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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


    [private]  holiday party; wallace
    #1

    bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
    if you must drink of me, take of me what you please

     
    He had promised that he would back. 

    He had told her that he wouldn’t stay away—he would give her the space she needed to reunite with her family, but he wouldn’t be gone forever. And he meant to stick to it. After a day or so passed, the time stretched thin and restless with her gone, he had returned back to the island. This time though, the island was half covered in snow and there was a massive bridge connecting it to the nearest land.

    It was festive and while he would usually not feel anything in response to it, he felt warm. His emerald eyes were bright and a little wild as he stepped across the bridge, his heavy hooves sinking into the sand and then the snow. He didn’t waste anytime in finding her, didn’t pretend that he was here for anything else. Instead, he walked straight through the snow and the festivities around them.

    His dark-berry lips tipped up, and he reached for her, touching the curve of her cheek.

    “I believe that I promised you a date,” he whispered softly, stepping back and tilting his head, gesturing toward the party before them. “I hope that this will do.” Not that he played any part in it—not really. But as he began to walk by her side, the sky above them opened up a little more and snow flurries began to fall down, soft and white and blanketing the broad expanse of his back. He said nothing, even though his shoulder was stained, and just smiled a little, tilting his head back to appreciate his handiwork.

    When he looked back down, there was an unusual softness to his usually stern face.

    “I never thought I would be one who enjoyed parties,” he mused quietly, falling quiet next to her.

    woolf

    I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste

    Reply
    #2

    this time I’m torn, please wake me if I lose that face
    search in these eyes: there’s still fire in the darkness

    She wasn't sure what her family's reaction was when he came for her. All her attention was on him, a secret smile quirked in her lips. Kharon was already away with one of his girls, and Kali was likely with her father or other children now that she seemed mostly recovered from her trauma. And Reilly... She didn't want to think too hard on that.

    It was just a date, anyway. She hardly knew him, right?

    "I believe that I promised you a date," he whispered, touching her neck and sending chills down her spine. "I hope that this will do," he added, gesturing to the party.

    It was already beginning to swell with people, friendly faces from far and wide to enjoy the company and the festivities. She'd never thought she was the kind of girl for parties, but with the frost dusting her hair and her back, she could admit she did look rather suited for this one. It struck a fleeting thought in her mind before she dashed it away, that she may be of some use now in comforting their visitors and refugees on the normally hot island.

    "I never thought I would be one who enjoyed parties," he seemed to echo her thoughts and she smiled, looking up to the sky to watch his handiwork.

    "You're impossible, Woolf," she scolded lightly, though her brown eyes glittered with girlish delight. She'd always lived on an island, this one or Ischia. Her entire life. Snow and winter was certainly a new experience for her and she was easily awed by the soft white, the glowing lights, the warmth of him beside her.

    "I've never seen so many people," she commented quietly as her eyes drifted down again. Even Ischia had not been so filled with characters; rascal children and joyous lovers and friends alike. She almost glanced at him to gauge his reaction, but stopped herself. Maybe it was odd that she'd never ventured out. Well, she had. The once. She'd learned not to do it again. Home with Reilly and Sabrael was safe, her children and Ea. And then home with Kirby too, in some way. He wouldn't touch her again, and he was fiercely protective of their children and their island.

    Her breath fogged before her as it always might from now on, and she turned to peer in his handsome face as they strolled leisurely through the holiday gathering. "Where do you live, Woolf? Where is your family?"

    Wallace
    Reply
    #3

    bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
    if you must drink of me, take of me what you please

    She is quiet and there is no small part of him that wants to dip his fingers into her mind and see exactly what she is thinking—to pull apart the threads and play out the thoughts for himself. He wonders at what would occupy her as she steps in quietly beside him, watching the rest of the island, and he fights against the strange new feeling of jealousy—that need to know if her thoughts went to the other men in her life.

    But he doesn’t invade her privacy, not now. Instead, he erects his own wall around her mind, enclosing it and leaving the space between them open and free, as if magic did not exist in the world at all.

    “You keep saying that,” he angles his head toward her, eyes sparking with humor at her insistence of his own impossibility. “But you have no idea just how impossible I am.” She doesn’t know the root of his magic or the way it branches out through him like a tree—the way he is connected to this life and the other. She doesn’t know the strange turn of events that has brought him here, that keeps him here.

    These are stories for other times though, other moments, and he doesn’t dredge them up.

    He just reaches across to tug at her mane ever so slightly, feeling the give of it between his teeth and feeling the barest hints of flame licking up his sides. Such a curious reaction.

    At her next question, he rolls a scarred and stained shoulder. “I have lived many places.” He shakes his head, frustrated at how easily he falls into the habit of slipping away from the truth. “I’m sorry,” the words feel foreign on his tongue. “It is difficult to not be so evasive.” He clears his throat. “I currently don’t have a real home. I am watching over my sister in Tephra, and I have loosely given my support to Nerine, but I don’t consider either my home.” At her next question, he grows a little quieter, his brows knitting together. “My name is very large and far reaching, but I only really care about my twin sister.”

    The one trapped beneath a sleep woven from her own magic.

    A constant presence in the back of his mind.

    “What of you, Wallace? I know you live here and previously lived on Ischia and little else."

    woolf

    I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste

    Reply
    #4

    this time I’m torn, please wake me if I lose that face
    search in these eyes: there’s still fire in the darkness

    "You keep saying that. But you have no idea just how impossible I am."

    She glanced at him with a grin, her eyes sparking and a tease so quickly on her lips. "Ohhh, mysterious." She laughed lightly, feeling the lightest she'd felt in so many years. The holiday festivities were infectious, and his company and humor delighted her further. And his touch when he played with her hair made her shiver. She blushed.

    He shrugged at her question and said he'd lived in many places. Then he shook his head and apologized. The cryptic half-answers came to him so naturally, but he tried again.

    "I currently don't have a real home. I am watching over my sister in Tephra, and I have loosely given my support to Nerine, but I don't consider either my home." She nodded. He'd never seemed the type to her to stay in one place, which made it confusing why she was so drawn to him. She was so completely his opposite, and gladly would've remained in Ischia for the rest of her life if it wouldn't have guaranteed her family getting infected.

    It made her doubt that they would work out, not that he was that interested, and she fell quiet.

    "My name is very large and far reaching," she snorted suddenly and smirked, because his name was not the only thing very large and far reaching, "but I only really care about my twin sister." She grinned so hard her cheeks hurt, held her bottom lip under her teeth to try so hard not to burst out laughing.

    "What of you, Wallace? I know you live here and previously lived on Ischia and little else."

    She tucked away her mirth as tight as she could, her mouth still wide and partly open with a smile. She shrugged. "There is little else to tell," she admitted, though her joy dimmed slightly. She'd not had an easy start in life and it wasn't something she typically shared. She simplified it, brushing aside the struggles and the loss she'd gone through. It was no big deal. She was in a better place now. She was doing well for herself, all on her own and by her own actions.

    "My twin and I lost our mother, and then I lost her too. The fairies took care of me in the den until a kind woman adopted me. The world ruptured and I lost her too when everyone had to run to the mountain without their magic. I found my way to Ischia alone, and stayed there. I have lived nowhere else. My children have lived nowhere else."

    Ischia was home and they'd return once it was safe again. If whatever ruler was there allowed them and wasn't a complete idiot. She didn't really get along well with many and had a hard time tolerating stupidity.

    "Could you ever see yourself settling in one place?" she asked, moving the focus away from her, a little hesitant to hear the answer, but it was one she'd need to know. If she was going to let herself grow fond of the beautiful bastard. Although still, he was at least finding his way into friendship and that didn't require him to stay.

    Wallace
    Reply
    #5

    bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
    if you must drink of me, take of me what you please

    He’s never been the type to have friends, let alone anything else.

    His sister was his other half in many ways, a constant companion even when physically not together, but he has not forged any friendship outside of that—never sought any sort of connection, despite the obvious ties that spread out from him throughout his family tree. So it baffles him that he seeks one here, that he finds himself constantly drawn to her. There is nothing obviously unique about her, nothing that makes it immediately apparent, but that doesn’t matter. From that very first moment, she’d had his attention.

    So he doesn’t think on it too much now.

    Just walks in silence next to her, his footsteps heavy amongst the sand and snow, the cold settling into his bones and spreading throughout him, although he doesn’t find it uncomfortable. He tips one ear toward her, a corner of his mouth tightening in humor, a spark of warmth in usually cold green eyes. “You think you are so clever don’t you,” he asks, although it’s clear in his deep voice just how amused he is.

    When she begins to talk about her story, he nods, although he can tell the rivers of pain beneath the words. The ones that she struggles to get herself to say—the ones she brushes over like she seems to brush over so much of the pain in her life. “Maybe one day you’ll tell me everything,” he muses, although there’s no insistence in the voice. “And not just the high level details.” He looks at her from the corner of his eye. They both know that he could find out the truth of her heart without much effort, but he doesn’t want to hear her story like that. He wants her to want to tell him. He wants the truth from her.

    But he doesn’t dwell or push or try to force more out of her than she’s ready to say.

    Instead he just makes a strange noise in his throat at her question, frowning as he thinks on it. “I never thought that I could,” he says, honest as he rolls a massive shoulder. “The longest place I had ever spent was the stars.” He coughs, surprised by the admission, frowning again. “I—I,” he is quiet for a moment as they walk and he feel his stomach tightening as he remembers. “My sister and I overextended ourselves. We asked too much of our magic, and we lost control. We ended up floating in space for several years.”

    He pauses, shaking his head.

    “I never thought I would settle anywhere, but I think I could be convinced.”

    His smile is a little mischievous as it skirts around his lips, his heated gaze sliding to her.

    “Why, Wallace? Would you want me to?”

    woolf

    I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste

    Reply




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