Holding you close feels like a cut throat - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98) +----- Forum: Nerine (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=91) +----- Thread: Holding you close feels like a cut throat (/showthread.php?tid=22063) |
Holding you close feels like a cut throat - Sabra - 12-12-2018 We were gone. Away from the cliff, from that harsh rock that had housed us for so long. All of us were thin, for one reason or another. My skin and bone child, too weak to stand for long. How she'd hung on this long, I didn't know. Maybe the same way I had clung to life, and defied the dark god in his summons. Long enough to stand here in the fading sunset and wonder what had happened, that this was my life now. For a moment it was hard to fend off the urge to roll in grass, or to find the nearest free flowing stream and submerge myself in it. It was wonderful just to feel something other than hard stone beneath my feet. Out was remarkable, the way the world suddenly felt so much better just with this change of view. The cliffs still stood in sight, looming over the sea like waiting giants. Black outlines against the paling pinks and deepening blues of the horizon. Beautiful, he'd said. Back on Nerine's mainland I felt more inclined to agree with the assessment. Turning to the man nearby, I tilted my head in consideration. Castile, dragon and stallion, black and white, fury and tenderness. He was a walking conflict, and perhaps that had something to do with how we saw each other. What could I say, to make things right between us? To make him stay? Glancing back at the dull form of my daughter, I turned back to him, stepping hesitantly closer. The marks of illness were stark on him, even in his reptilian form, and it scared me. "Talk to me, Cas?" I suggested softly, watching the sharp lines of his face for some sign that he needed me even a fraction as much as I had needed him. "You wanted to keep me hidden forever, and I couldn't let you do that. But I'm not going to vanish into thin air either." Even as I said it, I wasn't sure if it was true. There was a part of me that wanted to escape still. I wanted to go home, and didn't know where home was. Maybe I needed to disappear, if it would help me figure out that piece of self. Please give me a reason to stay. I pleaded silently, hoping something in him would hear. @[Castile] ~liquids time~ RE: Holding you close feels like a cut throat - Castile - 12-14-2018 and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was castile @[Sabra] RE: Holding you close feels like a cut throat - Sabra - 12-20-2018 A hoarse sigh trickles from my nostrils, bitter breath and heart sickness mingling without words. Sick as he is, Castile still holds the beauty and power bestowed on him by blood. Fire had burned between us briefly enough, seared his name into my soul with the intensity of his. Too fast, too hot. Too soon gone. My jaw splits wide again, and this time I find the words. "What do I want? What I've always wanted, Cas. A home. That's all I've ever sought." Simple enough, yet I've been denied at every turn. Dull-eyed, I look into the distance, watching the last of the light fade from the ether. Tattered and torn a pair as we are, I'd like to think that this is the light in which we look our best. Less tired, more vibrant, beings of fire and air that shimmer in the light of death. Poetic, maybe, but impractical. Shaking myself from reverie, a half smile twists my lips delicately. "When I was little more than a child, with dreams of grandeur and brilliance, I thought the man who spoke my name in tones of flattery would give me the world. Make it my home. By the time I wised up and left, I held Klaudius' son inside me, and found myself alone in Sylva's woods. I was given the chance to make that my home, and home to others, but I wasn't strong enough to- to hold it." My voice broke faintly over the phrase, fractured memories choking the air from my lungs. Teeth gritting against each other until my jaw felt that it might shatter, I continued. This was my story, and he never heard it, though he had played his part. "I met you, and we introduced ourselves with passion and violence, and as dramatic as it was, it felt right. I thought I'd found home with you, with our boys." I let the words sit in the air, feeling no need to go on. He knew the rest as well as I did. As close as our bodies had been the last year, our spirits had grown more distant. I was a fool, perhaps, but not so much as to assume that he had put his life on hold while mine had been unknown. Scents he carried were unfamiliar and exotic, and told me all I needed to know. He was trying to move on, and perhaps I should follow his lead. Blue as the winter's sky, my eyes seek his, try to divine the truth of his heart when I'm uncertain of the truth in mine. "What do you want?" I'm almost afraid to know. A flicker of my old flame kindles, a hint of warning in my voice with my own request. "In the form of the stallion, if you'd be so kind. I can't read you in this shape." I could tell well enough that he saw his draconic shape armor in more than one way, and hated that he felt the need to guard himself from me. When had everything changed? @[Castile] RE: Holding you close feels like a cut throat - Castile - 12-28-2018 and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was castile @[Sabra] RE: Holding you close feels like a cut throat - Sabra - 12-29-2018 He's given up on me. That's what I hear when he tells me he can't give me home, can't give me what I need to survive. But isn't he why I survive at all? Isn't he why the air still passes through my lungs, and pain still dogs my days, and why I bear it? He was my hope and my salvation, and now I can see he didn't believe any of it. I watch in mute fascination as his skin writhes over twisting bones, snapping back into a shape I remember but have not seen in so long. He doesn't understand. Why doesn't he understand? When he cannot meet my gaze I feel another chip of my heart break away, forsaken. The anger that had settled in my belly flared once more. Was he so much a coward that he could not face what stood before him? I know what self pity is, and he is drowning himself in it, and for a moment I want to let him. Words that I would regret later simmer on my tongue, burning to escape and scald him like he's done me. Fine. Suit yourself. Have it your way. Be alone and miserable for the rest of your days, if that's all you think you're good for. Instead, I breath, inhaling smoke and exhaling simple honesty. "If I could hate you, I would." I can't. I've tried, and I've tried and it all comes back to one truth. "Outside of battle, you've never marked me, and still I call myself yours. You idiot of a stallion, I have wanted you since we first met, and time has done nothing but reassure me of my choice! You want power, and land, and family? Very well. I will fight by your side to gain these. There is none other I would trust." Self loathing and apathy are stark on his features, but at least he's looking at me again. Emboldened by this, I bring myself within his reach. He's a fool and a coward at times, but he is mine. Mine. The thick cords of his bronzed mane twist before me in unknowable patterns, a haven where I had found myself so long ago. "Fine, you're a fuckup." I agree dispassionately, matching his growling tone. In the same detached manner I press my maw toward him, placing an icy kiss on his shoulder before my lips part against his fever-warm skin. Blunt teeth scrape there a moment before they catch on muscle, applying inexorable pressure as I feel violence and anger and stubborn love reach a climax within me. They need release and I find it in the closing of my jaw on him. Bruising, breaking skin. Iron liquid rimming my petal pink lips crimson. Burning with dragons blood, almost as satisfying as sex. Pain and passion had long been hallmarks of our intertwined lives, and I didn't see why this should be any different. "Now you're my fuckup. You should have known I wouldn't be so easy to get rid of." I murmur against the wound I've left. I recognize it for the act of vengeance it is, marking him for the world to see. I wanted him to hurt, because he had hurt me. I'd always known he would one day. @[Castile] RE: Holding you close feels like a cut throat - Random Event - 12-30-2018 @[Sabra] has been infected by the plague (rolled a 5). She will show symptoms (rolled a 3). She will express a trait (rolled a 3). RE: Holding you close feels like a cut throat - Castile - 12-31-2018 and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was castile @[Sabra] Up to you if you want to reply or end it here! Castile is just going to have his own little hiatus, regroup with his family, and figure out what he's doing with his life xD He's about to have a daddy-son chat. |