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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


    [private]  you're the world to me, stellaria
    #11
    WORSHIP
    She comes at him like a vision.

    (Is this a dream? If he could test himself for fever, he would. Perhaps he has been curled against his mother’s breast for days, just a child still, wishing so fiercely to be reunited with her that his boyish mind has created this for him. Because this cannot possibly be real, can it? She cannot be real, Stellaria.

    But this is no dream.
    It cannot be a dream, can it?
    Because his sleep is plagued only by nightmares.

    And she is so much sweeter than any dream.)

    How can he bear to look at her?
    He has half a mind to hide his face in shame. It is as if she has taken the darkness unto herself, wrapped herself in it, made it so devastatingly beautiful that mere mortals wither to look at it.

    If her steps are strange, he does not notice. (He does not look away, he cannot. Just as her gaze is tethered to him, his is tethered to her. He could not look away from her if he tried.) He looks at her plainly in worship as she comes to him, touches him and he shudders beneath her touch, releases whatever air he’d trapped in his chest in one shuddering breath. 

    And finally, finally, he reaches for her, too. (How could he stop himself?) His pulse is such delicious chaos when he touches her so gingerly on the shoulder. (Strange that she is not made of marble, crafted by the gods. Strange that the stars on her skin do not burn.) 

    I would tear the sun from the sky if it meant seeing you among the stars,” he tells her and how fiercely he means it! He does not draw breath while he touches her, no. He doesn’t dare, just pulls his mouth from the point of her shoulder to the gentle slope of her knee and back up again. 
    you were the boat that breached in the tale of conrad
    oh, i loved you with the good and the careless of me
    but it all goes bad



    @[Stellaria]
    Reply
    #12
    Stellaria
    She does not get a smile from him, but one day - one day she promises herself that she will. For now the shuddering breath that her touch inspires is enough to cause her lips to twitch upwards. Stellaria is enjoying tracing his patterns so much that she’s delightfully surprised to feel him touch her back.

    It is so soft, it is not enough, but it is a start.

    Her breathing hitches as his muzzle trails down and back up her body, and she stops her exploration to watch this  - watch what it looks like when day touches night. Stellaria’s aching leg twitches under his caress, under the fierce words that bring a smile to her vibrant gaze.

    She does not immediately respond to them because there are other words that must be spoken first.

    “I only ever want to be touched by you. Only you, Worship. For as long as we live.” We because young Stellaria cannot fathom a world where one of them could exist without the other.

    And then she’s reaching for him again, like she has a right to his flesh just as he has one to hers. And she believes this - that they each are the only ones who have the rights to the other. If she was to belong to anyone, it was him, and this does not bother this wild dreamer because he belongs to her too. “Leave the sun so I can admire you beneath it, and instead you can tear apart anyone else who might dare to take what is yours alone.” She almost wishes someone would, just to see what he would do - or what she would do, if the roles were reversed. So this too is an easy promise to make against his opalescent skin. “And I will do the same.”



    @[worship]
    Reply
    #13
    WORSHIP
    He had told her once that he feared the things he thought himself capable of, that he feared that the dreams were not just dreams, and she had told him that she was not afraid.

    (Even now, he can feel the serpent shift beneath his skin. But he would cast himself into Tephra’s volcano before he let it touch her.) 

    And how sweet the spasm of his heart when the skin shifts beneath his touch. Perhaps he could lay his head against her shoulder and spend the rest of his days just like that. Perhaps he himself could turn to stone. An ode to his great and terrible love for her. 

    But he must lift his head! He must, you see, because he does not trust that he has heard her correctly. Only him, only him. Does she not see how dreadfully unworthy he is? He aches with the truth, but there are new stars on his chest and they glow in the shape of the letter S. He is hers, he is hers. He has been hers since the first time he laid eyes on her, has he not? 

    This, he thinks, this is love. 

    And he, too, trembles where she touches him. He draws her closer, heart pounding so recklessly, and finally brings his head to rest against her shoulder. 

    For the first time in his short life, he is at a loss for words. She has stunned him into silence, she who has only ever coaxed poetry straight from the gallows of his chest. He is hers alone and she is his and he stands here with his head laid against her shoulder and tells her, because there is nothing else to say, “I have loved you since the first time I set my eyes on you.” 

    you were the boat that breached in the tale of conrad
    oh, i loved you with the good and the careless of me
    but it all goes bad



    @[Stellaria]
    Reply




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