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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    through the ashes, we were brave; ruan
    #4
    Her return touch was ready and eager, and he was immediately thankful that he had been the one to find her first without her having learned to be wary of others. He pulled and held his magic closed inside him as her little nose and lips explored his face, lowering his head to allow her further inspection with a soft smile of amusement. She soon returned to his nose and huffed sweetly, eyes bright like the shine of sunlight through honey. He was softened then, as though the sun behind her trusting gaze had shone through and warmed him, melted the piercing ice of his eyes to a clear blue.

    The world had delivered to him exactly what he needed; a child in a time without love. A sparkling little gem to raise as his own when his children were all full-grown and no longer needed him. Not as a baby does. Not as she would. He hadn't realized how he craved that look of instant love and endless trust, needed it and the natural-born kindness in her to balance out the sharp and bitter barbed looks from his little girl that had always loved so easily, so brightly, but had since become something darker.

    But this one. This one would hold to the light in her heart.
    He would swear it.

    He would teach her to love so completely, whole-heartedly, even when it meant the pain of it's end cuts so much deeper. A brave little heart.

    She reached for him each time he shifted; touched his forehead, his leg, anywhere she could. When he rested again on his side, she eased closer, tinkling and twinkling with her grace and gliding movements. He watched her quietly as she studied the frosted pattern he'd dressed her with, waiting to see what she thought of it. As though he could see her thinking it through, he saw the light of recognition in those star-bright eyes as she warmed again and turned to him. She stumbled forward to him, folded and tucked herself into his neck and chest. The curve of him curled around her as her legs stretched out to her side too, settled a little tighter in a quiet embrace as her head rested on his neck to breathe in his ear.

    Smitten. He was entirely smitten with this innocent child as she rubbed her face into him with a precious little sigh. Something made her stop and she looked thoughtful again. He listened to those thoughts as they tightened little brows and worried little eyes, listened to this language of body that he'd learned from the wolves of a home long-gone. When she touched him again, it was more careful, less sure. Puzzled and uncertain. But the touch was firm, because she was firm. The light, though shaded with doubt, was still there in her eyes when she looked to him again like a star encased in glass, glowing from the inside, protected and out of reach of those that would want it for themselves.

    He curled closer and trailed his nose and lips along the young nicks and faint scratches in her legs, letting his breath fog her surface and make them stand out more clearly. He pulled back to look at them with a growing smile. Her imperfections were flawless in the way they made her so rare and beautiful, impossibly unique. No other creature would have these miniature constellations marked on them, following them everywhere, orbiting around the true star that hid safely within her. One day, she would see how very rare she was. Maybe she would despise it as children often do when they'd rather be like everyone else. But one day she would understand what made her stand out was so much more valuable than what made her fit in.

    He reached for her face then, polished the side of her sweet face with the velvet of his mouth. You'll see one day, he thought. Until then, he would hope she would trust in the wonder and awe she must surely see in his dark face when he admired her. She was something to be loved and cherished, for exactly what and who she was. Never to wish for a change in it. To shine her little heart-star as bright as she could with its eternal light, never fading no matter how many new constellations get chiselled into her.

    "Polaris," he named her in a whisper kissed to her cheek. The North star that guides, that never fades, never bows down to shift her place no matter how the other stars dance slowly around her.

    He rose to his feet then, bent to rest another kiss to her forehead before pulling away and releasing his magic again, fatigued with holding it captive within him. It snapped into place around him, sucking the heat and moisture from the air and dropping the temperature instantly. Without a breath this time, he reapplied her frost-leopard coat to match him.

    He hesitated, looking her over.

    No, that wasn't at all what he wanted to teach her. She shouldn't wish to look like anyone but herself. He could claim her his in some other way. So, he melted it from her, making her shine and glimmer in the moisture as it ran from her back and sides and pooled in her little nicks. He thought of marking her with the wolf in some way or another. But he was no longer wolf, was he. Very well, then. His head tilted as he studied her, thinking, thinking. Ah yes, that would do.

    A little bit of him, a little bit of her. He gave a quiet huff and a smile as rare as she was, then turned and began walking home. There was still wolf in his manner and always would be, and the pup would learn to follow or be left behind.

    He hoped, though, that she liked the glittering ice-diamonds set into her pocks like little twinkling jewel-stars, emphasizing exactly who she was in the way they claimed the chips and imperfections already there that she could feel good for, show them off proudly, and not dislike for the way they marked her. Hoped, too, that she liked the threaded line of more ice-diamonds along her spine like the stars in the sky and in her surface that would always follow her, their North Star.

    A little bit of him. A little bit of her.
    But every bit his.
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    RE: through the ashes, we were brave; ruan - by Ruan - 04-29-2017, 04:45 PM



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