"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
Dahmer hadn't disliked the night during his reign of the Subway, but it had certainly made navigating his territory laborious. The dark caverns of his underground maze had been just that - dark. Even during the day, had he wanted to gather his congregation, the black beast had been forced to call them all to the atrium of the subway station, or to the large main cavern, where the tunnel had collapsed and had, over time, disintegrated into a large ceiling-less meeting area.
He had loved it, though. His Subway. There had never been a foe to learn the secret underground pathways like he and his herd had done. They had been a formidable group, full of misfits and creeps and headstrong Hellhounds, and they'd always had the home field advantage. Raids against them had been attempted - though they were few and far between - but not once had they lost their brothers or sisters or friends to the likes of Dog-face or Babylon.
Despite his nostalgia, however, the black beast has grown to love Tephra. Night time in Tephra, especially. The dark sky is alight with an unfathomable number of stars, but it's the soft contours of the earth that are truly breathtaking. The glowing streams of lava intermingle and illuminate the path of whoever has decided to explore after sundown, interrupted only by the more meadow-like areas that are called home by the longer grasses.
Dahmer stands quietly, surrounded by a few thinner streams of lava that radiate light and heat onto his legs and chest, and his icy blue eyes are closed so that he may better appreciate the warmth of his surroundings and the natural sounds of Tephra's night. Only when his ears twitch instinctively at the dull sound of leisurely approaching hoof steps does the stallion flutter his eyes back open to find the source.
Ellyse is easy to recognize with her champagne coat and her feathered wings, though Dahmer has yet to be properly introduced. They had both been busy under the rule of Magnus and that had not changed following the coronation of Lucrezia,
but he has heard and seen enough of her to know that she is a terrific asset to the Tephra family. "Ellyse. What brings you out tonight?"
He allows a warm grin to find his lips before playfully adding, "I heard you've been busy, ruffling the feathers of Pangea."
i don't need you to understand that i'm already saved.
The evening is thick and obscure; the vast canvas overhead painted with the stain of dusk – a dark drape of bright, tightly knit stars that faintly illuminate all that lay beneath them. The moon is absent, tucked away within the shadow of its own enormity, and its pale, bleak light does not reach the deepest ridges and crevices of the land. There is a warm, yet insidious glow, exuding from the thin tendrils of magma smoothing over rough, molten rock – and that is where she remains; her golden skin bathed in the heat and the bright, fiery amber and crimson radiance of it dances along the taut, tense ridge of her jawline.
She is too often lost to the quiet serenity of night – the thoughts and memories, so easily buried beneath a façade of stoicism, of indifference, unveiled to the darkness. Her hazel eyes, usually cold and unfeeling, rest easy – the faint golden flecks hidden within her irises dancing along with the soft burning flames that ebb away at the dry grain along the magma’s reckless pathway. Her breathing is shallow as her mind delves into the memory of his skin against hers, of the rough baritone of his voice and the warmth of his eyes.
Her heart aches for him, for Magnus, but she would not seek him – she would not force his hand. It was a constant push and pull, one that left her both wanting and content, and so quietly she would wait – she would wait, until he sought to be found, until he longed for her company once more. It was a bittersweet torment; a test of her thin, hasty patience, but she would wait.
A flicker of movement finally stirs her away from her own nostalgia, and her gaze narrows – a figure, cloaked in darkness, with piercing eyes bluer than the sea itself – and soon, she is resting easy again. Dahmer. Bristling the pristine, finely preened feathers of her wings along her flank, she rouses from her stagnant posture and presses her long, fluid legs to carry her to him, catching his gaze along the way.
The lava bathes them each in its tepid heat and warm glow, and she forces a smile – one that barely reaches her eyes, but alas, as he continues to speak, it finally eases its way into the depths of her hazel gaze.
”Dahmer,” she says, tasting his name across her tongue. A name she had not spoken before, but one she had long since committed to memory. She knew of him, of his prowess, his humor, his wit – but she had stayed along the outskirts of his memory, observing quietly, admiring her fellow council from afar. ”ah, I couldn’t sleep.” The smile falters then. Loneliness, she doesn’t say. She doesn’t admit. ”And what of you? Why are you out so late?”
Her eyes watch as a broad grin tugs at the corners of his whiskered mouth, and she cannot stifle her own then, though it resembles more of a haughty smirk if nothing else.
”I don’t like him,” she utters, matter-of-fact as her stare lingers off to the bubbling magma nearby. ”Pollock, that is. I don’t trust him. I intend to keep an eye on him,” and then she is looking at him again, boring into him with her watchful gaze. ”He will be trouble.”
There is a brief, fleeting instance before his blue eyes flutter open that Dahmer hopes Lucrezia has peeled herself away from her politics and has sought him out for some quiet company, but the thought is forced from his head as he offers that warm smile to Ellyse. The reflection of magma in her hazel eyes hides whatever lack of warmth there may be, though Dahmer does happen to notice the way her smile twitches and nearly disappears, just for a quick moment, as she explains her evening wanderings.
"Old habits," he offers vaguely, as if he had spent the long nights in the Subway surveying and protecting the land, but the layout of his old home had almost made it possible for the Subway to protect itself. Had he known that Ellyse yearns for Magnus just as he yearns for Lucrezia, perhaps he could open up to his fellow councilwoman, but the blue-eyed stallion stays decidedly silent on that topic. He had yet to admit his feelings to Lucrezia - it would be folly to share such things with someone else first.
Instead, he turns their conversation to a topic that would be more fitting of two members of Tephra's council, his trademark grin returning full-fledged. He's pleased to see Ellyse's own lips twist into a smirk. "I've yet to meet Pangea's King, but I trust your judgment," he offers with a quiet sigh, "What do you think will be our best course of action?" Dahmer's thoughts betray him and turn back to Lucrezia, though it's his concern for her safety that is surfacing this time. He trusts that the peafowl mare will make the best decision she can for Tephra, but he does not trust that someone as infamous as Pollock will make her life easy.
"Magnus was wary of him, as well," he adds, recalling the conversation he'd had with the former King about Pollock's wasteland.
i don't need you to understand that i'm already saved.
There is a brief, fleeting breath of disappointment lingering in his gaze, even as the icy blue of his eyes bore into her own gold laden ones, and she can hardly conceal the slight smile tugging at the corner of her pale mouth. There was a distant shadow of longing hidden within his irises, beneath the shining light of the magma that glows along the shining surface - a quiet yearning, perhaps one that is unspoken.
Her mind cannot keep from drifting to the thought of Lucrezia, with her soft curves and ever thoughtful, warm eyes, and how often her and Dahmer's silhouettes met beneath the pale moonlight. There was no secret that the two were close, as any council should be - but she wondered how close. A light chuckle emerges from the depths of her chest, reverberating within the tight confines of her throat as she quiets it before it can be heard.
Her smile soon falters, giving way to the scowling ridge of her brow line as her gaze averts to the hazy horizon, searching for the seemingly endless sea that lay behind it. His words are soft, and his own smile, once bright and broad, falters too at the mention of the stench-dredged King. A deep cavern of concern is etched into the dark features of his face - something she silently notes to herself as her hazel stare finally pulls away from the briny border of the ocean tide that envelopes the island. A simple question is asked, one that she has dwelled on for far too long - one that has long since haunted her dreams and delved its way into her rampant thoughts, always lingering somewhere in the back of her mind.
Magnus was wary of him, as well, he says off-handedly, but the name itself carves itself like a rusty, jagged knife, settling into the delicate tissue of her tired heart. She tries to suffocate the well of emotion that rises in the wake of his words, but there is a flicker of discomfort and pain hidden within her terse jaw, though she tries to stifle it. So easily had the former King walked away, without so much as a word - so easily had he parted with such little care.
She should not care, either.
She should not care, but she still does.
"Magnus preferred peace to everything else, and would rather turn his cheek if it meant the safety of others -" a pause, her eyes searching his. "Lucrezia does not seem as reserved, and I have my doubts that she will let Pollock throw his weight around as he might have been able to under Magnus - which is a relief to me."
A sigh, as her teeth clench slightly at the thought of the wretched, golden King of Pangea.
"I was able to steal away two of Pollock's finest, in the dead of night - Kilter, and Kellyn. Though I let them go - let us call it an olive branch - I would like to make it clear to the King that we are not to be trifled with. Make it a good will mission, have you. Remind him that he is not as clever, nor as observant, as he thinks he is. Would you care to join me?"
ooc / I'm sorry for how long you've waited :( Would you mind posting in Pangea & tagging me in it? Still working on presentations for work and I don't want you to have to wait on me to respond here<3
