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  • 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


    looking like an angel but your savage love; skandar
    #11

    Aela, who always considers herself first, finds that he amuses her.

    This boy who would melt at her touch. This boy who would move oceans to reach her. This boy who becomes a mountain because of her thoughtful whim.

    She keeps reminding herself this all a game because Skandar could become something with teeth or claws. Skandar could assume the role of a predator thus reducing her to prey. That would be a mistake on his part. Aela will never be prey but it doesn't mean she will never be maimed or harmed in the pursuit of her ambition; it doesn't mean that there won't be some amount of measured risk to reach it. With each weighted step that Skandar takes, she is measuring it and assessing it over and over again in her mind.

    What else? part of her hums. What else could he be?

    But she cautions her imagination and tempers her dream-filled mind. The power they wield together is in this game. If he bores or tires of it, what is left? The spell is broken and they return to what they were before this chance encounter. Skandar with no purpose and with, perhaps, the greatest gift of their Gods (because can't he create and remake?) and Aela with a mind full of memories and her desire for more, whatever that more might be.

    The ideas are there - hazy things that are shaping and molding themselves - and he helps make the images so much clearer. It is Skandar who brings them into sharp focus with each shape he takes. Every part of him has gone grey with granite and yet she remains fixated on the embers of his eyes. They are still burning and that, that transforms her pout into a simper. Aela takes one graceful step towards him and then another, emulating a walk that she has observed Heartfire do so many times: confidence that claims there little room for surprise when you have seen so much.

    When she draws close enough that he might hear her, Aela speaks in such a quiet tone that @[Skandar] might question if he heard it at all. "Ice," she murmurs delicately and then floods them both with memories of icicles hanging from bare winter branches. Of pristine new-fallen snow. Of the few impressive white-blue glaciers she glimpsed once on a trek far North floating on the ocean.

    They could be nearing the end of their game, her nearness says. Aela lingers close enough that he could touch her, if she'd allow it. She is so near to him and so sure of her magnetism that she doesn't doubt Skandar at all. She assumes he wants to touch her. But he exudes an enigma all his own and (young) Aela starts to realize how games like this can go too far as she takes in his heady scent; she had drawn a line somewhere but she can't quite remember where it was.

    Ice, she reminds them both (with a forceful gust of winter memories) and shivers with the cold that she imagines. 



    image credit to footybandit
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    #12

    Her cool gaze is sharp and cunning as it never leaves the burning intensity of his own; they are matched, staring unwaveringly into each other’s pupils as if at a stalemate - refusing to turn their eyes away and unwilling to break the electrifying current that pulses and hums with power between them. At once he feels as if he belongs somehow; as if the two were destined for this moment, young and full of possibilities. 

    They are edging closer, each infatuated and curious by the other, wondering if this game is really a game at all. Skandar decides right then, as she comes within inches of him, that he just might become anything she wishes him to be as long as she remained with him.

    Skandar’s power flickers as her voice barely reaches his ears. The cool grey-green of his granite skin flutters in waves, clicking like cards against each other as he manifests another element, all color fading from the stone that once marbled him. He is nearly translucent now - foggy in some places and clear in others - as ice would be, with long and sharpened points of ice form with a crackling noise down his jawline and chin. He appears to be frozen completely, a young stallion immersed in a coffin of ice with a somehow still beating heart racing inside.

    He wonders if she can feel the chill coming in cool waves off his skin (though it really isn’t skin and if she were to touch him, she would find that he is ice through and through). “Can we trust each other, you think?” His voice does not hold the frigidity of ice; instead, it is rather warm and low, deep with intention. Skandar’s breath, however, comes out freezing cold and condensates on the warm air that surrounds him, swirling like smoke around his nose and face that appear extremely sharp with the hardness of the ice.

    The ice-stallion is certain the golden girl will flinch and dance away at any moment, but if she doesn’t, the solidity of his frozen mouth would gingerly touch the pale ivory tip of her muzzle.

    skandar




    @[Aela]
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    #13

    It would be an easy thing to believe they were both Gods.

    Star-marked @[Skandar] with a myriad of stars strewn across his blue-and-orange hide holds every promise of becoming a mystery. There are so many stories written across his skin - secrets of a universe that exists worlds away above their proud heads, existences they haven't even begun to fathom yet. Aela thinks she is getting closer with each shift he makes. She thinks that she might be able to unravel him and this makes her bold (as the golden girl so often is). Perhaps even foolish because she still believes his undoing could only be for her benefit.

    But as he draws closer - changing from the imperial gray of Nerinian granite to luminous shards of ice - the benefits and merits of this unusual relationship start to blur in her mind. Skandar is as clear and commanding as the daylight surrounding them; it's normally something she wouldn't appreciate. With her plans - for this greatness that she is seeking - there are those that she considers malleable to those goals. They have a purpose and role in those plans and nothing more.

    Maybe the ice-stallion is so close that he can sense the way those plans have started to swirl (like his frozen-away constellations) in her dream-filled mind. He is near enough to her that she can feel the chill from him and yet there is nothing cold in his voice. He speaks of trust and Aela turns those blue eyes up to him briefly. Her mind goes blank, realizing that she doesn't have a memory to reply with. For a moment, he becomes her equal. He becomes as god-like as she is divine and she has no way to vocalize this.

    What happens when deities interact? When they meet and play games? They are young yet - Aela still in the infancy of her immortality (and how do you age something that could fashion themselves into any age they wished?) - and this game they've created is just child's play. They - like the old Gods whose names have been long forgotten - create and thus they come back to the beginning of their meeting; if Aela was a Seer, she might have glimpsed more than just the light that refracts through him.

    She doesn't know how to speak of trust yet. Or how to conceive what it might look like between the two of them - would they be makers of dynasties, breakers of alliances, founders of kingdoms? Her breath pools against the presence of his phantom touch, so close that the air between them materializes into plumes of silver smoke from her pale nostrils. A touch that might have promised something more if the golden girl hadn't sensed the world changing behind her back, that something was amiss in Pangea.

    In ways that should have been impossible for how quick it was, she disappears in a fluid turn.

    Aela makes towards the West with only the betrayal of a single flickering ear to signal her mortality.
    That she was hoping he might follow.



    image credit to footybandit
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