
    lost to the hunt as I was to you

    omg laura you slay me, your post was just so exquisite and I am so unworthy <333
    Reply
    #17

    she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees
    make you thinks she means it this time

    The day has been exhausting.

    Beautiful.

    Overwhelming.

    Exhausting.

    She can feel it now, her mind beginning to give beneath the weight of it all. Finding him again. Fighting with him. Holding him at bay. Giving into the ocean of him. It all floods within her, finding the canyons of her heart and reshaping them to the patterns of his touch, the echoes of his voice. She hates herself for how quickly she has submitted to this love, to this weakness, but she knows it’s too late to go back.

    It’s too late to pretend that she's anything but his.

    “I know,” she whispers. Not because she’s arrogant, but because she’s finally left herself know. She’s finally let the truth of it invade her, let it brand her very throat. She knows he loves her. She knows that he means it when he whispers it so sweetly between the two of them, filling the void of whatever small space they allow. She knows it, just as much as she knows that she loves him in return.

    She sighs, feeling the edges of her consciousness begin to ripple.

    “I love you too, Daemron.”

    Her eyes flutter, lashes beginning to sweep over the hard angles of her cheekbones, and she tucks her head down, curving into the strength of him. “Please be here in the morning,” she whispers when she finally takes refuge behind her eyelids. She has never been this vulnerable before, and she isn’t sure how to grapple with it. She isn’t sure how to come to terms with it, but, for now, she hands it over to him.

    “Please,” see whispers one more time before sleep finally claims her and she goes lax in his embrace.

    she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair
    but I still love her, I don't really care



    asdkjasdja. i love him so so much. <3
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