Hushed Willows [m] i hit a wall

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@Hypnos

She ran and ran, running until she was breathless, gasping out laughs as she collapsed onto a bed of tall spring grass. River felt electric, alive, and she could not remember ever feeling so free. It was a strange sentiment – as she had always lived by her own rules, in her own way – but this time felt different. She felt wild with abandon, like no rules, not even her own applied anymore.

When she had at last caught her breath, she rose and shook out her fur, choosing a headway at random. Mischief in her silver eyes.

Her paws brought her to the border of a willow forest, laden with packscent. River snorted and stepped away from the claim, though squatted to leave her scent nearby for the attention of a potential suitor to lure away.

She languished in the twilight for about an hour on a nearby overlook, watching half-lidded from a distance to see if her trap would be sprung.

The black hole that was Hypnos, with his dizzying ability to suck up all of time and space around him, floated eighteen feet above the earth, suspended as a storm cloud. He watched the goings-on of his home with a godly indifference; or, that's how it felt as he drifted between a hazy sleeplessness and the forced dreaming brought on by a brain that demanded a rest from time to time.

He rolled out across a blackened and starless sky (sprawling and asleep and pawing the grass, dappled by fading sunlight) and as he sucked in a breath that altered the texture of the sky (snored loudly enough to wake himself) there was a flash and a rumble—

The urge to urinate flooded Hypnos as he startled awake, and he was half-standing, then on his feet as twilight silhouetted his stooped figure. The boy didn't have a strong mind-body connection so, a few moments after the sensation snapped him awake he had forgotten about it. He was dopey-eyed and confused, as per usual.

I was doing something. Hypnos murmurs to nobody in particular. He had been standing right? Running? His heart raced. The dream of himself was gone—but there was a scent on the wind like freshly baked apple pie, and drew him in to an exploratory lope with his nose up.

The fishing line became taut.

A dark figure pooled from the darkness, dropped like rainwater from a leaf. She observed him for a moment: the sway of his canter, the focus (or lack thereof) of his gaze, the gloss of his raven fur. He was smaller than she would have normally liked, but this season was less about her progeny and more about getting her rocks off. She did not feel so picky this round.

And the more high risk, the better.

River slithered from her perch, making no secret of herself now. On level ground, she stood tall as her height allowed, tail wafting her invitation, and she looked to him pointedly. Come now… and come again.

The willows hissed at him as he passed, but it was a sound only he could hear, and he ignored the bulk of it. Their tendrils brushed one-another and to his ears this was the laughter, the hissing, the judgement, the call of many whispers; as if the wind spoke to him, sleep boy, sleep.

No, he answered in a silent way, decidedly focused on that warm and inviting taste upon the air. He was smiling but didn't know it; to his eyes the world was a soft place for the time being. Everything is hazy and gaussian, and when Hypnos turns his attention from spot to spot that is the only moment anything becomes sharp to his eye.

The path among the trees, a line of cocoa powder winding, winding; fading underheel and away behind him, blurred like a forgotten chalk outline the morning after rain.

The shape of a woman, and for once its one he has not seen before even in his dreams. She is perfect: butterscotch ripple, caramel drizzled, drawing him closer and closer and closer; and he sees in her face a flourish of interest, and he doesn't care who she is, only that she is here and he is hungry.

There was a fog to his expression at first, a wistful sort of look that one could imagine peered right through them, down deep into the blank spaces that surrounded each soul. But when he focused upon her, River felt that he could see nothing else. The rake of his attention was like passing through silk curtains; like being bathed in moonlight after emerging from the endless dark of a cave.

She became intoxicated. Drunk on the innate sensuality that passed between them like electricity. It was the nearness of his pack, the thought of taking him from his duties, the chance of being caught… that look in his blue, blue, blue eyes. It was exhilarating, and she wanted him instantly—

She danced closer, swaying in caution, eager to feel him, eager to taste, though mindful of his teeth.

When he beheld the figure with all of his focus, he saw his sister first. A pale shape with a ruined face cratered with burns. She smiled to him and the smile grew and grew, splitting one side of her face in the manner of a blooming flower—monstrous.

He was not afraid.

The sweet smells lured him. He found comfort in knowing he was with family, and followed the woman as she danced and tempted him further.

This was not the first time Hypnos had known a woman—but like the previous, he was not cognizant of the event. This was a dream; he danced with his mother as he was a child wanting only to play; he danced with his sister as they ran from the all-consuming fire that blackened their world; he grappled hungrily for the body before him, surprised by the solidity of it.

What pleasure was found between them was something ephemeral.

thank you!! <3 i am shamelessly hoping these blackfeather genes win the lottery LOL and i'll tag you when i set up paternity rolls!

When they at last parted, River gasped softly like a fish too long out of water. If she were capable of sweating, she’d be drenched. Not because the act had been particularly strenuous, but because the sheer euphoria of her time with the dream-lost man had been just that intense.

She caught her breath and stretched, treasuring every exquisite tremble of her muscles, even as she prepared to quickly depart in her unwillingness to linger, lest they actually be caught. She gave a last lengthy appraisal of the wolf with the faraway gaze to memorialize him before spiriting away into the woods with nary a syllable of a farewell.