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Torleik The sweetest of all sounds is that of the voice of the woman we love The battle was over, the participants dispersed. Too many for his tastes had crossed the line and turned their backs on their fellow Helovians. Many he didn't know, a few he did. Aurelia - the same Aurelia who had petitioned for entrance into the World's Edge, but to his knowledge had yet to take hold of it - had chosen the demon god and set fire to her former allies. Unacceptable. She was no longer welcome in his home. Alysanne was right to be suspicious, and Torleik cursed his desire to be fair and open to all. It would inevitably bite him in the ass but he'd hoped not so soon. Pushing such political-minded thoughts aside, he winced as he drew nearer to Ophelia, both of them lingering far after everyone else had left. His left shoulder ached from the blow of the demon bear deity, but the pain was more than worth it. He had taken a swipe meant for the one he held dear and protected her from the damage. Such pain would always be more than worth it and not a single complaint would slide past his lips for his discomfort. When his path was complete, and his rightful place at Ophelia's side taken, his heart ached at the tears he saw slipping down her beautiful face. Mingling with blood, his first instinct was to believe she was hurt - and it was likely true - but he knew that if she were hurt badly she would not hide it from him. The Bloodskald had seen her at one of her lowest points, defeated by Mauja and the spine of her will broken; wounds after a glorious battle would not shame her into hiding. She said nothing so he followed suit, letting the silence permeate between them. Her aura was conflicted, churning, and Torleik wondered what thoughts galloped through that ever-flawless mind palace of hers. What kind of room did he have? Was there room for expansion, or were the rooms meant for one thing and one thing only and nothing ever overflowed? His own slipped back mere blinks in time compared to the existence of the entire universe, wondering still at the Time God's order for the white and crimson mare to erase the demon god's memories. Since when could Ophelia do that? And to a god? Could she do it to their Helovian gods? A sigh escaped his scarred lips as he looked around this place, seeing blood everywhere. This land had been ripped from somewhere else - would it ever heal or would it always be a chronic, sanguineous reminder of the violence that brought it here? The warrior didn't know. The pool of red had stones within it, he realized, and this reminded him of the pond - small lake, whatever one would classify it as - in the Deep Forest. Torleik wondered if the two might be related, if that was why the Deep Forest was so...strange, sometimes. Eyes drawing up from the red water to the red-leaf-blocked sky, his mind wandered to both Irelyn and Tinek, whom she'd flown off with some time ago, glad that both companions had come through the battle unscathed. Movement at his side drew his attention back down to earth, to the woman next to him, and he patiently, curiously held her seemingly inspecting gaze while she worked out whatever it was that churned in her head. He did not expect her to speak. He did not expect her to say anything at all, let alone the three words that drew the entire scope of his world down into one, tiny moment that held the emotional vastness of a thousand galaxies. "I love you," whispered with planetary force, crushing him where he stood. Torleik felt as though he were drowning, he couldn't breathe, but oxygen wouldn't help him here. Heterochromatic eyes were boring into his, looking right through him to his very soul, laying every virtue and vice bare. She loved him? But he wasn't worthy. He wasn't good enough. The man before her was broken and irreversibly flawed, a vile nothing in comparison to her pristine and unblemished perfection. Still, was this not what he'd longed for more than anything else? Torleik coveted her heart more than he'd desired anything in his life and he jealously guarded it with sharp words and the ever-present undertone of violence should others not heed his claim: was this not the culmination of his patience, of his battle, of his lust? The Bloodskald could not silence the doubts in his mind, the doubts borne of his own self-loathing and internal reproach. Why? Why did she love him? Why now? Would she love him always? Could she? With the doubt came a measure of triumph that managed to jockey for greater position in his shell-shocked mind. She loved him. Not Mauja. Not the God of Time. She loved him. Fierce, possessive joy burned its way through everything else, overwhelming him. His skin twitched with unbridled emotion and he snorted roughly, snatching her to him in an embrace that unequal parts loving and desperate. Torleik needed to smell all of her, feel all of her, taste all of her. Have all of her. The bruised Bloodskald's lips skittered over her skin, nipping, touching, needing, his tail swishing with the vibrancy of the urge inside him. "I love you more than anything," he rumbled in return, "and I will never let you go." "talk talk talk" |
@Ophelia
![[Image: 531c0b471919e]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/531c0b471919e)
No man is an island.
Pixel by: Tamme :D
Pixel by: Tamme :D
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