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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


    the way you kiss me will work each time // Chryseis
    #11
    you were a vision in the morning
    when the light came through,
    i know i've only felt religion when i've lied with you ;

    ______________________

    His tongue against her skin makes her tremble in a way that she has never known, triggering a wave of anticipation laced with a cool shiver. She is too young to know what she wants, or what any of this is. Even with her blue skin flush against his own, with his heart beating against her chest and his breath in her ear, she doesn’t understand why it makes her pulse race in a different way; not the butterfly-flutter he usually incited, but something stronger, hungrier.

    For all of her unbridled desire, she is still, in fact, just a young girl. His teeth breaking her skin, his warm tongue against the blood that paints her roan coat, it leaves something lit and burning inside of her, but she is too naive to fully take control of it. And so she settles for this, for being curled as close as possible, her lips exploring the lines of his muscles, memorizing the shape and feel of him. Because she doesn’t know if it — if they — will last; if someone more enchanting will catch his eye, like before. She swallows her doubt, pushes it away to some secret corner of her heart, and lets herself believe that right now, they belong to each other.

    Her reverie is broken when he stumbles, her muscles coiling tight as she bears his weight for a brief moment. ”Rhae?” The concern in her voice and her eyes is unmistakable, touching her muzzle to his neck as she cautiously pushes him upright. His eyes are glassy and blurred, and she ignores his slurred statement about her bloody shoulder — that he had inflicted just moments before — instead carefully brushing his forelock away from his vision. As she does so, her lips skim his forehead, and there is alarm that settles into the lines of her already worried face as she says, ”Your fever...you’re too hot.”  He needed a healer; she knew this, but watching the way he teeters so precariously, she is afraid to leave him in order to find one.

    ”I’m going to try something, okay? Just...don’t get too close.” She takes a step back as she says this, but watches him anxiously, afraid that he will fall. Slowly, the air around her begins to grow colder; invisible except for perhaps the faintest fog curling and billowing around her. She steps forward a fraction, letting only the bare minimum of the barrier to cool the air that is closest to him, but never allowing constant contact; her gift was not meant to inflict damage, but pressing into it for a prolonged period would likely cause frostbite. She isn’t sure if it will work, but she can only hope that the coolness of the aura somehow manages to bring relief to his dangerously high fever. But when she looks at him, with icy air swirling around her, she can feel her heart clenching with fear that perhaps it was too late.

    chryseis.
    and i'm still waking every morning but it's not with you


    @[Rhaegor]
    #12

    and I could easily lose my mind; the way you kiss me will work each time
    calling me to come back to bed, singing Georgia on my mind

    Rhae? To the fever-ridden boy, her voice sounds as if it comes from another dimension, its single syllable breaking through a multitude of portals just to find its way to his unhearing ears. As his own words fall, he wonders what they mean; they sound pretty enough, though the woman before him claims that title through and through. A crooked smile stretches his lips at the thought. Chryseis, his darling Chryseis; he reaches for her, but only stumbles again.

    Luckily, the blue roan catches him, and in the process, finds his forehead with her lips. She says something about being hot, to which Rhaegor quietly groans; a splitting pain grows between his ears, further lessening his conscious awareness. Though the contagion has progressively worsened his state, this episode marks by far the worst of his illnesses yet; he swings unsteadily in the wake of Chryseis stepping away, not understanding the words she spoke, nor truly caring.

    As the fever takes hold, he thinks about a number of things.

    First, of Sviko and Warlight. Their baby faces make their way into his field of vision, dancing about gaily and making mention of the lake. As if on command, that very body of water appears hazily before him; he imagines himself blasting it with his light, but only a thread of blue escapes the center of his chest. Not enough to even kill a fly. He smiles at the memory of that night, wanting now more than ever to be with the two people who know him best; but the vision changes, and he forgets his desperate need.

    Mothers, now, are beside him. Solace with her downy wings and Kagerus with her towering spires of bone. He blinks softly towards both of them, remembering how gently they treated him and how loving a home he'd had to grow up in; a pang of guilt runs through the mad boy. His mothers deserve a son who will serve them as well as they served him, and he knew that if any of their children were to do so, it would be himself. Or at least, that is what he thinks now, as death and madness flirts with what remains of his consciousness.

    Cold.

    The word is a command from elsewhere more than it is a thought.

    Obedient, Rhae steps closer to Chryseis. As he does so, his vision clears, and he beholds the loveliest figure of them all: his Chryseis. Frost swirls around the blue mustang as she stands, eyes wide with earnest worry; Rhae wonders why she looks as frightened as she does. Though clarity of one kind washes over the young stallion, much of his understanding of reality remains compromised. All he truly knows is that he loves her, and that the closer he is to her, the better he feels.

    "Lay down with me, Chryseis." He beckons to her, head tossing weakly as a smile strains against the sickness coating his lips. "Coat me in your sweet frost and kiss me." Another step toward her, and then a throw of his head across her withers such that she might not escape him. "Lady Winter, my Angel Frost." As his fever lessens and his ardor strengthens, Rhae waxes poetic, a skill he inherited and learned from his mother Kagerus.

    Lurching, Rhae is suddenly on his knees before the girl before he slowly rolls on to his hip and then his shoulder. With the last of his energy, he cranes his neck up towards her, straining as if to look at her might bring her and her cool air towards him.

    "I love you, Chryseis."

    Rhaegor



    @[Chryseis]
    [Image: rhae]
    #13
    you were a vision in the morning
    when the light came through,
    i know i've only felt religion
    when i've lied with you
    and i'm still waking every morning
    but it's not with you
    .

    She is worried about him. It shows in the pinched line of her brow, the way her eyes brim with concern as they watch his every move, every shift in facial expression. With the frost still radiating from within her, and the cool air cautiously embracing him as he moves closer, she can see that something about him simply isn’t right, as though he isn't even here with her. Her father would help, she thinks, if she could leave Rhae long enough to even find him; Leilan seemed to know everyone, and she knows he would assist her without question if she presented an obviously ill Rhaegor before him. But with brown eyes locked with his – eyes that seemed to be looking at her without seeing her – she knows that she can’t leave him alone.

    When he steps closer, and the coolness of the frost aura begins to spread across his skin, she can almost see the fog in his eyes begin to clear, even if only slightly. She does not breathe a sigh of relief just yet; he is staring at her almost oddly, his eyes seeming to focus and refocus on her face. But he is stepping closer to her then, making a move to touch her, and slowly her icy shield is lowered to protect him from the painful cold that would strike him if he was too close. The feel of his head across her back, the gentle tug that pulls her closer, and his poetic tongue sends her pulse racing again. Despite her worry, she cannot help but to smile at the words that he says, repeating in a mildly teasing tone, ”Lady Winter? I’m not that cold...yet.”

    Her worry is not completely sated, however, disentangling herself from him as he lowers himself to the ground. For a moment she simply stands above him, her lips trailing from his poll and down the arch of his neck, her teeth idly toying with his mane. But Nerine, she decides, is safe enough that even in his weakened state, she can let her guard down. Carefully, she folds her slender legs beneath her, cautious of his wings as she positions herself closer to the front of him. With her gold-blazed head draping over his neck, she cradles him gently against her, her mouth once more caressing his warm skin. He still doesn’t feel like he is hers, and she is trying to keep that in mind as her heart flutters in her chest, as her lips lay kisses along his cheek, his forehead, and his neck.

    But his words make her stop.

    She inhales sharply, withdrawing only slightly to study him carefully, as though if she stares at him long enough she will find the truth or lies in his words. She runs them over in her mind, analyzing every syllable, every connotation. But the silence is only a split second, hardly a breath, as she lays her head against his neck again and murmurs into the tangled threads of mane, ”I love you too, Rhae. Forever and always.” She has no way of knowing how much or how little meaning are behind his words but hers leave nothing to be doubted. She is young, and she knows some would think her a fool, but she has loved him almost her entire life. She doesn’t, and wouldn’t, know how to love anyone else. With her golden blaze disappearing into the groove of his neck, and her eyes drifting close, she finally resigns herself to the idea that she is his, that he holds her heart, and she no longer has control over it.

    chryseis


    @[Rhaegor]

    The End Big Grin For now.




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