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Post by libellule on Dec 25, 2010 2:38:18 GMT -6
4.Freshly Fallen Snow Danalli and Zanen Location: Tekania Don’t let them get to you, Morning Star. You’re more than what you think you are… His voice trailed off into a ghostly hum as her footsteps fell silent to her numbing ears. She may have very well walked into the clutches of her own demises as her mind only circled and cycled through her own pathetic antic and actions in front of a duo that came so close to ripping her skin from her face. She could’ve walked smack dab in the middle of Lilani’s forces without noticing, her mind was so very far from the present, but so close to reason and morality.
And there was no emotion once she stepped gracefully down those guarded palace hallways, no greetings, no soft gazes, no acknowledgement for fear of enraging The Oracle past his state of dismissal from his greatest ally and her greatest friend. She felt her eyes harden and her hands ball into fists as she boldly glowered towards a guard, Bhaal, one of the most welcoming acquaintances. He had been so open and warm to her yesterday. But now he almost glared at the gash in her shoulder before averting his eyes. She bit her tongue before the word ‘coward’ could begin to roll from it. As he continued to look away, her eyes only narrowed. Quite a demonic feat for the precious docile filly. “So be it,” she stated acidly before turning from him and ignoring their help as she shoved those heavy wooden doors open to the courtyard.
She had left her precious mate to his own mind and the war plans she was certain he would need to attend to. The councils and the generals. She was more than certain Asina was long gone and would be gone for more than just days. That meant he had politics to attend to. But he was not far, no, she could beckon him near and her own shadow would become him. Zanen. She felt her eyes sting. His face when she kissed his swathes goodbye was nothing short of disappointment, dangerously laced with anger. She did not want to part with him, but he had caressed her cheek and his eyes told her loving things as his silence only hinted to his emotions he was restraining. So she left him to his work and his outlets. There was no doubt the palace was not oblivious to the morning activities. She was certain the gossip was spread nice and thick like jam on Della’s wonderful breakfast rolls. As she stepped through the courtyard, alone, she watched them all freeze at the sight of her beautiful necklace from the corners of her eyes. So she raised her head high and proud, because it was not her bond that she was ashamed of. Her hand rose to caress her mark, his mark. Oh how she wanted him to caress her… To hold her. Zanen. Her mind hummed.
There was a sizzling in the back of her mind as her heart weighed heavily in her chest, feeling pathetically shallow for the danger she had placed herself in, placed him. She bit back the sob that curdled in the hollow of her throat and turned her cheek from the pain the stabbed her stomach. The frozen chill in the air had not reached her skin and couldn’t infiltrate her senses even though her cheeks and fingertips were tainted rouge from the oncoming frostbite.
Down the hill she went, past the stables and inner pastures, her hands tracing the fence of the turnouts aimlessly. A pair of hooves sounded in the distance, her own hearing was deafened. It wasn’t until a pair of lips latched onto strains of her ponytail until she was brought back.
Danalli whipped around to glare at the perpetrator, a precious young chestnut stallion had been following her the whole time. Her gaze softened as she unlatched the fence and he trotted out. “You,” she spoke so sweetly as he brought his nose into her hands. It was in fact the same stallion she’d been training the afternoon before. “I was expecting someone else.” The male only snorted before shaking his mane. She chuckled as he brightened her forlorn mood, “I see you’ve noticed.”
The stallion kept her company as she lapped them around the outskirts of the outer ring of pastures. Something about the palace made her want to stay away for a while. She was happy to do so with so well received company.
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Post by Willow on Dec 25, 2010 11:58:06 GMT -6
He was a mass of barely contained fury behind a mask of stone.
He had not slept all last night, had just stood at his balcony waiting for sunrise. After Asina and Ciel had departed he’d barely spoken, hardly even moved until he could feel them begin to move away quickly enough that he knew they’d mounted demonic war stallions. Asina he knew for sure would have summoned Nightmare, and in order to keep up Ciel would also have to be riding. He wouldn’t doubt it if the demon horse had just sensed her rage and power and decided on his own to come to his queen’s side. He knew that had he not been the cause of her wrath he would have done so.
Now Zanen, The Oracle, The Living Shadow, He Who Travels Between, stood alone in his private room. Very methodically, he sharpened his knives. All of them. He’d done some paperwork, had two meeting, and had killed only two of his generals in the process. Somewhere he distantly regretted doing it, if only because now he had to replace them, but they should have known better than to push him like they had. They had forgotten their place, both of them, and he’d reacted out of blind fury, moving with a cold and apathetic precision that removed the head of the first offender from his body. The outrage from the other hadn’t lasted long before his bowels were spilled across the floor.
’Where is the Lady?’ ‘That is none of your concern. I will be running the meetings until she returns.’ ‘Of course it is our concern! Asina needs to be here, she can’t just go gallivanting off whenever she wants!’
-Shk-
‘What are you doing!? You can’t just kill off—‘
-Shk shk-
‘Any questions?’
The blood had smelled so good he’d wanted to rip off his gloves and coat his fingers with it, wanted to rip into the rest of that idiotic council. Oh, they were all seasoned warriors, smart when it came to battle, especially battle with Liazh, but some had a penchant for forgetting who held the power. Some believed that just because their races allowed them to look more aged, wiser, that they actually were superior in that way. It was too easy to forget that their queen was millennia older than them and more experienced with death and pain than any of them could ever begin to imagine. Sometimes all they saw of her was the packaging. They forgot what she was.
Like for just a split second, he’d forgotten what she was. Something that Ciel would never do. His own kin, but in that one area, he knew he was surpassed.
A low growl rumbled from his throat as he gathered up his newly sharpened bladed staff, moving into his adjoining training room. It was a private place. Only Asina had ever been within these chambers, and even she only entered when invited. Because this was his special place. His dark place.
Barefoot and dressed only in a pair of loose pants, he moved into a series of fluid motions, violet eyes burning red as he silently worked through the routines. Just a few more hours, he reminded himself silently. Just a few more, and he would be free for the rest of the day. He’d made sure that he would be able to take at least half of the day with Danalli. It would soothe him to publicly show his claim of her to those in the marketplace.
Yes, and then word would most definitely spread.
A wicked grin danced over his lips as his routine shifted from fighting form to some liquid dance of death.
In a pocket of shadows in the pasture where Danalli was, the gift of a violet and silver rose was pushed into the open. To remind her that his thoughts were always with her.
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Post by libellule on Dec 29, 2010 0:20:19 GMT -6
Danalli did not return that night to Zanen’s chambers. It wasn’t because she was scared or felt unwelcome. She was doing her best to respect exactly what he was. True he would never strike her, or do anything to hurt her, but she could not relieve him from his outlandish emotions except with her sensual touches and soft voice. Something told her that those touches weren’t always the ones that Zanen needed to tone down his demonic nature. He had been out of his ‘normal’ character for quite sometime around her. The soft adoring side of him always shined for her, but that side was not all of him. A good round of training and viciousness was something that sounded much closer to his mood at the moment. It was something he needed and she surely didn’t want to distract him.
A soft smile quirked across her lips as her fingertips fell upon the soft petals of the rose she’d tucked into her high ponytail. Such a beautiful thing and precious gift brought a cheerful laugh that brightened her face immediately as she pulled it out of the shadows. She had cupped her hand over her mouth before whispering into them.
“You are within mine just as much, precious Shadow. Please don’t stray for too long.” They’d take it to him when they saw fit. She had caressed a leaf doused in their blanket lightly. “Take that too,” she had asked them sweetly.
She sighed at the memory, leaning against the strong, now furry, back of her usually silent companion. There were twerks and twitches that seemed to dot across the massive stallion’s half-lying frame, only concurring her thoughts on his uneasiness. She was certain he could smell the blood spilling in Certann and feel the blistering heat of Zanen’s scorching aura in the palace. She gave him a soft scratch across his beautiful soft winter black coat before leaning her cheek against his shoulder and petting his face softly. His breathing seemed to simmer, though his muscles did not relax. “I suppose it would be silly for you to relax, wouldn’t it Necro?” He snorted as she giggled at his answer, before shifting back to her original position. “You’re the greatest heater,” she cooed to him as she flipped to her mark in her book. He gave a soft of neigh of pleasure as she stroked his pride. “Uh huh, just as I thought,” she giggled, before settling in snuggly against Zanen’s massive, demon mount, who lay dormant, though ever watchful and alert. He was the greatest friend.
- “Left,” she called from her perch as the equine galloped to her directions and commands. Danalli had barely slept the night before, but she was more than excited to show her young chestnut stallion the works in one of the inner pastures. A few stable hands had gathered to watch her. Over the months her equestrian training habits had spread through the markets. Well once she’d befriended Necro it was pretty much over and the label, ‘Horse Charmer’ was practically slapped on her forehead. Who can befriend a bonded demon stallion besides its owner anyway? She found a small pair of loose fitting pants and a long-sleeved shirt in the tack room. The only small problem was that shirt covered up most of Zanen’s mark. She shrugged it off, all of the stable boys knew better and wanted to stay in good graces with The Oracle and Necromancer, and her and Zanen’s bond was whispered about among the palace anyway. No one would dare chance it without checking either way.
She had been working the horse from the early sunrise and the sun was already above her, a soft flurry of snowflakes dusting the ground. He was beginning to slow and she stood in the center of his exercises. “You are going to have to do better than that,” she called sternly as he slowed to a trot. It was known across the land that Asina’s cavalry was one of the strongest and fastest. This was most likely because more than half of it was comprised of horses with some form of demonic nature.
A bow was clutched in her hand with an arrow in the other as her now hard eyes watched him slow. She had to motivate him to keep his pace. “You want to keep up with the rest,” she notched the arrow and stretched the bow back, aiming for his flank, her face completely serious as his ears went flat. She released her warning shot as it skimmed inches from his soft coat as he reared in surprise and anger, disbelief. And he wasn’t the only one, the stable boys had been holding their breath in shock of her severity. It wasn’t a method she was proud to use, but she couldn’t afford to allow him to slip through the cracks and endanger a soldier with his speed. Asina would forgive one scratch and so would he when he outlived a sword’s blade.
“Get used to it,” she fired back as he pawed the ground, facing her, a fire dancing in his eyes, “You want to keep up with demon hordes and stallions, you better at least try. No general wants a slow mount.
“Now,” she whispered harshly, latching another arrow, before shouting, “Get. Up!” This time the arrow scraped his flank as the fire blossomed and his gallop was terrifyingly powerful as his hooves dug into the ground, unearthing small piles with each pound of his beautiful shoes.
A smile bloomed over her features as she began to praise him, but the words never left her mouth. The only thing her mind registered was the stable hands’ fearful expressions and her hitting the cold, icy ground. Hard.
She gritted her teeth as the pain reverberated through her spine as the frozen terrain failed to break her fall. She managed to shudder a painful gasp before the collar of her shirt was pulled up in a fist and she found herself looking to a newly transferred commanding officer, the emblem on his leather vest stating his rank, but all she sensed was rage and no control. He hoisted her up with one hand, as her two hands gripped his wrist, trying to stabilize herself.
“You dare,” he spat acidly, shaking her savagely as she winced, “You dare shoot at /my/ mount. What kind of authority do you think you have wench?!” Of course, he’d managed to pull her shirt collar up to the middle of her neck, that beautiful, vicious mark hidden to his eyes. Oblivious.
She mentally checked out that he was not a demon, or was a very low powered one. Zanen’s seal would have been highlighted before he could even put his hands on her. His growl made her nod mentally as his eyes grew red and she maintained calm. She had not been hurt… yet. No need to panic.
Weak and very low power. “It would not be wise,” she spoke quietly through clenched teeth, warning him, her grip tightening around his wrist, “I am valued-“
Her words were silenced again as he sent her back into the post of the fence, which she slammed into before collapsing to her hands and knees, her breath staggered before she fought to stand up again. She could not appear as prey, not again. Even as he unsheathed his gleaming sword and pointed it to her, she took a defensive pose Ghatreg had shown her so many years ago.
Were those hooves she heard? Or the scrambling of the boys? She didn’t dare look away from him and his malicious stance. “Stop,” she warned him for his life’s sake, “Do not do this.”
His eyes only gleamed brighter as his fangs grew apparent. “You have no right and you /will/ be punished.” The deadliest husk in his voice made her teeth clench tighter.
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Post by Willow on Dec 29, 2010 16:47:39 GMT -6
Zanen had been absorbed in his training. He’d been killing illusions specifically fashioned to challenge him with other illusions fashioned to distract him. He’d been so deep into the trance of his slaughter, his dance of savagery, that he’d initially paid little attention to the slight buzzing of unease that had started to touch the edge of his senses. When his Seal had been on Asina, he’d filtered out these little alerts because the level of power that caused them could be as easily decimated by Asina as they could by himself. If he were truly needed, he would be there in a moment without even having to will it, her shield in every way, but as a warrior queen she faced those little disturbances so often it would have drove him half mad if he didn’t filter them out.
But Danalli was not Asina. His whole body froze mid-motion, bare-chested and unmasked since he was training in his private rooms located deep beneath the palace. A fine sheen of sweat glistened over his shadow-pale skin and he wiped some from his brow as he stood to his full height, some half a foot over six feet. He cocked his head to the side, as if he were listening to something only he could hear, then frowned as he realized that little buzz of warning deep inside his chest.
Another demon might just rush to the side of whoever the Seal was placed on. Indeed, were it a more extreme kind of warning so would he, but this little buzzing had him tensed and reaching mentally for his shadows.
When they reported to him he gave a low growl and vanished. Just. Vanished.
He did not pause to redress or veil his face. He did not bother to gather his other weapons. He just vanished, slipping into his shadows with his long and deadly bladed spear. His eyes were already a deep and thirsty garnet.
--
The wind whispered darkly across the pasture and what sun was visible seemed to be suddenly swallowed by dark clouds, casting shadows across the land. Dark shadows. Shadows that seemed to move, seemed to writhe with a kind of sick and joyous perversion of life. They twisted and shuddered, touching the stable hands like cold and silent winds in the stillness of the air.
There was no sound, but a great heaviness seemed to have descended over all those gathered.
“No,” came a soft, dark voice. “No, you are the one with no right.” The words were heated, a crooning very much like a seduction. That voice was a deep, hot baritone, drenched with the promises that are only fulfilled in the darkness. Promises of the deepest sins. Vanity, Lust, Wrath, Gluttony. That voice rolled over all those present, and somehow it had gotten so dark, the shadows so saturated that the speaker was little more than an outline so close behind the general they were almost spooning where they stood. A dark with two slanted, half-lidded red eyes.
“You have no right and you /will/ be punished.”
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Post by libellule on Dec 31, 2010 2:03:30 GMT -6
Some people say they have been afraid, truly afraid. Some people say they have looked fear dead in the eyes and laughed. Some people have said they know the smell of fear, the feeling of fear, crawling and its destructive ways.
Those people… are liars.
Because this fear was uncontrollable, untouchable, and indescribable. This fear shook the ground, shook the soul. And this fear was limitless.
His blade aimed for her porcelain skin, so wonderfully plump and ready to be plucked. The juices that begged to be poured from such a perfect tone, such a perfect fruit, was more than enough to beckon him closer to the edge as his eyes glowed magnificently. But this lowly powered, lowly controlled rampage demon was foolish. The smell around this filly was so potent it almost distracted him, almost, but he pushed past it, unable to hold back his desire. Something punched him in the stomach as he threw her into the fence and something clenched and twisted his heart as she staggered into a poor stance that he was most certain she didn’t know how to use. And still he licked his lips and pulled his frame into such a dominating way.
Then… he uttered those words that were promised to be drenched in red. It pleased his raging senses to see her restrain his quiver. He had even taunted her with a chuckle.
But that chuckle was choked off as the over stretched fabric of her shirt fell lower than it had originally. Her collarbone was displayed blatantly for his reddened vision and he felt his steamy aura simmer as the cold seeped through his walls.
A claim.
It wasn’t just any claim or mark. It was malicious and deep. It wasn’t a love bite or a small incision to not cause alarm. It was full and meant to scar, meant to draw attention, meant to heed warning. It was a true mark…
It was vicious, dark, icy grip at the bottom of his stomach. It held him so tight and even constricted tighter as he noticed how fresh her mark was and how his roughness had caused the repairing wound to break open in some small areas.
He was almost back in complete control of his senses when darkness fell and the shadows emerged…
The Oracle emerged.
He couldn’t breathe as his outstretched arm froze, his sword falling with a thud to the plush grass below. All warmth within him drained out slowly, painstakingly. He couldn’t feel his heart beat and his neck hairs rise as Zanen’s voice uttered such promises of pain and turmoil so close to his skin. His ears deafened as the stable boys cowered from the obscene level of power the creature so deftly close to him. And he lost his speech when he saw the filly shudder out another painful breath.
He had gambled. And he had lost.
- They were around her at once the second his sword was pointed at her throat. The second the recognition wiped across his face as his eyes traveled to her collarbone. The second the pain shot through her again.
Her precious shadows. Her precious mate. Hers.
They swarmed her, surrounded her, and caressed her as he, her dark knight, appeared through the darkness. Zanen. He was so close to the officer, almost touching him. The crimson drenched slits and his massive outline being the only thing visible. She noticed one thing through the chaos. His hair was not bound by swathes and the definition of his blackened face was too exact to be swathed as well. Her breath caught from the shock.
His face wasn’t covered…
Danalli didn’t not release her stance, did not collapse from the sharpness painful zings, for fear that movement would cause too much of distraction. Her jaw was locked as she gritted her teeth against the bruise she could feel on one of her ribs.
She’d warned him. She’d almost pleaded him. But he had not listened, had not hesitated to listen. He just advanced. As much as she was soft, kind and loving, his fate was deserved.
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Post by Willow on Dec 31, 2010 2:43:42 GMT -6
A dark chuckle escaped the shadows that cradled the Oracle. It would have sounded amused if it hadn’t been so drenched with disgust. Oh yes, Zanen was /quite/ disgusted. Revolted. The man before him was a new transfer into the city. He’d risen in the ranks fast enough that Zanen had appointed him personally to come and lead a regiment right out of Tekania opposed to the patrol squadron he’d been leading out near the canyons. And now it looked as though he was going to have to find /another/ replacement. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.
“P-please,” he was stuttering. “I didn’t know. I didn’t see. Her collar was pulled up too high and I—“ The shadows somehow tightened around the man, filling the air with a dark emptiness that created a sort of vacuum, where there was too little air to breathe. Zanen watched as the man grasped his throat, his eyes wide in pain and terror as he tried to gasp for air through the thickness of the shadows that were caressing him. Zanen’s shadows, the Oracle’s shadows.
“Do you ever wonder what true suffering is?” Zanen purred in that dark, seductive voice that could roll against flesh like a living think, stroking in all of the sensitive places, teasing the body and the mind toward an arousal that could be either saturated or lightly seasoned with fear. It swayed through the darkness that cocooned them, played along the dying man’s skin as Zanen allowed him just enough air to breathe and answer the question. “S-suffering?” he gasped. “Yes,” hissed the zephyr. “Suffering.” The man rapidly shook his head, trying to suck in as much air as he could.
A delightful sort of laugh trickled from Zanen’s throat as the red deepened in his eyes. Then his expression became suddenly more savage. Wild. Enraged. The temper of a zephyr pushed too far. The challenge of an unwelcome male around his mate.
“I am the Oracle,” he growled. “I see everything.” He stepped up , towering six or seven inches over the other man as a hand curled around his throat. “Now, what do you see?”
Then the man began to scream. Soundlessly, because there was not enough air for too much noise, but he was screaming. His bowels seemed to have lost control and his bladder had emptied, but the man didn’t seem to notice as his wide, unblinking eyes stared past Zanen and into whatever the Oracle was making him see.
Then Zanen stepped back, the shadows eased, and the man dropped to the ground, twitching madly and still screaming silently. He looked at the pathetic mess, then growled low in his throat, allowing his personal shadows to thin enough that those there could see the message he was giving them. It said: Do not touch her. Or this will be you.
With that, Zanen looked back at the man and with a push of tremendous power focused through his berserker rage, he filled the man with so much power that he exploded. He literally exploded. To the point that all there was left of him was ash.
The Shadow’s Treasure turned to his mate and he did not say a word nor share a gland before he pulled her to him and pushed his mouth against her, taking it in a possessive show of dominance and ownership. Under it was also a different kind of need, though. The need to know that she was alright. The need to know that she was whole, and his. The need to feel her in his arms, under his hands, so that he could come back into himself and edge away from that dangerous killing mode that is nothing more and nothing less than his own nature.
“Danalli…” he murmured against her lips. “Pretty… My Danalli. My special Pretty.”
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Post by libellule on Dec 31, 2010 3:34:13 GMT -6
She watched as he encased himself and this general in a thick blanket of darkness. Danalli watched and heard the silence that was forged from Zanen’s vicious assault. She heard the stable boys scramble to together, huddle together, their shakes were almost vibrating the ground she stood on. She wanted to stumble over to them and hold them, cradle them. Tell them everything was alright and they had nothing to worry about. The poor boys. They couldn’t have been more than 15 or so.
But she could not avert her eyes, however, she could barely move, her sance was becoming difficult as the bruising was blossoming into a larger bloom. Because she knew when she did, she would have Zanen’s full attention and she could distract him, weaken him, from his work he was so methodically weaving as she thought. Her frame shook at the last word, the past morning branded fresh in her mind. No she could not endanger him as much as she could not endanger herself.
Then the shadows thinned and she closed her eyes slowly at the sight of the soldier, writhing, clawing at his own skin as if trying to rid of something that wasn’t there. The throbbing pain in her back only pushed her to open her eyes, forced her to understand the severity and the importance of this message. It forced her to absorb every emotion this man was enduring, every spark of pain down to the detonation of his existence and how the ashes danced around where he’d just been because of this message. Not the one he sent to the other possible challengers the stable boys’ stories would speak to or reach, but the message as to /why/ he was here.
Absolute devotion. To her.
One of the boys shrieked and scurried away, the others left behind had their jaws on the grass or were holding back the terror written all over their shaking figures. But as Danalli dropped her arms to her sides limply and stumbled to him, the equine found that she could not take her eyes off of her diabolical lover, his beautiful crimson orbs compelling her, coaxing her closer. And his lips were on her before she could take another breath, before she could stand up straight. She breathed in deeply, his scent intoxicating her as his scalding skin scent tremors through her chilled frame. She could feel the hum under his skin, the power, the thrill. She had missed him so.
Almost two days without his embrace and this is what it did to her? It was almost unforgivable. “Your Pretty,” her lips trembled as she reached up with her arm to twist her hands in his hair, “Precious, precious Zanen-ah!” Oh the pain that shot through her ribcage…
Her arm didn’t make it past his chest, not even close to his neck, before she crumpled in his embrace, retracting her arm swiftly as she locked her jaw.
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Post by Willow on Dec 31, 2010 19:37:29 GMT -6
Her touch was balm to the barely-tethered snarling beast that had been in control just moments ago. The taste of her soothed him, stroked that animal and settled him down into a more contented state, as close to tamed as he would ever get. No, Zanen was a demon, and demons could never be tamed.
He made a soft crooning sound against her hair as she reached for him, bowing his head in anticipation of her slender fingers sliding through his hair. He needed to feel her caress him, needed to feel her close and safe in his arms, needed to feel the way her heart beat against his. But her hands did not reach him before she fell, and it was only his reflexes that kept her from sagging to the ground. The moment she began to crumple he moved, easily swinging her up into his arms so that he could cradle her against his chest, one arm supporting her shoulders and the other under her knees.
A low, sinister growl rumbled in his chest. Primal. There was very little rational thought in him right now, and the need to protect suddenly spiked it, her injury making him even more on edge than before. Her vulnerability making everyone around a potential threat. The stable boys were frozen with fear when he turned to look at them, his glare warning to move, to leave, before they did something to stoke his anger. But it was Necromancer who startled them into action. With a low growl that sounded more like it came from a wolf than a horse, he launched at them and they grabbed their friend and scattered.
Zanen looked to Danalli. “He hurt you.” His voice was a rumbling growl and his expression was barely contained fury. It was as if he didn’t know what to do now. He’d already killed the offender. But he’d punished him for approaching his mate, for touching her, for disrespecting her. He hadn’t exacted punishment for actually hurting her.
The shadows surrounded them, drank them in, and when they emerged again they were back inside the palace in Zanen’s suite. He set her down on the bed and looked down at his hands, frowning, before he went to get some medical supplies from the bathroom.
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Post by libellule on Dec 31, 2010 21:00:48 GMT -6
It was a strange love they had her and Zanen. The gods wove such an intricate and perfect braid, because never would she have thought the fabled Oracle would match her soul. They were opposites to the ends of each broad spectrum. The only thing that did match was their utter and pure adoration to each other. Legend always said demons never loved, never could love.
And they were right. Demons did not love. Zanen did not love.
She didn’t feel love from him, didn’t know the exact level she was placed on in his priority order…
Because she knew that it was higher than love, higher than anything her mortal mind would understand. She was apart of him, her soul bound to him, tethered by his grappling hooks that dug and pulled her so wonderfully close to him. His well guarded heart, that unbreakable wall flaring up around her, always.
Which was why she was not afraid when the general almost pounced for her untouched skin. Why she was not painted with horror when she realized her silly bluff would not save her. Even when she felt the icy stab of subdued fear when her ears listened for the static to trigger and heard only wind.
Because Zanen would never fail her.
Her nails dug into her fists, the pain beginning to dissipate, as he swung her up into his arms as if she were as light as the fabric on her body. She should not have highlighted that wicked purple that was surely coloring her side just barely under her shoulder blade. As the boys scurried off she looked after them, sympathy in her eyes, as Necro snapped at them, closely, but not too close. She looked up to Zanen with soft eyes as his molten gaze held her. She realized she was keeping him grounded, the fury pacing across his flexed muscles like her own lion.
’He hurt you. It was not a question. She could only close her eyes with a sad smile, defeated and weak. Perhaps she should open her senses more often… She opened her mouth for an excuse, before closing her pale lips thinking it best to remain soft, submissive, and docile to her raging beast. It was feat that had her fighting mentally. He was angry enough.
She nuzzled her cheek into his bicep as she felt them surge, her good arm wrapping around the other, hugging him tightly to her. She sighed at the feeling of their presence, their dark, familiar presence.
As he stepped away from her, she pushed herself off of the bed, her arms hugging herself. “Zanen,” she began softly, preciously, following him. “Its just a bruise. Wrapping it won’t do any good. It will heal on its own…”
Danalli entered his beautiful washroom and grabbed his hands, placing them on her cheeks as she turned her lips into one, kissing his palm softly. “Be still, beautiful devil,” she spoke serenely into it, her breath sure to sizzle his skin in a different way, before looking up at him, bracing herself as she raised that arm, which ignited a fire at her side. Already, the pain was lower than it had been outside. One of her eyes twitched slightly as she fought through it, successfully reaching past his chest, his neck, twisting her hand in his long hair as she caressed him. Her chocolate eyes sparkled as tears formed, her emotion, /her/ love for him, was so hard for her to hide.
“What you have done… for me…” she breathed heavily, smiling brightly to him, “I will be fine.”
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Post by Willow on Dec 31, 2010 21:40:43 GMT -6
Zanen was a killer, not a healer. He knew some rudimentary first aid that came from living on the battle field and being put into situations where he had to take care of his men, but the power to actually heal was not his. Zanen could do many things with his power, so very many things, but the one thing he could not do was heal. Not even the smallest of bruises or cuts. His personal power allowed him to heal himself of such small inconveniences, but it wasn’t a conscious effort. So with Danalli hurt… he was at a loss, and for the first time even a little bit scared.
Because he could kill who had hurt her, he could make them suffer. He could avenge her if something happened, but if she was honestly injured, if he somehow was not able to get there in time, if something went horribly wrong and he was unable to defend her, he would not be able to heal her. It made him that much more thankful that she now had his Seal, that no matter what, even if he was being held captive in a room with no shadows and she was as well, somewhere leagues away from him, he would still be able to get to her. Someone would have to kill him before they could get to her.
As long as he was conscious and was able to open himself to that link, he would be able to get to her.
He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair as he searched through the bathroom for some salve and bandages. Then he froze when he heard her approach. Turning around, he frowned down at her, and the demon was still in his eyes, painting them a dangerous scarlet. She touched them, and that softened his expression a little bit, his eyes closing to the feeling of her hand twining through his hair, but his awareness of her was heightened now and he could tell that the motion hurt her. With trembling control, afraid he would accidentally hurt her, he took her hands and lowered them, shaking his head. “No,” he growled, and his voice was severe. “You are hurt.”
The demon was single-minded. Obsessive. He picked her up again, sweeping her into his arms with as much care as he could and carrying her into the bedroom, laying her on the bed again. Sharp crimson eyes pinned her to the mattress as he stood up straight again. “Don’t. Move.”
Then he turned around and returned to the bathroom to get the salve and bandages.
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Post by libellule on Dec 31, 2010 22:17:51 GMT -6
Bah… To hell with demons… the lot of them. Them and they /stupid/ possessiveness. It was almost annoying at times like these.
His blood eyes did not instill fear in her. She could will him to not touch her and he would not be able to try without being viciously affected by his seal. She could get up and storm out of his chambers. She could do /exactly/ what she pleased. He was not the one to bind her for anything. She could feel the zap pulsate through her, this weak emotion of pain playing her crutch so wonderfully…
She wanted to storm after him, she wanted to zap at his barely contained fury, and play games of hostile, heated statements. She wanted to yell at him, tell him it wasn’t his fault, tell him that she was indeed fine and a bruise was nothing compared to a lost limb or a stab wound. But she couldn’t, because she knew what was running through his head, knew what was playing over and over. She could only sigh shakily and place a hand over her eyes, awaiting his glorious return.
Her heart stuttered for a moment as she felt an icy cold feeling blanket her.
’Don’t move.’ She didn’t breathe as his familiar voice resonated through her as she looked up to Zanen’s elaborate ceiling as it swarmed into a dark grey sky. She heard that familiar zap and crackle as somewhere in the distance someone shouted her name. She tossed her head to the side of the cushioned mattress, searching for the origin of her muffled name…
The ground was cold underneath her lithe frame, but the dying demon on top of her was wet, warm, and heavy. She struggled underneath the massive being weight, feeling her legs beginning to go numb.
“Gah,” she grunted, trying unsuccessfully to push the fallen warrior off of her pinned body. She needed to move, her struggling intensified. She shuddered to a halt, hearing stealthily footsteps approaching. A cold shiver stroked her vertebrae as she felt her heartbeats trip over each other. She outstretched her arm, straining for her cast aside sword. Her arm was coated in luscious crimson, she could almost not ignore. She had to focus… had to fight.
A foot fell on her wrist, twisting harshly so much that she half shrieked, pulling her wrist to her chest. ‘Don’t move,’ her voice was blood-drenched and thirsty as Danalli looked up to see one of Lilani’s soldiers posed above her, her bow perfectly drawn and aimed between her eyes.
‘Fine day to die, don’t you think, pony?’
Something white flashed behind her Danalli dared not look for fear of distracting the woman. She growled viciously to the archer.
‘Don’t be so sure, bird,’ her voice was so raw, so vicious. The avian smirked darkly, about to release her arrow before it hit her. /He/ hit her. It was a power so massive, so obliterating, Danalli shuddered against the feeling of it as it graced her senses. Her torn corpse fell with a thud as the massive white haired, golden red-eyed warrior observed Danalli’s pinned figure.
Ghatreg was next to her in an instant, the other helping him lift the demon horse off of her lower half. She struggled to get up, breathing sharply from the agony, before the unnamed demon pushed her back down.
‘Don’t move.’
Her eyes snapped open from her reverie, widened and painted with breathless shock as she tried to catch it, unsuccessfully. She knew that demon. Anywhere she would know that demon.
“Ciel,” she whispered harshly, unbelievably, unaudibly.
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Post by Willow on Jan 1, 2011 21:33:36 GMT -6
Zanen studied himself in the mirror for a few moments when he returned to the bathroom, discontented by how much he had to wrack his brain to remember those little bits of healing he knew. He didn’t like not having the knowledge within easy grasp. He didn’t like that at all. Then again, he’d never cared for someone that could be so easily bruised, so easily injured, yet was thrown into the life that could too easily cause damage. When he was younger, back when the Certann Forest covered most of Ameghda, he’d had friends that had never picked up a weapon in all their lives. But then, that was before all this insanity had spread like a bloodthirsty infection going for some kind of a record.
Yes, that was Before.
The flash of memory stained the back of his eyelids with cerulean blue for a moment and he caught his breath, then pressed his eyes shut and recovered himself. When he opened them again, his reflection showed their hue to be of a deep red tinted violet as they slowly began to return to their natural color. He was beginning to back away from the edge he’d been riding, his rational mind returning to him.
He embraced this and gathered the salve and bandages to return to his Light so that he would be able to soothe the pain of her injuries. It was the only thing he could do.
”Ciel.”
A low growl came rumbling instinctively from deep in his chest, but he didn’t say anything until he reached the bed and sat beside her. “What about him?” he asked, and his voice was strained, like he was attempting to remain civil. But with the return of his rational mind, as little of it that had returned, he had regained enough to know better than to jump to conclusions, as hard as that might be with his already-present bias about the other zephyr. The only other pureblood zephyr left in all of Relmalir. Perhaps in all of the Realms.
Which was one of the many things that made the other male both invaluable and intolerable.
“Here,” he grumbled, pulling her gently to sit up as he went about removing her shirt, “the salve will numb the pain and the bandages will keep it from rubbing off or getting everywhere.”
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Post by libellule on Jan 2, 2011 0:22:37 GMT -6
Her vision was still cloudy, her breathing returning to normal as she covered her eyes with a hand, her fingertips pressing the sides of her temples. A sound of deep annoyance hummed through her closed lips. If Danalli could ever emit a growl, or any sound of viciousness, this purr was probably the closest the equine would ever get. The softness of her attempted growl made her huff sharply, even more annoyed.
‘What about him?’
Her heart skipped as she stared into the eyes of her approaching, simmering lover, her hand sliding up against her forehead. She squinted one eye, pursing her lips, looking at him with a confused expression. What on earth was he talking about? “What about who-“ Oh yes… She had uttered that hadn’t she…
Her eyes changed instantly, realization drenching them. The flashback. The horse, the avian, Ghatreg… Ciel. The blood… Her heart skipped as he pulled her up, instantly inspecting her arm that had been drenched in red a moment ago. The memory was as fuzzy as a week old dream, even though she’d just experienced it minutes before.
“Um,” she struggled. Her brows furrowed as she leaned forward, helping him and pulling her shirt off with her good arm, bending the other to her chest. She unlaced the leather strings on one side, loosening the cropped leather corset that bound her in tightly underneath the shirt. It slid off with ease, her bare back glistening to him, and that lovely purple contrasted /wonderfully/ with her pale skin. It wasn’t large, about the width of her opened hand; she inspected it over her shoulder, pulling her skin taught at her collarbone with her good hand.
She had been right. She would be fine. Shouldn’t be more than a day or so. “I…” she began, only stopped by his touch, her skin shuddering underneath it as she hummed softly, the smallest things he could do to please her. A soft laugh fell from her lips before she continued.
“I remembered something again,” she said softly, breathlessly, her eyes hazy underneath closed lids as the salve soothed her tender muscle, his hot hands mixing some delicious feeling in with it, “I was pinned by this… monstrous, /massive/… horse, but I was fine, perfectly conscious. It was so strange…” She used her good arm to illustrate her story. “Someone said my name, more like called it, but it was so far away and then…” She paused, focusing, trying to remember. “There was a soldier above me and I couldn’t reach a sword, a rock, anything… And then this thing tore into her. Then Ghatreg was there and the horse was lifted and all I saw was white and golden eyes.” She tried to restate the entire memory but it was no use, it had gone fuzzy. She shrugged her shoulders with a sigh of frustration, leaning back into his chest, her head tucking under his chin.
“I suppose when I think of white hair and gold eyes I associate it with his features, but it could have been anyone. I can’t remember his face.. I’m sorry to have worried you.”
Danalli pulled her head back looking up to him, leaning on his collarbone as well as exposing her slender purple colored neck, her chest, and the soft lines of her hipbones. “Thank you, darling,” she crooned oh-so lovingly, her lips begging to be caressed, “I’m as good as new.”
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Post by Willow on Jan 2, 2011 1:07:57 GMT -6
With each moment that passed Zanen was drifted closer to himself again, the edge of berserker he’d balanced not too long ago drawing further and further away. This was evident in the hue of his eyes, which had returned to that striking violet by the time Danalli had finished telling him about her memory.
Mm. Her memories. Zanen wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that she was beginning to regain them more and more frequently. It seemed that every time something intense happened she regained more and more of them. They came back fuzzy and often incoherent, but they were coming back. Whatever it was that had kept them restrained was weakening and she was breaking through. He wasn’t sure how it was happening, but he had a few theories, mostly that had to do with the amount of power that she was around so frequently nowadays. His, Asina’s, Ciels…
Which brought him back to the conversation at hand. “I suppose it could have been anyone,” he grumbled. “Though it would be interesting if it was Ciel, seeing as he didn’t seem to know you before you two met this time around. Of course it is also interesting that you both have big chunks missing out of your pasts. His is a little more selective than yours though.” Yes, Zanen was not ashamed to say that he did some prodding. His Sight did have limits, though, and while something big was keeping him from seeing Danalli’s past, it was Ciel himself that was keeping Zanen out of his. He didn’t like that at all, but there was nothing he could do about it. It wasn’t something that he liked to admit, but Ciel was a very powerful demon. With a few hundred more years, his younger kin would gain even more and become even more skilled with it.
Zanen grunted softly in mild annoyance as he continued to rub the salve over her bruise before wrapping her up with the bandage. It was crude and efficient, and he again felt a stab of discouragement that his pride had kept him from learning more than the most basic of healing techniques. As much as he hated to admit it even to himself, he made the mental decision to seek out some kind of instruction. Even Asina knew more than he did, and she was almost less of a healer/nurturer than he was.
He paused at that, then altered the previous thought. No, Asina was a healer and a nurturer. She was as much that as she was a ruthless killer. It was the balance of it that made her the True Queen that she was.
But there was no way in the grace of the gods that he was going to ask for her instruction. No, perhaps he could go to Iera, the Avian that ran Asina’s little program of aiding refugees fleeing Lilani’s bad graces.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he returned his attention to Danalli and couldn’t help but become almost painfully aware of her. Because there she was. Against him, and he could feel her. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of it. The beating of her heart. Then her lips so soft and yielding against his pulled a sound almost unbidden from his lips. He fed into her and felt the smile curve between them. Then his hands, large and powerful, ran down her body to settle on her waist, then against her hips, then curving under her thighs before he lifted her and brought her up to straddle his lap. His lips left hers to trail down her jaw and down to her neck, over that glorious mark of possession he’d laid on her. He crooned against it, nipping it and sucking on it gently.
“Mm. Are you now?” he purred softly, darkly, with a chuckle. [/center]
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Post by libellule on Jan 4, 2011 0:47:21 GMT -6
She could feel the room cool, feel the heat of his body suppress, his breath became softer. She melted into his embrace, his hands, him. Zanen was beginning to relax. Finally. A thrill ran through her, her rejoice evident on her face and her playful grin. “There you are,” she cooed, her voice the softest and most precious it had been in a while as she leaned her face into his hair.
She hummed seductively as she was pulled into his lap, her bare chest gracing his smooth, hard skin, her forearms leaning on his broad shoulders as his mouth found her neck, his healing, scarring mark. She let her head fall back as her eyes closed, allowing the pleasure to infiltrate her senses. “Yes,” she answered him in an erotic whisper that was completely breathless.
A small mischievous giggle sounded as she leaned away from him, but not too far, his breath still brought goosebumps down her skin. A hand slid up his molten skin, a quirk in her eyes as she met his gaze once again, as her nails bit soft scratches into his silver striped flesh.
“Yes… anyone… He is /much/ older than me. Surely his timeline barely overlaps mine and I am certain that he’s ‘misplaced’ timeframe has not been within 60 or 70 years. Mmhm… but why…” she purred, pushing him down softly, slowly, into his comforter, her lips on his neck, nuzzling and nipping tenderly, drifting lower to his collarbone, “Wonder about something like that… at a time like this…”
Her sensual kissing and nipping was trailing lower, past his chest, and near the top of his abdomen. His presence, against her, fulfilled this aching want and desire to be close to something. Perhaps it was his nature of being within reach of her always that made her shiver with want when he was not. It drove her mad when she was away from him for more than a day. The two days his hands had not touched her skin was more than drive her to the brink. Necromancer had a smell of him, had a comforting nuzzle when she took a nap in his stall, but it was not the same.
What could be the same? She smiled lovingly against his muscled skin, her ministrations continuing. There was nothing similar to /her/ demon. He was unmatchable. Her breath caught as she looked up to his face, her doe-eyed brown optics sparkling with some sort of playful mischief as she flipped her draping ponytail.
“Didn’t you promise me something today,” she stated with a quirk, knowingly breaking her seductive touch, knowingly frustrating him, knowingly being painfully teasing.
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