06-04-2016, 11:33 AM
keep you like an oath
may nothing but death do us part
may nothing but death do us part
Slowly he finds what is himself and with it the insatiable ache to be close, to be in control of both himself and others. She pulls him near and he allows it, sinks forward into the loose silver sands and for now it is enough.For now the steady rhythm in her chest is welcome, the fire of her skin is gratifying and he finds no protest with her actions.
Her words snapped him back to the present. Over several beats, his eyes regained clarity of his surroundings. The pain from his deeply rooted memories faded away like mist before the rising sun, and a smile sprouted on his lips. Wicked as sin and shining as the Morning Star as it wound his way across his lavender muzzle. This was better, even if it was just for now (which he would soon come to find out over the next several weeks). This feeling was more himself and with it he blossomed, in this, his true nature, Kirin thrived- he lived. Misra’s scent fills his lungs, giving him life, self-sustaining oxygen, purpose. She always knew how to stroke his ego just right, to dote on him in ways that pleased him and the beast that wrestled itself in his chest where his heart might have been had he had one.
Kirin never loved things the way they were meant to be loved, Kirin loved things because Kirin loved Kirin. He adored what would serve him, he kept close things that he saw as self-serving, he gave special treatment only to that which promised him the most use. Misra was one of those things, few as they were, but that’s all that really mattered when it came down to the Cove. Favoritism. They all wanted it, few had it and even fewer grabbed his attention enough to pull him away from himself. Those few were rewarded but was it really a prize to be sought in the end? Depends who you ask, depends what you want and how far you are willing to go to get it.
“You’re right,” he breathes, sugar and smoke rolling from his lips and frosting the very words that left them. “My Misra, you are so very right.” My Misra, Mine, as was everything when it came to Kirin. Possessions, belongings, each and every one. She tasted of the sea, she smelled of home as he dug deeper his face into her skin. He didn’t bother to hold back the nips and nibbles that traced along her neck to her shoulder, his teeth by passing the delicate feathers that lined her sides. Kirin didn’t like the way the fae magic changed him, made him act. It wasn’t becoming of him to be weak or vulnerable and to remedy these unwanted feelings he reverted to a tried and true remedy. He took comfort in things that caused discomfort to some and pleasure in others and now it would be Misra’s turn to share that with feeling with him.
”Help me forget, help me remember.” It isn’t often he asks for things rather than take them but tonight he asks because he needed more than words. Tonight he wanted her to make him believe that what she spoke was true, that he was in fact all those things and that nothing could rob him of it.
Her words snapped him back to the present. Over several beats, his eyes regained clarity of his surroundings. The pain from his deeply rooted memories faded away like mist before the rising sun, and a smile sprouted on his lips. Wicked as sin and shining as the Morning Star as it wound his way across his lavender muzzle. This was better, even if it was just for now (which he would soon come to find out over the next several weeks). This feeling was more himself and with it he blossomed, in this, his true nature, Kirin thrived- he lived. Misra’s scent fills his lungs, giving him life, self-sustaining oxygen, purpose. She always knew how to stroke his ego just right, to dote on him in ways that pleased him and the beast that wrestled itself in his chest where his heart might have been had he had one.
Kirin never loved things the way they were meant to be loved, Kirin loved things because Kirin loved Kirin. He adored what would serve him, he kept close things that he saw as self-serving, he gave special treatment only to that which promised him the most use. Misra was one of those things, few as they were, but that’s all that really mattered when it came down to the Cove. Favoritism. They all wanted it, few had it and even fewer grabbed his attention enough to pull him away from himself. Those few were rewarded but was it really a prize to be sought in the end? Depends who you ask, depends what you want and how far you are willing to go to get it.
“You’re right,” he breathes, sugar and smoke rolling from his lips and frosting the very words that left them. “My Misra, you are so very right.” My Misra, Mine, as was everything when it came to Kirin. Possessions, belongings, each and every one. She tasted of the sea, she smelled of home as he dug deeper his face into her skin. He didn’t bother to hold back the nips and nibbles that traced along her neck to her shoulder, his teeth by passing the delicate feathers that lined her sides. Kirin didn’t like the way the fae magic changed him, made him act. It wasn’t becoming of him to be weak or vulnerable and to remedy these unwanted feelings he reverted to a tried and true remedy. He took comfort in things that caused discomfort to some and pleasure in others and now it would be Misra’s turn to share that with feeling with him.
”Help me forget, help me remember.” It isn’t often he asks for things rather than take them but tonight he asks because he needed more than words. Tonight he wanted her to make him believe that what she spoke was true, that he was in fact all those things and that nothing could rob him of it.
Kirin
son of khaos