[mature] Desolation comes upon the sky // Brunhild

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

She understood, as Scorch knew she would. Brunhild the stoic, Brunhild the calm - how could a mare renowned for her strength and dignity of character be anything but understanding, as she was bluntly told that her random appearance would only go unquestioned now, in the present? The answer lied deep within the eyes of the scar-laden mare, somewhere far beyond the depths that Scorch could ever hope to sink her teeth into. After all, they only had today - today, and an agreement to ask no questions.

Answers are hard to come by, beneath those guidelines.

Thus, with the breath of a woman she had always loved heavy against the naked skin of her mutilated figure, Scorch relinquished her reservations. The angle of the other's head into the weight of her cascading touch felt all at once like the brush of a lover's mouth across her spine, reaching, wanting, needing; Scorch chose not to question that strange intoxicated interpretation of reality, instead pinning her ears and audibly growling a low note as Brunhild's teeth found their way to her jaw. A raw kind of need for power and for powerlessness pressed insistently upon Scorch's consciousness, wriggling its way past her feeble walls until it took a seat at the helm of her being and began controlling anything and everything. For tonight, nothing existed outside of their twilight bubble; and certainly, the sounds of their love making would be caught within its grasp, too.

All at once and seemingly in slow motion, the women's bodies collided. Their tryst was not sex in a sense that others might understand it, but if others were to feel the ways they felt as their mouths found their mark on one another, perhaps they, too, would call it sex. It seemed almost predestined in a funny kind of way, in a way that left Scorch's lovemaking hot and needy, with her cries both guttural and needy in a way that only Brunhild could find sexy that night. Of course, the two had needed each other like this for far longer than either were wont to admit; when their eyes met sometimes, Scorch found herself uncannily reminded of the day that her predecessor shifted into pure shadow, her stomach churning uneasily at the way Brunhild's eyes reflected that same kind of chaotic need and energy now.

If she only knew the potency of her own chaotic energy, then maybe she would be less unsettled.

For some time, the sound of their union echoes poetically against the twisting border of their bubble, making each of them grin a little manically to hear the sounds of their fucking the way an outsider might. And indeed, at times, it was quiet, too - mouth on mouth, head tilted back in silent orgasm due to the fingers of the other burying themselves in the other's silken warmth. They were both scarred, yes, and not pretty in the usual sense; but they found a type of rhythm and a type of beauty as they flipped back and forth over top of one another, consuming each other's flesh with the voraciousness of any blood-starved carnivor.

At long last, however, they each find their way to the inevitable conclusion.

Wrapped snuggly in Brunhild's arms, her head draped over the sweaty curve of the warrior's pulsating chest, Scorch found herself scooching closer and wishing that they would not have to wake up from this dream and face reality. Already an alarming black pit of fear opened its gaping mouth in the center of the woman's being, not waiting even a moment to make threats about all the things that Scorch loved in life. And truth be told, she didn't even try to fight it; she knew, as she lay clutching the naked figure of a woman she thought of as a mentor, that she had fucked up her own fate, and far worse than she ever had before.

She decided not to let that stop her from murmuring these next words, quietly, with an unanticipated softness and girlishness.

"I love you, @[brunhild]... And I'm going to miss you, when you leave."

Scorch

Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

""