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    COTY

    Aela -- Year 216

    QOTY

    "So she smiles prettily and steals away when she can. Feels the brutal pounding of others around her with a savagery that she has never comprehended—their emotions so vast, their hearts so wicked. It warps her more than she was already warped. It presses a thumbprint of cruelty into her darkness, shaping her into a thing of shadow, a thing of longing, a thing carved from the darkness between every breath." --Baptiste, written by Laura


    [mature]  the altar is my hips, ashhal
    #1
    Desire

    She is bored, and that is a dangerous thing.

    Perhaps if she put more effort into running Pangea she would have other things to occupy her time, but it was far too easy to shirk responsibility and simply disappear. Tomorrow, she often thinks to herself, tomorrow would be the day she would work on getting something done. Several tomorrows have already come and gone, though, and on this particular tomorrow, she has ventured across the meadows and fields and found herself at the river. 

    The lushness of the greenery was a refreshing change from the dry canyons of Pangea, and she does not try to stifle the sigh of relief she exhales into the autumn air. She has come to a portion of the river that is shallow, the cool water pouring swiftly over rocks and boulders that jut from the surface. The weather is mild today, though far cooler than what she has grown accustomed to in Pangea, and she welcomes what little warmth the sunlight provides against her galaxy-colored back. Carefully, she steps into the river, breaking past the glittering surface of it, letting the water rush against her vibrantly white legs.

    Water makes her think of Thomas, and she feels a pang in her chest at the thought of him. He did not mind that she was often restless and prone to disappearing for hours at a time; he never resented her for anything that she did, even if she did not deserve such forgiveness.

    The twinge is almost enough to make her turn to go back, until —

    She sees him, just across the river, near the edge of the treeline. Her movements still, her dark eyes scanning over the familiar face, and thoughts of Thomas and Pangea fade away. In their wake stirs a malicious kind of mischief, but she keeps it from showing in the smile that is curling across her lips as she makes her way to the opposite bank.

    “Hi,” she says to him once she is close enough, her demeanor shifting into something coquettish and coy. “You look….familiar. Have we met?” She asks him with a tip of her head, the light of her moon halo dim beneath the sun, and though something glitters in the black of her eyes, her intent remains unclear.
    so we're slaves to any semblance of touch, lord we should quit, but we love it too much


    @ Ashhal
    Reply
    #2

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    There is a familiarity in the river. He’s not certain what had brought him here today, but he’d known only that he needed escape. Loess had grown demanding, and Ashhal has always chafed at demands. Still, for some goddamned unexplained reason, he also knows he’ll go back. Perhaps it’s simply nice to feel almost like he’s wanted for once. Or perhaps he’s a dipshit with an overactive imagination.

    He is paying little attention to his surroundings. He had settled beneath the boughs of an old tree in order to stare at the rushing currents. Even if he had not hidden himself particularly well, the dark expression on his features would undoubtedly keep most sane creatures away. But then, it’s not usually the sane ones you have to worry about, is it?

    When he hears the splash of water, his eyes lift abruptly until he finds a figure approaching him. A scowl settles his lips as he stares at her, eyeing the galaxies swirling across her pale skin. He could leave now, but he doesn’t. She is a lovely enough creature after all, and Ashhal is rather bored. She might prove just the distraction he is looking for (little does he know, poor idiot).

    She greets him sweetly, her voice containing an almost syrupy quality that he finds vaguely distasteful. Still, he could overlook that flaw, especially if she is less prone to speaking during… other activities. Her question snaps him back however, focusing his glare on her features. It’s pretty, but he’s positive he has never seen her before. “No,” he grunts, his reply short and brusque. He eyes her for another moment before adding, “But it’s possible I’ll recognize the back of your head better.”



    @ Desire
    Reply
    #3
    Desire

    After her previous encounter with Ashhal, she felt she had a good idea of what to expect from him. He hadn’t been especially kind to her even when she was posing as her mother — a woman he supposedly, on some level, had feelings for at one point in time. Had it not been for her ability to uncover a heart’s desire (even when hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and a shield of swear-words) she might have doubted they were romantic feelings—he certainly hadn’t acted particularly fond of Ryatah.

    This only further bolstered her curiosity, to see what he might be like with a complete stranger. Perhaps he was bitter towards her mother. If he was like any of her other romances, he probably had an entire list of reasons to be.

    Based on his response, though, he is just charismatic all the time.
    And it wasn’t his charming way of speaking that enchanted her mother, she had a pretty good guess what had.

    “My, my, trying to tempt me with a good time already?” There is a laugh that rolls beneath the words when spoken, though the spark in her black eyes is not entirely genial. She remains where she stands, watching him from the limited space that is left between them; close enough that he could see the way the light of her halo illuminates her eyes or all the subtle ways her lips begin to curve into a smile, but not close enough that she could touch him. She is certain that he has reduced most of his interactions with the opposite sex to only turning into one thing, and while that was never off the table for her, it was so boring when given up that easily.

    He had already shown her that he had plenty of spark—what a waste it would be to let it burn out so quickly.

    “I have a feeling you’re not someone I would have forgotten had our encounter ever resulted in that, so I think it’s safe to say that no, the back of my head wouldn’t look familiar.” She regards him again with a tilt of her head, as though she is again scanning him for some way to place him, like she might jog a memory. “Have you ever been to Pangea? Maybe I’ve seen you passing through.”
    so we're slaves to any semblance of touch, lord we should quit, but we love it too much


    @ Ashhal
    Reply
    #4

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    He would have been furious to know she had even some inkling of the true depth of his feelings. Even more so if he had known of the way she had toyed with him once already. But perhaps luckily for the both of them, he has no inkling of the secrets she is so gleefully keeping. Instead as he stares at her, he only sees a pretty mare he has no memory of ever meeting.

    Not that it says much. He doesn’t remember most of the faces of the women he has spent time with. He should, given how wretched it usually is meeting up with one again. In his more recent years, he has taken better care to spend time only with mares who care as much as he does about anything more than a good time. But in days gone past, he hadn’t been nearly so careful.

    Her teasing laughter deepens the frown on his lips, his dark eyes hard and wary as he stares at her. Though her words indicate she would not be above such activities with him if they were both so inclined, the glint in her dark gaze unsettles him. And damned if he hadn’t just been hit by the sneaking suspicion she has other games in mind than the ones he does.

    Not that Ashhal is above such things, but he is a simple creature with simple needs. And he’s beginning to wonder if this encounter is going to prove to be another colossal waste of his fucking time.

    When she denies his deliberately provocative words, the frown turns into a scowl. Her question tears a bark of sharp, humorless laughter from his throat. “Hell no,” he replies, his lip curling in derision at the thought. He knows too damned well who had created that land, and that is one creature he has always made a point of avoiding (even if he hasn’t always been successful). “I have never set foot in that fucking place.”

    Eyeing her with suspicion, he wonders why the hell she imagines they would know each other. The fact that she is from Pangea only makes it worse. Not that he is a trusting sort anyway, but he especially does not trust anyone who calls that place home. So, after a moment, he grunts out, “Unless we’ve fucked or fought, we don’t know each other.” Eyes darkening, he takes a step closer, erasing the distance she had left between them. “And unless you have plans that include those...” He is close enough now that she would be able to feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. “We damned well won’t be getting to know each other today either.”



    @ Desire
    Reply
    #5
    Desire

    His clear revulsion at the mention of Pangea causes her cool, almost flippant demeanor to shift to something a bit more openly curious. Has she ever met anyone that genuinely disliked the place? She herself didn’t find it especially appealing—it was dry and barren, and harsh in all the ways you’d expect a desert canyon to be. Draco seemed to dislike it in the same way she did (as in, they both claimed to dislike it, while continuing to live there), but Ashhal seemed to despise it.  He spoke of it with a loathing that gave her the impression it was personal, and she is unable to stop herself when she asks innocently enough, “It sounds as though you don’t like Pangea. Did you have a bad experience with someone from there?”

    That certainly doesn’t sound like the Pangea she knows, she thinks to herself with amusement flashing briefly in her eyes. Pangea doing something to earn falling out of this man’s favor? Unfathomable.

    But he takes a step closer to her, and the moment the heat of his breath hits her skin, the mood shifts entirely. It is as if he finally snatched away the veil she had been concealing herself with, and all that is left standing before him is a woman with eyes too dark and a smile far too sharp. “Funnily enough,” she says, soft and slow, taking her own step forward so that the distance between them simply no longer existed, her lips nearly brushing against his own cheek. “Fighting and fucking are two of my favorite past times,” she laughs, a low purr in her chest, “I’ll let you decide which one we’re doing first.”
    so we're slaves to any semblance of touch, lord we should quit, but we love it too much


    @ Ashhal
    Reply
    #6

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    He has never bothered trying to hide his dislike of anything, but even if he had wanted to, he didn’t think he could mask his disgust with the kingdom she hails from. There is something visceral in it, something that keeps him from being able to shove it down. Her question causes his lip to curl into a sneer, his dark eyes flashing as he bites back his guttural response.

    “Yeah, you could say that.” His words are low, expression vile. “A really fucking bad experience.”

    When his gaze drops to hers again, there is violence in the darkness of his eyes, barely leashed. But then, these thoughts always seem to lead him to violence.

    Her response to his crude suggestion is everything he might have wished for though. Everything his withered heart could have wanted from this encounter. An avenue for release, in more ways than one. His body tenses, wings lifting slightly with his sudden aggression. He doesn’t respond as she presses into him, her lips a feather-light touch against his cheek, trailing hot need in its wake.

    Still, he doesn’t react to the carnal violence rising inside him. It presses against his skin, urging him to explode into furious action. But her last words are what keep it tenuously caged inside him. I’ll let you know which one we’re doing first, she had declared, and he knows which one he’s hoping for. He would take either though.

    Instead, he only lifts his head, dark eyes filled with an equally dark hunger. His voice rumbles inside his chest, but he doesn’t speak. Instead his teeth find her withers, sinking into flesh as he leans into her, gripping her without a shred of tenderness. Hard and demanding as he is. A dare and a promise as he awaits her decision.

    He would not wait long before he made the decision himself.



    @ Desire
    Reply
    #7
    Desire

    He wears his anger and his disdain so plainly on his face that it fascinates her.

    She is used to a simmering kind of anger, the kind kept locked beneath cold stares and a few sharp words. But Ashhal spares nothing in letting her know exactly what he thinks of Pangea, and it is all she can do to keep from asking him why he hates it so much, though she has her suspicions. If she is correct it is because of her father, and the last thing she needed was him making a connection between her galaxy-drenched skin and the dark god that had created Pangea, and so she does not press the matter further.

    Besides, she has a far more interesting game to play.

    His teeth clamp onto her withers, his body pushing against her, and she feels that familiar shockwave of adrenaline and anticipation shiver down her spine. But unlike her mother, who would have obediently melted in response to being handled roughly, Desire is not quite so compliant. She knows she has not yet given this man a reason to compare her to the archangel, but she has every intention of catching him off guard with the differences between the two once she has made her grand reveal. She wrenches herself away from him, feeling the bruise blossoming beneath her skin from where his teeth had tried to hold her.

    She does not go far, though, only shaking his grip on her so that she might turn to aggressively push her chest into his. Her teeth snap at his throat, before raking up his neck, feeling his skin against her soft lips. “Fuck me first and if you still have the energy we can fight afterward,” comes her own velvet growl, already feeling that knot of want that she was prepared to let him in unravel.

    By now she has already curved herself away from him, that sinister glint in her black eyes hidden from his view, and all he is going to see are her galaxy-colored hips waiting for him.
    so we're slaves to any semblance of touch, lord we should quit, but we love it too much


    @ Ashhal
    Reply
    #8

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    The anger has been his closest companion for so long that it is hard to imagine anything else. When his fury flees, there is only an aching emptiness left behind, and Ashhal has always preferred the rage. It swells in him now, as it always does, but along with it the familiar potency of lust.

    She does not wither beneath him, which serves only to heighten his violent need. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. She understood his silence perfectly, and her answer is everything he had been waiting for. A dark, humorless laugh is ripped from his throat when she challenges him, though he says nothing in response. The day he does not have the energy to do both is the day he would finally find peace in death.

    He would absolutely fucking delight in showing her just how much he could do.

    There is no hesitation as he lunges after her with a feral snarl. The ghost of her teeth on his neck drives him forward to repay her in kind. There is no gentleness as his own teeth find the curve of her hip, scraping unkindly across the unblemished canvas of flesh. When he is done with her, she would wear bruises painted on her skin alongside those galaxies. A reminder of his lust until the day they healed.

    He is rough as he pulls her beneath him, wings flaring wide to steady his vicious movements, knocking unnoticed into branches and foliage. Leaves and feathers dance around them as he clasps her barrel between his legs, teeth marking her skin in a dozen places.

    And when his need is sated, he doesn’t linger, though he is not nearly done. He pulls himself from her hips, but he doesn’t retreat. Instead he shoves himself against her until she is trapped between his hard-angled body and the rough bark of a tree. With a vicious curl of his lip, he finally speaks. “We’re just getting started.”



    @ Desire
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