02-03-2019, 06:36 PM
our demons are all around us and they don't come from hell
every single one of them reminds us of ourselves
every single one of them reminds us of ourselves
Brunhild has never been one to be carried away with emotion.
She has never been one to flicker between extremes, to fall prey to the leaching desires of the heart or to feel her throat fill with the saltwater of need. She has not been flirtatious or wanton; instead, she turned her mind to war and to the Amazons and to being what they needed. She was steady and even-keeled and maybe a better Khaleesi for it, but not a better friend or a better lover. It left her selfish, often.
It left her alone, too.
Despite this, she has managed to find the love of Rodrik, her scarred heart somehow accepted by the devilish once-King of the Chamber—and she does not regret it. She does not regret the weakness that he has opened up in her. The way that she finds herself hungering for the time spent by his side the same way that she has so many times hungered for the feel of the sword in her hand, the blood heavy on her tongue.
But none of that changes the strange, dreamlike hunger that stirs in her now. None of it changes the way that her heavy-lidded eyes grow hazy and her tongue thick as she looks at Scorch. She doesn’t flinch beneath Scorch’s words or even grow resentful of the implication. She just nods her head.
“I understand.”
And she did.
But she also doesn’t deny the growing tightness in her belly and the curiosity that darkens her eyes as she feels Scorch finally reach for her. She angles her head to lean into the touch and then takes a step closer, the two war-scarred bodies falling into the gravity of the moment. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t think that Scorch needed nor wanted it. Instead her lets her teeth find the mare’s jaw, letting it linger there before trailing down the curve of it. The darkness presses in on all sides of them and she breathes it in.
For a second, her tongue catches the flesh, tasting the brine of the Amazonian, and it settles like a drug into her system. She closes her eyes, feeling a rare hitch of breath in her throat.
And she doesn’t resist the waves of it flood through her.
She simply gives herself over to the strength that can be found in surrender.
@[Scorch]