"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
Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you know.
And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.
The magic had been thick and heavy in the air – something the shadow child could not ignore.
A battle had been fought and Michaelis had simply felt the aftermath. Politics and greedy grabs for land were of no interest to him. But the power that accompanied those things were simply irresistible. He was a moth drawn to the flame of others – a shadow whom could only exist within the presence of light.
But his journey seems to have been fruitful in a very mysterious way.
Although he roamed the darkened forest as usual, two particular tendrils did not seem to meld with the others. They seemed more solid and tangible, and they never faded within the light. While the others came and went, swirled around his body in numerous places, these two never disappeared from his sight. They would move about from his muzzle to around his neck, and seemed to take particular joy in curling up against his chest where they nestled against his heartbeat.
He certainly wasn’t a stranger to the unexplainable things of Beqanna. But his suspicions seemed to be confirmed when they responded with their own heartbeats in kind. This was certainly a new and unexpected thing for the shadow child. He had fathered numerous children – both biological and adopted – but he had never carried his own. Michaelis felt that they were a mixture of his aura and a familiar stranger. Unfortunately, he never seemed able to put his finger upon the root of this familiarity.
The dusk was upon the land and the shadow child thrilled at the knowledge. Although the forest was quite dense and the trees provided excellent coverage, there remained large enough openings where the trees could not grow within the large stream that snaked through it. He typically avoided dense sunlight when he could and so Michaelis had waited patiently for the day to end before he could wade through the water uninhibited.
The normal tendrils trailed after him, faintly swirling about in anticipation of the coming night. But his special ones had remained unchanged – happily clinging to his torso all day long. But as he dipped into water deep enough to touch his underbelly, they moved upwards in apprehension. But both were brave enough to trail downwards to cautiously touch the moving water before jerking upwards into his dark mane. He chuckled at their ever curious natures before taking a long awaited drink from the clear, cool water.
It had been a grievously insidious fight - riddled with anguish, fury and an insatiable lust of power, all of which had been in vain. With a thunderous end, magic crackled in the heavy summer air, thick with the scent of coppery blood and echoing the shrieks and bellows of those who partook in its carnage. He, himself, had come close to death - though impervious by nature, his mind had fought off the poison that threatened to overtake his most basic functions, and even in the days and weeks following, he is not quite as he once was. It had been a fruitless fight, one that tore apart the lives of many for the advantage of the few. With a dreadful pang of regret, his mind wanders once more to the silver-painted male, his venomous lies, his unquenchable greed, and he longs to see him again to put an end to his living days.
If he had to do over again, he would have painted his own body in his blood, and if he were to ever see him again, he would not be capable of containing the simmering rage that still festers inside.
Evening was beginning to descend, layering the rounded, rolling clouds above with lavish rays of tinted sunlight. A splash of orange meets periwinkle and together, they lure the moon above the horizon just as the sun falls, and soon he finds his marred obsidian flesh bathed in the shadows of night. He delves deeper into the thick canopy of the pines, his hefty body grazing against the sharp, scratching of brittle bark as he presses further into the shadows. He languishes in the gentle crooning of various birds of flight overhead, and the soft whistling of crickets that litter the forest floor. It is not often that he breaks away from the confines of ice and permafrost, and with his mind burdened with anguish and rage both, he finds solace to be a necessity in his daily routine/
His searing red eyes search the impending darkness, observing the flecks of moonlight reach in through the canopy to reflect soft rays of light along the rippling, moving waters of the broad stream that travels though. He nears it, pausing to drink from it and allow its cool water to slither down his throat and into the pit of his empty belly, before he casts his gaze down along the path. Movement intrigued him, and silently, his sinewy muscle ripples as he strides forth, shielded by the shadow but given away by the way his immense weight crushes dried, brittle branches beneath him with each heavy step.
The shadow tendrils appear to him first as his eyesight adjusts, and he can hardly believe the sight before him - a blue roan wading, allowing the trickle of water to lap away at his legs and flank. A familiar sight. It had been years - many, though he had stopped counting the years over a century ago. Quietly, he watches, uncertain of the nature of his shadowy limbs or their purpose - but there is something alluring about them; something he cannot quite touch.
Though his voice is heavy from disuse, it breaks through the creaking silence of the evening, echoing in the thick, humid air that leaves his flesh in a light sheen of sweat. Long gone are the days of encasing himself with frost - the Gods had seen to it; had taken it away due to their insolence and greed - though he longed for it on the warmest nights such as this.
"Michaelis. It has been a while."
An understatement. He is just as enchanted as he had been then, in spite of the space and time that lingered in between.
Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you know.
And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.
Ever since his unfortunate experience with the warring fairies, his senses had been heightened. Of course, he had stumbled around, discombobulated, in the beginning. The sunlight he’d known all his life burned his eyes and he was forced to take shelter within the wispy blackness that seemed to always trail after him. The sounds and smells of the very meadow where he had been born and raised now overwhelmed his senses. But he had eventually overcome these disconcerting changes and now they seemed as natural as breathing to him.
The stranger’s crackling footsteps seem to drum unnaturally against the smooth bubbling stream and his mismatched yellow eyes meet unusual, yet familiar red ones. His eyesight easily picked out the towering figure who lingered quietly at the water’s edge. The stranger certainly loomed over the shadow child’s heavily mesteño frame. But Michaelis always seemed to remain unaffected by silly things such as physical size.
The tendrils reacted, as always, negatively to another’s presence. They were used to others remaining oblivious to them, yet they were brought to the forefront when interacting with the shadow child. Michaelis was theirs and so they jealously tried to gather themselves in an effort to shield him from this dark stranger. But yet his two additions surprised him in their sudden and excited wriggles towards the black stallion.
His piqued interest could no longer be ignored.
He stepped lightly through the water and towards the one he now recognized as an acquaintance from so long ago. The shadows gathered tighter and tighter the closer he approached, but yet his special ones seemed to want to detach themselves. It was startling behavior. As he steps onto the shore, he banishes the others away from him until they skulked about in wispy cirri around his frame.
“Offspring,” he calls in warm greeting.
He comes to a halt before the giant and watches curiously as the two tangible tendrils around his muzzle unhesitatingly leap from his body to Offspring’s neck. They slide about in ungraceful movements before finally settling their heartbeats against his own in contentment. Michaelis narrows his eyes at their actions but an inkling begins to seep into his thoughts as to the reason for them. Despite their reactions, the shadow child has always been overprotective of what he considered to be his and he would not trust Offspring with them fully just quite yet.
A single thought pushes the water droplets clinging to his frame away and back into the stream from whence they came. He wasn’t going to stand here dripping wet for the remainder of the evening. He brings his gaze back up to meet Offspring’s red eyes once more and offers a slight smile.
His senses lack the same sensitivity that the golden eyed male possesses; he is essentially basic in many ways. It is only by the heavier ripples made in the water by his heavier frame and the glimmer of moonlight that gave him and his gentle shadow tendrils away; and it is only the familiar allure of his soulful eyes that pulled him closer to him.
He remains still now, unwavering as a gentle breeze carried through the dense foliage, tangling itself in his matted tresses. It soothes his uncomfortable skin, which remains damp with sweat - humidity is something that he abhors, and yet he cannot resist the temptation to settle himself within the shadows of the setting sun, allowing the heat to penetrate his flesh.
He craves discomfort - he craves anything that reminds him of his heavily beating heart, or distracts his rampantly racing mind. Every memory, every scarring thought delves deeper into his psyche, and discomfort draws him out, like gentle lips suctioning to an open wound, pulling out the poison that lay lucked deep within. His breathing remains slow and steady as he pushes out of the recesses of his mind, brow furrowed slightly as the lithe male wanders closer to him.
His scent reaches him and it is as familiar as his glowing eyes. While he did not know him by any intimate or meaningful means, there is still something that consoles the ache of his heart and quiets the negativity festering within his mind. The wavering (albeit agitated) tendrils enchant him still, intriguing him.
His breath catches in his throat as two definitive tendrils reach out, slithering uncertainly - searching. He does not understand them, but perhaps that is in part why the allure is so strong. He cannot pull his burning red eyes away from them, beguiled by their swaying motions. Soon, the two tendrils mellow, pressing tightly against Michaelis' damp body, though he does not realize the true depth of their existence. Finally, red eyes meet yellow once more, and there is a faint uptick of a smile on his whiskered lips.
There is something enticing about him; something that lures him in. He could not turn away, even if he tried.
"It has been a while," Words that did not need to be spoken aloud; they both knew how much time had lingered since their last meeting. His brow furrows again, the smile melting away from his now grimacing mouth. "They? Do they have their own entity?"
Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you know.
And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.
The shadow child had quickly come to the realization that his companions seemed to enthrall others. Perhaps he was being viewed as an exotic attraction or a quirky sideshow. But they were a part of him and he could not completely cut off the limbs to his body. He had fully accepted them and reveled in their presence now.
He did not miss the fascination that gleamed in those intense red eyes as they closely watched the two twirl about his neck. But Michaelis knew that these two were special and Offspring did not. The blue roan, amused with his secret knowledge, watched as the other felt the first touches of what he suspected to be a mixture of them both. Why else would this clingy twosome react to another so intensely?
Offspring questions him, as he knew he would. The shadows were difficult to explain if one was not intimate with them. He briefly recalls the strange shadow creature he had met years ago and he knew she would adamantly agree. They were entities in their own right, yet largely dependent upon himself in order to visibly animate. And although they appeared tangible, they were largely untouchable to others without some assistance.
But these two were vastly different from the others.
He tilts his head thoughtfully before he answers.
“In a way, they can be. But these two differ. Can you hear it? They have heartbeats.”
Their pounding heartbeats are so obvious to his sensitive ears and through his skin. But perhaps they are not so overt to the other man. Nevertheless, he was sure the final outcome would reveal itself to be quite astonishing to the red-eyed man.
Michaelis draws himself upwards and takes a couple of steps closer to Offspring. The two wriggle about once more and seem to trail back and forth between the men as if playing tag amongst themselves. He stares hard at the other before he utters his next words.
“I visited the battlefield. And after I left, the magic left behind seems to have reacted with my body and then created those two curious things.”
He pauses for a moment before questioning the other.
“You were there, weren’t you? I think they recognize you because of that. I think that they are a part of you too.”
He flinches; a nearly imperceptible shiver crawls along the rivets of his spinal column as the muscles beneath his marred flesh tense and roll underneath. The tension remains, just as the stiff soreness in the very heart of his tendons does, and his mind drifts away to that inexplicably tiring, emotionally wrought day. The air had been thick with the warmth of summer's onset, and yet his frost (oh, how he missed the constant caress of ice crystals against his too-hot skin) had kept him comfortable as his body battered against another for another empty and fruitless cause.
His heart clenches upon the memory of metallic blood lingering in the air; his eyes flicker with suppressed rage at the memory of his body tingling so painfully from the after effects of a poison he had only barely managed to fight off of him.
It had been a terrible day - a wretched day, indeed.
"I was, yes." He murmurs, his voice laced with something much more dark and sinister than in previously spoken syllables. His eyes avert now, avoiding the prying gaze of the alluring being standing before him - instead, he falls into a lulling trance with the wavering tendrils that wrap so adoringly around him, both a part of him and yet something entirely sentient. Their heartbeats thump, thump, thump, echoing gently in his own mind and his own heartbeat begins to pick up its pace, pounding in his ears as his eyes meet his once more.
A part of you too.
"Me?" He breathes, almost disbelievingly, but the raw magic that had been left in broken remnants had been unmistakable - the air crackled with it, long after the sky had lit up and burst with energy, ending the life of several and drawing in the presence of many more.
His words lay heavy in his mind. Though his whiskered lips had never touched his body, though no carnal desire had been claimed between he and the mysteriously enticing Michaelis, creation had occurred.
Could it be?
Could they be?
Gently, one reaches out to touch him, its heartbeat tangling with his own.
