the Rift


[PRIVATE] Yet greater still and more profound

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#1


She was quiet along the bridges of spring’s warm vestiges, swaying to a serene song, striving to remember what it was like before adversity – but it was something she’d always known, always comprehended, always understood from the very rooted stages of her infancy. She grasped what it meant to shatter too – down along rocks and regions, along crumbling castle walls and fallen figureheads, but she’d seen it, felt it, held the hardened slates of strength below the annals of agony. The seraph knew it was better to rise and remember the Reaper for his diligence, for his ambitions, and stoke the embers of their fires, to incense and honor him by becoming bolder, wiser, stronger, to do more than merely hope, dream, and wish, to make and carve their reality.
 
But the strokes would be very fine at first, wispy, short, blunt caresses on canvas; darker days before liberation, before benedictions, before virtue could come alive again. She saw the grasses sprout from the edges of the melting snow, the delicate embrace of renewal and rebirth, and pulsed from it, pervaded the world with her incandescence again – to make them remember what it was like to be audacious and stalwart once more. It floated through her like an unwavering, honeyed promise, sweet and dulcet, tender and compassionate, awakening the birds, the bees, the boughs with their fresh blossoms and emerging buds, immersing more bliss than she could ever recall, simply because they had to start anew, and it was better to reign in the arms of Birdsong than to wallow in absolute agony.
 
So she didn’t shatter, but rallied, fortitude and might chiseled through her lungs because she’d been born in such a stead – forgotten, abandoned, left to be consigned and proffered to whatever wild animal snagged her first – but the girl, the maiden, the fair, proud fairy had been more than just a useless floret, a bloom neglected. She sought the sunshine, the light, the press of earth, the angelic bliss of hopeful serenades and resolute convictions, and it had suited her well, rekindling her faith year after year. Some days, some hours, some seasons had been harder than others, when she faced down demons, when she lanced brutes, when she became corroded in scars and ailments, when she thought there’d be nothing more to her than hypocrisy and a heart drenched and drowned in melancholy, but she’d grasped, clenched, and arched her way back to the shores of tenacity. It was a part of her the way petals emerged from a flower; the way wind whistled through the mountains, the way the auroras emblazoned across the horizon. She danced to no other tune but molten ferocity and whimsical feats – to deliverance, to liberation, to sonnets cast in love and affection, to stanzas lilted in tender reveries.
 
She waltzed once more, tore through the grounds with a willowy minuet, breathing soft croons and hymns, sanguine lips weaving assurance, not frailty, as they tipped into the boundaries of another. The fey sought him again because she wanted to, because another had reminded her to be bold, to be passionate, to love and thrive and not think twice about doing it, because she’d searched and searched and he’d finally come home and she believed in every ounce of her rhapsodized heart that he’d remind her of salvation.
 
It was like a silhouetted pattern, and she almost laughed about it, standing outside his cavern threshold on a spring morning, circlet and heart in hand. Imogen peered up at her as they finally ceased all movement, and Lena returned the favor, looking down with a delicate smile and a deep breath. A portion of her wondered if they shouldn’t disturb him again, if they should leave the little jewel and its memories on a bed of dirt, sand, and shells like before, let him awaken when the hour suited him to find her gift nestled along the earth. But Imogen scoffed, shook her head, pointed her long maw towards the darkened corridors and the shimmering beams of light floating across the boundaries, and the Mender followed it, wandering inwards with a quiet hush and a petal soft footfall.
 
The ivory vixen remained within the aperture while Lena tiptoed along his sleeping, crimson form, glancing elsewhere once or twice to avoid losing her bearings to objects that might’ve been scattered. She caught herself simply staring for a few mere moments, smitten with any rendering of his figure, trying not to laugh or chide herself as she roamed a bit closer, sneaky, defiant, a bit too much fey mixed in with florets and fondness. With a gentle, silent motion, she attempted to lower the crown tucked along her lips towards his head, tipping it just so along the pointed apex of his horn, so that when he woke, it might’ve fallen neatly into place, back where it belonged. Thereafter, she tried to slide away, but Imogen let out a loud chirrup and the Songbird had to clench her jaw and roll her eyes back towards the kitsune’s nearly innocent expression – and any sensation, any element, of surprise and wonder were effectively ruined.


Lena
where there is love, there is life.

image by safetylast @ flickr.com


@Roland

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#2
you're a fraud and you know it
but it's too good to throw it all away

Roland had sensed, without yet having learned the answers, that the Basin had changed in his absence. There were bound to be new faces within the herd, as well as those that had left for new horizons, and he had begun to wonder if they were under new leadership. He had not thought to ask Lena when he'd first been reunited with her, and the past several days had been spent catching up on rest, giving his sore muscles time to heal from the adversities of traveling. He had not lived well in his time away, and much to his dismay, it had left its mark upon him.
 
Beyond the matter of its citizens, the Basin felt different this time. Roland appraised it in a new light; where once it had seemed an icy prison he'd been locked and chained within, it was now his salvation. It had welcomed him back, with all the fanfare of ice and snow and biting winds, and then, thankfully, faded into a placid spring. It had not turned him away, and in time he imagined he would relax back into life within the valley, almost as if he had never left. It felt like home, like happiness, a respite from the hardships he had endured over the past many seasons.
 
It was also the home of someone he loved, and the thought of it, of her, out there somewhere and yet within reach, was more comforting than he could have imagined. If anything were to go wrong, if he needed her, or the advice and companionship she offered, he knew she was there, that he could go and find her, take comfort in her presence. His mind was quiet and at peace, moreso than it had been in quite some time.
 
He slept well and easy, relaxed enough to curl himself upon the ground in the shelter of his cave- which he was pleasantly surprised to find had remained unoccupied over the course of his absence- rather than stand at its threshold, waking at every noise from the call of a bird to the rustling of leaves. With the warmer weather on its way to the north, he felt alive.
 
Somehow, he was not jolted from his rest when a faint shadow was cast over his face by the advancement of a shadow, blocking out the early morning sunlight that had managed to reach into the corners of his cave. He did not stir at the light and gentle sound of footsteps against the stone, or the sensation of something looping itself around his horn, sliding down to nestle against his forehead. He was startled awake at last when a loud chirp erupted from the mouth of his cave, heart pounding fiercely within his chest as he raised his head. His eyes focused upon a dark, retreating form, but before he had time to be alarmed, he recognized her shape. "Lena," he called out breathlessly, feeling slightly embarrassed at how easily he had been startled. It was quickly overshadowed by the excitement of seeing her, at receiving a visit on this early morning, even if he had been woken from a pleasant slumber. The Phantom pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the protest of stiff joints, and then paused at the feeling of a cold object against his brow, the ghost of a sensation that seemed familiar, in a distant sort of way.
 
His eyes locked upon the Songbird with a wide gaze as his sleep-addled mind took time to process. Without a reflection, he had no way of seeing what she had placed around his horn, and yet somehow he knew.
 
"Is that...?" He began, and then trailed off. Had it not been lost as he had fled Helovia, torn from him, somehow, in his haste? He had mourned its loss for many days. The one piece of Lena he possessed, that he had hoped to keep close to him, was gone. Now, through what means he could not guess, it sat around his horn once more, a gift returned, though he had to question just as he had before if he was truly deserving of it. A smile dawned upon his features as he drew closer to the Mender, curiousity and wonder in his gaze. "How did you find it?"
 
@Lena
 
sometimes you even fool yourself a bit
image credits


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#3


  It was too late to flee – Imogen had made certain of that – so the Songbird made herself content at his awakening, at the curl of his mouth, at the rush of his voice, at the way her name simmered from his in a breathless reverie, like she was worthy. Her heart clamored, beat in a beautiful rhapsody through her chest, as he simply remained, staying upon their earth for more than a few mere hours, like a dream, like a vision, and she maneuvered closer to ensure he was a tangible thing and not another ghost sliding past her vision. She was nearly drunk on his sight, overcome with a sheer force of tenderness and warmth, compassion and love, and her grin wouldn’t leave her face, buoyant, light, airy, poised on gossamer wings and fairy dust. Then she became quite guilty of the unknown, of mysteries, of enigmas that scorched and blinded her mind, of curiosities that often drove her into further intrigue, because she didn’t know what else to do, what to say, where to go, giddy and overwhelmed, gentle and intertwined. She’d always known what it was like to love, because she’d spent nearly her entire life granting it to so many souls, but to have it returned was something foreign, unfamiliar, unnerving, but wild and possessive all at once. It seized her, this fervent, ardent interest and inquiry, unfurled and uncoiled along her bones until she seemed dazzled and spellbound, catching every coil and undulation of his muscles, trying to memorize every maneuvering feature, striving to maintain decorum when he wondered aloud about the circlet returning to its rightful place. The fey inclined forward, near enough to touch, maw extended, careful, intricate, not demanding, but only yearning, sculpting her way through rich gold and chestnut hues, over skin and brows, to breathe along the beautiful lines of his face, to speculate on the marvel of his sanctity, to revel and revere the adornments settled back to where they belonged. “I have my ways,” she laughed and teased, flickering her mouth, her lips, away once she’d secured and ensured the circlet was neatly in place, eyes focused entirely on his – laced with wonder – pondering over the means and measures she’d managed to abolish time and time again, soaking in the height and weight of his attentions, thirsting for it, relishing in it, drowned and awakened all at once, over and over again, silly and whimsical, capricious and torn. She felt garbed in the pinnacles of serenity, on the hallelujahs of tranquility, steeled and forged and conjured by enticements and glory, the unsung nuances of sanctuaries, of sanctums, adoration and devotion.
 
Her stare went to the plains of dust and the careless eaves of leaves still remaining in the stead of his cave, not yet cleaned in the spring frenzy, then back to him again, a smile still ignited and passionate over the frame of her lips and the dazzling sway of her beliefs. She didn’t even pay apprehension a thought as she settled into her story, mouth parted, frame close, everything greater still and more to come. “I met another mare, Raeden, wearing your circlet.” The Mender could recall the horror, the anguish, the coil of nerves and misgivings as she’d settled her gaze on the cream mare wearing his crown, the one she’d found for him, the one she’d pinpointed all of her hopes and dreams within, the one that carried her heart. She’d thought all manner of things, from Roland tossing it out to sea, in some other interlude where she’d been cast as worthless and a waste of time, and fearing the worst, that his bones had been laid out nearby, unseen, bleached and known only by the sun. “She’d found it by a stream.” Here her brow arched, still coy, still baiting, as if she craved to know the whole tale but didn’t demand it of him – if he wished to say, he’d tell, and if it was one more furtive, specious thing, perhaps she’d let it rest. I feel like you’ve just seen a ghost, she’d said, once searching the Songbird’s face for answers to one of her greatest fears, and here, here she could set her sights on him, see him alive, whole, real, loosen a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “I told her it belonged to a friend, and she returned it, hoping I’d find you again one day.” Then, if possible, her grin became brighter, resplendent, potent and powerful, a striking glorious thing reverberating the dawn, some holy light, basking in the tenderness of what had truly been promised - because for once her hope hadn’t been extinguished, hadn’t been cut, hadn’t been slashed and demolished. Faith had its place, and it coveted her being through the midnight toils and the twilight tribulations, bestowing her grandeur when she’d needed it the most – it was only fair to give credit where it was due. So she loved and cherished, proffered her convictions in the roots, in the soil, through the skies, stars, and the heavens, rendering it beautiful and stunning in corporeal form, as her eyes touched upon his again.


Lena
where there is love, there is life.

image by safetylast @ flickr.com


@Roland

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#4
you're a fraud and you know it
but it's too good to throw it all away

Gravity made every attempt to protest the change in altitude as Roland pulled himself upright, still trying to find his way about in the fog of sleep. He gladly stepped into Lena's waiting embrace, breathing in her scent as it mixed with the cool morning air, felt the heat of her against his skin. As much as he would have liked to, he did not have time to dwell upon it. With the circlet in its rightful place atop his crown, the Phantom listened eagerly to her explanation of its whereabouts and subsequent discovery.  Contrary to his beliefs, it had not vanished, swallowed up by knotted forest roots and a cloak of leaves; it rested around his horn once more, and he would ensure it never found its way from him again.

He did not miss the silent question in her gaze as she spoke, no doubt curious as to how he might have lost it in the first place, or if it had not been lost at all, and he had cast it  away into fen or forest, eager to be rid of it at last. It was no surprise she might wonder if he had chosen to leave it behind, vanishing from sight without a word. No matter what might have transpired that night, he could never have intentionally left the trinket behind, abandoned it to lie adrift amongst the leaves and ferns. If only he had noticed, had paid mind to more than just a distant horizon, he might have caught it before it hit the ground. Cloaked in the cover of a moonless night as he had left Helovia behind, the circlet must have decided it would go no further.

"I believe it fell from my horn when I was... leaving," he murmured, gaze falling to the floor of his cave. Roland examined his hooves, the scattered dried leaves and pebbles that had gathered in his absence, and the slightest of frowns creased his brow. He was powerless to the guilt that crept back into his mind just at the memory of it, but was determined to leave it in the past. It would do no good to dwell on it, berate himself for the choices he had already come to regret. He had learned from them, and would not repeat the same mistakes again. "By the time I noticed it was missing, it was too late. I thought I would never have a hope of seeing it again." His gaze sought the Songbird once more, unable to hide the confusion of sorrow and happiness that tangled together in his head.

"If our paths ever cross, I will be sure to thank Raeden," he said with a soft smile, reaching out to brush his muzzle against the curve of Lena's cheek. It was not often he thought of the Gods, as of late, but he could regard the moment as nothing less than a sign that he was meant to be there. Against all odds, this gift, this symbol of their affection and all they had traversed together, had fallen to rest at the edge of a stream only to be found, treasured, and ultimately placed into the hands of the one who had first held it. A sense of gratitude warmed Roland's chest, an appreciation he was unable to put words to. Divine intervention or not, he owed it all to Lena.  "Thank you," he breathed, and brushed a kiss along the edge of her jaw.

@Lena

sometimes you even fool yourself a bit
image credits


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#5


 
The seraph hadn’t meant to unfurl ghosts of the past: the gnarled fingers of guilt, the forceful, puissant distance of disappearances and voids. Her intentions had been dipped in meaning, not transgression, and she wished she could’ve painted a different picture then – maybe one of merry dances in underground chambers enlightened in shades of beautiful greens and blues, laughing beside waterfalls, intertwining their way through glowing lantern lights and tangible jewels, or embarking across meadows, waltzing amongst thistles and lavender, hiding within shorelines. She didn’t want the noxious blade to be there, resting between them, as alive as the day she’d been left behind, in mirrors, enraged, desperate, shaken, embittered, as whole as the day he’d wandered off, sunken into the hollowed hills like so many before him. They had to maneuver around it, somehow, someway, or it’d be a constant blight in their sides, a greater laceration than any she’d had to stitch and sew on a wounded soldier. This wasn’t how they were to spend their lives, whittling away at old lesions, slashes, and tears, until one or the other broke apart again – she was still whole, real, tangible, firmly within his sights, healed from the restless bounties that had once scorched her heart. She knew what she wanted, what she cherished (him - the phantom draped and garbed in gold and red, with a gaze like the sea), what coiled along her pursuits and possessions. Hadn’t she already forgiven him? Hadn’t they already spent the echoes of agony, rendered them across snow and canopies, thrown away the sinuous torture? The Songbird watched as his eyes were segmented to the floor, its needlework of crisp, curled leaves and particles of dust, immediately wishing she could push it all aside, sweep away the cobwebs and the listlessness, the languid hold nestled between beasts, bones, and marrow. Then his stare seemed to be drawn completely to her, and she saw the anguish, the contentment, all riddled there like a puzzle piece, stretched out before her without pretenses or a mask; no masquerades, no foils, no veils. “Haven’t I at least taught you to hope?” Her brow arched again, still a fey, still a fairy, still striving to get closer and closer, lips settling beneath his horn in a dulcet caress, then small laughter, a warm giggle, a resounding declaration of absolution once more – clemency and mercy and love wrapped in the softest of movements and motions.
 
Lena’s cheek turned towards his mouth as it grazed along her figure, like a brush, like a stroke, sketched and outlined by a master painter; eyelashes fluttering closed, smile blossoming and blooming, christened and anointed by beatific designs and flourishes, the touches of grandeur and devotion. “You should,” she murmured distractedly, paying close attention to the warmth of his skin, dipping her head so her lips could find and follow the lines and curves of his jaw, billowing her breath across his hide. Sweet nothings and everythings pulsed along her mouth in whispers, in murmurs, in valorous convictions and refinements, an ethereal balance of wholesome, lissome grace, muse and elegance, forgetting where she’d started and returning again (he’d said something about Raeden, she was certain), doing the same along his chest, to his long neck, underneath the tassels of sunlight and crimson, granting blessings, salvations, and deliverances along the essence of her kisses. When he granted her thank you and caressed her jaw, she shuddered, trembled, skin scorching, on fire, melting into his stroke, into his feel, brazen and bolder still, more merry giggles pervading from her frame. “You’re welcome,” the Songbird obliged again, pressing the words into his flesh, into his shoulder, remembering teaching him to dance, and wondering if he recalled the steps.

Lena
where there is love, there is life.

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

@Roland

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#6
you're a fraud and you know it
but it's too good to throw it all away

All his regrets, all his shortcomings, clung like chains that could never be loosened from his feet, and Roland fell victim to their cruel machinations every time, dragged back into the dark corners of his mind, battered by unpleasant memories. He had been too focused, to encapsulated in reliving past sorrows to hide the turmoil from his gaze, too distracted to put on a smile for the Songbird, leave his guilt behind. Before he knew it, she was fighting back against the storm within his mind. Her voice at once gave ease to his worries, drew him away from the weighty feeling of regret and loss. The light in her eyes, the sprightly smile upon her lips, all pulled him from the thoughts that had held him in so firm a grip, and they were forgotten like ash and dust. As she reached out to him, the Phantom let his eyes fall shut, leaning into the brush of her lips against his forehead with a sense of relief. The nagging feeling that had tugged so relentlessly at the back of his mind eased, disintegrated, until there was only silence, her touch, her warmth, and the chime of her easy laughter.
 
She had educated him in many things, shown him time and time again the path to take, a brilliant beacon for him to follow, to strive towards. He had not forgotten their meeting in the caves, how she had found him in the midst of an unfathomable darkness, corruption reigning above their heads, and made him forget he was entrenched in shadow, prey to the plagued beasts he had seen above the ground.
 
Roland's gaze softened as he looked at her, hesitating for just a moment so he could take her all in, admire the lines of her face and how the light fell across the curve of her neck, dancing along the edges of her hair as a crown of gold. He could get lost in the dark of her eyes, the love and happiness he could see swimming there, and could only hope that the memory he would carry away of this moment would be just as profound. "You have," he murmured, voice just a low whisper in the quiet of an early morning, smile dancing at the corner of his lip. He half expected her to withdraw then, with mention of something that needed tending to, work that demanded completion, and leave him to shake himself awake and go about his own day. He was prepared for the air to cool his skin in her absence, no longer heated by the warmth that radiated from her frame, and knew that he would not like to see her go.
 
Instead, she ducked back into an embrace, brushed her lips across his cheek, outlined his jaw in a wave of warm breath he felt keenly against his skin, peppered caresses down his neck and across the sensitive skin of his throat. When she pressed the words you should into his skin he could not remember what they were in reply to, had all but forgotten the string of their conversation up to this point as the Songbird brushed her lips against his chest, curled into him with her graceful form, sketching sinuous lines across the golden planes of his skin, loving patterns and contours.
 
Every touch sparked another blossom of heat along his skin, a pinprick of flame, and he could feel his own pulse within his throat, hear his heart within his chest, hammering away with every movement. As the Songbird brushed away his earlier concerns he reached out to her shoulder, tucked his nose beneath the dark hair that fell across her neck, breathed her in to steady himself. At his neck every touch, every caress was another thing he never knew he'd needed, a sensation he never realized he had been missing. A shiver worked its way along his spine as he pressed into her side, lowering his head as he arched into her embrace, while feather-light whispers of pressure danced along the lines of his neck until he could count them no longer, and when he pressed a kiss of his own to her cheek in gratitude, he felt her tremble beneath his lips.
 
The whispering of endearments across his skin was an anchor that he clung to, caught in an unfamiliar pattern, a dizzying cadence, until it was just the two of them, and the whole world narrowed down to one point, leaving only the tune, the rhythm, the dance.
 
@Lena
 
sometimes you even fool yourself a bit
image credits
 
"Is that...?"


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#7


 
The Songbird could not be moved by heaven or earth, bound to the scorching airs searing into her mind; a warped, drowning haze full of beguiling, spellbinding, bewitching things. She wasn’t entirely certain of what possessed and seized her, but it contorted, curled, and coiled so readily, so immensely, that all she saw was him, breathing in his essence, his presence, his tangible wake. Imogen had long since disappeared, just an idle hum in the back of her mind while everything else seemed to buzz, electric and simmering, ardent, fervid, intense, and reeling. Drawn and drawn again, a moth to flame, sketched along the borders of crimson and gold, funneling beneath the strength of his touch, trembling, shuddering, awakening at the caress of his maw; suddenly much less the seraph, more of the nymph, the dryad, springing from the elements, caught in the confines of apertures and phantoms, thieves and menders. Incensed, craving the arch of the same sensations again and again, she leaned back into his caress, blushed under his kiss, and became intoxicated on the silence, on the restlessness, on the unspoken vows and oaths between them. Her heartbeat wove a mighty crescendo, an orchestra, as symphony, of musings and love and torment, pushing her chest into his, maneuvering her lips across his jaw, down his shoulder, and then mingling further down his body. She molded, carved, lines of honey and sienna along the outskirts of his cardinal skin; taking her time on the outline, memorizing the plains, the artwork, the oeuvre, the master canvas of a man she’d always cherished, always loved, always revered. Her mouth met his spine in a delicate, light, airy touch, a soft, dulcet finery, butterfly wings and dove tails, before moving slowly down the length of his ribs, his flank, his hind, smiling at the cords of strength, at the undulating muscles, at the toil of savage pulses; bestowed a caress at the base of his withers for every time he’d saved her (for deliverance, for liberation, for listening when she’d been a fool, for coaxing her away from guilt and circumstance, for all the unspoken, unsaid nuances, for dancing beneath the glow of the moon and for chasing down her ghosts). Lena could’ve spent a lifetime tending to the perfection of his shape and sculpture, paid worship in lilting song and hymns, proffered ambrosia and otherworldly enchantments, incantations – but he did the same to her and it was glorious, illustrious, and she couldn’t do anything else for a few moments but laugh, dreamy, mystic hallelujahs slipping past her throat, a ruffian rhapsody edging on the tipping point of no returns.
 
Her eyes lifted to his again, after he’d spoken and it barely buzzed around her crown (she suddenly felt slow, listless, languid, while her body seemed to respond on its own accord, outlining herself impossibly closer to him, pressed and slanted, glades of the forest, shards of the sunset) – what had they been talking about again? She could’ve sworn Imogen rolled her eyes in the distance, wherever she’d gone, hope swimming about her mind like an amber sonnet, and she grinned again, silly, whimsical, capricious in the vague, enigmatic quandaries spouting along her frame. She could feel the wanton fabrics and veils pulling along her again; vital and piercing, and the fanciful, nearly coy smile crept into her eyes, where it glowed and varnished, where it begged for something she couldn’t name, heart fluttering, beatific. “What do you hope for now?” The question spilled from her lips, across her tongue, before she could think about its escape, its departure, its heady assurances and desires tucked into the serene sway. The Songbird had been built on aspirations, dreams, and ambitions, when she’d been pushed down into a bed of wildflowers and told to die, when she’d bent rapture and reverie from the shadows, when she’d drank and absorbed and swallowed the sins of her brethren so they could heal, so they could thrive, and all she wanted, all she craved, all she yearned for was a piece of that now. Lush, ethereal, and breathless, she tipped her mouth down the length of his figure again, not waiting for the answer, sinuous and serpentine, graceful and poised, courting embers and cadence, illuminated, unwilling to be cast aside once more.

Lena
where there is love, there is life.

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

@Roland

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#8
you're a fraud and you know it
but it's too good to throw it all away

They were more than simple touches, more than light, airy gestures of affection; there was import, purpose behind Lena's movements, and she did not need to bring voice to them for the Phantom to take notice. Absolution and warmth poured over him like a song, washed like a gentle wave across his skin and pulled him under. He was short of breath, head spinning, and yet the myriad sensations were exquisite, electrifying, as he leaned into her every caress. The soothing rhythm of pressure against the curve of his back was enough to lull him into a gentle trance, and he felt the tension in his muscles ease away as he stole a touch of his own here and there over her dark coat, wound himself around her and ran his lips down the curve of her neck, over the gentle slope of her withers and into the dip of her back, traced the imprint of her spine and breathed in her soft scent. The gentle rush of her laughter only served to spur him on, feeling a thrill of his own at her contentment.

He felt more than saw her movement as she paused and turned towards him, entangled as they were, directing her gaze and attention to his face. With a final kiss against her side he moved to face her with curious eyes. They shared a moment that was spent in observation of the other, and then the Songbird broke into a grin, so radiant, so effortless within the quietus of the moment. It then quieted into something almost shy and soft, as if she were taking careful note of where she traced her footsteps next.

What do you hope for now? The question floated softly in the space between them, a reference to the conversation Roland had almost forgotten, and yet he did not need to pause and think. The answer came to him immediately, as if it had been ready to spring forth from his lips all along. He smiled back at her, every bit as soft and gentle, as pliable as the press of her body against his. The Phantom could think of only one thing he could wish for, one thing above all he wanted to see prosper and thrive from this day forward. "For us," he murmured. For the future they might carve together in the snowy valley of the Basin, for the path they would follow, as if they were one, and that every pursuit and adventure would prove fruitful.

The Songbird withdrew her honeyed gaze, returned to her ministrations, igniting sparks, electricity along his muscles, making him restless, eager, an uneasy tension pulling at his muscles that was both foreign and thrilling. It drew his thoughts from conjecture, infinities and futures, dreams and aspirations, down to their shared space in the shadows of a cave. If a breeze were to fly through the hollow he would not feel it, if the birds had risen and begun their morning songs he would not hear them, tucked together and sharing a silence full of so many desires and sentiments. Roland curled back towards her, tucking his nose into the soft spot at the base of her throat, breathing her in, demanding in a quiet, placid way, her attention. If he could hope for anything else in that moment, the answer was simple. "For you."

@Lena

sometimes you even fool yourself a bit
image credits


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#9


 
She sought and sought and sought again, dreaming in rhapsody, in harmony, in motions and silhouettes, breathing, sliding, cajoling, smiling, and giggling when she felt dizzy, compelled to move back into his embrace. Beneath each of his caresses she shuddered, begged for more, more, more, but didn’t give them voice, reached for his form, for his figure, for the rigors of strength, for the pinnacles of everything she craved, everything she’d fought for. The yearning seemed molten, brimming, brewing, curling and coiling just beyond – like the heavens, like the clouds, like the sky, like the cool hues of their northern lights or the warm, vibrant, exotic colors dazzling the sights. Her breath floated along his skin, pulsing, whispering, a thousand kisses placed in the lowering of her lashes, in the mellifluous delight, in the cherubic, pervading essence of all her glories, of all her virtues, of all her wishes turning to more than just mere daydreams, fantasies, or dim, distant hallelujahs. The Songbird could hear his voice rising above it all, a serenade, a symphony, and only for her; allowing herself the guilty pleasure of taking every ounce of his voice, his touch, leaning into the beck and call, the quiet murmurs, the dulcet reels. Her heart purred and her mind melted, twisting her form back into his, smile lifting to stroke over his cheek, to flush along his jaw, to run parallel with all the unsaid crescendos whirling through her chest. Her soul, her essence, her entity, sizzled and simmered, breathed in carnal delights, in what lay beyond, in what could be, and laid the foundations of promises down his throat, then motioning towards his ears, where the lush whisper could coil and settle there, become chieftain of her aspirations and desires. “Then let’s do more than dream.” Action within eloquence, bold and brazen, the coy nature coaxed and ignited, and she giggled there too, alive and audacious, springing into those vivacious roles, where she’d pursued, where she’d chased, where she’d run after so many ambitions to only have them wither, crack, and die – but not in this moment, not in this instance. She refused to disregard one more restless, fervent, ardent longing. Instead, the nymph launched permission, to forge ahead, to surge beyond their dedications and commitments, farther, farther, and farther still – a sojourn she’d never traversed but would gladly, fervidly, wander with him.
 
“I love you,” she breathed, she mused, she sang, a jubilant, beautiful tune, weaving it through the air so it could only land in his ears, in his skin, in his entity. She said it hundreds of times over too, as she laced it down the length of his nape, twisted it along his mane, curled it down the length of his broad shoulders and spine, notched it between his chest and his heart – so if he were to listen, anytime, anywhere, he’d hear the sonnets nestled from her lips, arched, lifted, from her harmonic refrain. She could’ve told him so many others thing too (I want you sounded like too much but not enough, I need you sounded like desperation, when neither seemed hopeless; they were the exact opposite truly – absorbed, drenched, and swallowed by the notion of endlessness and eternity). Perhaps she could’ve said when she’d truly fallen, when her heart had skipped far too many beats, when she’d wished to be his and him to be hers, when the liberation and deliverance he bestowed upon her had been so grand, so great, that she should’ve wept. None of the words could find themselves released from her mouth though; they weren’t poetic enough, they weren’t expressive enough, they didn’t have the right syntax or intonation, so she believed he’d take her love and honor it instead; because she could at least say that over and over and over, extend it as gospel truth, as poignant, mellifluous reverence. Then she quieted, drew back to stare at him, at everything (because he was the sun, because he was the moon, because he was the earth and the sea), laughed, twisted, spun, and pivoted so they seemed like one and the same, her haunches pressed close to his chest, molded to him, swiveled into his embrace.

Lena
where there is love, there is life.

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

@Roland

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#10
you're a fraud and you know it
but it's too good to throw it all away

I love you.

Roland was sure he would never tire of hearing the words, the declaration, spoken aloud so they were irrefutable, undeniable- proving they were not the stuff of dreams and imagination, something he would yearn for but could never achieve. He smiled at the fond intonation, the melody of her voice as she pressed the sentiment time and time again into the heat of his skin, as if she were painting a canvas, splashing colour, fire and sunlight across his copper coat, a brilliant and rejuvenating warmth, and he basked in its glow. The Songbird wound around him in an intoxicating dance, every movement followed by his intent gaze, his muzzle tracing lazy patterns across her sides. He reveled in her presence, committed to memory every touch and caress, the comfort of her warmth against him, the silence and solitude offered by the cave, and the familiar and pleasant weight of his circlet resting, in its rightful place, around his horn.

He drew himself towards her, like a magnet, like she was his anchor in the midst of turmoil, the eye of a storm. Every breath rang in his own ears, the shift of his hooves across the ground seeming to echo in the tight space.

Her voice within his ear coursed new shivers down his spine, igniting fire and electricity within his blood. The Phantom was spurred on by her easy laughter, her confidence shining through in a moment where both stood on uncertain ground. Lena turned within his grasp, a hum in her throat and a mantra of affections on her lips, and he stood in wonder at the sound of it, knowing the words were meant for him and him alone. She twisted, pressing back against his chest, and Roland took in a deep breath as his lips chased across the velvet curve of her hip, breathing her in. "I love you too," he whispered, quiet and yet full of conviction, as gentle and feather-light as a breath of air against her skin, and closed what little distance remained between them. "Forever."

@Lena

sometimes you even fool yourself a bit
image credits



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