"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
10-19-2017, 09:36 PM (This post was last modified: 11-04-2017, 12:18 AM by Ciri.)
Ciri
Rough branches grab at her fleeing figure, thorns scratching at the already ravaged flesh. All is darkness, unable to find the stars above, unable to see the path before her. She doesn’t care, heart in her throat, as she runs. Runs for her life. Despite the long trip to Tephra, her strength is not what it once was. It ebbs away quickly and soon her chest is heaving with the exertion, finding herself stumbling over loose roots until her legs give out beneath her.
She drags herself to lay on the other side of a large tree, hoping the wide trunk will keep her out of sight from her attacker. If she was still following... She prays she is not. Shaking, gasping for breath. Angry with herself for running but knowing that she was outmatched in her current state. The wolf-shifter had caught her off guard, she had been unprepared. Gritting her teeth, she vows that she will never let something like that happen again. So sick of being caught in the clutches of monsters and being considered the underdog.
The fresh wound across her face throbs and stings, blood dripping freely from the open crevice where it’s claw had torn her cheek. Knowing how lucky she was to keep her eye. Forcing back hot tears even as she groans softly, a sharp pain deep in her belly. The fast pace of her silver swirls scan her surroundings, not knowing where she is. Realizing that in the panic, she has lost her sense of direction. Lost. Another sharp stab makes her recoil within herself on the ground, tasting copper metallic on her tongue as she bites her cheek with the pain.
The clouds part briefly, enough that she can call down her starlight to swirl protectively around her in case she is caught unaware. It’s hard to harness the power between the cramping sensation at her core but she struggles and fights even as her strength slips further away. Keeping the stars with her as long as possible before the clouds take them away.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
Without a heart-wrenching allegiance to root him anywhere, Castile is most commonly standing at the river bank lulled into a trance by the gurgling water. He blinks slowly, his body shifted to cock a foot and droop his wings. Beneath the autumn sunlight he is at ease, feeling the gentle warmth blanket across his back. There is occasionally a soft gale to tousle his unruly mane and offset his forelock to reveal his mismatched eyes. Alone and like this, he is able to lose himself in the serenity of the river’s music and ignore the conversations of those mingling around him.
That is, until the heavy sound of panting lures his curiosity like a moth to a flame. The sound of stress ignites an instinct deep within him, a monster that has always been caged and unable to surface, but Castile turns his attention with a nonchalance that doesn’t disturb the tranquility of his pose. He sees the silhouette at first, then her scent gropes for him with urgent desperation, and then everything in him has piqued.
Something churns in him as his heart climbs to his throat. Before he can think and weigh the situation, Castile is already closing in on her with adrenaline-pumping strides. The changes across his body hardly faze him – mere prickles across his skin – but he more reptilian by the time he is standing above her. His eyes – one molten gold and the other silver – have slit pupils and an array of black and white scales crawl down his body. His wings mirror that of a dragon, reaching and expanding out from his sides like a curtain to protect her from prying eyes, and when he speaks, his teeth are crocodilian and jagged. ”Ciri,” he breathes her name in a far gentler way than one would expect from hi appearance, ”Who did this to you?” Prior to answering, Castile takes a quick sweep of their surroundings as though the guilty would be staring them down.
10-30-2017, 11:30 PM (This post was last modified: 11-04-2017, 12:18 AM by Ciri.)
Ciri
Night begins to fade and the stars start to wink out with it. One by one they slip into the sunlight and her own star power begins to fade. It is a weak glimmer that swirls around her by the time Castile finds her. A fine sheen of sweat coats her smoky skin and her exhaustion is written all over her facial features. Hollowed drawn sockets filled with dim sluggish swirls of silver. When the rustling of brush threatens a possible threat, perhaps she has been found by her attacker at last, she tries to force the stars to stay as hard as she can. Releasing them as her whole body gives out and sinks further into the earth, realizing who it was.
And it is him, the dragon he had claimed to be, but in the flesh. Scales and leathery wings that reach out as if to conceal her from the growing dawn. Most would be afraid… Perhaps she should be afraid…. Instead she felt at peace. Secure. Safe. How could she be afraid of that she seemed drawn to most? How could she be afraid of a dragon when she had already faced worse myths? She was not normal. A girl who called the stars and who would fly with dragons if she only had the chance.
”My dragon.” Confused at first, the words falling thickly from her and not realizing the slip of her tongue. Blood still trickled from the ravaged open flesh of her cheek although it was beginning to clot. There is concern across the scaled ridges of his face and she tries to remember the blue roan predator, realizing she never even knew the name of her attacker. ”I don’t know.” She finally admits quietly, her voice holding a razor sharp edge of anger that she had been caught so off guard.
”I need to get back to Hyaline. I got confused in the chaos.” She finally manages, trying to find her feet although her body protests, wanting only to rest after the long all-nighter she had pulled. Yet she knows Amet will notice she is missing by now and she feels the familiar tightening of guilt grip her heart, he would be worried.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
My dragon, she says, and his heart clenches wantonly. If only she means for him and not Amet, but isn’t he the real dragon? Isn’t he – couldn’t he – be the stronger one? Surely, he can take care of Ciri and protect her from harm.
No, no. Amet is his friend, a childhood friend, and he can’t betray him.
But, Ciri.
When they met in Hyaline, she didn’t reciprocate Amet’s affectionate touches. For a moment, it had only been him and her, but the gilded king somehow cut through them like a knife and put a halt to all ideas and imaginative thoughts. Curiously, Castile glanced between them, but hadn’t seen anything too alarming until just prior to his departure.
Now, however, Amet isn’t here and Ciri is looking up at him as the gash across her cheek slows its bloody dribble. Their eyes meet, and Castile can’t hold himself back from touching the curve of her jaw and breathing her in. ”I---“ he almost corrects her, but something holds him back – it’s that wrenching in his gut, that want for her – so he stops himself, resigning to slip his muzzle down to her neck, her shoulder, her withers. ”I will find who did this to you,” he is afraid to promise her this just as he was afraid to make promises to Isobell; he doesn’t want to fail either of them or to break his word.
She is too precious for broken promises.
And too beautiful.
A kiss hovers above her skin, but Castile stops himself – the internal war rages on – and instead looks at her face and lowers his wings. He could take her back; they aren’t far from her home, but he finds himself unable to move and act on her wishes. A sigh slips from him as he looks across her body then back to her stormy eyes. ”You need to rest, Ciri. We will stay here for the night,” again he touches her, unable to control himself. His lips trail down the crest of her neck tenderly and a wing extends across her body. ”Lie down, Ciri. We can rest here. I will protect you.” His voice is gentle and reassuring as he tries to help ease her down and curl around her, savoring the warmth mingling between their bodies.
11-03-2017, 09:16 PM (This post was last modified: 11-04-2017, 12:18 AM by Ciri.)
Ciri
Being around Castile is different. He is unknown, unchartered territory. Being around him feels almost… Dangerous. And she seems destined and drawn to dangerous things. Amet is like slipping into a luxurious hot bath at the end of a long bad day. Warm, comforting, soothing. And yet even the water can burn if turned just hot enough, even he could scald her if pushed.
The two dragons that threaten to rip her heart in half if given the chance. For each have their claws in her and she can’t explain how or why this had happened. The moment their eyes had met, something had shifted. Something in his gaze had made her pulse quicken and her stomach churn with excitement. Just like now as he gently caresses her jaw and despite the pain along her face, she finds herself unable to move away. The silver strands quickening with the rising heat in her breast.
The guilt remains even as her skin quivers beneath his warm breath. Amet, he who had cared for her instantly. Her friend turned lover… But was that all there was between them? Sexual exploration? She remembers Tang and the familiar taste of jealousy. It didn’t matter if she hadn’t been seen in months, that it had been she that had claimed Hyaline’s King’s virginity. It didn’t mean she held his heart. Any words of love had been kept to himself and she held her own deep inside.
Did she love Amet? There’s hesitation as Castile looks to her, holds her gaze and she’s unsure if it’s the blood loss or him that’s making her weak in the knees. She does, she does care for the gilded stallion who ruled her heart as much as his kingdom. But there’s something here too… How can that be? His touch runs along her neck to her withers, followed by a promise to avenge her and she can’t help but press into him for comfort. Her bloody face pressing lightly to his own scaled neck, breathing in the exotic musk of the beast he had become, before pulling away.
She knows she needs to return and her look is almost pleading as they gaze at each other, each unsure of what to do. Pleading to not make this harder then it already was. Tempted by his offer to rest but still she resists… Until his mouth is against her neck and he is pulling her with his wing. A soft gasp escapes her, a wildness in her eyes as a surge of fire seems to course through her veins. ”Castile…” A soft protest, a throaty exclamation. ”Amet..” She tries again even as her body presses against his with the weight of his wing around her, unable to deny the sparks that seem to jolt between them. Except there’s a game changer that none of them are aware of. The little heartbeat that thrums steadily along her own. Invisible and unnoticed, for now.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
How is this so wrong, but feels so right? Perhaps, it’s because Castile has never known the warmth or the touch of a woman. This is his first time to have anyone melt into his side or to search his eyes in the way she does. Butterflies flutter throughout him when their eyes meet, his mismatched to her swirling silver. ”Ciri,” he whispers her name with closed eyes, his hot breath fanning across her skin as she comfortingly leans into him, fitting perfectly against his side. For a fleeting moment, it’s only them as the world passes them by as a whirling blur of chaos. There is a serenity encasing them as they succumb to their desires, their bodies heating with want. A breath catches in Castile’s throat as she nestles against him, the space between them entirely gone so that he feels every curve. Silence is most fitting as he embraces her with both wing and body, his lungs drawing her in addictively.
But then she sobers them with that one word, that one name.
Castile is rattled, confused, but he doesn’t yet pull away just as she doesn’t. She had said his name first – it was honey on her tongue, so sweet and alluring – but she reminds him of Amet, of the time he saw them Hyaline. Confused, his ears swivel as his gaze flickers to the nearby river as though it will give him answers to their dilemma. It responds with a choked gurgle that he decides to ignore as he lifts his head from the crest of her neck. ”Are you his?” He asks with a furrowed brow, not entirely certain how to handle the way she also says his friend’s name. ”But you didn’t reciprocate the way he touched you in Hyaline… You both didn’t act like—“ he cuts himself off because it really doesn’t matter what he did or didn’t see between them.
A groan slips past his lips as he tries to peel away with her, but fails.
”I’m a terrible friend,” he murmurs as his brows furrow for a heartbeat before lifting as he tries to search her face and eyes. Emotion takes hold of him for truly the first time – never has he experienced this sinful lust – and he isn’t entirely sure how to control it or how to let it go as to not ruin her, or them. While he has always nurtured others, now he is suddenly selfish and greedy. With a hissing sigh, an almost ashamed tone twists through his voice. ”Despite everything, I still want you to myself.”
The way Amet holds her against him, whispers her nickname (Akmar), the way he can bring her to a place of pleasure she had never known before… It’s real. It feels right. Then how does this feel right too? With his mismatched eyes watching her and and stormy scales brushing against her scarred skin. Why is being pulled into his embrace hard to resist? His scent is muskier, rich with pine and soil. Woodsy. It reminds her of the road. It reminds her of the life she had before she fell into the Underneath.
She can’t deny the way her heart seems to lift when he whispers her name. Different, so different. But there's still the same desire just as when Amet calls to her. The hunger in his eyes, familiar. For a moment, she allows herself to truly feel him against her. To breathe him in. A taste of the fantasies that had lurked on the edge of her thoughts that day their eyes had first locked.
She wants him.
She wants him…. But not like this.
”Are you his?” Hesitance as she looks up into his searching gaze. There had never been any declaration of love although they were both aware of the feelings between them. She belonged to no-one but herself. There was no official title but if she was honest with herself, her feelings, then her heart did belong to him. Part of it at least. The other half muddled and confused by the one before her, that drew her in with dark roving looks and winged mysteries. ”Yes.” She breathes softly, admitting to him and herself the truth of her feelings. Something she hadn’t been sure of herself. But how could she not love Amet? He who had nursed her back to health, cared for her, taken her innocence and cradled it gently, protectively.
There had been distance between them that day, between the three of them. The tension had been palpable, she knows they had both felt it just as she had. Out of respect for all of them and respect for the bewildering confusion she had felt, she had not thought it right to be pressed to his side. Besides, she wasn’t the type to constantly flaunt her affections in front of visitors.
He groans and she feels the dark flutter of her heart as she braces himself to pull away. To tell her this was wrong, that she needed to go. That he didn’t care for her. But he doesn’t. Instead he looks ashamed but still he is so close. Close enough that she can feel his breath as he admits he wants her. There’s a spark within her and she knows her desire for him, knows that what she feels is real. It takes everything in her not to reach for him, to discover the secrets that lay beneath his scales. To find the truth of what he feels.”Why me?” Soft words as her muzzle hovers inches from his own, she doesn’t need to speak her thoughts. They are written all over her face, quivering nerves beneath the surface of her dark flesh. Brazen and glittering in the depths of her metallic iris's.
She shudders, regret in the silver swirls as she pulls her muzzle to her chest. Dizzy with her desire and the throbbing of her face. ”Not like this.” She whispers softly. Although every fiber in her body fights to give in to him, Amet is never far from her mind. She couldn't do that to him, to them.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
Yes, she says, and something burns deep inside Castile, hurting. He didn’t know, or did he? With his eyes cast down he tries to piece together a puzzle to help him realize the clues that he ignored. Subtle glances were exchanged between them and Amet had flinched when he noted the minute flirtation bubbling between Castile and Ciri. He had touched her (but she flinched!). He took a place closer to her side.
The clues were there, but he was too dumb, too ignorant to take notice. His eyes only craved her and only flickered to Amet occasionally out of respect.
So, so dumb.
Yet he doesn’t pull away, not yet, because her muzzle is hovering mere inches from his own. When she speaks, it’s with a heavy breath from a lover. Beneath his forelock, Castile’s mismatched eyes slowly blink. His mind reels, his heart patters. It had been only them moments ago, but when she admits to being his – being Amet’s – suddenly Castile can see more around them. His head turns so that he can see the river race by and see the adults and children clustered in conversational knots. Their voices are so loud now and almost drown out the sound of Ciri’s voice as she asks why her. Hesitant, Castile musters the strength to look at her again as though she will disappear should he meet her eyes. There are so many things he could say, but they mash together to form a lump in his throat. Silence reigns for another moment longer – a period long enough to allow his mind to reflect on Amet – before he can bring himself to answer her with a question. ”Would it even change anything if I told you?” Emotion threatens to choke his words, but somehow he suppresses it enough to sound level while mentally attempting to distance himself from her.
But it’s so hard, so hard.
Swallowing past the lump, he nods to Ciri – his Ciri, he almost thinks – and regretfully peels himself from her side. ”Amet,” he doesn’t know why he mutters the name of his friend, maybe to burn it into his memory of her? To deter him from holding her closer for longer? His foot drags backward to still ease himself away and feel a cold breeze nip his side that had been warm against hers just minutes prior. ”I can take you home – to Amet – if you are strong enough for the trip,” despite his lust for her, he can’t bring himself to hold her here against her will, not when her heart flies with the Hyaline king. With the melancholy soaking through him, Castile’s body smoothly transitions entirely back to his norm, his wings feathered and his piebald coat taking place of scales. When he blinks again, his pupils are no longer slit and hungry for her, but soft and beaten - destroyed but hidden beneath his forelock.
Something shifts as he averts his gaze, as he seems to look everywhere but at her. How she wants to draw his scaly face back to her, to search the hard ridges of his face for the answers to unsaid questions he keeps from her. ”I don’t know..” She responds quietly, hesitant. Ears lacing back slightly as he seems to lock up in front of her after admitting her stance with Amet…. But how could she know if it would change anything? How could she know her own heart when she has no idea of his? Or Amet’s for that matter.
The pain along her cheek slowly seems to ebb back to life as he pulls away from her, the comforting warmth of his body fading and leaving her with a sudden ache of loneliness. He mutters Amet’s name and she can’t help but feel a sudden rush of despair. Still, he keeps his mismatched gaze from hers and she realizes the gravity of the situation she is now in. The longing to reach for him, to have him by her side, is strong. So strong that how can this not be… something? But Amet… Her darling Akmar….
She doesn’t like this weird twisted feeling inside her, this uncertainty of her own convictions. He mentions taking her back and she merely nods slowly as he shifts back to his horse form. Still he is subtly dragon despite the handsome stallion that stands before her. It makes her breath catch, makes her chest hurt with the desire that suddenly grips her. But it’s those eyes… Those eyes that refuse to look at her. She can stand it no more. ”Please….” The silver of her eyes reflecting a growing pain as she steps towards him, to eat up the space he had so carefully made. To sweep her muzzle against his jaw, lips leaving a soft kiss on his cheek. ”Please do not be angry with me.” She can’t stand it, to suddenly feel so alone. She is tired and painful, she cannot take his anger on top of all that.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
Mad? No, never mad. Hurt though, yes. There is a pain in his chest that is unfamiliar to him, and it grips him relentlessly when he finally looks at her. She is uncertain, but so is he. This entire thing – this awful predicament – is a torrent of suffering that he struggling to see the light of. When he looks at Ciri, he wanted to see an embodiment of his parents and the love they hold, but alas, this fateful world has other plans in the making. Quietly, he shifts his body just as a cold gust whips through the trees and tousles his locks. For a long while, he is at a loss for words while trying to still hold together the cracks ripping through his heart. He is too young for this, he tries to reassure. If he continues to look, if he respects her wishes, if he tries to preserve his friendship with Amet. If, if, if. There’s too many.
Castile shakes his head, but among everything, he is still able to curve his lips into that familiar boyish grin. It lightens the shadows of his face, but there is still pain in his eyes as they meet Ciri’s. ”I should have never,” he begins, but doesn’t finish. Things could have been different had he only been observant and not so consumed by the swirling pewter of her gaze when they found him in Hyaline. ”My mistake,” the chuckle is forced as he inches away, even after she edges closer again, missing the warmth his body provided her. It shouldn’t be so difficult to reject her closeness and her reach for his cheek, but it rattles him enough to divert again. Silly boy, he tells himself with a toss of his head. But he is able to glance at her as he pivots to face the beaten trail ahead, considering how relatable it is. ”He brings you joy, Ciri. How can I be mad about that?” It isn’t an outright lie, but a slight fabrication of the truth. He doesn’t want to betray how much he is crumbling. It would do nothing now.
Slipping past her, his gaze fallen, he moves away toward the trees before glancing back over his shoulder. ”I will walk you half way, Ciri,” he doesn’t want to be seen by Amet, but he knows that with her lathered in his scent, it will only be a matter of time until their paths cross.
When the treeline thins and the hills of Loess are in the near distance, Castile draws to a stop. He greedily drinks in the scent of her before turning to face her. ”Be safe,” he murmurs, not entirely sure what else to say than to repeat what his parents often told him.
Up to you if you want to end it here or not since Amet is coming to find Castile haha
