01-08-2017, 11:25 PM
Ruan
She shook her pretty head, the wild torment within her a raging, dark storm in her fire-eyes. They screamed and kicked, even at moments when her body stood still and steady. Bitter, hurt. Trapped. He didn't fully understand that. Hadn't she always been this way? Maybe he'd gotten it wrong, as he often did. It would not surprise him. But, then, couldn't he help in some way? There must be something he could do to put things to right for her.
In spontaneous movement, she tossed her head and clipped his shoulder with a bite. He jerked at the sting, his eyes sharpened. It instantly fueled his adrenaline, and his energy spiked. She never even got a head start, he was there with her as she lurched forward, reaching across to plant his own nip at her hip. His was perhaps not so gentle as well, his was a wolf's heart after all, and his bright, blue eyes gleamed in anticipation of a chase.
He lagged behind, just enough to snap at her rump, pushing her to go faster. She needed to run, then. Needed a release. He could give her that, if thats what she wished. If he could not help in any other way. The wolf could chase a dark hare. No, not a hare. She was stronger, bolder. She may be silent, but she was not prey. A dragon then; watchful and without a roar of warning. Only the sudden sting of a bite.
He grinned, moved off to the side a little as he kept pace with her. With his ice, he gave her a dragon's wings, hovering just above her shoulder like an illusion. A living, breathing illusion of webbed and frosted wings, claws at the wrist, pumping with her movements as though real. Beautiful. She was both fire and ice. He laughed aloud, then looked away from her. With a deep breath and just a touch of sadness in his eyes, he returned his own wings, replacing the gory scars at his sides. As though they were still there, his white wings. Did she remember them, too?
Pain and sadness --and anger, so much anger-- came with those memories. So he shattered his own into sparkling dust, leaving it in their wake as he shifted to bump playfully into her side, out of the way of the dragon wings still lingering in the air above her skin. He would've connected them for her, let her have control of them, but he wouldn't touch her with his magic without consent. Not his, painful and cold as it was to the skin.
He'd never hurt her.
In spontaneous movement, she tossed her head and clipped his shoulder with a bite. He jerked at the sting, his eyes sharpened. It instantly fueled his adrenaline, and his energy spiked. She never even got a head start, he was there with her as she lurched forward, reaching across to plant his own nip at her hip. His was perhaps not so gentle as well, his was a wolf's heart after all, and his bright, blue eyes gleamed in anticipation of a chase.
He lagged behind, just enough to snap at her rump, pushing her to go faster. She needed to run, then. Needed a release. He could give her that, if thats what she wished. If he could not help in any other way. The wolf could chase a dark hare. No, not a hare. She was stronger, bolder. She may be silent, but she was not prey. A dragon then; watchful and without a roar of warning. Only the sudden sting of a bite.
He grinned, moved off to the side a little as he kept pace with her. With his ice, he gave her a dragon's wings, hovering just above her shoulder like an illusion. A living, breathing illusion of webbed and frosted wings, claws at the wrist, pumping with her movements as though real. Beautiful. She was both fire and ice. He laughed aloud, then looked away from her. With a deep breath and just a touch of sadness in his eyes, he returned his own wings, replacing the gory scars at his sides. As though they were still there, his white wings. Did she remember them, too?
Pain and sadness --and anger, so much anger-- came with those memories. So he shattered his own into sparkling dust, leaving it in their wake as he shifted to bump playfully into her side, out of the way of the dragon wings still lingering in the air above her skin. He would've connected them for her, let her have control of them, but he wouldn't touch her with his magic without consent. Not his, painful and cold as it was to the skin.
He'd never hurt her.
