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08-19-2012, 11:23 PM
[Um. I'm sorry they don't shut up =/ there's an HR break about 3/4 down and the post below that is the only really important thing to read, the rest is just back writing from Surema's perspective.] Anger. It is the only thing that I can comprehend at this moment. It fills me up in a solid, heavy way, like I'd imagine drowning would feel with the water in my lungs. It rolls through me in something akin to waves of wind that I actually feel across my back. The only sign it's not, is the stillness of my wing feathers, the limp hang of my tail. My eyes have become so focused they now blur and speckle my sight with dark edges and bright splashes. I want to blink, but I'm afraid if I do that, such a minuscule movement of pale eyelashes sinking down and rising up, that the rage will dissipate. I don't want to lose it, this ball of fury roiling inside me. I want to keep it, and take it, and throw it at the first horse that approaches me. Yes, I'm angry. A voice speaks then. A delicate, innocent, kind voice that comes from the sweet water of my sibling's mouth - how I could drink her voice every day. It threatens the hold on my wrath and I seek to resist her at once, my temper and thusly my tones, rising with the inner struggle to maintain my ill-composure. "It's the wings," I manage through gritted teeth, as if I can imagine keeping them champed down will stop the feeling from whistling past my gums. I can only hope it's answer enough to keep her quiet. Naturally, she finds a different way to instigate me. I cannot help myself. I am drawn to her and how my body aches to yield to her in this time of need, this moment of uncertainty and mindless frustration. I have to snag a glance, the tiniest of peeks at her, and then I know I'll be strong enough to keep setting the distance on fire. So I shift my blue gaze minutely, and from the very edges of my vision I see the most unsightly thing upon her face. A smile. A fucking smile. Part of my composure shatters and it makes me all the more un-withheld towards her. "I'm so glad this is funny to you Olema." My voice is ice. I wish to snap, to turn and drive my teeth against her damn smiling face until blood has hidden it from me. By all rights I should be shouting at her, my feet should be driving holes into her knees so that she learns to bow her head in shame, but I don't. I take all of that in, I keep it burning inside my heart and all that's left is the cold glaze that the absence of such heat leaves behind. Olema can have the table scraps of my temper. Of course, this accomplishes nothing. Not with Olema. She takes on a teacher's tone. I'm astounded by her persistence and uninterested in her lesson. I should have known better than to engage her, she definitely won that game. I snort, finished playing with her, I need to focus back on feeling spite at this herd. I turn away, hoping that absence of her sight will help me persevere. Though I can no longer see her, I hear her hooves scuff the dirt as she fidgets. No, she's not fidgeting I'm sure, she's getting up and she'll be moving closer. I can feel my grip slipping and I have a fitting urge to unleash the remnants of my anger upon her and all her foolishness in this time! Can't she see that we must survive this, that we must escape, that we must... we must. I quiver, my wings rustling with all the anxiety spiraling through me, chasing away the tide of rage. I've let her down again. I promised to protect her yet here we are, prisoners. She steps forward, her voice so low it's nearly a breath sliding into the wind like all the rest. It's such a piercing thing she says. In that single phrase she tells me of the trust she puts too freely in me, of a sureness she naively keeps that we'll be fine, of an immortal connection that binds us and sets us above all these stupid ordeals. She loves me in that moment and I burn up and disperse like ash in the sincerity of it. She says all the right and all the wrong things and it ruins my composure. I turn to her, eyes searching among her blue, frantic to be held, to be saved, like she promises. She continues to soothe my aches with voice and touch. How nice is her touch... I moan in pleasure at it, my nerves tickling in the places her teeth pass. It's a sad enjoyment though, as I imagine the loss of this, the end of this. What if we aren't able to get through it? What if, worse of all, she is taken from me? My mind spins but her teeth do not stop and eventually they overtake me and I lean willingly against her, breath hitching at the tickle of her wing as it laces around mine. Olema... A feminine voice cuts the tepid air. It is not the gentle curl of my angel's voice. It is foreign, authoritative and harsh in its age and use, even if the words themselves intend comfort and kindness. I exhale so sharply in surprise and immediate distaste it comes out as a hiss between my clenched teeth. Immediately I jerk away from Olema, her own body flinching as we break contact - reluctant. I shoulder myself in front of my sibling, small wings flaring high with the force of the passion racing in my blood. She has imposed and I hate her more for taking that moment of peace from me than bringing us here originally. "We'll manage fine," I retort hotly, letting her know instantly that we will not eat her hospitality bullshit. The mare doesn't seem to bother much. Her body easily maneuvers through the dirt. Her stance suggests an informal ease with a turbulent situation. Although truthfully, I know she has little to fear from children, even if we ride the cusp of adulthood, we do not pale in comparison to even the frailest of warriors. It only sets me on edge further, recognizing all the multitude of weaknesses so obviously apparent about us. She begins to speak, her stature at least suggesting no hostility, though my own remains rigid and ready. I'm confused by her tactics however. Her kindness is not the treatment I expected and it makes me wary. What game is she playing. Olema and I play many, but these rules are beyond our childish restrictions where chase and sex and laughter suit us fine. I'm too busy thinking, trying to figure out, to listen to what she tells me so plainly. Olema however, is not so burdened by dismal thoughts, and steps forward to stand at equal with me. She feels no threat from Kri and clips her teeth in my direction for such assertion. I'm wounded, my ears falling as my chest swells with desperation. I do not know what to do! Olema does. "We accept your apology, as your assumption was true enough. Yet here we are, and now we'll listen. Olema talks with an ease that leaves me in awe. She has always been much better at handling others. I sink beside her, enraptured by the grace of my better half. She and I listen. She nods at times and I make faces at others, disapproving of any alignment or contract. I let her keep the conversation however, sulking beside her like a chastised pup. "Well met, Kri." Olema nods deeply here and after a few heartbeats I do the same, begrudgingly. "We are Olema and Surema, as you likely know." A dangerous smile flirts on Olema's lips at this statement, half amused by the situation of introduction but also letting it be know that it is irregular and frankly, annoying. I enjoy my sister's intentional stranding of giving names to the faces, not that Kri would likely remember. That is just another one of our games - I am myself now, but we can act wholly as one when we set ourselves to the task. We can do more than that in recent days... "I'm sure there are plenty of eyes with wings tacked on, Kri. What interest do you have in us specifically? What do you know of us?" Genuinely curious Olema asks the questions patiently. I think she is wary however. Our run in with the black colt was a huge blunder, even if it was out first experience with the new and powerful magic. We had practiced since, and were planning on doing more, until this. We have some weaknesses still, which I intend to fix, soon as I can figure out a way to better control and channel the magics. A sweet smile splits Olema's face now as she prepares her last query. The sugar-coating is too thick, it's covering up the bitterness sinking just below. I grin. "What aid could you provide us Kri? Respectably, we'd be more or less safe not getting involved in you and yours affairs, giving us little cause for your aid otherwise. Is there something specific you can provide?" My angel had her devil's side. I snarl and stomp and she smiles until the stars blink out. "...smiles usually help better than frowns." Her words haunt me all too deeply now. It makes me frown slightly. |
