• Logout
  • Beqanna

    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


    [open]  ain't no grave can hold my body down
    #1
    COBAIN
    i said i'd not come back. well, i'm coming back - and you'd better be alone.
    He remembers everything – the dying, the anger, the cold grip pulling him under. There was still so much left to do and yet he was never freed from his prison in the afterlife. It burned him to his core to watch his children squander their every opportunity – especially Larva. How many chances would that wretched child receive? Why did death love him so sweetly while Cobain was forced to watch?

    But the gates have been torn down and he has finally found his way back to the living. He howls with laughter when he steps onto the beach and feels the sun soak him in its warmth. His skull has been dust for so many years but now he is home at last. Cobain gleefully treads across the sand and drinks it all in with his vibrant green eyes. Everything is so new, so changed since these lungs last drew breath! And yet the meadow welcomes him home with a gentle breeze across his handsome face. Its prodigal son, returned to it at last.

    His dark locks hang down his gray neck and tangle in the wind as he tilts his head this way and that. All these strangers are so peculiar and so strange compared to him. His appetite for life had been renewed, but now his cup runneth over. Where should a lecher like him even begin? Cobain’s tongue briefly traces his upper lip as he ponders this question. A new first kiss, new bodies to be defiled – the curse of his lessons all forgotten in a fleeting second.

    Finally, he decides that there is no need to be so ceremonious with this second chance. He approaches the nearest woman and delicately places a teasing nip at her withers. The old ways may have been forgotten, but he holds them dear to his heart.
    Reply
    #2
    aurorae

    She is drawn to the dark things.

    The dead things.

    The things that should be the death of her.

    It is her birth right. The gift of her parents. This precious gift from the bloodlines of old to be drawn to the same things of their era, as though no time has passed at all. Such is the way with him. There is something of Dacian in the sharp angles of his face. Something from another time, something cruel. It intrigues her, drawing her forth like moth to flame, and when he bites into her flesh, she merely angles her head back.

    She looks up through her lashes, the night sky playing across the curves of her.

    “What an odd way to say hello,” she purrs, voice like velvet, something different about the way that her lips tilt upward in the corners. The sun hangs at its pinnacle so she has no gift to call down upon her now, nothing to protect herself with, but she doesn’t feel fear—or even the shades of it.

    He can do no harm to her. Not when she would gladly press her throat to the knife’s edge.

    She doesn’t shift away from his biting lips, doesn’t distance herself from the danger. She just sits in the glow of it, letting the darkness shift across her like the rolling of the tide.

    “My name is Aurorae,” a hum more than actual words, oddly husky for such a delicate thing. She considers asking him for his name, but instead decides that he would give it to her if he truly wanted to.

    He struck her as someone who did exactly what he wanted and nothing else.

    I said I never knew the moral but I guess that's how the story goes
    my lovers never been a mirror in the hour that I needed it most



    @[cobain]
    Reply
    #3
    COBAIN
    i said i'd not come back. well, i'm coming back - and you'd better be alone.
    She neither startles nor bristles at his sudden touch and it’s enough to keep him here for a little longer – two animals caught in each other’s trap. He offers a shrug of broad gray shoulders and a light-hearted laugh. No words, only gestures. He presses his side to hers and studies the way her warmth feels across his skin for a while. Any sort of heat feels so foreign and yet so welcomed after centuries of being dead and nothing. But then she speaks her name and his gaze drifts up to her eyes.

    I don’t recall asking,” he says as though pondering if he had after all. But his brows unfurrow quickly and he touches his lips to her neck like he’s been starving to be close to someone like this. And maybe he has, this ravenous hunger brewing within him all this time. Aurorae isn’t special but the way his eyes devour her must make it seem like she is. Cobain becomes temporarily infatuated with every figure he meets.

    Where are you from, Aurorae? You smell like grave roses,” he notes as he carefully grooms her mane like some doting lover. “I rather like grave roses.

    And then, just to keep her on her toes, he bites at her neck. Cobain examines her every micro expression like dissecting a wasp – delicate so as not to break her but careful not to get stung at the same time. Still, even if she did lash out, he supposes the veil would permit him another grand entrance just as before.
    @[aurorae]
    Reply
    #4
    aurorae

    He is possessive and dismissive in the same breath, and she finds it fascinating. Finds it fascinating how he so quickly devolves into violence, shrugging off her name in the same way that he studies her so ravenously. It’s a different and yet utterly familiar, and she makes no move to show that she finds it unsavory in the slightest. Instead, her lips spread into that ethereal smile, as though he was showing her the heavens instead of pressing into her, teeth against her neck like a threat and a promise at once.

    “I rarely need to be asked,” she says with a delicate roll of her shoulder, not moving away as he moves even closer. “I’m from here, I suppose,” she says, not quite understanding the question. She was from the night sky more than anything else. Born in Pangea, raised in the common lands, and now resting her head in the Cove more than anywhere else. But there was no such thing as a home—not for someone like her.

    She smiles again at the idea of grave roses, mulling over the idea, feeling herself thrill at the teeth against her flesh. He was like her Dacian, she thinks, and finds that she warms to the cold cruelty of him even more for the comparison. “I rather like graves,” she counters, the words jarring for the delicate way that she says them, the way that her pretty face tilts upward to consider him, studying his handsome face.

    There is a flash of white against her black mouth, her teal eyes brightening.

    “Do you?” A pause, a silver bell laugh. “Like graves, that is.”

    I said I never knew the moral but I guess that's how the story goes
    my lovers never been a mirror in the hour that I needed it most

    Reply
    #5
    COBAIN
    i said i'd not come back. well, i'm coming back - and you'd better be alone.
    She simply smiles and keeps in time with every step of this dance. He's growing suspicious that she may be too much like him, that they are two halves of the same depraved coin. But she says she rarely needs to be asked and a genuine laugh finds its way from his lips to settle melodically in her ears. She doesn't return his question and he finds himself thankful for that. Cobain isn't from anywhere, really. He could never pledge his heart to anyone or anywhere.

    Aurorae seems delighted to feel his teeth across her skin and so he offers her a second, third love bite near the corner of her jaw before withholding such affections from her for a while. Would she squirm after such a fleeting taste of his attention? He lifts his chin from her and stares at the sky as he weighs her question in his mind. Of course, he had not cared for his own early grave, but he would be overjoyed to see others put in theirs. Such a bittersweet relationship to have with death.

    "Hmm, others', perhaps. I don't believe dying and death are quite my forte, though," he finally says as his gaze finds hers again. Breath by breath, he grows wary of her and her practiced mannerisms. She reminds him of the woman that set off the chain of events that killed him. Oh, but his lecherous heart just aches to dance that line between here and danger again! Cobain places a delicate kiss near the corner of her brilliant smile to be sure he still has her nibbling at his hook a while longer.

    "You know, you pluck and tease my heartstrings like you've done this before," he says. It's a lie, naturally, but he has rehearsed it again and again after someone spoke the words to him before. It had almost made him feel a shade of guilt beneath the pristine walls guarding that raw, angry heart. Now he waits to see if it draws anything up from the depths of her as well.
    @[aurorae]
    Reply
    #6
    aurorae

    She gladly accepts his bites, just as she accepts the space after them. She is frustratingly cool in this regard, never begging for that which another would freely give her. Never turning away that which is given to her for free, even if it is in the form of violence. She watches with teal eyes that are both bright with curiosity and shadowed with her own thoughts kept close to her chest, wondering at what kind of life might have carved the stallion in front of her. Someone so self-assured, someone who took so carelessly.

    She remains steady as the cool breeze weaves between them, listening raptly. “Perhaps not your forte, but I imagine that you have experienced them.” She muses lightly, her lips fluttering into a smile when he reaches back out to touch the soft velvet of her skin. A smile that perhaps whispers of want more than she feels in that greedy heart of hers, although it does indeed want. “Have you fallen into a grave before?”

    Aurorae has no name to call him, but she doesn’t mind.

    “Have you pushed others into theirs?”

    Something flashes in her eyes then, something wicked and cruel, but it is gone almost as quickly as it had first shown, and she is left as she was before—delicate and fragile, beautiful and small. Her laugh is silvery as she reaches to run dark lips down the curve of his jaw. “Now, now,” she murmurs, smiling into the stormy neck, “I do not imagine there are many heartstrings for me to pluck at.”

    A soft sigh, as though this disappoints her.

    Although she does not prefer to find the heartless ones the most.

    I said I never knew the moral but I guess that's how the story goes
    my lovers never been a mirror in the hour that I needed it most



    @[cobain]
    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)