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black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Coelacanth - April 21, 2018
Backdated to April 16, 2018.
Coelacanth is in the first phase of her heat and is NOT considered fertile. “During proestrus, the start of the estrous cycle, the bitch attracts male dogs, but is still not receptive to breeding.” This phase will last through April 20, 2018.
TRAVEL LOG
April 13, 2018: Sea Lion Shores
April 14, 2018: Horizon Ridge
April 15, 2018: Raven’s Watch
Coelacanth is in the first phase of her heat and is NOT considered fertile. “During proestrus, the start of the estrous cycle, the bitch attracts male dogs, but is still not receptive to breeding.” This phase will last through April 20, 2018.
TRAVEL LOG
April 13, 2018: Sea Lion Shores
April 14, 2018: Horizon Ridge
April 15, 2018: Raven’s Watch
Unfortunately for the messengers who had just crossed the drawbridge to her island citadel, the atramentous Groenendael was off island and well on her way to beating them home. A strange, feverish restlessness had weaseled its way into her bloodstream — and at first, she’d thought it was just a case of itchy paws, kind of a Corten tradition; but over time she’d come to fear that it was premonition instead. What if something had happened to Catori or Grayday? What if the last time she’d danced with Aditya was the last time she’d ever dance with him? She had struck out for the mainland within an hour of her altercation with the Earthstalker, but she’d planned to return home after a quick jaunt to blow off steam and sort out her feelings. It was dread that kept her from turning back and crossing the sandbar even now — dread and guilt and a dirty sort of self-consciousness. She did not want to see Komodo again — not until she was steadier on her paws.
She’d spent her first night alone beside an uneven clamor of mountain stone and salt-crusted, porous rock, in a sprawling grove of towering trees. Then she’d swept inland, clinging to the mountains’ skirts, being careful to avoid the prickly Grimnismal wolves Catori had warned her about. Fortunately, her caution in skirting the borders had prevented what might have become an uncomfortable interaction in her current state — being reunited with the ragged ghost she loved so dearly. Nathimmel, he’d called her, and she was vulnerable to the hollow ache within him and the dominion he held. The second night, she’d napped fitfully, blissfully streamside but accosted by the clacking rattle of ravens. She woke before the dawn, trotting doggedly east on aching legs.
It was noon by the time Coelacanth stopped again, fretting about the position of the sun and the odd sensation that time was running out. She sheltered beneath the boughs of a tree the likes of which she’d never seen before — “shh, shh,” its pale, winter-weary tendrils seemed to whisper, enveloping her wholly in its shadow. She twined herself around the serpentine trunk, gamine framework slipping slowly through the lianas like a haphazard course of weave poles, and melted into a bed of feathery leaflitter. She could still smell the sea here, but it was faint and fading. It was too early to stop — businesslike, she reasoned that there were still so many miles to conquer! — but she couldn’t deny the strain in her waiflike musculature, and she was no stranger to the dark.
Curling herself into a tight knot of aphotic silk, Seelie slept.
She’d spent her first night alone beside an uneven clamor of mountain stone and salt-crusted, porous rock, in a sprawling grove of towering trees. Then she’d swept inland, clinging to the mountains’ skirts, being careful to avoid the prickly Grimnismal wolves Catori had warned her about. Fortunately, her caution in skirting the borders had prevented what might have become an uncomfortable interaction in her current state — being reunited with the ragged ghost she loved so dearly. Nathimmel, he’d called her, and she was vulnerable to the hollow ache within him and the dominion he held. The second night, she’d napped fitfully, blissfully streamside but accosted by the clacking rattle of ravens. She woke before the dawn, trotting doggedly east on aching legs.
It was noon by the time Coelacanth stopped again, fretting about the position of the sun and the odd sensation that time was running out. She sheltered beneath the boughs of a tree the likes of which she’d never seen before — “shh, shh,” its pale, winter-weary tendrils seemed to whisper, enveloping her wholly in its shadow. She twined herself around the serpentine trunk, gamine framework slipping slowly through the lianas like a haphazard course of weave poles, and melted into a bed of feathery leaflitter. She could still smell the sea here, but it was faint and fading. It was too early to stop — businesslike, she reasoned that there were still so many miles to conquer! — but she couldn’t deny the strain in her waiflike musculature, and she was no stranger to the dark.
Curling herself into a tight knot of aphotic silk, Seelie slept.
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Aditya - April 21, 2018
![[Image: tenor.gif?itemid=5755944]](https://media1.tenor.com/images/6262d464bf504e18af862311825d2276/tenor.gif?itemid=5755944)
life wasn't so bad, these days. he'd made trips to visit their neighboring packs, he kept the caches full, and he wiled away his time telling stories and singing songs for anyone who would listen. all in all, it was much like his life on the coast--free, aimless, fun.
still, adi felt something missing, and he didn't know what. he had everything anyone could want, and yet. . .he still wanted. having spent the night on the plains, for once, the next morning he meandered westward, toward the base of the mountains. a small trip would do wonders to clear his head, and maybe in the quiet of solitude, he could tackle whatever was nibbling at him.
he entered a patch of woods they'd passed through on their first journey to dawnlark plains, skirting the edges of a swamp. it was peaceful here, the hanging boughs low, occasionally brushing his cheek like a lover's caress. with a smile, he weaved through the trunks, barely making a sound on the soft earth.
suddenly, movement--a squirrel darted out in front of him and stopped, beady eyes wide with alarm. chuckling in a cheeky fashion, aditya wagged his tail, and sprang after the thing. he did hope it wasn't grayday's pet--but tallulah had vanished moons ago, anyway--but otherwise didn't care, figuring he could go for a snack to sate his appetite before he returned to morningside's territory.
he gave it a merry chase, sailing through the forest, and was hot on its fuzzy tail before he stumbled over what he initially thought was a sleek, smooth boulder, tumbling head over heels into the brush.
"kya hai--" he exclaimed, wheeling around and spitting out dirt and leaves from his mouth, only to have the words die in his throat as he saw coelacanth, who was--who had been, anyway--sleeping peacefully beneath a tree. "oh god, seelie!" he gasped, face horrified. he kept a short distance away, gaping at her and wondering at his foolishness. "god, i'm sorry, i didn't even see you--"
and then he caught her scent, and wanted to die.
still, adi felt something missing, and he didn't know what. he had everything anyone could want, and yet. . .he still wanted. having spent the night on the plains, for once, the next morning he meandered westward, toward the base of the mountains. a small trip would do wonders to clear his head, and maybe in the quiet of solitude, he could tackle whatever was nibbling at him.
he entered a patch of woods they'd passed through on their first journey to dawnlark plains, skirting the edges of a swamp. it was peaceful here, the hanging boughs low, occasionally brushing his cheek like a lover's caress. with a smile, he weaved through the trunks, barely making a sound on the soft earth.
suddenly, movement--a squirrel darted out in front of him and stopped, beady eyes wide with alarm. chuckling in a cheeky fashion, aditya wagged his tail, and sprang after the thing. he did hope it wasn't grayday's pet--but tallulah had vanished moons ago, anyway--but otherwise didn't care, figuring he could go for a snack to sate his appetite before he returned to morningside's territory.
he gave it a merry chase, sailing through the forest, and was hot on its fuzzy tail before he stumbled over what he initially thought was a sleek, smooth boulder, tumbling head over heels into the brush.
"kya hai--" he exclaimed, wheeling around and spitting out dirt and leaves from his mouth, only to have the words die in his throat as he saw coelacanth, who was--who had been, anyway--sleeping peacefully beneath a tree. "oh god, seelie!" he gasped, face horrified. he kept a short distance away, gaping at her and wondering at his foolishness. "god, i'm sorry, i didn't even see you--"
and then he caught her scent, and wanted to die.
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Coelacanth - April 21, 2018
The atramentous sheepdog was sleeping so deeply that she did not respond in the slightest to the distant storm. The tender hollow of her flank rose and fell with the rhythmic whispering of the willows — a rare silverspot butterfly alighted upon one tufted ear — the soft pitter-patter of a squirrel paused briefly as it sailed up and over her tightly coiled framework, then continued on.
Wham!
The death knell of Aditya’s pride and Seelie’s REM sleep was probably more along the lines of thwup-whup-whup! She flipped over once or twice before coming to a stop in a huddled little heap — she’d “yelped” involuntarily upon impact, but it was lost in the frantic shuffle of her paws as she regained her footing. Tufted ears slicked back against her skull, swanlike neck curving low, presenting a distrustful mien — the bridge of her finely tapered muzzle wrinkled in a warning snarl, velveteen flews lifted just enough to reveal the very tips of her upper canines. For a moment, rocked by the feverish restlessness in her blood and the knowledge that she was here alone, she did not recognize her friend. He wheeled around, and she held her ground until at last he spoke.
“Adi,” she breathed, her expression softening and her carriage buckling as guilt assailed her. Feathered tail swept between her thighs, its tip beating nervously against her hocks as she ghosted forward to make amends — and then she remembered how worried she was about Catori and how upset Stockholm and Moorhen were going to be when they noticed she was missing.
“Catori,” she whined, lips trembling as she eagerly closed the distance between herself and the handsome golden-eyed male. “Safe?” Her voice, what little there was of it, died away in her throat as she noticed and fixated upon the white fur at his cheek where she had once placed a sooty pawprint. Delicately she outstretched her quivering muzzle, breathing deeply of his scent, and if he did not move away the tip of her coal-black nose would make soft, tentative contact.
Wham!
The death knell of Aditya’s pride and Seelie’s REM sleep was probably more along the lines of thwup-whup-whup! She flipped over once or twice before coming to a stop in a huddled little heap — she’d “yelped” involuntarily upon impact, but it was lost in the frantic shuffle of her paws as she regained her footing. Tufted ears slicked back against her skull, swanlike neck curving low, presenting a distrustful mien — the bridge of her finely tapered muzzle wrinkled in a warning snarl, velveteen flews lifted just enough to reveal the very tips of her upper canines. For a moment, rocked by the feverish restlessness in her blood and the knowledge that she was here alone, she did not recognize her friend. He wheeled around, and she held her ground until at last he spoke.
“Adi,” she breathed, her expression softening and her carriage buckling as guilt assailed her. Feathered tail swept between her thighs, its tip beating nervously against her hocks as she ghosted forward to make amends — and then she remembered how worried she was about Catori and how upset Stockholm and Moorhen were going to be when they noticed she was missing.
“Catori,” she whined, lips trembling as she eagerly closed the distance between herself and the handsome golden-eyed male. “Safe?” Her voice, what little there was of it, died away in her throat as she noticed and fixated upon the white fur at his cheek where she had once placed a sooty pawprint. Delicately she outstretched her quivering muzzle, breathing deeply of his scent, and if he did not move away the tip of her coal-black nose would make soft, tentative contact.
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Aditya - April 22, 2018
she awoke in a whirl of ebony, flashing her teeth at him--he supposed he deserved it, after all. but it only took a moment for her to recognize aditya, then she settled down, coming toward him with an expectant look in her eyes.
"i'm sorry," he whispered again, left breathless by her sudden appearance.
she was cloaked in the sweet scent of a woman's heat. he'd caught the smell on the plains, assuming pema had reached her first estrus. this must be coelacanth's as well. as if she weren't irresistible enough! with some effort, he strained to focus on the words slipping from her lips and nothing else.
catori? safe? to this, aditya smiled, accepting her touch with only the tiniest of shivers. "yes," he murmured, face suffused with happiness. "she and the pups. three of them." he felt guilty, almost, as if he wasn't qualified to give this news. after all, he was only a brother-in-law to the new babes. but it wouldn't do, to keep coelacanth in suspense.
he tilted his head suddenly, giving her a curious gaze. "why have you left the isle? to visit catori?" he hoped nothing was the matter. she seemed all right--more than all right, aditya thought wryly--but there could be something hidden behind her eyes he wasn't catching.
"i'm sorry," he whispered again, left breathless by her sudden appearance.
she was cloaked in the sweet scent of a woman's heat. he'd caught the smell on the plains, assuming pema had reached her first estrus. this must be coelacanth's as well. as if she weren't irresistible enough! with some effort, he strained to focus on the words slipping from her lips and nothing else.
catori? safe? to this, aditya smiled, accepting her touch with only the tiniest of shivers. "yes," he murmured, face suffused with happiness. "she and the pups. three of them." he felt guilty, almost, as if he wasn't qualified to give this news. after all, he was only a brother-in-law to the new babes. but it wouldn't do, to keep coelacanth in suspense.
he tilted his head suddenly, giving her a curious gaze. "why have you left the isle? to visit catori?" he hoped nothing was the matter. she seemed all right--more than all right, aditya thought wryly--but there could be something hidden behind her eyes he wasn't catching.
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Coelacanth - April 22, 2018
Three puppies! Three puppies — and Catori was safe!
Coelacanth had predicted a litter of two — a tidy pair of souls tied together with an indelible ampersand, like so: Catori&Chelan, Amoxtli&Coelacanth, blended together and spilled in the same breath — but the number three had an equally special place in her heart. Three was Szymon and Doe’s number: Julep, Isengrim, and Qilaq…and when Qilaq grew, Julep, Isengrim, and Moorhen.
“Why have you left the isle? To visit Catori?”
There it was again, that ugly, skin-prickling feeling of revulsion.
Seelie focused on the less embarrassing reason for her ill-planned exodus from Wheeling Gull Isle, puzzling out how to explain it with an inquisitive tilt of her own head. “Um,” she said, deliberately using Moorhen’s thinking-word. It didn’t fall naturally from her lips, but it probably would in time. For now, she used it as a stalling device. “Feel…” she breathed, searching for the words that might encompass the prickling of the summer sun when it was at its highest and hottest, dancing needles over her spine — or the feeling of restless wanderlust that was her heritage, turned up to a pitch she couldn’t seem to ignore. Her brow knitted as her lips shaped indecipherable whispers — she was looking for words, but they didn’t come. The thing was, this wasn’t a bad feeling, necessarily. Just…a tickly, feverish, jittery one. A longing for something nameless.
I want…I need…
“Feel…range,” she whispered at last, working on the second word. “Srrrange. Odd.”
Oh! “No sick!” she interjected before he could speak, hoping that she was telling the truth and that she wouldn’t jeopardize her chance of seeing the newest generation of Cortens. Her tufted ears drooped in the next millisecond, though. Maybe she was sick. She’d certainly never experienced anything like this before. Whining plaintively, she turned luminous cerulean eyes up at the bourbon-and-whiskey male — my, he was handsome! — and piped up feebly. “Worry, Catori.”
Handsome…and sturdy. Coelacanth made to touch her nose to the corner of his jaw.
Coelacanth had predicted a litter of two — a tidy pair of souls tied together with an indelible ampersand, like so: Catori&Chelan, Amoxtli&Coelacanth, blended together and spilled in the same breath — but the number three had an equally special place in her heart. Three was Szymon and Doe’s number: Julep, Isengrim, and Qilaq…and when Qilaq grew, Julep, Isengrim, and Moorhen.
“Why have you left the isle? To visit Catori?”
There it was again, that ugly, skin-prickling feeling of revulsion.
Seelie focused on the less embarrassing reason for her ill-planned exodus from Wheeling Gull Isle, puzzling out how to explain it with an inquisitive tilt of her own head. “Um,” she said, deliberately using Moorhen’s thinking-word. It didn’t fall naturally from her lips, but it probably would in time. For now, she used it as a stalling device. “Feel…” she breathed, searching for the words that might encompass the prickling of the summer sun when it was at its highest and hottest, dancing needles over her spine — or the feeling of restless wanderlust that was her heritage, turned up to a pitch she couldn’t seem to ignore. Her brow knitted as her lips shaped indecipherable whispers — she was looking for words, but they didn’t come. The thing was, this wasn’t a bad feeling, necessarily. Just…a tickly, feverish, jittery one. A longing for something nameless.
I want…I need…
“Feel…range,” she whispered at last, working on the second word. “Srrrange. Odd.”
Oh! “No sick!” she interjected before he could speak, hoping that she was telling the truth and that she wouldn’t jeopardize her chance of seeing the newest generation of Cortens. Her tufted ears drooped in the next millisecond, though. Maybe she was sick. She’d certainly never experienced anything like this before. Whining plaintively, she turned luminous cerulean eyes up at the bourbon-and-whiskey male — my, he was handsome! — and piped up feebly. “Worry, Catori.”
Handsome…and sturdy. Coelacanth made to touch her nose to the corner of his jaw.
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Aditya - April 23, 2018
his face was set in a muted smile as she struggled to grasp for the words, giving a small laugh as she assured him she wasn't sick. he closed his eyes as she touched him once more, the smallest of sighs escaping him. "no, chikni raat, you're not sick, i know," adi breathed, lowering his gaze down onto her. she was beautiful, so small and elegant. a dancing shadow. . . "don't worry. we'll go see catori."
but why was she alone? "where's. . ." his voice trailed off as adi grappled with the name of the burly wolf he'd seen her with at the hunter's moon. surely that was her mate, or something or the sort? stockton? stocker? ". . .stock?" he guessed lamely, looking at seelie to see if he was correct.
or anybody else, really. any of the undersea wolves could have--should have--accompanied her out here. why was she alone? he knew she wasn't defenseless, but there were wolves out here worse than anything that lived on the island. . .and she was alone.
"i can take you to morningside, if you'd like," adi offered, swishing his tail behind him. "it's not very far away at all."
but why was she alone? "where's. . ." his voice trailed off as adi grappled with the name of the burly wolf he'd seen her with at the hunter's moon. surely that was her mate, or something or the sort? stockton? stocker? ". . .stock?" he guessed lamely, looking at seelie to see if he was correct.
or anybody else, really. any of the undersea wolves could have--should have--accompanied her out here. why was she alone? he knew she wasn't defenseless, but there were wolves out here worse than anything that lived on the island. . .and she was alone.
"i can take you to morningside, if you'd like," adi offered, swishing his tail behind him. "it's not very far away at all."
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Coelacanth - April 27, 2018
Watchfully, “Stockholm,” Coelacanth breathed, measuring out each syllable with infinite care. The brief stiffening of her mouth was residual defensiveness from her brief altercation with the Earthstalker and not necessarily deserved by poor Aditya, but she wanted the golden-eyed male to know her mate’s name by heart, just as she knew the names of those dearest to him.
A thrill danced down her spine at the mix of fire and earth that Aditya embodied; he was all steely muscles and soft heartstrings, fierce fangs and kind eyes. The line of his jaw was strength incarnate, but he curled his tongue so gently to cradle his alluring, uniquely multilingual cant. She ought to have answered his question or at least thanked him for his compassion, but she found herself distracted. “You know?” she whispered, nibbling at his cheek fur and then sitting back to place her paw against it. No soot this time, but the memory pleased her regardless.
“Adi,” she sighed, her breath winnowing through the fur at the base of his ear as she drew away and returned to him, curling her body around one of the willow’s long tendrils and nosing the underside of his chin. She felt so strange! She wanted to be close to him, but not too close — she wanted to see Catori, but she wanted to stay here — she wanted, she didn’t want, she fretted, she refused to be soothed. I mean, was he sure she wasn’t sick? She kind of felt like she was.
A thrill danced down her spine at the mix of fire and earth that Aditya embodied; he was all steely muscles and soft heartstrings, fierce fangs and kind eyes. The line of his jaw was strength incarnate, but he curled his tongue so gently to cradle his alluring, uniquely multilingual cant. She ought to have answered his question or at least thanked him for his compassion, but she found herself distracted. “You know?” she whispered, nibbling at his cheek fur and then sitting back to place her paw against it. No soot this time, but the memory pleased her regardless.
“Adi,” she sighed, her breath winnowing through the fur at the base of his ear as she drew away and returned to him, curling her body around one of the willow’s long tendrils and nosing the underside of his chin. She felt so strange! She wanted to be close to him, but not too close — she wanted to see Catori, but she wanted to stay here — she wanted, she didn’t want, she fretted, she refused to be soothed. I mean, was he sure she wasn’t sick? She kind of felt like she was.
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Aditya - April 27, 2018
he didn't miss the tightening of her expression, and he ducked his head, slightly abashed. "stockholm," he repeated, his tongue percussive on each syllable. chutiya, he thought savagely, and hoped it didn't show on his face. guilt prickled at him; the man didn't deserve his ire, had done nothing to him save have what he wanted. yet it was so delicious to bathe in the heat of jealousy, to give way into greed.
"i know," adi whispered, closing his eyes again at her caresses. stop. touching. me. he would surely die. he couldn't give in, embrace her as he had on the isle, for he feared if he did so now, he'd never stop loving her. they'd have to kill him, rip his body from hers.
there was fire in his blood, blazing up as she said his name, and a groan bubbled at the base of his throat, escaping his lips as a sigh. shaking his head, he slipped away from her, keeping a tail's length between them. he watched her, golden eyes luminous in the muted light of the willows. gaze raking over every inch of her, memorizing the details, as though she'd vanish the next instant.
"tumko paya hai to jaisa khoya hoon," he sang softly, under his breath, intending--or not?--for her to catch the barest murmur of it. "kehna chahoon bhi to tumse kya kahoon." like on the isle, he knew she wouldn't know the words, didn't know the tongue--but she knew his heart; would she take the meaning? he half-hoped she did.
"tumko paya hai to jaisa khoya hoon," adi repeated, feeling like his heart was lodged in his throat. then, ears canted forward, he said, voice choked, barely audible, "come. i will take you to morningside."
"i know," adi whispered, closing his eyes again at her caresses. stop. touching. me. he would surely die. he couldn't give in, embrace her as he had on the isle, for he feared if he did so now, he'd never stop loving her. they'd have to kill him, rip his body from hers.
there was fire in his blood, blazing up as she said his name, and a groan bubbled at the base of his throat, escaping his lips as a sigh. shaking his head, he slipped away from her, keeping a tail's length between them. he watched her, golden eyes luminous in the muted light of the willows. gaze raking over every inch of her, memorizing the details, as though she'd vanish the next instant.
"tumko paya hai to jaisa khoya hoon," he sang softly, under his breath, intending--or not?--for her to catch the barest murmur of it. "kehna chahoon bhi to tumse kya kahoon." like on the isle, he knew she wouldn't know the words, didn't know the tongue--but she knew his heart; would she take the meaning? he half-hoped she did.
"tumko paya hai to jaisa khoya hoon," adi repeated, feeling like his heart was lodged in his throat. then, ears canted forward, he said, voice choked, barely audible, "come. i will take you to morningside."
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Coelacanth - April 27, 2018
She trusted him infinitely. If he said she wasn’t sick, then she’d believe him and accept it without question or demur — that is, until the next riptide of doubt assailed her and brought her to her knees. The curt flick of Aditya’s tongue as it clasped the syllables of her mate’s name went seemingly undetected, or at the very least, unmentioned; and she relished a catlike contentment in the way he watched her move, different from all the times she “spoke” and certainly different from the two times he’d watched her dance. This sleek sort of satisfaction sank deep into the marrow of her bones and warmed her — no, spiced her — like a sting of cinnamon on the tongue.
In many ways, her altercation with Komodo had taught her more than his kindness ever had, but Seelie was still young enough to be foolish and naïve. Whatever obstacle Aditya faced, surely it was surmountable! She loved him, and he loved her back — what could be wrong about that? She assumed that Komodo had reacted so vehemently because Komodo did not have a mate to call his own; but Aditya had a mate, which meant that he could love her and cuddle her and still be just as happy with Dawn. In Coelacanth’s mind, mateship was only the tether that connected two beings; love, on the other hand, was a free commodity that never ran out and only grew warmer, wider.
The golden-eyed male began to sing then, and if Seelie had been less homed in on him maybe she would’ve missed it — but she was keenly attuned to his every breath in this moment, and she heard every word. She didn’t understand a single one, but she began to dance in time to the breathlike croon anyway, her movements sinuous, possessing a fledgling sensuality just barely beginning to awaken. The atramentous Groenendael was a virgin in every since of the word, a blessed innocent, and she defied the male with a mischievous air. “No,” she breathed, but it came out as a soft plea. “More? Tumko…” she parroted, letting the round vowel trail off appealingly.
In many ways, her altercation with Komodo had taught her more than his kindness ever had, but Seelie was still young enough to be foolish and naïve. Whatever obstacle Aditya faced, surely it was surmountable! She loved him, and he loved her back — what could be wrong about that? She assumed that Komodo had reacted so vehemently because Komodo did not have a mate to call his own; but Aditya had a mate, which meant that he could love her and cuddle her and still be just as happy with Dawn. In Coelacanth’s mind, mateship was only the tether that connected two beings; love, on the other hand, was a free commodity that never ran out and only grew warmer, wider.
The golden-eyed male began to sing then, and if Seelie had been less homed in on him maybe she would’ve missed it — but she was keenly attuned to his every breath in this moment, and she heard every word. She didn’t understand a single one, but she began to dance in time to the breathlike croon anyway, her movements sinuous, possessing a fledgling sensuality just barely beginning to awaken. The atramentous Groenendael was a virgin in every since of the word, a blessed innocent, and she defied the male with a mischievous air. “No,” she breathed, but it came out as a soft plea. “More? Tumko…” she parroted, letting the round vowel trail off appealingly.
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Aditya - May 04, 2018
aditya rolled his head back as she danced, unable to look at her. her plea floated toward him, sweet and sultry on the air, and he let out a breathy moan, eyes clenched shut. her scent was overpowering--so warm--he must--seize it, and--
"no," adi said firmly, eyes snapping open to bore into hers. he shook his head. "no," he repeated, his lips very carefully enunciating the word, as if it were some sort of sacred mantra. well, and it was--no no no no no no no echoed through his mind, seemingly the only thing stopping him from rising up--and--taking--
"this song is not for you," he said, then shook his head once more, regretting his words instantly. "i mean, it shouldn't be for you. it can't be for you." and perhaps she would understand, and perhaps not. how was he to know her definition of love? where the lines between friendship and romance blended, for her? she'd never reacted poorly to any of his advances, and yet. . .
and yet, the collared pale beast at the hunter's moon had gazed upon her like she was his own, and she had given him the same looks. they belonged to each other. and he remembered the way dawn had reacted, so unsure, and he would die for such surety----
"i love you, coelacanth," aditya said suddenly. his words rang in the clearing, heavy with finality. he hung his head--it was done. "i love you." and awaited her response.
"no," adi said firmly, eyes snapping open to bore into hers. he shook his head. "no," he repeated, his lips very carefully enunciating the word, as if it were some sort of sacred mantra. well, and it was--no no no no no no no echoed through his mind, seemingly the only thing stopping him from rising up--and--taking--
"this song is not for you," he said, then shook his head once more, regretting his words instantly. "i mean, it shouldn't be for you. it can't be for you." and perhaps she would understand, and perhaps not. how was he to know her definition of love? where the lines between friendship and romance blended, for her? she'd never reacted poorly to any of his advances, and yet. . .
and yet, the collared pale beast at the hunter's moon had gazed upon her like she was his own, and she had given him the same looks. they belonged to each other. and he remembered the way dawn had reacted, so unsure, and he would die for such surety----
"i love you, coelacanth," aditya said suddenly. his words rang in the clearing, heavy with finality. he hung his head--it was done. "i love you." and awaited her response.
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Coelacanth - May 05, 2018
The echo of his song still winnowed through the willows; they seemed to sway and undulate in time to the melody that was still fresh and repeatable in the little mimic’s ears. Sea salt tangled with the ambrosial cologne that was quite simply Aditya — his masculinity was a powerful lure in and of itself, but it was his inimitable signature of spice and heat that drew her so mightily.
Oh, he was so strong and kind — oh, he was so brave and loyal and true!
Coelacanth quailed instantaneously, plummeting to the earth in a controlled crouch. Her Neptune eyes were wide and sought to meet his golden ones directly, slivers of whalebone communicating her unease. This all felt so painfully familiar! She was ready to be defensive this time, feathery hackles flickering to life along her spine and across her shoulders and hips; and when he repeated himself with painstaking slowness, her tufted ears folded pitiably against the hangdog arch of her swanlike neck. When he began to speak again, she began to move, setting distance between them with delicate, precise steps. She traced a wide semicircle, keeping her hindquarters as far away from him as possible, and licked her lips nervously. The bitter tang of her own fear bit through the amorous undernotes of her season, and she began to tremble in fits and starts.
There was something of the feral state she’d dragged herself out of in the furtive cant of her fox-fine muzzle, the panicky way her ears swiveled and flicked like two vigilant little periscopes. “I yield!” cried out the submissive coil of her already petite musculature. He didn’t have to sing the song again — he didn’t have to lead her to Morningside — he didn’t have to do anything!
Perhaps Komodo’s lesson, uncouth as it had been, was meant to prepare her for this inevitable tangle. As long as Aditya didn’t whip around and curse at her and accuse her of crimes she was utterly incapable of committing willfully, she would be okay. They would be okay. Wouldn’t they? She wanted to ask the Morningsider, “Why?” Why had he sung the song, if it was not meant for her — should not be meant for her — could not be meant for her? She opened her mouth to speak at last —
“I love you, Coelacanth. I love you.”
All over again, she was filled with fear and anguish and a fierce anger she did not fully understand. “Adi. Aditya,” she whispered, the warmth stripped from her voice, the syllables strung on a barbed wire of hurt that dripped acid from her tongue. She maintained her sheepdog-sharp stare, tufted ears pressing intently forward upon her velveteen crown. “I love you. Peace, always.” If this was to be their goodbye, she would give him the chance to keep it peaceable. “I choose Stockholm; Stockholm choose me. You choose Dawn; Dawn choose you.” She spoke in the present tense because love was a conscious act, an everyday mantra. “Peace be.”
She meant to leave it there, to keep her recent trauma under thick and hardy wraps, but she could not help a single, tremulous plea: “Please — I am sorry — please — ” she choked.
Oh, he was so strong and kind — oh, he was so brave and loyal and true!
“No.”
Coelacanth quailed instantaneously, plummeting to the earth in a controlled crouch. Her Neptune eyes were wide and sought to meet his golden ones directly, slivers of whalebone communicating her unease. This all felt so painfully familiar! She was ready to be defensive this time, feathery hackles flickering to life along her spine and across her shoulders and hips; and when he repeated himself with painstaking slowness, her tufted ears folded pitiably against the hangdog arch of her swanlike neck. When he began to speak again, she began to move, setting distance between them with delicate, precise steps. She traced a wide semicircle, keeping her hindquarters as far away from him as possible, and licked her lips nervously. The bitter tang of her own fear bit through the amorous undernotes of her season, and she began to tremble in fits and starts.
There was something of the feral state she’d dragged herself out of in the furtive cant of her fox-fine muzzle, the panicky way her ears swiveled and flicked like two vigilant little periscopes. “I yield!” cried out the submissive coil of her already petite musculature. He didn’t have to sing the song again — he didn’t have to lead her to Morningside — he didn’t have to do anything!
Perhaps Komodo’s lesson, uncouth as it had been, was meant to prepare her for this inevitable tangle. As long as Aditya didn’t whip around and curse at her and accuse her of crimes she was utterly incapable of committing willfully, she would be okay. They would be okay. Wouldn’t they? She wanted to ask the Morningsider, “Why?” Why had he sung the song, if it was not meant for her — should not be meant for her — could not be meant for her? She opened her mouth to speak at last —
“I love you, Coelacanth. I love you.”
All over again, she was filled with fear and anguish and a fierce anger she did not fully understand. “Adi. Aditya,” she whispered, the warmth stripped from her voice, the syllables strung on a barbed wire of hurt that dripped acid from her tongue. She maintained her sheepdog-sharp stare, tufted ears pressing intently forward upon her velveteen crown. “I love you. Peace, always.” If this was to be their goodbye, she would give him the chance to keep it peaceable. “I choose Stockholm; Stockholm choose me. You choose Dawn; Dawn choose you.” She spoke in the present tense because love was a conscious act, an everyday mantra. “Peace be.”
She meant to leave it there, to keep her recent trauma under thick and hardy wraps, but she could not help a single, tremulous plea: “Please — I am sorry — please — ” she choked.
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Aditya - May 07, 2018
she opened her mouth to speak, and he knew from the icy way the words left her mouth that his declaration was not welcome. he should have known, all along. i love you, she said. . .but it was a different kind of love, he knew. i choose stockholm. you choose dawn. and there was nothing he could refute there. they each had made their choices; she had, perhaps, made hers long before he'd washed up on shore.
aditya shook his head at her plea, throat so tight he could barely swallow. "no," he managed to squeeze out, his voice hoarse. "don't be sorry, please don't be sorry." anguish crested over him like a wave, and he found it suddenly incredibly hard to breathe, wanting nothing more but to retreat into the shadows, to grieve this small loss.
to assume is one thing; to know is quite another. with the question left unanswered, aditya had carried hope. hope, that perhaps one day, she'd find it in her to love him, above all others. that she could be his, and he could be hers. overriding that, most days, was the assumption that such a scenario would never happen--but there, still, was hope. but with the unspoken question, the declaration of love, and the answer that followed, the sweetness of hope was gone, replaced by bitter finality.
sadness, anger, envy, regret. . .all of it, in a thunderous mix, assailed his senses. his eyes were turbulent as he stared at her, then, after a few beats of silence, he jerked his chin abruptly in the direction of dawnlark plains.
"morningside," aditya said, clipped and succinct. "i will take you there." without another word, he padded away, his belly aching with each and every sobbing breath he stifled. he'd look back once, to make sure she was following, but otherwise wouldn't meet her eyes until they'd reached the plains--and maybe not even then.
the hell of it all was that he still loved her--and didn't know how to stop.
aditya shook his head at her plea, throat so tight he could barely swallow. "no," he managed to squeeze out, his voice hoarse. "don't be sorry, please don't be sorry." anguish crested over him like a wave, and he found it suddenly incredibly hard to breathe, wanting nothing more but to retreat into the shadows, to grieve this small loss.
to assume is one thing; to know is quite another. with the question left unanswered, aditya had carried hope. hope, that perhaps one day, she'd find it in her to love him, above all others. that she could be his, and he could be hers. overriding that, most days, was the assumption that such a scenario would never happen--but there, still, was hope. but with the unspoken question, the declaration of love, and the answer that followed, the sweetness of hope was gone, replaced by bitter finality.
sadness, anger, envy, regret. . .all of it, in a thunderous mix, assailed his senses. his eyes were turbulent as he stared at her, then, after a few beats of silence, he jerked his chin abruptly in the direction of dawnlark plains.
"morningside," aditya said, clipped and succinct. "i will take you there." without another word, he padded away, his belly aching with each and every sobbing breath he stifled. he'd look back once, to make sure she was following, but otherwise wouldn't meet her eyes until they'd reached the plains--and maybe not even then.
the hell of it all was that he still loved her--and didn't know how to stop.
RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - Coelacanth - May 07, 2018
She remembered wondering, “What if the last time we danced is the last time we will ever dance?” — and now her fear was coming true in real time, and she crumpled beneath its weight.
Aditya did not hurt Coelacanth or frighten her as Komodo had, but now she fiercely wished he would. Oh, she would do anything to spare him the pain she saw in his eyes! — but she was the reason the pain was there at all, and she knew it. Swallowing hard, her cerulean eyes misting with unshed anguish, she shrank into herself and wadded up her tiny musculature in an insignificant knot of self-loathing. She loved his eyes, those limpid pools of burnished sungold, touched with a ruddier fire that made them uniquely beautiful — but found herself too cowardly and unworthy to hold his stare. Prematurely she broke away from the blistering eye contact, line of sight blurring with tears as she focused on the grass at her paws. The inkdark empath felt her own heart so keenly! — yet just as she had during the altercation with Komodo, she involuntarily opened herself to Aditya.
It was a tidal wave of broken hopes and bitter loss, a cacophony of grief that drummed in coursing aftershocks through her quaking body, and in its wake there was no music. No laughter. No chikni raat. For a long moment after Aditya spoke, his voice distant and clipped, Seelie didn’t move. Then, because she wanted to obey him if she could not love him the way he needed her to, she stole after him in a hangdog slink so downtrodden, her nose knocked against the rims of his pawprints.
Aditya did not hurt Coelacanth or frighten her as Komodo had, but now she fiercely wished he would. Oh, she would do anything to spare him the pain she saw in his eyes! — but she was the reason the pain was there at all, and she knew it. Swallowing hard, her cerulean eyes misting with unshed anguish, she shrank into herself and wadded up her tiny musculature in an insignificant knot of self-loathing. She loved his eyes, those limpid pools of burnished sungold, touched with a ruddier fire that made them uniquely beautiful — but found herself too cowardly and unworthy to hold his stare. Prematurely she broke away from the blistering eye contact, line of sight blurring with tears as she focused on the grass at her paws. The inkdark empath felt her own heart so keenly! — yet just as she had during the altercation with Komodo, she involuntarily opened herself to Aditya.
It was a tidal wave of broken hopes and bitter loss, a cacophony of grief that drummed in coursing aftershocks through her quaking body, and in its wake there was no music. No laughter. No chikni raat. For a long moment after Aditya spoke, his voice distant and clipped, Seelie didn’t move. Then, because she wanted to obey him if she could not love him the way he needed her to, she stole after him in a hangdog slink so downtrodden, her nose knocked against the rims of his pawprints.