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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


    [mature]  everyone I know goes away in the end, Ashhal
    #1
    “What have I become, my sweetest friend?
    Everyone I know goes away in the end."


    She had never been good at following the rules.

    In the beginning, there had been light and dark kingdoms, and, opposite like a moth being drawn to a flame, she had been drawn to the dark; delicate and stark white, mild and quiet, and nothing like the rest of them. She had never tried to change anyone, and they had never tried to change her. Somehow, the lamb had been accepted to live amongst the wolves, and it was a way of life she had become accustomed to. 

    Sweet, light-hearted girls were not meant to dance with demons, but she did. And when Beqanna was once again thrown into turmoil, with lands deemed as safe, and others unsafe, she had obediently found a safe land — but not for long. She never had been one to play it safe. She knows that once her and Skellig’s child was born, she would have to be much more cautious, but for now it remained curled within her swollen barrel, protected from the outside world. 

    And she, she could not shake her reckless nature. 

    The snow is bright and white, similar to her own skin, and her muscles tremble as an icy wind lifts her mane and caresses her curves. And on the wind, mixed with snow and sickness, there is him. It brings the faintest of smiles to her pale lips, approaching him with no hesitation. Sightless and silent she slips alongside him, far too at ease next to someone so uncouth. He is someone that, foolishly, she believes a part of him is hers. Not in the eternal, pure, and loving way of her and Skellig — no, this thing with Ashhal, it is carnal and relentless, something that she cannot place, but something that she still cannot shake. 

    ”You did not seek the safety of a protected land? I’m shocked,” it is said with an amused simper, her teeth finding a tangled strand of mane before letting her lips trail down his shoulder. She knows he will have some sarcastic and biting retort, but she is untroubled by it; she has known him too long to be offended by anything he has to say. 

    RYATAH
    you could have it all, my empire of dirt


    @[Ashhal]
    Reply
    #2
    @[Ryatah] has been infected by the plague (rolled a 5).
    She will show symptoms (rolled a 2).
    She will not express a trait (rolled a 6).
    Reply
    #3

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    Honestly, if he hadn’t been lazy as fuck, he might have stirred himself off his ass to go join the fight. Hell, one of the very few things he is good at. But he’s never been any good at being anyone’s damned lackey. Not even for a god. And that had felt waaaaay too much like lackey shit for him.

    So, he’d slept. What the hell else does one do at a time like that?

    Ahhhh yes, living the fucking dream. If living the dream is spending eternity being born over and over and over again because someone clearly has a twisted sense of humor. Yes, that dream. Not that he needs reminding, for fuck’s sake. Plenty of time for that later.

    To be honest, he’s being pretty goddamned useless when she finds him. Total bum, if we’re being that real. But hell, it’s winter. Winter is fucking gross and no one wants to do shit in winter anyway. Except her, apparently. His eyes settle on her the moment she tops a slight rise. How she keeps finding, he has no fucking clue. But he’s not complaining. She’s a delightful little piece. And really, the only one who seems to able to stand his company for more than a day. Or, perhaps more accurately, the only one who’s company he can stand for more than a fucking day.

    She slips alongside him, and he chuckles at her dulcet quip. Quite the comedian, isn’t she? Obviously they’re soulmates. Well, soulmates who fuck other people on occasion, but meh, who’s counting. “Look’s like I’m not the only one living dangerously,” he responds dryly as his dark gaze follows the rounded curve of her abdomen. “You’ve been having fun, I see.”

    With a wry twist of his lips, he presses closer to her, uncaring that perhaps she’s a little wider than usual. He’s not picky, really. One broad white wing extending out, he drapes it over her back. And it’s totally a purely chivalrous act, because he’s a fucking gentleman. Really. It is absolutely not just to get her closer to him.

    Reply
    #4
    “What have I become, my sweetest friend?
    Everyone I know goes away in the end."


    He is all wrong, and being here is wrong. It chants over and over inside her head, sewing threads of guilt across her heart when she thinks of her sweet, loyal Skellig. She is a disaster, and she always has been. She had deserved everything that happened with Dhumin; she had longed for perfect love and loyalty, and yet she was quick to destroy it after getting it. Time, even though she has lived over a hundred years, has not changed that. So easily she became addicted to this again; alone and clean for countless years, and just a single taste had sent her spiraling.

    She could have ran into anyone from her past, but she had to run into him. The only one that would tempt her, and the only one that wouldn’t try to stop her.

    He knew what made her tick, knew exactly how to touch her to make her push everything else out of her mind. She had been strong for so long but something had made her weak; his lips and teeth against her skin, the low vibration of his voice in her ear. Like a fool, she keeps coming back.

    ”Have I ever been one to play it safe?” She asks him with a tilt of her delicate head, thinking back on her numerous other dangerous exploits; living in Amazonhollow (a land reserved for cruelty, and the obedient girls to sake their lust) in her first home, and the Valley once she came here. She had been born not knowing any other way to live. ”It’s not yours, so don’t worry,” She says with a dry but teasing laugh as he points out her fairly obvious pregnancy,  her teeth briefly grasping the skin at his neck. ”Too bad, because you were such a good father with Cadhla.” She isn’t even sure if their daughter had ever even met him; she knew Ashhal would be uninterested, as most of them were. She likely hadn’t even sought him out after that tryst.

    The weight of his wing across her back sends an involuntary shiver down her spine, and even though her mind screams at her to pull away, her body doesn’t listen. She presses closer, and the way her stark white form melts against his silver skin  is falsely sweet — they both knew the game that they were playing, the same game they had been playing since the day they met. With her warm breath fanning across his neck in the wake of her soft lips, even she knows that the game is far from over.
    RYATAH
    you could have it all, my empire of dirt


    @[Ashhal]
    Reply
    #5

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    She should damned well know better than anyone just how little he denies himself. He’s never made any false claims to sainthood, and what the fuck is modesty anyway? Clearly something he’s never had nor ever even thought about a day in his misbegotten life. Only a fool would come to him expecting him to preserve something he’s never even given a thought to, and she’s no damned fool. Hell, the only reason she would come around again so soon is because she’s been yearning to live a little dangerously.

    A bark a laughter escapes his lips when she reassures him it isn’t his. Would’ve been a fuckng miracle if it had been, considering just how disappointingly chaste their last encounter had been. His skin shivers involuntarily beneath the scrape of her teeth on his neck, sending a lick of heat curling across his flesh. His eyes darken almost imperceptibly as he drops his gaze to consider her delicate features with open intent.

    His lips quirk into a faint smirk as he presses closer, his wing tightening around her. “Well shit,” he drawls lazily, a faint tinge of humor touching his low tone. “Was that her name?”

    Father of the fucking year.

    Of course, given her current state, he certainly couldn’t add to the physical manifestations of his sins. And ain’t that just fucking perfect? That smirk turning faintly wicked, he tilts his head slightly, until his lips meet the delicate bridge of her nose before tracing slowly upwards until they become lost in the tangle of her forelock.

    “Y’know,” he continues softly, his voice a low rumble, “I don’t think we’ve ever been safer.” The words are filled with a dark humor as he toys idly with the silken strands of her pale tresses. “If you wanted to give something new a try.”

    Reply
    #6
    “What have I become, my sweetest friend?
    Everyone I know goes away in the end."


    Something between a snort and a laugh escapes her at his first words, and she would have rolled her eyes if she still had them. ”I’m pretty sure that one was yours, anyway.” Her own tone is one of feigned thoughtfulness, but tinged with mirth, an amused smile playing at the corners of her lips. She has had her fair share of misadventures, but there was never a question of who sired which child — she had that much going for her, at least.

    She is hyper aware of his wing tightening around her, draped over her side and pulling her closer. It would be easy to pull away; Ashhal was unabashed and forward, but somewhere underneath the brash exterior was someone that would let her walk away if she chose to. She has known him long enough to know he wouldn’t chase her — not when there was another target just around the corner. A likely younger and prettier conquest, at that. He was sex-driven, but he has never been cruel to her; she was tangling herself in a web of her own weaving — not his.

    His lips touch her skin, then, trailing up her face and leaving heat in its wake. Her svelte frame trembles involuntarily, trying to ignore the feeling that spreads like electricity through the network of her veins. His teeth tug at the tangled strands of her white mane, a seemingly innocent gesture, but there is nothing innocent about either one of them. ”I don’t know what you’re implying,” her voice is a low murmur, but even as she says it, her lips are tracing the curve of his jaw upwards towards his throat, before letting her teeth scrape lightly against the sensitive skin that lay hidden there.

    She has never been a very good liar.

    Somewhere in the back of her mind there is guilt, but it is overridden by the demanding urge that has been brewing for far too long. She knows he can feel it, she knows they both know exactly where this is leading, and for now, she is letting herself pretend she is powerless to stop it.

    Her body has her mistakes written in scars all across it like a map, and still she never learns.
    RYATAH
    you could have it all, my empire of dirt


    @[Ashhal]
    Reply
    #7

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    An amused snort escapes him at her pithy reply. He didn’t believe for a fucking minute she didn’t know which kid was his. They might have had their fun together, but it’s not like she was out there fucking five men every damn day. Not that he would have minded, gentleman that he is. One could almost say he was the ultimate feminist. Because frankly, he’d never given a damn if they’d slept with anyone else. Hell, could’ve been a legion and he’d probably do no more than shrug.

    Still, he at least knows enough to know she didn’t have a legion.

    His eyes darken faintly with humor as he nips her curved nose in teasing admonishment. He might be bone-headed sometimes, but he’s not dense, at least. Fucking hell, he’d probably really be dead by now if he were. Or, been dead a helluva lot more times than he had. At least once or twice he’d actually gotten to die from old age. Of course, that’s fucking hellish in and of itself, so he tries to avoid that as much as possible.

    Her shiver is fucking delightful though, telling him everything he needs to know. Still wants him, even if she damned well shouldn’t. And isn’t that just the most enticing thing? There’s something so fucking thrilling about the forbidden. In doing something they know they definitely shouldn’t. Or at least, something she definitely knew she shouldn’t. He mostly just got a kick out of tempting her to stray. Something so goddamned satisfying in that.

    His skin heats beneath her touch, even as her words deny his subtle invitation. A smirk touches his lips at that, wickedly amused. Her actions so easily put the lie to her words. “Don’t you?” he taunts, his words a low rumble, amused and suggestive all at once. “I can show you,” he offers with a dark grin, his warm breath teasing her skin, lips brushing almost accidentally. ”Hell, I’d fucking love to show you.”

    He’d never been much good with words anyway. Besides, actions speak louder than words, isn’t that how the saying goes?

    Reply
    #8
    “What have I become, my sweetest friend?
    Everyone I know goes away in the end."

    She knows how much he enjoys this. She can hear it in his voice, the faint arrogance and pride in knowing that this is the one control he has over her. And truthfully, he is the only one capable of doing it. She has been around too long to cave to every temptation that dangled in front of her, and if she knew exactly why he could do this to her, she would amend it. But there was absolutely no reason. It’s not like either of them were special to each other, other than the fact they have known each other for way too long. His skin smelled of several other mares, and it should have deterred her. She didn’t like being a notch in anyone’s bedpost and yet here she was. 

    Again.

    She will hate herself in the morning, and the next, and the one after that. She knows this, and she still presses her mouth into the nape of his silver neck, the strands of his mane brushing against her face. His lips are just barely above her skin, so close that she can feel his breath against her when he speaks, and such that when he accidentally, hardly touches her it sends a wave of heat between her thighs. ”I know you’d love to,” And somehow her voice is still sweet and steady, even though she is already trembling on the inside. ”Nothing has really changed in that regard, has it?”

    Her slender body slides easily against his, curling around him so his head lays across her back, with a suggestive tip of her head as she says in a low, hushed tone, ”So show me.”

    RYATAH
    you could have it all, my empire of dirt


    @[Ashhal]
    Reply
    #9

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    Every subtle shift of her body, her soft breath on his skin, all of it tells him everything her words won’t say. He’d lived too goddamned long not to know how to read a woman’s body. Besides, it’s not like her scent isn’t a dead fucking giveaway. He grins against her, lips curling in satisfaction. It doesn’t seem to matter that he’s had her before. He’d have her again and again.

    Maybe someday he’d grow tired of it. Of her. But he doesn’t think that would be happening any time soon. Not when she’s so fucking taken. Not while the challenge of stealing her from her lover still flavors every touch. She’d never truly be his, and he didn’t give a damn. But that’s really just the thrill of the chase, isn’t it? What keeps this game interesting? Because he’d be so fucking bored the minute it wasn’t a game anymore.

    Her mouth on his skin sends a wash of heat along his flesh, a rush of hot desire chasing down his spine and settling in his loins. Her words bring a low, rumbling growl to his throat, his eyes darkening dangerously as she moves against him. Not that she can see that. But she sure as shit could feel the way his muscles harden, the way his body pushes aggressively closer. Could hear the way his wings rustle restlessly against the well-defined planes of his ribs and shoulders.

    He trails his lips tauntingly over her pale skin, over her shoulder and spine, until he reaches her withers. There he very deliberately opens his mouth, teeth finding her tender flesh, gripping it hard. Leaving his mark on her.

    A part of him wants to move slowly. To drive her so fucking mad with anticipation. But another part of him wants to claim her now, hard and fast, making sure she knows just what kind of beast she’s teasing.

    Trailing his lips her spine, he moves down the length of her delightful, never-ending curves. He scrapes his teeth along her rounded stomach, chuckling when it moves subtly beneath his touch, nipping lightly in retaliation. He moves farther, past her hip, to the curve of her rear. He nibbles at the base of her tail, pausing to inhale deeply. To tell her without words he knows just how much she fucking wants him.

    Without warning he bites her hard, his teeth sharply marking the delicious curve to one side of her tail. Lips tilting into a dark smile, he kisses the mark he made, tasting the faint tang of copper, before lifting his head. Shifting around, he trails his nose along her hip, to where her spine curves up into her ass. He scrapes his teeth hard against the sensitive flesh there. “This,” he growls, his tone low with hungry amusement, “is mine.”

    Reply
    #10
    “What have I become, my sweetest friend?
    Everyone I know goes away in the end."


    She would never admit to him that she loved the game as much as he did; but why else would she keep coming back? It isn’t hard to figure out, but the guilt is less prevalent if she refuses to acknowledge this for what it is — insatiable lust. Every part of her has been dormant for so long — years upon years of isolation, with a silent tongue and a quiet mind, with nothing as an outlet for everything she buries beneath her placid, eerily calm facade.

    She has always been broken and imperfect, and she is just so tired of pretending she isn’t.

    There is no rhyme or reason to why he is the one that alights everything that has been dead inside, when she had someone waiting at home that did exactly the same, who was all she needed and more. But there was something decidedly delightful and dangerous in knowing that this is the last place she should be, and maybe there is something reassuring in the notion that they both know there are no strings tying them together.

    She doesn’t need to see him to feel the dark tension that lays so heavily between them now, feeling the way he presses closer, and knowing they share the same hunger. His lips trailing across her white skin causes an involuntary shudder, and her jaw clenches as his teeth grasp her withers. She is trembling as his touch slides along the curves he’s already explored before, her pulse rushing as he touches each new spot. It is painstakingly slow, and even though she is quivering in want and anticipation, she knows exactly what he is after — he wants her to plead, and even though her breath quickens almost imperceptibly, she doesn’t comply, yet.

    It is only when he suddenly bites that her breath becomes a strangled gasp in her throat, and something about his words, his voice, his touch against her ignites her. She spins, quick and effortless as she suddenly presses hard and aggressively with her chest against his, her teeth snapping briefly at his throat as she says in a voice that is low and taut, ”Just for today, it is.” Her mouth slides along his neck, her breath hot and nearly gasping, shuddering against him as she says with a sultry smile into his flesh, ”You better make it count.”

    RYATAH
    you could have it all, my empire of dirt


    @[Ashhal]
    Reply




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