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Thranduil
The world drifts in and out. The realities mingle. That was always the trick, the secret if you will, of his….trade. To be successful, to be good…each fact, each reality had to go in its own separate box. Its own compartment. It is a necessity, for if in the mare your stalking and stealing from you see your lover’s face, you’re frozen, and useless. The worst spies are the ones with happy homes, and happy memories. Those who find no need to wall of memories and lives. Those who have no need to lie and leave. It is what made the golden so beautifully powerful at what he did. Yet the danger of that was, walls don’t last forever….And those within them rarely ever enjoy their stay. Those who care about you rarely enjoy seeing only half of you. So what happens when the walls come tumbling down, which the floods of realities, emotions, and pains mix in some lethal cocktail. Well… then you have the truth. A horrible, ugly, mangled truth. ‘I see you’ His coat flinches, for he realizes as she spoke just what she saw. Not just with her heart either. One hark flicked back, as a flood of his nerves, held back by the adrenaline of the moment, remind him just how mangled the truth had made him. Hips shift, and his leafen starred face, winced. As he finishes though he steps back. And for the first time in…ever, the gold sighs with finality, his sides shuttering to feel it. Because for once, all the cards, guidelines, and pulls, were on the table. Everything was laid out. Another personal rule of the trade broken and cracked. His mouth felt dry for it all, and in another rarity he position felt vulnerable. He didn’t enjoy the sensation. The gold didn’t want any of this. Nothing was as it should be, but he could not be anywhere but here. That morning had proved that. Ophelia had proved that. And Rexanna and shoved him to that. The gold survived by running from situations such as this, byt letting the world figure it out far from his sight….but that couldn’t happen this time. In this situation, he couldn’t let it turn out like that because he, the Laurelin, couldn't handle the possibilities. Even he couldn’t name what exactly pinned him there. He’d been caught, just as she by the lure of her skills, as someone who finally got it, who finally understood exactly what they were capable of. Then he’d gotten lost in it. His body was partly the reason (Hotaru’s beauty was well observed by many) but her stubbornness, her resolution, and her dedication all pulled him. Sucking him under the surface with a siren’s song of beauty, and power. She was there, and stayed there when many did not. And just when he rose to rival her, his chest beat to conqueror hers, the cracks of her masquerade showed. The dark blood of the past bled through, and his charging heart, finding itself needing her, could not let her lie upon the street and bleed out. It had taken the past months on the run to turn the need into a realization of love. To realize that not only did he need her, but he needed her happiness. He needed her safety. And he needed her to need him. ‘I did’ The crowned head lifts slightly, the glassy earthen eyes looking on with the wounded suspicion. She comes forward, but the caught cat doesn’t move. He watches her, lost in the worlds of her step, her delicate ears, and that sweet steel voice. His mind trying to wrap around the idea that she was saying yes to him. As he stood before her like this. All while seduced by her… The hot roll of her breath….the delicate soft touch her nose…. His name cuts in the air, and the gold inhales sharply, his earth eyes refocusing to see hers….lined with tears. Gold harks lean back, unsteady, and his nose reaches out to hers. The gold’s mind, spinning tries to comprehend as she yields…as she gives…Had he ever seen her do such? The healed the knife wound she had just dug in, but it suffocated him all the same, to see her choke on it. His vocals rumble as she sobs, and shutters, and his voice rolls off afterwords in a barely breathed whisper. “Hotaru…” But she looks to him again and her maw traces up his cracked face. Earth eyes shut away, rolling into some dream world where this was actually real. The gold’s breaths drag, controlled by her sweeping touch. Then she laughs, her voice light and vibrant, and the earth eyes open to reveal something rarely seen on this side of the world, a genuinely happy golden. Not smirking. No lips curled with greed, vengeance or some other sin. But like a drowning man allowed to surface, he grins at her. To her laugh he joins, he deep rumble cutting short though as she pulled him closer. The medallion on his chest shifting from its scalding heat, to a neutral temperature, though it glowed golden. He lets himself be pulled to her, his body offering little resistance. Why should it….this is what he wanted. Not for some plot. Not for some golden trinket or crown. He wanted it…for him. For his happiness. And with it the shadowy white ghost fades completely back for the moment. In the freedom of that the gold’s head tucks, yet he closes the small distance again, so the side of his head rubs deep into her neck. “I’m yours.” He might have just signed his life away, but he still did it with a smile. Like some guard standing at the door the notions come drifting in. Who was the tiger. Why did she not look for him. What has she been up to. What of his ghosts did she know. What would she want to know. What about last night, need she know? What about his wounds. Where will they go from here (for the mountains would not be his pillow for long). What were her desires now….All knocked at the door, all called his name. But in her touch, knowing she wanted him next to her, and she was pulling him, needing him just as much as he needed her, his mind was lost in the wrap of her love. If anyone knew, the golden did, these moments were rare. So he simply held her close, ignoring all the knocking at the door. He’d answer it in a moment. For now he wanted only to feel what she had promised, and to spend this morning as it should have been. Her holding him. And he hold her. His grey muzzle traced the lines of her slender shoulders, feeling each new scar with care. How many times had he done this in theft, to lure damsels into revealing all….with her…it felt so different. The same motions, the same soft touches gave way to different sensations…longed for sensations. Before he might feel a slight rise in his blood, but she, she was setting him on fire for it. He gets to the top of her withers and there his head rests for a moment before it reaches to nibble at her, the motions ever delicate and light. His own body was draining, the sting of nerves returning over the lowering rush of emotions. But it wasn’t to that he would yield. Down her spine he lightly runs stepping forward, nibbling and teasing, but serving and yielding. Yes there love was violent. Yes it sparked more than a summer storm. But good gods it also burned hotter than the sun. "talk talk talk" OOC:: One happy moment before (I'm sure) all hell breaks loose again XD |
Hotaru
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Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
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