✹☾❂
The willows, for all intents and purposes, was a beautiful place. It was all billowing, pale branches and soft, sweet grasses; all perfumed zephyrs that tickled the fur and dappled, easy sunlight that was easy on the eyes. Eleuthera had loved playing with the willow’s tendrils as a child, and she loved to play with them today — but it was different. Nowadays her ‘play' was simply walking amongst them and or taking naps beneath their shade, but she enjoyed them all the same (and only cursed at them from time to time if the branches became stuck in her fur or blocked her eyesight).
Neither of those things were happening at this moment, thank god.
She hadn’t thought a lot about what she would do with Kincaid during his visit — as she didn’t actually believe that it would happen. But he was here now, and as she looked over her shoulder to steal a glance here and there, she found herself being filled with endless ideas of the things she wanted to show him. In fact, there wasn’t a single thing in the willows that she thought Kincaid wouldn’t find endlessly fascinating. So, it was silently decided that she would show him everything.
But first, one particular thing. Roses.
The faerie woman led the man shamelessly deeper into the shielded forest, doing her best to sashay her hips for him enticingly; she knew that his eyes would be on her (as she was directly in front of him) and her desire to reward the man for keeping his promise was stronger than her typical prudish senses. Perhaps Eleuthera was simply being a tease, as these were flirtations and not a foretelling of what was to come. She had never been experienced in these types of intimate things anyways, but being near Kincaid made her want to play at something adjacent to it. Really, Eleuthera just wanted to escort him around, and she wanted to be playful with her cowboy while they did so. It had all been far too serious lately.
“Come," she bade him. “I'll show you something amazing."
Neither of those things were happening at this moment, thank god.
She hadn’t thought a lot about what she would do with Kincaid during his visit — as she didn’t actually believe that it would happen. But he was here now, and as she looked over her shoulder to steal a glance here and there, she found herself being filled with endless ideas of the things she wanted to show him. In fact, there wasn’t a single thing in the willows that she thought Kincaid wouldn’t find endlessly fascinating. So, it was silently decided that she would show him everything.
But first, one particular thing. Roses.
The faerie woman led the man shamelessly deeper into the shielded forest, doing her best to sashay her hips for him enticingly; she knew that his eyes would be on her (as she was directly in front of him) and her desire to reward the man for keeping his promise was stronger than her typical prudish senses. Perhaps Eleuthera was simply being a tease, as these were flirtations and not a foretelling of what was to come. She had never been experienced in these types of intimate things anyways, but being near Kincaid made her want to play at something adjacent to it. Really, Eleuthera just wanted to escort him around, and she wanted to be playful with her cowboy while they did so. It had all been far too serious lately.
“Come," she bade him. “I'll show you something amazing."
Don’t mind me, had the time and the muse! Directly after @Kincaid's 'acceptance?'
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 26, 2020, 12:47 AM
The willows, he had decided, were a strange place that had produced a strange girl. There was a soulful, whispering quality to the breeze that he thought he recognized in his young guide, and the way it the whiplike branches was much akin to the lithe, dancer's body slinking appealing before him.
Regardless of her intentions, Kincaid was sure he was being both tested and teased. What results she desired were a mystery to him, but he was just as certain the impish girl would get her way. This, he thought, was quite agreeable to him.
"Where are we going?" he asked her, splitting his attention between the scenery, which was different enough from what he'd seen in the past to be quite interesting, and her slim hindquaters, where she seemed to be directing his attention with some amount of purpose. His heart beat a bit unevenly at the idea — he hoped, at least, that she could be convinced to allow him close again, but there was no reason to go getting excited in a stranger's land. Down, boy, he commanded himself, but he still watched her walk. Of course he did.
Regardless of her intentions, Kincaid was sure he was being both tested and teased. What results she desired were a mystery to him, but he was just as certain the impish girl would get her way. This, he thought, was quite agreeable to him.
"Where are we going?" he asked her, splitting his attention between the scenery, which was different enough from what he'd seen in the past to be quite interesting, and her slim hindquaters, where she seemed to be directing his attention with some amount of purpose. His heart beat a bit unevenly at the idea — he hoped, at least, that she could be convinced to allow him close again, but there was no reason to go getting excited in a stranger's land. Down, boy, he commanded himself, but he still watched her walk. Of course he did.
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
✹☾❂
They moved along in a comfortable silence, unbroken by unnecessary words. After all, they were facing in the same direction, rather than at each other, and Eleuthera was quite focused on performing a small, walking burlesque for him — plus, if he was like all the other wolves that entered this forest (he wasn’t), he was in no small amount of awe at the ethereal beauty oh the Hushed Willows and rendered wordless by it. It was only when she punctuated the rustling quietude with her directions, did he ask where they were going. It was, as he had requested, her favorite place.
Eleuthera slowed in her walking, then stopped and threw him a cocked, ashen brown over her shoulder until he drifted up to meet her, at her side. “Kink, don’t you trust my surprises by now?" A small cock of her head and an ambrosial, knowing grin accompanied the question; though they were both owners of nomadic souls, Kincaid had a sense of roguish-ness with it that gave her the impression that he knew, and had seen, far more places in this world than she. Showing the rambler the lands she knew best, the willows and the territory just beyond it, was her own small way of sharing whatever she knew, now that she was pretty much hitched to one place.
Eleuthera only hoped he was as impressed with her, as she was with him.
Though they were only mere minutes inside the borders of Seelie Court, she could not prevent herself from uttering the other question on her mind. “Tell me you’ve been safe out there, doing — " though she was not worried about him in any sort of way (she more than trusted he was a man who could take care of himself, with the track record to prove it), her tone was colored with concern. Not for Kincaid, but for the other unpredictables out there who currently preyed upon the innocent. “— doing whatever you’ve been doing." this last part was said with a smile, as she realized if he was here, with her, then clearly nothing too bad happened. In fact, it must have been something very, very right. Either way, she recognized his wandering spirit as her own and would never aim to stifle it.
She only prayed that he would be safe, and at least come to visit every once in a while.
Eleuthera slowed in her walking, then stopped and threw him a cocked, ashen brown over her shoulder until he drifted up to meet her, at her side. “Kink, don’t you trust my surprises by now?" A small cock of her head and an ambrosial, knowing grin accompanied the question; though they were both owners of nomadic souls, Kincaid had a sense of roguish-ness with it that gave her the impression that he knew, and had seen, far more places in this world than she. Showing the rambler the lands she knew best, the willows and the territory just beyond it, was her own small way of sharing whatever she knew, now that she was pretty much hitched to one place.
Eleuthera only hoped he was as impressed with her, as she was with him.
Though they were only mere minutes inside the borders of Seelie Court, she could not prevent herself from uttering the other question on her mind. “Tell me you’ve been safe out there, doing — " though she was not worried about him in any sort of way (she more than trusted he was a man who could take care of himself, with the track record to prove it), her tone was colored with concern. Not for Kincaid, but for the other unpredictables out there who currently preyed upon the innocent. “— doing whatever you’ve been doing." this last part was said with a smile, as she realized if he was here, with her, then clearly nothing too bad happened. In fact, it must have been something very, very right. Either way, she recognized his wandering spirit as her own and would never aim to stifle it.
She only prayed that he would be safe, and at least come to visit every once in a while.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 26, 2020, 03:26 PM
As much as he was enjoying the "show", Kincaid was glad when she slowed a fraction for him to catch up. He brushed up beside her with a hearty laugh, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners at her question. "I know it's easy to forget, little darlin', but we ain't know each other but two days, on and off." He bumped his hip against hers. "And I already got you pegged for a troublemaker."
Being called Kink amused him to no end, as he assumed she had meant it to, and now with all this flaunting of her very lovely person, Kincaid was beginning to get the feeling he was in for a whole heap of trouble. And that was just with her, leaving out all the trouble her pack was already causing him.
He supposed that, if it was really troubling him, he could just pick up and go.
"I been alright," he assured her, flicking back through his memories of what'd happened since they'd first met. The only thing that stood out as possible "dangerous" was his encounter with the wolf calling himself @Earp — something still didn't sit right with him about that encounter. He didn't mention it to Eleuthera, but he dwelled on it for a moment. "There's a pack in the valley southest of here where I been spendin' some time. Easthollow. Leader's called Valette. Nice folk. Quiet place."
Not quiet like this place, though.
"How about you? Seems as you've got some excitement goin' around," he probed, not keen to say he was glad he'd shown up when he did, but holding the sentiment very dear in his heart.
Being called Kink amused him to no end, as he assumed she had meant it to, and now with all this flaunting of her very lovely person, Kincaid was beginning to get the feeling he was in for a whole heap of trouble. And that was just with her, leaving out all the trouble her pack was already causing him.
He supposed that, if it was really troubling him, he could just pick up and go.
"I been alright," he assured her, flicking back through his memories of what'd happened since they'd first met. The only thing that stood out as possible "dangerous" was his encounter with the wolf calling himself @Earp — something still didn't sit right with him about that encounter. He didn't mention it to Eleuthera, but he dwelled on it for a moment. "There's a pack in the valley southest of here where I been spendin' some time. Easthollow. Leader's called Valette. Nice folk. Quiet place."
Not quiet like this place, though.
"How about you? Seems as you've got some excitement goin' around," he probed, not keen to say he was glad he'd shown up when he did, but holding the sentiment very dear in his heart.
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
July 26, 2020, 08:21 PM
✹☾❂
Though they had truly only known each other for like, one and a half days total, Eleuthera was earnestly surprised to hear that Kincaid had been shacking up with a local pack. Though she had never any direct experience with Easthollow until now, she had certainly heard of them. They were one of those great packs that Eleuthera mentioned in her first meeting with this crimson gaucho — but this one endured for years and years, while all others seemed to come and ago. Perhaps it was this that attracted Kincaid to Easthollow. Or, perhaps it was...
She cut him a flash of a playful, critical look. “Oh, really? You?" She and Séamus had often spent months with packs before moving on, but Kincaid just didn’t have that feel about him. “Something keeping you close?" If it was obvious, well, Eleuthera already knew — she just wanted to hear him say it, and have a reason to place a sweet kiss upon that ruddy cheek.
When he mentioned the excitement in and around the willows, Eleuthera gave a demure snort through her nose and bit her lip. “Oh, that is quite an understatement," the lilac sprite noted. “But, you will be proud of me. I just was on the road for a week straight." It had been one of the most enjoyable things she had ever done: meet kin, run around for a week, and then come home to the willows. It was truly three, lovely things one right after the other. At times, she almost forgot that it was because of a true, credible threat.
But Eleuthera didn’t forget this time. “You know, the fighting wolves? They’ve hidden themselves in a canyon in this mountain range, even closer to packs than they were before. I was delivering messages to our allies and— and," they walked on, guided subconsciously by the map in Leu’s head, as she was entirely looking up towards Kincaid’s sweet, pale face and trying to decide if she should tell him the next part. “I did a little spying." Eleuthera confided in a hushed voice. Maybe, that part he wouldn’t be so proud of — but that’s okay, because she was clearly supercilious about the whole thing.
She cut him a flash of a playful, critical look. “Oh, really? You?" She and Séamus had often spent months with packs before moving on, but Kincaid just didn’t have that feel about him. “Something keeping you close?" If it was obvious, well, Eleuthera already knew — she just wanted to hear him say it, and have a reason to place a sweet kiss upon that ruddy cheek.
When he mentioned the excitement in and around the willows, Eleuthera gave a demure snort through her nose and bit her lip. “Oh, that is quite an understatement," the lilac sprite noted. “But, you will be proud of me. I just was on the road for a week straight." It had been one of the most enjoyable things she had ever done: meet kin, run around for a week, and then come home to the willows. It was truly three, lovely things one right after the other. At times, she almost forgot that it was because of a true, credible threat.
But Eleuthera didn’t forget this time. “You know, the fighting wolves? They’ve hidden themselves in a canyon in this mountain range, even closer to packs than they were before. I was delivering messages to our allies and— and," they walked on, guided subconsciously by the map in Leu’s head, as she was entirely looking up towards Kincaid’s sweet, pale face and trying to decide if she should tell him the next part. “I did a little spying." Eleuthera confided in a hushed voice. Maybe, that part he wouldn’t be so proud of — but that’s okay, because she was clearly supercilious about the whole thing.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 26, 2020, 09:08 PM
Kincaid, although he was not short of guile of his own, missed it enitrely when Eleuthera directed her own at him. He shared in her chuckle, but did not realize she was fishing for heartfelt declarations when he replied, "Well, I know I don't show it, but I'm gettin' older. Ain't quite cuttin' it on my own, these days," he admitted. "My choices were replace Nine, or find someplace t'take me in. So I'm seein' how this goes. 'haps I've found a place t'hang my hat. Otherwise — there's no shortage of packs in the area."
He'd wondered if he shouldn't ditch Easthollow and join the wolves of the willows, but already, he felt some small loyalty to Valette... and far more respect for her than he felt for Orlaith, who he took to be the leader in these parts. Still, he thought it was an idea worth looking into, if not yet one worth mentioning to Eleuthera.
And — despite her hopes, he was not at all proud of her for spying. He'd done his fair share of roving over the years, and had lain in wait at the edges of packlands for pretty girls to come by — but that had been all in good fun, and he hadn't been in much danger as long as he kept himself ready to run.
It was, of course, none of his business if Eleuthera wanted to run around playing the hero. It was right here, really, where Kincaid considered for the first time that he should run far, far away from this woman. She was very different from his Nine Lives — softer and sweeter, more patient, more restful. But here she was trying to kill herself just as surely as he always had — he didn't know if he could take the strain of that again.
It had been hard enough loving Nine, and look how well he'd fucked that up.
"Spyin', huh?" he asked her, his voice low and without inflection. She was a brave girl, he'd grant her. A brave, foolish, reckless girl. "Find out anything interestin'?"
He'd wondered if he shouldn't ditch Easthollow and join the wolves of the willows, but already, he felt some small loyalty to Valette... and far more respect for her than he felt for Orlaith, who he took to be the leader in these parts. Still, he thought it was an idea worth looking into, if not yet one worth mentioning to Eleuthera.
And — despite her hopes, he was not at all proud of her for spying. He'd done his fair share of roving over the years, and had lain in wait at the edges of packlands for pretty girls to come by — but that had been all in good fun, and he hadn't been in much danger as long as he kept himself ready to run.
It was, of course, none of his business if Eleuthera wanted to run around playing the hero. It was right here, really, where Kincaid considered for the first time that he should run far, far away from this woman. She was very different from his Nine Lives — softer and sweeter, more patient, more restful. But here she was trying to kill herself just as surely as he always had — he didn't know if he could take the strain of that again.
It had been hard enough loving Nine, and look how well he'd fucked that up.
"Spyin', huh?" he asked her, his voice low and without inflection. She was a brave girl, he'd grant her. A brave, foolish, reckless girl. "Find out anything interestin'?"
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
July 26, 2020, 09:54 PM
✹☾❂
The way Kincaid’s tone suddenly fell flat immediately set Eleuthera’s pulse racing. In a small way, she didn’t think there would be any way he would have ever approved of it — if he did, he really wouldn’t have her safety at heart. But she had felt so good about it all that intuiting even a little of his displeasure made her worried. Certainly they had only spent a solitary night together, but nearly everything he said that night was profound and truthful, at least to Eleuthera. They saw the world the same way, so if he wasn’t into something, then Leu wanted to reconsider.
It’s how she had been with Séamus, too.
Eleuthera truly didn’t want to linger here, so she wanted to dispel any lingering worries he had about her recent goings-on. “I confirmed their location, but don’t worry." Don’t you think that’s impressive?“I climbed up a mountain, and luckily I could see into the canyon. It totally reeks of them — I think there’s quite a few." She had taken every precaution she could by raising her elevation, and in the end, Eleuthera found she could not be sorry for it. The information gleaned from this act would benefit many, many wolves far and beyond Seelie Court. Perhaps it would even affect his new home, at Easthollow.
Kincaid was a rambler, likely having a hard time understanding why she must take such risks. To be honest, the lilac storm barely understood it herself. Eleuthera stopped walking, turning to face him, her lavender eyes deeply probing his. “You know, it was funny, I realized as I was descending that it was the mountain I was born on." that, Eleuthera did not take for coincidence.
She exhaled deeply, looking somewhat browbeaten at the reality of the situation. These wolves were truly dangerous, and she feared the willow wolves had a target on their back. “Kink, you know I can handle myself, but…" Eleuthera reached out a dainty foreleg and wrapped it around his, drawing the man in close and holding him there. “I’m glad you’re here." She pulled back her head, to take his gaze, looking up.“Thank you for coming. and staying." She wanted to go on and on about her life-pledge to the willows, and how the universe saw fit to throw her this huge test, but he already knew. Instead, the woman said what she really wanted to say.
“I want you to know that this mean absolutely everything to me." Now that she stated her piece, she would willingly move on from the subject. Perhaps there was no more to be said about it.
It’s how she had been with Séamus, too.
Eleuthera truly didn’t want to linger here, so she wanted to dispel any lingering worries he had about her recent goings-on. “I confirmed their location, but don’t worry." Don’t you think that’s impressive?“I climbed up a mountain, and luckily I could see into the canyon. It totally reeks of them — I think there’s quite a few." She had taken every precaution she could by raising her elevation, and in the end, Eleuthera found she could not be sorry for it. The information gleaned from this act would benefit many, many wolves far and beyond Seelie Court. Perhaps it would even affect his new home, at Easthollow.
Kincaid was a rambler, likely having a hard time understanding why she must take such risks. To be honest, the lilac storm barely understood it herself. Eleuthera stopped walking, turning to face him, her lavender eyes deeply probing his. “You know, it was funny, I realized as I was descending that it was the mountain I was born on." that, Eleuthera did not take for coincidence.
She exhaled deeply, looking somewhat browbeaten at the reality of the situation. These wolves were truly dangerous, and she feared the willow wolves had a target on their back. “Kink, you know I can handle myself, but…" Eleuthera reached out a dainty foreleg and wrapped it around his, drawing the man in close and holding him there. “I’m glad you’re here." She pulled back her head, to take his gaze, looking up.“Thank you for coming. and staying." She wanted to go on and on about her life-pledge to the willows, and how the universe saw fit to throw her this huge test, but he already knew. Instead, the woman said what she really wanted to say.
“I want you to know that this mean absolutely everything to me." Now that she stated her piece, she would willingly move on from the subject. Perhaps there was no more to be said about it.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 26, 2020, 10:58 PM
She sensed his disapproval, and he sensed her anxiety over it. Part of him felt bad for causing her any negative emotion, but he wasn't going to pretend for her, just as he wouldn't ask her to pretend for him. He was not in the habit of asking others to change, or to be things that they weren't, and he expected the same consideration from others.
"I know," he told her, his voice still a little gruff. He did not feel like being sweet with her, but she'd taken his fleabitten forleg in her own dainty paw, and he could not help but soften. "I admire you for it, and I ain't gonna say nothin' against it. I don't want you t'feel as you cain't tell me these things, but darlin', it's always gonna get my back up."
He did not necesarily believe that she could handle herself, having seen no evidence of such. She still seemed awfully young to him, and younger still now that he'd heard of this most recent adventure — and like Nine Lives, she was cocksure and exhilarated by her conquering of this task she had set for herself, no matter how dangerous or unneccesary it had been. No matter the risks, no matter Kin's delicate heart.
Unlike Nine Lives, however, she was in no way tied to him. He had no standing to ask her to be more careful, so he did not. He merely pushed his nose against her cheek and tried to get the moving once more. "C'mon, little troublemaker. We got places t'be." He nodded in the direction they'd been going and added, for good measure: "Tell me 'bout this mountain. I thought you was born here in the woods?"
"I know," he told her, his voice still a little gruff. He did not feel like being sweet with her, but she'd taken his fleabitten forleg in her own dainty paw, and he could not help but soften. "I admire you for it, and I ain't gonna say nothin' against it. I don't want you t'feel as you cain't tell me these things, but darlin', it's always gonna get my back up."
He did not necesarily believe that she could handle herself, having seen no evidence of such. She still seemed awfully young to him, and younger still now that he'd heard of this most recent adventure — and like Nine Lives, she was cocksure and exhilarated by her conquering of this task she had set for herself, no matter how dangerous or unneccesary it had been. No matter the risks, no matter Kin's delicate heart.
Unlike Nine Lives, however, she was in no way tied to him. He had no standing to ask her to be more careful, so he did not. He merely pushed his nose against her cheek and tried to get the moving once more. "C'mon, little troublemaker. We got places t'be." He nodded in the direction they'd been going and added, for good measure: "Tell me 'bout this mountain. I thought you was born here in the woods?"
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
✹☾❂
Kincaid wasn’t happy with her, that much was clear, but she hoped that she could melt his heart a little bit with some well-intentioned nearness and a heartfelt apology. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t worry. He did care, so he did worry — plus, she had been running dangerous errands and being rather foolhardy about it, with not telling anyone where she was going. Clearly, Eleuthera still had a lot to learn. She bit her lip and pushed her nose into his chest, whispering an “I’m sorry," into the soft furs. She was sorry, she was, but what she really meant to say was
I love it when you care —
“I don’t want you to be worried about me."
You’re here now.
“I’ll try to be more careful."
Does that mean you’ll leave when this is all over?
Eleuthera was thankful when he changed the subject and moved onward.
They now moved side by side, and there was little of the teasing and flirtation that there was before. The silliness was gone, but what replaced it was far more valuable: genuine understanding and care. The little troublemaker and the rambler, worried for the safety of each other even though there was no helping what the fates had in store. Seeing the truth of each other, while not desiring to control or change it. To Eleuthera, that was far more special.
Eleuthera worked to procure the memory of the Sunspire from the depths of her mind — she had only heard these stories secondhand — and shared them as they walked. “No, but we moved when I was really little. I had to be carried most of the way." Eleuthera wished she had details to color the story, details she knew Kincaid wanted, but her mind drew blank on anything more than the cursory happenings. “I don’t remember much of it, but one of my brothers died, and my mothers didn’t think it was safe. They gathered wolves and started a pack here. It was a sanctuary, called Elysium." Had she mentioned that before? The woman blinked as she nosed the tendrils of a willow out of her direct path, feeling the curtail of dangling leaves fall softly against her shoulder, behind her.
“It was fun. We had parties, and packs from all around would come." Now, having been relatively well-traveled, the lilac woman understood Elysium to be a very strange place, with strange customs. It was perhaps the only pack she had seen which actively invited strangers inside and did not maintain their borders. Sometimes, Eleuthera wondered if their lax policies had been their final undoing.
Eleuthera looked up at Kincaid, studying his roughhewn features as they walked, and immediately had a sense that she knew so little of Kincaid and his life. It was hard to sum up the total of one’s experiences, made even harder when one had years of hearty travel under their belt.
I love it when you care —
“I don’t want you to be worried about me."
You’re here now.
“I’ll try to be more careful."
Does that mean you’ll leave when this is all over?
Eleuthera was thankful when he changed the subject and moved onward.
They now moved side by side, and there was little of the teasing and flirtation that there was before. The silliness was gone, but what replaced it was far more valuable: genuine understanding and care. The little troublemaker and the rambler, worried for the safety of each other even though there was no helping what the fates had in store. Seeing the truth of each other, while not desiring to control or change it. To Eleuthera, that was far more special.
Eleuthera worked to procure the memory of the Sunspire from the depths of her mind — she had only heard these stories secondhand — and shared them as they walked. “No, but we moved when I was really little. I had to be carried most of the way." Eleuthera wished she had details to color the story, details she knew Kincaid wanted, but her mind drew blank on anything more than the cursory happenings. “I don’t remember much of it, but one of my brothers died, and my mothers didn’t think it was safe. They gathered wolves and started a pack here. It was a sanctuary, called Elysium." Had she mentioned that before? The woman blinked as she nosed the tendrils of a willow out of her direct path, feeling the curtail of dangling leaves fall softly against her shoulder, behind her.
“It was fun. We had parties, and packs from all around would come." Now, having been relatively well-traveled, the lilac woman understood Elysium to be a very strange place, with strange customs. It was perhaps the only pack she had seen which actively invited strangers inside and did not maintain their borders. Sometimes, Eleuthera wondered if their lax policies had been their final undoing.
Eleuthera looked up at Kincaid, studying his roughhewn features as they walked, and immediately had a sense that she knew so little of Kincaid and his life. It was hard to sum up the total of one’s experiences, made even harder when one had years of hearty travel under their belt.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 27, 2020, 12:15 AM
Kincaid was grateful for the reassurance, even if her words on this matter meant precious little to him, in that moment. He saw in her the wild spirit of Nine Lives; the same maddness that'd driven him to new and different and dangerous heights at every turn. He had never been enough to keep him from taking those risks, and he did not believe he was enough for Eleuthera;
Perhaps she was waiting on her own Mollie.
"I don't say it t'make you sorry," he said, and said honestly.
They were on the move in the next moment, and Kincaid was just as glad for the change of subject. He cracked a fond smile at the idea of a little lilac pup swinging from her momma's jaws, kickin' the whole way, more than like — and then his eyes glinted in understanding at the word Elysium.
"I knew a mountain range called Elysia, once," he told her with a wag of his tail. "Ranged it, I mean. They called it Elysia 'cause it was so high, it was scrapin' heaven's doors. Anyway; I can see how a place like this gets t'be called Elysium. Seems as it's a slice of somethin' from another world."
He squinted around at the trees, as if this was not quite the compliment it might seem. Presently, the scent of roses was growing stronger and stronger, and he was beginning to ask himself it was yet another strange quality of the woods or if, perhaps, he was having a stroke.
"I been to maybe three or four parties in my lifetime," he went on, intensely interested in the idea, "and every time I've seen things I ain't ever seen before. Sometimes its strange stuff bein' passed around, or others its rituals — weren't too fond of all that. But me and Nine, we'd go whenever we heard about one. Didn't get much time with other wolves, since it was just me an' him, and we ain't the most harmless lookin pair, me an' him together."
He realize he was speaking in the present tense and abruptly clammed up once more.
"What all happened at your parties?" he asked her.
Perhaps she was waiting on her own Mollie.
"I don't say it t'make you sorry," he said, and said honestly.
They were on the move in the next moment, and Kincaid was just as glad for the change of subject. He cracked a fond smile at the idea of a little lilac pup swinging from her momma's jaws, kickin' the whole way, more than like — and then his eyes glinted in understanding at the word Elysium.
"I knew a mountain range called Elysia, once," he told her with a wag of his tail. "Ranged it, I mean. They called it Elysia 'cause it was so high, it was scrapin' heaven's doors. Anyway; I can see how a place like this gets t'be called Elysium. Seems as it's a slice of somethin' from another world."
He squinted around at the trees, as if this was not quite the compliment it might seem. Presently, the scent of roses was growing stronger and stronger, and he was beginning to ask himself it was yet another strange quality of the woods or if, perhaps, he was having a stroke.
"I been to maybe three or four parties in my lifetime," he went on, intensely interested in the idea, "and every time I've seen things I ain't ever seen before. Sometimes its strange stuff bein' passed around, or others its rituals — weren't too fond of all that. But me and Nine, we'd go whenever we heard about one. Didn't get much time with other wolves, since it was just me an' him, and we ain't the most harmless lookin pair, me an' him together."
He realize he was speaking in the present tense and abruptly clammed up once more.
"What all happened at your parties?" he asked her.
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
✹☾❂
As if he read her mind, Kincaid began describing a small snippet of his life to her: the mountain range, Elysia, and how they were so tall that they could scrape the sky. Eleuthera was pleased, looking up and beaming at him as if he truly had known what she desired, and sought to fulfill it. It was either that, or Kin was simply an open book, ready to read her the different chapters of his life, one by one. Either way, Eleuthera would eagerly imbibe whatever she was given of him. Her tail wagged as she walked, bumping his once or twice, and when Kincaid tied it all together with a reference to the otherworldliness of the willows, Eleuthera nodded and commented with a knowing smile “As I said, there’s nothing else like it in the world."
At the end of his description of parties he and his brother had attended, she couldn’t help but comment on this mystery man. “Hmm, Nine. I wish I could have met him. If he was anything like you, then I would have been big fan." Eleuthera let her shoulder brush against his as she danced alongside him, in solidarity. The woman so wished she could introduce Séamus to Kincaid; they would likely have been fast friends.
You know, the thing that was more amazing than his stories was that Kincaid asked questions about her life and seemed genuinely interested in understanding her experiences better. He was just speaking of ranging mountains, and in the same breath, wondered how they passed their time at their humble gatherings. He wasn’t trying to fill her with hot air, either — every time he asked a question like this, Eleuthera tried to determine if he really wanted to know. Every time, he really, really did.
There was deep happiness writ upon her features, now. “It’s a lot of what you said," she began. “Well, momma Olive was usually was hosting some ritual, for fertility or the equinox or things like that. She always had a reason," a small, effortless giggle hinted that Eleuthera hadn’t always agreed with this, but if the cowboy needed any more affirmation: “I never really understood it either, but I did it all anyways."
Eleuthera drew in a deep breath, also perceiving the nearness of the rose garden. She picked up her head and looked around, surprised that they had traversed the territory so quickly. That was the thing about the willows — with few defining landmarks, it was sometimes difficult to navigate one’s way or be a good judge of distance. “and momma Seabreeze was the host. She had so many friends, from all over these lands. I’m pretty sure all of the guests came because they wanted to see her. " This, Eleuthera remembered very clearly. Elysium was honestly only a reality because Seabreeze garnered so much goodwill, from every wolf she met.
“There was always lots of food, and games and my aunt Lily would come around and tell stories. Visitors would stay for days before heading back home."
But the good memories were not to last, as their lengthy jaunt terminated at a clear divide: the willows thinned so that the bright, summer sun could break through the canopy and many vines and bushes grew thick from the fertile soil, topped with big, rich, oily flowers of deep, deep crimson — some the color of oxblood, others so dark they were nearly black, and others a vibrant pink. The bushes rose far past the shoulders of any wolf, but there were clear trails throughout the garden. Eleuthera hung back at the very edge, looking out at the verdant collection of floral vibrancy.
“They’re all buried here, in this garden." Eleuthera bit her lip and looked up at Kincaid. She hadn’t mentioned the fact that they were all dead, yet.
At the end of his description of parties he and his brother had attended, she couldn’t help but comment on this mystery man. “Hmm, Nine. I wish I could have met him. If he was anything like you, then I would have been big fan." Eleuthera let her shoulder brush against his as she danced alongside him, in solidarity. The woman so wished she could introduce Séamus to Kincaid; they would likely have been fast friends.
You know, the thing that was more amazing than his stories was that Kincaid asked questions about her life and seemed genuinely interested in understanding her experiences better. He was just speaking of ranging mountains, and in the same breath, wondered how they passed their time at their humble gatherings. He wasn’t trying to fill her with hot air, either — every time he asked a question like this, Eleuthera tried to determine if he really wanted to know. Every time, he really, really did.
There was deep happiness writ upon her features, now. “It’s a lot of what you said," she began. “Well, momma Olive was usually was hosting some ritual, for fertility or the equinox or things like that. She always had a reason," a small, effortless giggle hinted that Eleuthera hadn’t always agreed with this, but if the cowboy needed any more affirmation: “I never really understood it either, but I did it all anyways."
Eleuthera drew in a deep breath, also perceiving the nearness of the rose garden. She picked up her head and looked around, surprised that they had traversed the territory so quickly. That was the thing about the willows — with few defining landmarks, it was sometimes difficult to navigate one’s way or be a good judge of distance. “and momma Seabreeze was the host. She had so many friends, from all over these lands. I’m pretty sure all of the guests came because they wanted to see her. " This, Eleuthera remembered very clearly. Elysium was honestly only a reality because Seabreeze garnered so much goodwill, from every wolf she met.
“There was always lots of food, and games and my aunt Lily would come around and tell stories. Visitors would stay for days before heading back home."
But the good memories were not to last, as their lengthy jaunt terminated at a clear divide: the willows thinned so that the bright, summer sun could break through the canopy and many vines and bushes grew thick from the fertile soil, topped with big, rich, oily flowers of deep, deep crimson — some the color of oxblood, others so dark they were nearly black, and others a vibrant pink. The bushes rose far past the shoulders of any wolf, but there were clear trails throughout the garden. Eleuthera hung back at the very edge, looking out at the verdant collection of floral vibrancy.
“They’re all buried here, in this garden." Eleuthera bit her lip and looked up at Kincaid. She hadn’t mentioned the fact that they were all dead, yet.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 27, 2020, 01:37 AM
Her comment on Nine had his heart dropping, of course, but he let out a soft huff of laughter, anyway, as the idea of Nine being anything like him was too ridiculous not to laugh at. He imagined that, if Nine had been even a little more like him, they could've gone on as they had indefinitely. Or perhaps that was unfair. Perhaps it had been Kincaid all along.
It had been Kincaid to up and leave him, after all.
"Actually, he's a lot more like you," he admitted, sounding not pleased so much as entertained by the idea. "But there's no one like him, really. Probably a good thing." He did think Eleuthera would have liked him, had they gotten to meet, but he could only thank whatever twist of fate had brought her to him now that it was quite impossible. Or improbable, at the very least.
Eleuthera had more memories to entertain him with; Kincaid did his best to wrap his head around her having two mothers, and decided that her father must've been either a scoundrel or a clergyman. Perhaps both. It didn't bear asking about, however, and they arrived the rose garden just in time for Eleuthera's last words to send him reeling back as if the information had scalded him.
But as this was their destination, he put his paw tentatively back on the rich soil, and looked back at Eleuthera to test her mood. She'd said that this was her favorite place, so he endeavored not to let the information cloud his perception of the area. Not negatively, at least.
"All of them?" he asked her, his voice soft.
He was struck, suddenly, by the idea that he would not know where Nine Lives was buried. Oh, he believed with all his heart that he was still alive, still with Mollie, perhaps with a couple of kids on her, now. But one day he would die, and Kin would live on because they would both still be young.
Would he know? Would he sense it? Did it matter, if they were living apart?
It had been Kincaid to up and leave him, after all.
"Actually, he's a lot more like you," he admitted, sounding not pleased so much as entertained by the idea. "But there's no one like him, really. Probably a good thing." He did think Eleuthera would have liked him, had they gotten to meet, but he could only thank whatever twist of fate had brought her to him now that it was quite impossible. Or improbable, at the very least.
Eleuthera had more memories to entertain him with; Kincaid did his best to wrap his head around her having two mothers, and decided that her father must've been either a scoundrel or a clergyman. Perhaps both. It didn't bear asking about, however, and they arrived the rose garden just in time for Eleuthera's last words to send him reeling back as if the information had scalded him.
But as this was their destination, he put his paw tentatively back on the rich soil, and looked back at Eleuthera to test her mood. She'd said that this was her favorite place, so he endeavored not to let the information cloud his perception of the area. Not negatively, at least.
"All of them?" he asked her, his voice soft.
He was struck, suddenly, by the idea that he would not know where Nine Lives was buried. Oh, he believed with all his heart that he was still alive, still with Mollie, perhaps with a couple of kids on her, now. But one day he would die, and Kin would live on because they would both still be young.
Would he know? Would he sense it? Did it matter, if they were living apart?
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
✹☾❂
She certainly could have broken the news to Kincaid, that she was a woman without a living blood relative, a little more easily — but as often as she spoke of her family’s untimely demise to strangers, she found it hard to bear in the case of Kincaid. She felt as though her story, as it was perceived by him, was becoming far too complicated, far too quickly, and required too much sacrifice from him — that this broken, lilac thing wasn’t worth it.
But when the cowboy looked towards her and asked a question simmering in sympathies, she didn’t really feel that way. She felt valued, in spite of the things that made her hard to love. He not only tolerated these things, but judging purely from his words and actions, seemed to desire more... and if that was the case, then Eleuthera would do nothing but oblige his every whim.
“Most of them," she answered meekly. Ibis and Mali — Mal — lived on. Séamus and Oaxaca were buried elsewhere. But Olive, Seabreeze, Ariel and Lily were all here, beneath the loam, feeding the flowers. It’s possible that she was looking at each of them, right now, through the radiant colors as her corneas perceived and internalized their photons. “I don’t know where, though. Séamus told me he found them. Said he heard a bear did it. I…" She knew that Kincaid probably understood this better than most.
“I ran."
Eleuthera made a moue, twisting her thin lips at how badly she had reacted back then. She had been younger, and more inexperienced then. She regretted it immensely. Her large, lilac ears pressed flat against her skull, more out of steely determination than sadness or wistfulness. The sadness was over. Now was the time for action. “But i’m back now," Eleuthera said, placing a paw into the dark, wet dirt and advancing half a step. She was silent for a moment. Then, she looked back at him, lavender eyes beseeching him for understanding — not only his unending protection and support.“It’s why I have to fight for this place, Kincaid. I’m the only Seraph left to do it."
But when the cowboy looked towards her and asked a question simmering in sympathies, she didn’t really feel that way. She felt valued, in spite of the things that made her hard to love. He not only tolerated these things, but judging purely from his words and actions, seemed to desire more... and if that was the case, then Eleuthera would do nothing but oblige his every whim.
“Most of them," she answered meekly. Ibis and Mali — Mal — lived on. Séamus and Oaxaca were buried elsewhere. But Olive, Seabreeze, Ariel and Lily were all here, beneath the loam, feeding the flowers. It’s possible that she was looking at each of them, right now, through the radiant colors as her corneas perceived and internalized their photons. “I don’t know where, though. Séamus told me he found them. Said he heard a bear did it. I…" She knew that Kincaid probably understood this better than most.
“I ran."
Eleuthera made a moue, twisting her thin lips at how badly she had reacted back then. She had been younger, and more inexperienced then. She regretted it immensely. Her large, lilac ears pressed flat against her skull, more out of steely determination than sadness or wistfulness. The sadness was over. Now was the time for action. “But i’m back now," Eleuthera said, placing a paw into the dark, wet dirt and advancing half a step. She was silent for a moment. Then, she looked back at him, lavender eyes beseeching him for understanding — not only his unending protection and support.“It’s why I have to fight for this place, Kincaid. I’m the only Seraph left to do it."
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 27, 2020, 03:11 PM
The plot thickened. Kincaid found her story difficult to straighten out in his mind, but only because he was receiving it in bits and pieces, rather than as an unbroken narrative. This did not deter him from her company, however; her past was her past, and who she was as a person had not changed as he learned more and more of her story — only his perception and understanding over her.
"Séamus is... your brother?" he guessed, his tone still laced in quiet empathy. His own family — for the most part, and only as far as he knew — were still living, but so far-flung that he may well count them as dead. Nine Lives, too, but somehow, the fact that his heart was still beating meant something, even if Kincaid wasn't there to feel it beating in time with his own.
The more he learned about her, the more he understood that she was not quite like Nine at all. Sometimes, he was sure, the girl got a wild hair, but for the most part, she saw these dangers as her duty, even if she might enjoy the thrill. Kincaid respected this because he had no choice in the matter, and because her heart for this place and these people was admirable regardless of Kin's opinion on it.
Still, he could not help adding his two cents: "Angel," he said, his tone laced in quiet incredulity, "When you see a bear, the right thing to do is run. No one can blame you for that. Not rightly." He came closer merely to look into her pretty eyes, so that his sincerity could not be mistaken. "And little you — Eleuthera, it don't matter how much trainin' you got. A bear kin swat you like a fly. You'd be jus' as dead as all'a them, and you'd never have the chance t'come back an' try again."
He wouldn't knock her dedication to this place; he didn't feel he had the right. But he hated to think of her feeling guilty about it, forcing herself into dangerous position for the lives he thought her mothers must have been honored to give up, even if they'd have rather everyone lived.
"You was jus' a girl," he reminded her in a soft voice, without really knowing how old she'd been. "No shame in it."
"Séamus is... your brother?" he guessed, his tone still laced in quiet empathy. His own family — for the most part, and only as far as he knew — were still living, but so far-flung that he may well count them as dead. Nine Lives, too, but somehow, the fact that his heart was still beating meant something, even if Kincaid wasn't there to feel it beating in time with his own.
The more he learned about her, the more he understood that she was not quite like Nine at all. Sometimes, he was sure, the girl got a wild hair, but for the most part, she saw these dangers as her duty, even if she might enjoy the thrill. Kincaid respected this because he had no choice in the matter, and because her heart for this place and these people was admirable regardless of Kin's opinion on it.
Still, he could not help adding his two cents: "Angel," he said, his tone laced in quiet incredulity, "When you see a bear, the right thing to do is run. No one can blame you for that. Not rightly." He came closer merely to look into her pretty eyes, so that his sincerity could not be mistaken. "And little you — Eleuthera, it don't matter how much trainin' you got. A bear kin swat you like a fly. You'd be jus' as dead as all'a them, and you'd never have the chance t'come back an' try again."
He wouldn't knock her dedication to this place; he didn't feel he had the right. But he hated to think of her feeling guilty about it, forcing herself into dangerous position for the lives he thought her mothers must have been honored to give up, even if they'd have rather everyone lived.
"You was jus' a girl," he reminded her in a soft voice, without really knowing how old she'd been. "No shame in it."
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
✹☾❂
Oops. In all her vague snippets of stories that she told unto him, there had been a misunderstanding. It only figured as much, as the real story of the end of Elysium was a long drawn-out game of telephone at this point. There were parts that died with Seabreeze and Olive. There were parts of the story that died with Séamus. There were parts of the story that were transmuted as they traveled from wolf to wolf, from old mouth to new ear, even here and now as she told Kincaid what ills befell those who had bore her.
She hadn’t run from the bear. If Séamus was right, the bear had happened months prior. She had been running from ghosts.
But this new story, albeit a work of fiction, worked well for Eleuthera. She had run from the bear, for her life. If she hadn’t run then, she couldn’t be here to defend the willows now. The way he drawled her name, chewing the sounds as no one had done before, the lilac woman found herself easily convinced of his new truth. If she didn’t correct Kincaid, he would never know the truth — that she was a coward, always running from the ideas of things. “Thank you for saying that," she noted gratefully, wanting to reach up and kiss him for the peace he had just unknowingly gifted her.
She continued talking, though. Eleuthera loved to talk with him, even about the sad things, and found him to be a man with conversational skills that rivaled her own. It was their shared, curious nature. “I’m not sad about it anymore. More… worried, for the future." Eleuthera shook her soft, summer pelt. “Everything suddenly feels so real." Regarding the Saints, Elysium, Seelie Court, Kincaid, and Seamus and the love she bore both of them. “When I came back, I didn’t think all of this stuff would happen with the Faeries," Eleuthera admitted, not as sheepishly as she could have. She was rising to the occasion, no?
“I only wanted to walk amongst the roses." With that, Eleuthera completed the half-step forward that she had danced around a few moments earlier, striding into the garden. The woman again looked back towards the roughhewn rambler, eyes half-lidded, inviting him to her side amongst the roses.
She hadn’t run from the bear. If Séamus was right, the bear had happened months prior. She had been running from ghosts.
But this new story, albeit a work of fiction, worked well for Eleuthera. She had run from the bear, for her life. If she hadn’t run then, she couldn’t be here to defend the willows now. The way he drawled her name, chewing the sounds as no one had done before, the lilac woman found herself easily convinced of his new truth. If she didn’t correct Kincaid, he would never know the truth — that she was a coward, always running from the ideas of things. “Thank you for saying that," she noted gratefully, wanting to reach up and kiss him for the peace he had just unknowingly gifted her.
She continued talking, though. Eleuthera loved to talk with him, even about the sad things, and found him to be a man with conversational skills that rivaled her own. It was their shared, curious nature. “I’m not sad about it anymore. More… worried, for the future." Eleuthera shook her soft, summer pelt. “Everything suddenly feels so real." Regarding the Saints, Elysium, Seelie Court, Kincaid, and Seamus and the love she bore both of them. “When I came back, I didn’t think all of this stuff would happen with the Faeries," Eleuthera admitted, not as sheepishly as she could have. She was rising to the occasion, no?
“I only wanted to walk amongst the roses." With that, Eleuthera completed the half-step forward that she had danced around a few moments earlier, striding into the garden. The woman again looked back towards the roughhewn rambler, eyes half-lidded, inviting him to her side amongst the roses.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 27, 2020, 09:06 PM
For a moment, he was sure he'd said the wrong thing; there was a peculiar look on Eleuthera's face. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, and waited in silent resignation until she thanked him — What? — and everything seemed quite normal again.
Her worries, finally, were something that Kincaid could understand and support. All this was batshit insane and he didn't think either of them should be there. Still, even if he didn't agree with her reasoning, he understood that she felt tied to this place and wanted to stay, and trying to convince her otherwise would be unhelpful. All he could do was support her, or remove himself from the situation.
The answer was obvious.
"I'll stay until things settle down," he told her, and then followed her into the roses with his tail swinging behind him. "One day, this'll just be somethin' t'look back on. Another story t'tell."
Her worries, finally, were something that Kincaid could understand and support. All this was batshit insane and he didn't think either of them should be there. Still, even if he didn't agree with her reasoning, he understood that she felt tied to this place and wanted to stay, and trying to convince her otherwise would be unhelpful. All he could do was support her, or remove himself from the situation.
The answer was obvious.
"I'll stay until things settle down," he told her, and then followed her into the roses with his tail swinging behind him. "One day, this'll just be somethin' t'look back on. Another story t'tell."
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
✹☾❂
He followed her once more, their small game of cat and mouse, and Eleuthera welcomed him to her side again by tilting her chin up and pressing the fine features of her face back into in sinew of his neck. The sprite held him there for a moment, finally satisfied that he knew some version of the truth — and he was sticking around despite her departed family, and besides the mountainous strife. She came with a lot of baggage, for someone who hadn’t spent a day in their life not nomading for nearly two years.
Still smothering herself in the creamy fur along his throat, she remembered to say something that she had wanted to expand upon since she first mentioned it, at the beginning of their conversation. It had felt so sublime to be on the road, traveling, even if she had been all by her lonesome. “You know, it felt so good to get out there again. Feel the earth beneath my paws." She spoke as if it had all been a dream; she could not help but be thrilled by it, after nearly a month of staying in the same place.
Eleuthera pulled away, big lavender eyes blinking up at the brackish cowboy, before nuzzling right back in. Now that she had started, she found that it was impossible for her to stop. “I was terribly lonely, though. I missed you." Eleuthera inhaled, then exhaled through her nose with a deep purr, then forcibly plucked herself from his side and sauntered over to the nearest rose bush. She pressed her nose into the bosom of the plush, sun-ripened bloom and inhaled the succulent perfume that emanated from within.
The roadworn scent of Kincaid, mixed with the saccharine scent of the roses, was a heady concoction. “Smell this," the woman instructed, pushing the scarlet rose bloom towards him.
Still smothering herself in the creamy fur along his throat, she remembered to say something that she had wanted to expand upon since she first mentioned it, at the beginning of their conversation. It had felt so sublime to be on the road, traveling, even if she had been all by her lonesome. “You know, it felt so good to get out there again. Feel the earth beneath my paws." She spoke as if it had all been a dream; she could not help but be thrilled by it, after nearly a month of staying in the same place.
Eleuthera pulled away, big lavender eyes blinking up at the brackish cowboy, before nuzzling right back in. Now that she had started, she found that it was impossible for her to stop. “I was terribly lonely, though. I missed you." Eleuthera inhaled, then exhaled through her nose with a deep purr, then forcibly plucked herself from his side and sauntered over to the nearest rose bush. She pressed her nose into the bosom of the plush, sun-ripened bloom and inhaled the succulent perfume that emanated from within.
The roadworn scent of Kincaid, mixed with the saccharine scent of the roses, was a heady concoction. “Smell this," the woman instructed, pushing the scarlet rose bloom towards him.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 28, 2020, 08:54 PM
It was funny, because Kincaid had been thinking, recently, about how nice it was to have Easthollow to go back to, or this place to visit if his paws grew weary. It hadn't kept him from getting antsy and roving out once more, but it was still nice. Either way, he had no trouble admitting,
"I missed you, too," when she made her own confession. It was silly of both of them, he thought, to be so attached after one fluke meeting, but that was a worry for another day. "I don't think I've ever been good at bein' alone," he went on, still trailing after her, his sloe eyes now sweeping with great interest over the towering brambles. "It's been me an' Nine almost since I left home. Easthollow's been good t'me, but I'm glad t'be with you again."
It felt a little more like companionship than just being among the scents of the others at Easthollow. He'd see about fixing that when he got back, and perhaps he could save himself from this wild temptress, yet.
For now, he was hers to command, and came obediently to poke his nose into the flower she'd indicated. He sneezed, and gave a cheerful wag of his tail. "Smells like a rose," he told her, not quite deadpan, but clearly questioning if there were some greater purpose to the game. Did some of them smell different? He'd never paid much attention.
"What about this one?" he asked, turning to snuffle over one of the lighter blooms that he'd been eyeing earlier. He drew back and seemed thoughtful for a moment, and made a spectacle of checking between the two as if comparing them with great prejudice. "S'what I thought," he concluded. "This one's a rose, too."
"I missed you, too," when she made her own confession. It was silly of both of them, he thought, to be so attached after one fluke meeting, but that was a worry for another day. "I don't think I've ever been good at bein' alone," he went on, still trailing after her, his sloe eyes now sweeping with great interest over the towering brambles. "It's been me an' Nine almost since I left home. Easthollow's been good t'me, but I'm glad t'be with you again."
It felt a little more like companionship than just being among the scents of the others at Easthollow. He'd see about fixing that when he got back, and perhaps he could save himself from this wild temptress, yet.
For now, he was hers to command, and came obediently to poke his nose into the flower she'd indicated. He sneezed, and gave a cheerful wag of his tail. "Smells like a rose," he told her, not quite deadpan, but clearly questioning if there were some greater purpose to the game. Did some of them smell different? He'd never paid much attention.
"What about this one?" he asked, turning to snuffle over one of the lighter blooms that he'd been eyeing earlier. He drew back and seemed thoughtful for a moment, and made a spectacle of checking between the two as if comparing them with great prejudice. "S'what I thought," he concluded. "This one's a rose, too."
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
✹☾❂
I missed you, too. It was almost silly, how those words caused her heart to go a-flutter. Maybe it wasn’t that he missed her, that much she knew to be true when he waited upon her doorstep, as much as it was what came next — the admission that he was not a man made to be alone. This was often how Eleuthera described herself as well, when speaking of Séamus, especially before his death. Now that he was gone, Leu found that she didn’t mention it so much (people were quick to take pity), but the longing was still very much there.
She would be lying if she said filling this need for companionship wasn’t her second biggest driver behind joining the Faeries. It wasn’t that she expected these wolves to fill her every need, or even her belly — she felt a sort of kinship with them, a dynamic which she was willing to explore for a lifetime. She felt a small sense of that now, with Kincaid, though Eleuthera easily swallowed it, convincing herself that was crazy. They were simply two like souls, bumping along into each other in their path of life. “— and Easthollow must continue to be good to you, or else they will feel my wrath," the woman purred to him, another small joke, wondering what he truly must think of her, now that he was seeing all of her un-pretty sides. If anything, at least she could be self-deprecating about it.
Having been in the man's presence for a lengthy amount of time, Eleuthera was no longer interested in keeping any distance between them. but Kincaid seemed a little slow on the uptake on these things, or perhaps she simply wasn’t sending her signals loud enough. Just as her mind had done during their first meeting, she played at mind-images of him sweeping her into his arms, licking behind her ears, of moving behind her and nosing her tail — the lilac fae watched with a heavy-handed gaze as he deeply inhaled the flower, seemingly unimpressed by (and allergic to) the sights and smells of nature’s most luxurious, floral gift.
It was no matter, Eleuthera was impressed enough of it for both of them.
For once, the featherlight woman drifted behind the cowboy, as he went to investigate a different flower. At his behest, she nestled the tip of her nose in the satin curves of the bloom and drank it in, deeply. “Hmm," she murmured, throwing her gaze up towards the man, who looked very self-indulgently pleased with himself. “It appears that you’re right." She was very much aware that his was Kincaid’s idea of a joke, which she would indulge rightly with a laugh and a lash of her tail behind her. Without really thinking out it, she reached out her neck and placed a thin cheek against the rose, rubbing it against herself, from the curve of her jaw to at least halfway down her neck.
“How does it smell, now?" she questioned earnestly, knowingly, offering the newly-perfumed part of herself up to him for his inquiry.
She would be lying if she said filling this need for companionship wasn’t her second biggest driver behind joining the Faeries. It wasn’t that she expected these wolves to fill her every need, or even her belly — she felt a sort of kinship with them, a dynamic which she was willing to explore for a lifetime. She felt a small sense of that now, with Kincaid, though Eleuthera easily swallowed it, convincing herself that was crazy. They were simply two like souls, bumping along into each other in their path of life. “— and Easthollow must continue to be good to you, or else they will feel my wrath," the woman purred to him, another small joke, wondering what he truly must think of her, now that he was seeing all of her un-pretty sides. If anything, at least she could be self-deprecating about it.
Having been in the man's presence for a lengthy amount of time, Eleuthera was no longer interested in keeping any distance between them. but Kincaid seemed a little slow on the uptake on these things, or perhaps she simply wasn’t sending her signals loud enough. Just as her mind had done during their first meeting, she played at mind-images of him sweeping her into his arms, licking behind her ears, of moving behind her and nosing her tail — the lilac fae watched with a heavy-handed gaze as he deeply inhaled the flower, seemingly unimpressed by (and allergic to) the sights and smells of nature’s most luxurious, floral gift.
It was no matter, Eleuthera was impressed enough of it for both of them.
For once, the featherlight woman drifted behind the cowboy, as he went to investigate a different flower. At his behest, she nestled the tip of her nose in the satin curves of the bloom and drank it in, deeply. “Hmm," she murmured, throwing her gaze up towards the man, who looked very self-indulgently pleased with himself. “It appears that you’re right." She was very much aware that his was Kincaid’s idea of a joke, which she would indulge rightly with a laugh and a lash of her tail behind her. Without really thinking out it, she reached out her neck and placed a thin cheek against the rose, rubbing it against herself, from the curve of her jaw to at least halfway down her neck.
“How does it smell, now?" she questioned earnestly, knowingly, offering the newly-perfumed part of herself up to him for his inquiry.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 29, 2020, 08:33 PM
Kin's eyes twinkled merrily at the idea of the girl's wrath being visited upon Easthollow. He thought that Eleuthera might be almost of comparable size to Valette, but somehow, he knew where he would be putting his money. Of course, he did not say this to his diminutive friend.
Of course, he was a worldly man. Perhaps more worldy than her. He did not miss the subtle hints that she was sending him, suggesting that she might like him to take a few more liberties. In truth, he enjoyed this stage too much to rush ahead. These things would only be new between them for as long as they allowed them to be, and while Kincaid had the time, he was inclined to bask in it.
There was another reason to wait that he tried his best not to acknowledge — the ruddy male hoped that, if he refrained from making deep and sacred memories with Eleuthera, he would not have so much to dwell on and pine for when she eventually tired of him. Only time would tell if this was a fool's errand; he had, after all, no romantic memories of Nine Lives, and he still pined for the other male day and night.
Regardless of his intentions, when Eleuthera offered him the pretty column of her throat, Kincaid could only oblige her. "Hm," he said, pushing his nose into her fur until he could feel the heat of her skin. Her question, though he meant to answer it playfully, was quickly forgotten. He hooked a gingerly foreleg over her shoulders to drag her against his chest, and spent a few happy minutes covering her neck and throat in his scent, combing teeth through her fur and nipping delicately at her skin.
Of course, he was a worldly man. Perhaps more worldy than her. He did not miss the subtle hints that she was sending him, suggesting that she might like him to take a few more liberties. In truth, he enjoyed this stage too much to rush ahead. These things would only be new between them for as long as they allowed them to be, and while Kincaid had the time, he was inclined to bask in it.
There was another reason to wait that he tried his best not to acknowledge — the ruddy male hoped that, if he refrained from making deep and sacred memories with Eleuthera, he would not have so much to dwell on and pine for when she eventually tired of him. Only time would tell if this was a fool's errand; he had, after all, no romantic memories of Nine Lives, and he still pined for the other male day and night.
Regardless of his intentions, when Eleuthera offered him the pretty column of her throat, Kincaid could only oblige her. "Hm," he said, pushing his nose into her fur until he could feel the heat of her skin. Her question, though he meant to answer it playfully, was quickly forgotten. He hooked a gingerly foreleg over her shoulders to drag her against his chest, and spent a few happy minutes covering her neck and throat in his scent, combing teeth through her fur and nipping delicately at her skin.
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
✹☾❂
There it was. It was almost as if Eleuthera’s entire body heaved a sigh at the man’s very touch; melted and spread beneath him as if his nose held poison that disintegrated her into nothingness. She stood like this with him for many moments, a smirk simpering upon her maw, quite pleased with herself to have successfully placed herself under his ministrations once more. It was like a game she played with him, and she assumed he was unknowing — the lilac sprite did not know that he did these things very intentionally, to draw out the experience forevermore. Either way, they both won.
As nice as it was to be touched by him, it also felt strange to her; strange to be touched by anyone in this way, really. She was an incorrigible flirt, she had been told, but so few times had she ever truly opened herself for man, metaphorically, that it was as foreign as it was welcome. Eleuthera was only thankful that Kincaid was warm, and steady, and felt of home. She felt safe under his arm — as if they could be there amongst the roses forever; as if war weren’t right on their doorstep.
She allowed herself to be preened by him, pressing as many parts of herself into him as she could, wondering what he was thinking at moments such as these. Was he thinking about how perfectly divine things were? Was he thinking about his next adventure — or was he enjoying his current conquest? Did he want certain things of her, that he had not yet spoken of? Did she make him feel good? Did he only do this, because he was in pain?
As much as there was that Eleuthera wished to know about Kincaid, she voiced nothing. She pressed her face into his chest, which was swiftly becoming her most favorite place on his body, and held it there as she felt his strong musculature press into her fine-boned cheeks. He was all quickly becoming far too much for her to handle — his attention and interest — and she wasn’t sure where the right place to go, from here, was. Eleuthera did not want to disappoint him. She had already done that once today, and she had not liked it one bit.
“Oh, Kin,” Eleuthera sighed, reigning her head back and blinking up at him. “You must be completely starved.” This is what men wanted, right? A full belly, and warm body beside them at night? “Should we… go?” Eleuthera passed a glance over her shoulder, not entirely sure what she meant by that question at all. She wanted to go just as much as she wanted to stay, and she wished for him to push her farther just as much as she trusted him to know when she needed him to stop.
As nice as it was to be touched by him, it also felt strange to her; strange to be touched by anyone in this way, really. She was an incorrigible flirt, she had been told, but so few times had she ever truly opened herself for man, metaphorically, that it was as foreign as it was welcome. Eleuthera was only thankful that Kincaid was warm, and steady, and felt of home. She felt safe under his arm — as if they could be there amongst the roses forever; as if war weren’t right on their doorstep.
She allowed herself to be preened by him, pressing as many parts of herself into him as she could, wondering what he was thinking at moments such as these. Was he thinking about how perfectly divine things were? Was he thinking about his next adventure — or was he enjoying his current conquest? Did he want certain things of her, that he had not yet spoken of? Did she make him feel good? Did he only do this, because he was in pain?
As much as there was that Eleuthera wished to know about Kincaid, she voiced nothing. She pressed her face into his chest, which was swiftly becoming her most favorite place on his body, and held it there as she felt his strong musculature press into her fine-boned cheeks. He was all quickly becoming far too much for her to handle — his attention and interest — and she wasn’t sure where the right place to go, from here, was. Eleuthera did not want to disappoint him. She had already done that once today, and she had not liked it one bit.
“Oh, Kin,” Eleuthera sighed, reigning her head back and blinking up at him. “You must be completely starved.” This is what men wanted, right? A full belly, and warm body beside them at night? “Should we… go?” Eleuthera passed a glance over her shoulder, not entirely sure what she meant by that question at all. She wanted to go just as much as she wanted to stay, and she wished for him to push her farther just as much as she trusted him to know when she needed him to stop.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 30, 2020, 12:27 AM
What was he thinking?
Kin was thinking that she smelled very nice, and that her fur was very soft and fine. That she fit just right against him, that she looked equal parts silly and fetching with that sly look on her pretty face. That he wanted to kiss that smirk away and replace it with whatever giddy feeling was thumping in his own chest. That he hoped she was happy, and that she stayed happy, and that she would either look back on these days with a fond smile, or that she would forget them altogether once he was gone from her life.
Oh, Kin, she sighed, and it was his turn to smirk against her lovely decolletage as he chased her, even as she pulled away. Was he starving? Most certainly. But he didn't mind putting off a meal for a little longer, now that he sensed she was beginning to fluster. Serves you right, he thought, for all you've been puttin' me through. But what he said instead was,
"Go? You don't wanna stay and spark a little longer?" he asked her in a voice like rum and warm honey. "'Sides — I got half a mind t'make a meal outta you," he added in a low growl, administering a playful bit to the scruff of her neck.
Now he drew back, sloe eyes half-lidded and teasing.
Kin was thinking that she smelled very nice, and that her fur was very soft and fine. That she fit just right against him, that she looked equal parts silly and fetching with that sly look on her pretty face. That he wanted to kiss that smirk away and replace it with whatever giddy feeling was thumping in his own chest. That he hoped she was happy, and that she stayed happy, and that she would either look back on these days with a fond smile, or that she would forget them altogether once he was gone from her life.
Oh, Kin, she sighed, and it was his turn to smirk against her lovely decolletage as he chased her, even as she pulled away. Was he starving? Most certainly. But he didn't mind putting off a meal for a little longer, now that he sensed she was beginning to fluster. Serves you right, he thought, for all you've been puttin' me through. But what he said instead was,
"Go? You don't wanna stay and spark a little longer?" he asked her in a voice like rum and warm honey. "'Sides — I got half a mind t'make a meal outta you," he added in a low growl, administering a playful bit to the scruff of her neck.
Now he drew back, sloe eyes half-lidded and teasing.
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
✹☾❂
Eleuthera found, surprisingly, that her words were evading her. This rarely happened, if ever, and it made Eleuthera even more speechless than before. She felt the man rush to fill the infinitesimal spaces she created between them; tested him slightly with her open-ended words and exploitable inactions. She felt the warmth of his touch and the warmth of the thoughts that drove them, and the warmth of the soul that lay just behind those. Eleuthera easily trusted it — she had no reason not to — and she just as easily yielded to the rogue cowboy.
Words could not seem to match the pampering and the kisses she was receiving, and the sheer bliss that wrapped her brain in velvet — and while Eleuthera was at a loss for words, Kincaid seemed to have found his. He bade her to stay and spark, but Leu had begun to burn and she could do more than nod feverishly and silently croon to him, calling him back to her embrace which she offered heartily and readily. She was entirely wrapped around his roan finger.
“Oh—“ she murmured as his jaws found a place on his withers, playfully, affectionately, and then he backed away, his gravitational forces pulling her around and towards him once more, following him as if a puppy, almost beating her at her own game. Her gaze matched his own; drunken, blissful, simple, and unthinking. At the talk of making her a meal, she slurred “I don’t think I could sate you…“ and, perhaps surprisingly, Eleuthera meant nothing sexual by this. Instead, her meaning was this: who was she, this tiny thing wishing to be pleased, compared to the open road, which was nothing but pleasure?
Words could not seem to match the pampering and the kisses she was receiving, and the sheer bliss that wrapped her brain in velvet — and while Eleuthera was at a loss for words, Kincaid seemed to have found his. He bade her to stay and spark, but Leu had begun to burn and she could do more than nod feverishly and silently croon to him, calling him back to her embrace which she offered heartily and readily. She was entirely wrapped around his roan finger.
“Oh—“ she murmured as his jaws found a place on his withers, playfully, affectionately, and then he backed away, his gravitational forces pulling her around and towards him once more, following him as if a puppy, almost beating her at her own game. Her gaze matched his own; drunken, blissful, simple, and unthinking. At the talk of making her a meal, she slurred “I don’t think I could sate you…“ and, perhaps surprisingly, Eleuthera meant nothing sexual by this. Instead, her meaning was this: who was she, this tiny thing wishing to be pleased, compared to the open road, which was nothing but pleasure?
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
July 30, 2020, 01:16 AM
Now the male did his best to resist her charms, regarding her with a fond crinkle to the corners of his eyes. What a sad and dissonant irony it was that he was thinking nearly the same things: that he could never truly be enough for this fine girl, that he would let her down, that she would be left unsatisfied and disillusioned with him in the end. What sad and dissonant irony that he thought all these things, and yet misinterpreted entirely the words she spoke next.
Kincaid laughed; he had rarely heard something so funny. "Oh, darlin'," he said with a shake of his head that was both amused and contrite. "If you truly think that, then I know you're the one who won't be sated. I ain't as good as I once was." But, he supposed he was as good once as he ever was.
Although he felt a good deal of desire to prove this sad fact to her then and there, Kin thought he recognized her words as a graceful out more than an actual sharing of her fears. Perhaps she was not quite ready — it fit with what he was learning of her, and with the true timidity he sometimes saw interspersed in beguiling coquettishness. Besides, he did not think he was quite ready, either.
"I am hungry, as it happens," he admitted with a de-escalating swing of his tail. "You wanna hunt with me?"
Kincaid laughed; he had rarely heard something so funny. "Oh, darlin'," he said with a shake of his head that was both amused and contrite. "If you truly think that, then I know you're the one who won't be sated. I ain't as good as I once was." But, he supposed he was as good once as he ever was.
Although he felt a good deal of desire to prove this sad fact to her then and there, Kin thought he recognized her words as a graceful out more than an actual sharing of her fears. Perhaps she was not quite ready — it fit with what he was learning of her, and with the true timidity he sometimes saw interspersed in beguiling coquettishness. Besides, he did not think he was quite ready, either.
"I am hungry, as it happens," he admitted with a de-escalating swing of his tail. "You wanna hunt with me?"
* Kincaid is obviously not a shibe in a cowboy hat. Just a regular, reddish wolf. His avatar is just a silly spiritual portrait.
✹☾❂
Kincaid’s joke about her seemingly high expectations of him also elicited a giggle from the little shadow wolf, which, in a way, sobered her from the drunkenness of being kissed repeatedly. She was still the follower in their little dance, drifting on a cloud after her leader, subconsciously mimicking his moves and feeling his giddy energy subtly influence her own — but she was more of a willing participant, than simply a girl swept off her feet. Eleuthera looked up at him, big, moony eyes speaking volumes, as flashed him a knowing grin. Her words came back to her.
“Now that, I simply don’t believe,” she tittered, reaching up to lick the roadway fur on his cheek. She didn’t believe this because she was already overtly satisfied with him; happy that he entertained her desire for company that night, happy that he had come to see her now, and ultimately, supremely happy that he had missed her in the interim. Not that she would ever hope that her presence in Kincaid’s life would ever stifle him or cause him sadness, but it served as a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this thing. He felt it too.
Eleuthera continued to nibble at his cheek, as if taking a good taste of him. “I'm sure a man like you gets sweeter with time.” She knew this to be true as much as she felt her body and mind call out to him, hoping that he might find some small pleasure in them, during the time that he was willing to give her.
And, at long last, good-guy-Kink rose to the occasion. A part of her was more than willing to submit fully to the cowboy, to forsake herself so that she might be useful to another, but a different part of herself knew there was no rush in being consumed. It was a serious thing, to be completed between two serious lovers, and from his words, Kincaid seemed up to the task. Still, there was all this frenetic energy that had built up between them, and there was no place better to channel it than a hunt.
“Yes, please!” the sprite agreed amenably, almost as if relieved that they did not have to cross this bridge now. Her eyes, if Kincaid looked upon then, expressed gratitude.
“Now that, I simply don’t believe,” she tittered, reaching up to lick the roadway fur on his cheek. She didn’t believe this because she was already overtly satisfied with him; happy that he entertained her desire for company that night, happy that he had come to see her now, and ultimately, supremely happy that he had missed her in the interim. Not that she would ever hope that her presence in Kincaid’s life would ever stifle him or cause him sadness, but it served as a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this thing. He felt it too.
Eleuthera continued to nibble at his cheek, as if taking a good taste of him. “I'm sure a man like you gets sweeter with time.” She knew this to be true as much as she felt her body and mind call out to him, hoping that he might find some small pleasure in them, during the time that he was willing to give her.
And, at long last, good-guy-Kink rose to the occasion. A part of her was more than willing to submit fully to the cowboy, to forsake herself so that she might be useful to another, but a different part of herself knew there was no rush in being consumed. It was a serious thing, to be completed between two serious lovers, and from his words, Kincaid seemed up to the task. Still, there was all this frenetic energy that had built up between them, and there was no place better to channel it than a hunt.
“Yes, please!” the sprite agreed amenably, almost as if relieved that they did not have to cross this bridge now. Her eyes, if Kincaid looked upon then, expressed gratitude.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
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