[private] draw the thunder down, colby - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Meadow (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=3) +---- Thread: [private] draw the thunder down, colby (/showthread.php?tid=25746) Pages:
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draw the thunder down, colby - thomas - 12-11-2019 and I'm the kind of love it hurts to look at, but once I was enough to make you try
He is no longer afraid. THOMAS — and you don't care for me enough to cry — @[Colby] RE: draw the thunder down, colby - Desire - 12-16-2019 sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants — She is easily taken by pretty things and he is no exception. The sunlight glints off the edges of him, and yet also filters through, and in an instant she is captivated. He reminds her of water, and how the sun can make the surface glitter like diamonds, but still send ribbons of light streaming into the shallows. And she wonders if he is fragile like water – if he could be displaced by a simple touch, or if he was stronger, like ice, and could withstand a harsher blow. Not that she would ever actually try; there was something twisted in her curiosity, but she was still too kind to ever execute anything. Shedding the shadow of the tree that she had been resting beneath she strides towards him, the yellow sun seeming to warm the otherwise impersonal blackness of her eyes. She is young, likely around his age, with skin covered in stardust that melts across the curves that have begun to emerge from the once baby-softness. The sharp angles of her face lend an edge that should perhaps not be present in one so young, but the smile that laces across her lips manages to soften the severity of it. Everything about her seems to be at odds with each other; with a body that was trying to mature into the weapon it could be but a mind that was still too innocent to use it. “Hi,” she breathes once she is close enough, but instead of stopping she presses flush alongside of him. Without hesitation her muzzle reaches out to touch the smooth, glassy surface of his skin on his shoulder, reveling at how the sun had warmed it, and she laughs in delight. “I saw you, and all I could think about was touching you,” and it is only because she still possesses that childish sweetness that there is no covert meaning lying within that phrase. It was just a touch; just her being inquisitive. She wanted to touch him the same way she touched the dew that laced the tall grasses of the meadow in the morning, or the pointed tip of an icicle that hung from a branch. She withdraws her muzzle from him, and her lips still tingle pleasantly with the warmth until it fades away. “My name is Desire.” Desire RE: draw the thunder down, colby - thomas - 12-19-2019 and I'm the kind of love it hurts to look at, but once I was enough to make you try
She touches him and it hitches his breath. THOMAS — and you don't care for me enough to cry — @[Desire] RE: draw the thunder down, colby - Desire - 12-20-2019 sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants — She doesn’t notice the way that he looks at her, because he is not the first. She has always known she was beautiful, because her mother told her, and because she could see how beautiful Stave was, and she was just like him. She could tilt her head back and take in a night sky full of stars and know that was almost what others saw when they looked at her – almost, because she is so much more than just stars. She is covered in the very stardust and stars that she had been created in, crafted from the galaxy where she had been conceived. She is not just constellations and nebulas – she is a map to a place that almost no one has ever been to. But she is too young to recognize that he looks at her differently. That maybe he thinks she is more than just another pretty face, and that her touch had lit something inside of him. She would learn, someday, that the things she is careless and reckless with – her touch, her heart, and their hearts, too – were things that others treasured and kept safe. That fragile things were meant to be handled with care, but she was meant to be a hurricane. She stops when he does, mirroring his smile with one of her own. “Thomas,” she repeats his name, and she finds that she is again stepping closer to him. She can feel the heat that radiates like waves off of the glass, and she is fascinated by it, but she does not touch him again. “Where did I come from? I was born in Tephra but –” and she pauses, angling her head back to gesture at the galaxy coloring that covered her, “My mother said my brother and I came from the stars.” “And you?” She asks, and this time she does touch him again – her delicate nose following the slender arch of his neck, marveling at the smoothness of it. “What are you made of?” Desire RE: draw the thunder down, colby - thomas - 12-20-2019 and I'm the kind of love it hurts to look at, but once I was enough to make you try
She smiles at him and he has no choice but to give up on trying to catch his breath. THOMAS — and you don't care for me enough to cry — RE: draw the thunder down, colby - Desire - 12-22-2019 sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants — He doesn’t try to touch her back, and she notices, but she does not fully recognize the way it makes her feel. On the surface there is something like hurt, but it’s a superficial feeling, and not one that truly takes root. At her core, though, it is the way the hunger inside of her strengthens, and how her heart twists strangely in her chest that lingers the most. It’s a peculiar feeling that scratches at her, but she doesn’t know how to name it, and maybe she never would. She knows it feels like the space inside of her chest is too large, and she doesn’t know how to fill it. In the back of her mind she thinks that maybe it’s another heart that she needs, one that could beat steadily alongside hers. If she could just fill up all that empty space with someone else then this longing ache would disappear, but she is afraid that no one will ever want her. Someday, when she was older, she would not take no for an answer. She would convince him to want her, to want to touch her, but today she is still young and naive. She steps away from him, her eyes diverting away from his almost shyly, but she still smiles when he speaks again. “My mother says the stars are beautiful, but they hurt. She says that most beautiful things are like that, though.” She looks back at him again, her dark eyes alight with admiration, because she cannot fathom how anyone can be so lovely. “But you’re beautiful, and I don’t think you’d ever hurt anyone.” Glass can cut once it’s been broken, but she doesn’t realize that; perhaps the only shred of innocence she had been born with is not being able to grasp that everyone is capable of hurting someone. Desire RE: draw the thunder down, colby - thomas - 12-23-2019 and I'm the kind of love it hurts to look at, but once I was enough to make you try She draws away from him and all of the warmth is drained out of him. THOMAS — and you don't care for me enough to cry — RE: draw the thunder down, colby - Desire - 12-29-2019 sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants — She doesn’t really understand love, or romance – she doesn’t even understand the full weight of her own name, desire. With the exception of her twin brother she has never felt a particularly strong connection to anyone; not even with their mother. And until this moment, she has never noticed or cared. Until she felt the way Thomas was watching her. Until she let herself reach inside of him and find what he wanted, and she only saw herself. But was that real? She didn’t think it could be. He wanted her because she was in front of him, shimmering like a night sky that longed to be trapped beneath his glass, but what about when she was gone? Beautiful things tended to attract other beautiful things, and she is sure that the next time she finds him there will be someone else that he holds in his heart and his mind. She hadn’t realized until now how guarded she was. He thought she was beautiful, and she thinks she might be able to feel the way his pulse thrums in his veins, and she realizes that if she wanted she could try and spin this into a romance – just to see what it’s like. But her mother had said that love was dangerous, and she still wasn’t entirely sure what that means – only that she took it to mean she should never feel it. But she could still find out what it’s like, she thinks; it just won’t be real. And so she straightens herself and says with a light, teasing laugh, “I would never break you, Thomas.” She steps towards him again, her white lips touching his smooth neck, following the arch of it until she comes to rest on his chest, where his heart pulses beneath the glass and she breathes sweetly, “Not on purpose, at least.” Desire RE: draw the thunder down, colby - thomas - 12-29-2019 and I'm the kind of love it hurts to look at, but once I was enough to make you try
THOMAS — and you don't care for me enough to cry — RE: draw the thunder down, colby - Desire - 01-08-2020 sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants — She can feel him tremble, and she is surprised at the sick kind of delight that flutters in the pit of her stomach. His body shook because of her; her presence, her touch, her voice. It was a strange sort of power, to realize that she could have such an effect on someone. And for a moment, she almost understands what it means –that love could be dangerous. She tilts her head, marveling as she stares at him, and the look in her eyes could have been mistaken for some kind of infatuation. And there’s a part of her that is; she is fascinated and taken with him, because he is remarkably beautiful, and the way he admires her stars is the same way she admires the glimmer of his glass. As her lips continue to caress the warm surface of it she still cannot help but to wonder what it’s like underneath. Does he bleed if it breaks, or does he just shatter into shards? Is his heart made of muscle, like hers, or is it glass like the rest of him? She had promised she wouldn’t break him, and she wouldn’t – of course she wouldn’t, she was not sinister like that – but she cannot stop her ever inquisitive mind from wondering. His mouth touches her shoulder, and though she does not shiver the way that he had when she feels his breath curl across her skin, she offers him a shy kind of smile. “They don’t burn, not like real stars,” she says, recognizing that familiar question in his eyes. She is glad that they don’t, though; she is glad that she can let this glass boy touch her without growing so hot that he would break. With a step, she comes to duck her head beneath his neck, her chest resting just lightly against his while her cheek lays against his shoulder. She breathes a quiet sigh, before asking him softly, “Where do you live? Do you live somewhere where you are kept safe?” Desire |