your hands are scarred from murder

MAEA

She didn't know what he meant at first. Couldn't tell why he slowed, when all she wanted was for him to continue, to move faster. Had eyes for nothing but him... until he reached for something beside her, and she could feel his fingers touch something that was real and yet not. She drew in a surprised breath and turned to look, saw the shimmering wings and realized, belatedly, that they were there. That she hadn't shown him before, because of... well, everything. Had wanted to, and yet... no moment had appeared. Until now.

His fingers on the bone of the wing made her shiver. It tickled, yet was distant at the same time, like a nail scraping down the back through a layer of cloth. Shifting the wing with a rustle of feathers over fabric, she leaned it into the touch... and was distracted herself when feathers sprouted from Sunjata's arms too, as if in response.

"So are you, my love," she murmured in awe, bringing her hands down to stroke his arms, his shoulders. They were midnight and velveteen under her fingers, so very soft she feared grasping them too hard, in case they might break. Still he moved in her, and still Maea's blood ran hot and heavy through her veins, but this... this was worth slowing for. So she could admire him properly, see if he reacted at all when she trailed her fingers through the wingpens. So large... when had they become so large?

Lost in a world full of non-believers
Searching for smoke in a still water pond

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

He’s thankful for the moment, for the time to spend simply admiring her, being there with her, being in her. And he strokes the feathers there, feeling her shiver beneath him as he remains his slow pace but still enough to keep that fire burning, the tension in his gut pooling harder and faster as his own feathers sprout in response. He hums to her as she tells him he is too – though beautiful was never a word used to describe him.

He’s not sure how it makes him feel, but he imagines he can get used to it.

Her own fingers roam his feathers, and he leans into the touch as well, picking up the pace as she strokes the longer feathers, feeling it tickle and ignite in his blood. And he leans down, like some sort of dark prince to the fallen angel, to press his horned head against her forehead, breath hot against her skin. “Keep doing that…” He whispers to her, gaze shuddering, lids closing as he focuses on that touch and the way it has him twitching and the fire in his blood growing stronger. It brings him close to the edge and its evident in the way his muscles twitch in response.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint

MAEA

He was beautiful to her. Maea didn't have any other words to describe it. Oh, he was handsome, in a rougish way, so very charming when he wanted to be, but that was all on the surface. Nothing to scoff at, because he was a sight to behold, his tattoo's and scars a story to read across the bronzed skin. But... it was his soul she admired most. How he was lost and lonely, broken and beaten down, and still managed to stay strong. Still was able to shine and be brave enough to love when it scared him more than anything. It was the storm in his eyes, the mischievous smiles, the gentleness of those scarred, blood-stained hands... and so much more. and the only word she had for it was beautiful, even though it didn't even begin to cover it.

She couldn't look at him enough, dressed in midnight feathers and with horns sprouting from his brow, with his clawed hands so awfully, wonderfully close to drawing blood where they stroked her skin. Terrible, majestic, dangerous... and all hers. As she was his.

Again she ran her fingers through his feathers, her smile love-drunk and awed as she gazed up at him, drank him in. His pace was picking up again, the thrust of his hips sharpening, and there were no games left in her to drag it out. Didn't want to, though she certainly could... but they could play more later. When she was healed, and they were free to do whatever without being considerate.

"I've got you, liefde," she breathed, brushing her lips over his jaw, his cheek, to his mouth as she caressed his feathers, moved a hand to tangle with his hair. Mirroring the words he'd said to her when they finally crossed that line in the sand, once and for all. Her wings reached up, wrapped around them both in a cocoon of tickling, silken feathers, and with a sigh Maea let everything fall away that wasn't him. Ready, so ready to shatter again, under him, around him, with him.

"I love you."

Lost in a world full of non-believers
Searching for smoke in a still water pond

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

The touch causes him to vibrate, feathers flexing where his muscles twitch beneath her hands – and he continues, diving straight in for her, for the tender touches, the woman that was both tender and soft and a pale blizzard of her own. She could block him out by just her alone, a speck of black among the whiteout – prepared just as well to drown in the flakes that were both soft and cold, loving and adoring.

And he loves her for it, for the way she shifts with him, the way she looks at him, drinks him in, obliges him as she continues to run her hands through his feathers and his hair. Her lips brush over his stubbled jaw, his stubbled cheek, and he shudders with her as she repeats the words he’d said on the beach. His body trembles beneath the feeling of soft tender feathers as they envelop him in something far too pristine than he ever deserved.

Perhaps she’s more than he deserves, really. And that everyone had been right when they’d told her that he was a terrible choice. But all he can do is try to prove them wrong – the north of his compass pointed toward her, his beacon, his northern star. He burns with her as she gives into it, and he thrusts longer and deeper. “I love you too.” He whispers to her, the edge of a growl to his voice, lips aiming to capture hers fiercely and possessively, protectively, unable to continue much longer.

He breaks the kiss to bite beneath her ear, to mark her one last time as he drives himself deep into her and shatters, breaks within her, a groan loudly leaving him as he fills her. A tender kiss placed over the bite as he tries to ride out the waves of ecstasy that course through him, hoping it’s enough for her to shatter again too.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint

MAEA

He thought her an angel, some unsullied thing, pure and unblemished. But the truth was, she had blood on her hands too. Not as much as he, perhaps. Nor had her mind strayed to the true dark depths, but... Maea was still human. Very real, and very flawed. Not some porcelain doll, her thoughts not quite so innocent as that. Magic ran rampant in her veins and she loved the shadows more than the light, appreciated life in all it's ugly, dreadful reality only because it would eventually end. She was drawn to the night, to danger, to recklessness and power, and she had become quite addicted to the taste of smoke and drink and salty oceans. If she helped him at all, it was only because he let her in, because he gave her the power to do so.

But perhaps... it was enough, on nights like these. Enough that she could take his head between her small hands and hold him close, kiss him deeply as he brought her bliss beyond imagining. Enough that she burned and was brought closer to the edge with every savage thrust of his hips, every hungry bite of his fanged teeth to her neck... It had to be. Maea couldn't offer anything else, nothing more than herself, and could only pray that he found her to be enough.

His mouth caught her neck, bit down on the skin beneath her ear and buried himself in her, deep and hard, and hit a spot that made her gasp and shudder, pushed over the edge so suddenly that she hardly realized she was falling until she was, and he was breaking in her arms, ecstasy swallowing them both. Her cry was soft, muffled behind tightly closed lips, as if to contain the feeling, keep it with her for as long as possible, keep him with her until they were both spent, breathless, exhausted.

Her arms closed around him. Held him there, inside her, on top of her, for as long as she could. If only she could make time stop flowing...

Lost in a world full of non-believers
Searching for smoke in a still water pond

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

He buries himself into her, as close and as far as he can physically be, and he can feel the shift in her as she shudders and gasps, contracting against him as he shatters and breaks with her. He burns, holds her tight, hands reaching up to cup her face as he pants against her skin, keeping the two of them together just as she does him. And he envelops her, pressing soft kisses to her nose and her cheeks and finally to her lips with his own before he manages to somewhat catch his breath, riding out his wave and hers.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from her, slowly with a clench of his jaw, remaining in the span of her wings, however, to stay in that bubble she’s created for them. His hand reaches up to brush away her damp hair, to search her gaze with all the love in the world in it. “We could do this forever, you know.” He says quietly, words only for her with a soft smile all the same. He’d be content doing it forever, to be there in this position time and time again.

The angel to his devil, the light to his shadows – where both of them have splotches of it within, they’re opposites and yet the same. Two sides of the same coin, perhaps, mirror images of power hungry souls, of vengeance, of justice – of being something more than they are.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint

MAEA

His breath on her skin. His hands cupping her face. Featherlight kisses to shower her face, and the steady weight of him pressing her down, reminding her that she was well and truly alive. Awake. Ah, it seemed she wasn't dreaming after all. How very peculiar.

Maea missed him already when he pulled out of her, and kept her wings around him to compensate, happy to find him remaining there. Cradled by her, cradling her... "Forever... and a bit longer," she agreed with a slow smile playing on her lips, feeling like she was enveloped in his love, now that it had finally been let out.

The fire in her was settling at last, embers burning down, drowning in cool ash... never far from flaring up. But for now... quiet. Sated. Content. She leaned into the touch of his hand to her hair for the comfort of it, a feline gesture mirrored in the way her fingers closed in his hair, kneading a little because it felt nice. "Does it ever become boring..?" So far, all she knew was new things. New bliss, new heights. Would routine and familiarity ever kill the elation of having him close, feeling his touch?

Lost in a world full of non-believers
Searching for smoke in a still water pond

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

He remains in her embrace just as she remains in his. In the afterglow of what they’ve just done, dazed and hazy, exhausted yet content. He peppers her face with kisses while cradling her as much as he can, breathing in the scent of her, of paper, salt, enveloped with him throughout.

He can feel his arms trembling with the pressure of having held himself up for her, so he shifts somewhat reluctantly, to lean along her without hurting her, head hanging along her shoulder briefly as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Sometimes. But never in a bad way.” He hums to her quietly, lifting his head to let his steel gaze wash over her.

Then, he leans down to kiss her lips again, hoping to pull her into him enough that it retracts one of her wings so he can lay back on his side to face her and hold her near — chest still rising and falling. “It’s more of a feeling of… comfort? Like, coming home to your house at the end of the day. Yes it’s been there awhile and things aren’t as new or shiny as they were at first.” He tries to focus on her with a soft crooked smile. “But it’s yours and that makes all the difference.”

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint

MAEA

He was so considerate of not crushing her beneath him, even when Maea really wouldn't mind. He didn't have to hold himself up like that, until his arms buckled... but she wasn't about to say anything about it. Not when he was this affectionate, so very tender with her. Never would she try to break this kind of spell. So she just shifted her wings out of the way and rolled with him, savoring the kiss and the swell of affection it brougth on. She kept herself close even as they settled onto the side, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, where it was warm and dark and she could smell him the most.

"Mhm, that's good to know," she smiled. "What kind of house do you like best? I only know the rustic, basic farm type..." Wordplay, or perhaps a real question; Maea wasn't sure herself, and it didn't really matter how he interpreted it. She just wanted to hear his voice. Her hands kept stroking the feathers along his shoulders, savoring the feel of them. "Would feathers stay behind if you lost them before shifting?" Another curious question, and this time she looked up at him, to smile back and steal another kiss.

Lost in a world full of non-believers
Searching for smoke in a still water pond

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

She rolls with him and tucks herself in close to him, one arm reaching up between them to place his hand along her cheek and stroke at the back of her neck as she nuzzles into his neck. He can feel her words leave her lips against his skin and he leans into the touch gently. “I’m not picky.” He hums thoughtfully, his other arm coming to wrap around her lower back and hold her close, fingers trailing over the pale feathers he finds there. “I grew up in a cold mansion without any touches of life, to living in a bunker below much like the Advocates, and then other people’s homes.” He hasn’t really thought about it much to be honest. But now, now he considers it.

“I think I just want a place that feels like home, with trinkets of life in it. Colors and paintings on the walls… Perhaps by the ocean…” He hums quietly, head tilting lightly to press against her face gently.

He savors the feeling of her hands running over his feathers, the navy plumes that flex beneath the touch. Her question is an interesting one and he’s quiet for a moment while he contemplates it. “Maybe.” A quiet musing, having not tested it. “I gave a feather to a Fae but I was in my full shift then.” But before he can continue on the thought process, he finds her head lifting toward him to steal another kiss and he gives into it fully.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint

MAEA

Maea tangled her legs in with his and let herself come to rest in his arms. Her limbs felt heavy with exhaustion, the strains of the long, long day finally catching up with her again. Drifting off to sleep would be no trouble at all, but she resisted the urge to close her eyes and let sleep take her. These moments of just lying in his arms and talk were so rare, so very precious. He spoke of wanting a house by the ocean, full of colors and life; Maea smiled, easily able to picture it. "Maybe with a small garden, and space for a library," she added, building onto this vision with her own suggestions. "Flowers in the windows... It sounds lovely."

He returned the kiss, and for a while she just let herself get lost in it. The simple pleasure of his lips on hers, the taste of his tongue, the slight tingle in her lower stomach. It made her smile against his mouth, amused that she was still ready to wake back up, even after all they'd already done. How very greedy of her. Reluctantly she broke off again, rounding it out with a few small pecks to his lips, then his cheek, before she settled down onto his arm.

Stroking his feathers, Maea admired the midnight velvet hue of them in the dim light. "Does it hurt to pull a feather?" she asked. She thought to beg him for one, but wouldn't if it hurt him at all. Not when she could see them on him whenever. They were his after all.

Lost in a world full of non-believers
Searching for smoke in a still water pond

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

He shifts easily enough to fit her wherever she wants to be, touching and touching and tangled up with one another – no need to worry about what might happen next, because right here was what was important to him. The mention of a small garden and a space for a library has a small hint of nostalgia crossing his face as he nods lightly against her. “When I was younger… Because they didn’t know if I’d live or not, there weren’t any sort of trinkets or things in my bedroom. The walls were white, same with the bedding, everything was plain and as if I was never there.” He explains somewhat thoughtfully.

“All I ever wanted was to have something of mine. Like the bar is, now.” With the hints of bronze and blues, of Lusea and him designed throughout. Perhaps he’d gone all out on it, but it was… Comfortable, like a child growing up sheltered their entire lives to rebel hard once freedom came to them. He had done that, and then some.

But their lips find one another’s again, and he practically hums with the ease of it, the comfort of it for however long – feeling her feathers beneath his fingers, feeling her hands trace over his own. But she breaks the kiss again after gods know how long, and she peppers them along his face before settling. He leans his head into the pillow gently, leaning back a small amount to raise his hand along the wing that still covered him, light and gentle as if testing it.

The question causes him to turn his head to look at her with a soft crooked smile. “Some of them, yes. Others...” He says, abandoning touching her own feathers to run his hands through his own where he finds one of the longer ones – not a blood feather but one that felt loose within the confines of his skin. He plucks the one, lifting it to her face to tap her nose with the end of the navy plume, a smirk crossing his face. "No."

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint

MAEA

She watched him pull the feather, expected it to hurt, but... no, apparently not. Wrinkling her nose as he tickled it with the feather, Maea laughed quietly and scratched the itch against his shoulder. "Well, good. Mine don't either. It feels like they're not... quite there? I think it's because I can't use them properly yet. Even if I flap them, there is no resistance, they don't move the wind at all." Reaching up for the white limb that covered them, she rather carelessly plucked a feather from it. There was no blood, no pain... and as she let it go, the quill shimmered and disappeared before it even began to fall. "It's just... magic." Might as well be an illusion, though a very pretty one.

Reaching up a hand to trail along the inked lines of his compass, Maea considered what he'd told her of the barren room of his childhood. Of the dream he'd now made come true - they were living it, bedded down under a roof of his making. "What else do you dream of? You have the bar, you've found the ocean... What comes next?" Maea gazed up at him, quietly curious. Her own goals and dreams were out there, working towards fullfillment. Already she was growing in strength and hopefully wisdom, striving for a life of adventure - and love, rather unexpectedly - in a world suddenly open to her.

But what of Sunjata? So far, they'd only really talked about his past.

Lost in a world full of non-believers
Searching for smoke in a still water pond

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

He hums his own quiet chuckle to her as she scratches at his shoulder. He takes the feather then, lifts it to tuck it into the hair that he tucks behind her ear, a bit of navy among the paleness of her hair. And he watches as she explains, lifting her arm to the wing, and he nods in understanding, watching the feather disappear. “That makes sense.” He hums thoughtfully. “Mines… More like if I don’t get to shift all the way. Like I can let it go fully and become smaller and my macaw form, but without getting into it too much it’ll end up like this. But they’re really no good for anything else.” He offers a bit unhelpfully – unable to partially shift his arms entirely into the wings, at least he can coat them with feathers of varying lengths.

But they begin to flex as he rests his hand on her shoulder, thumb tracing her collarbone as he focuses on her question. What came next? Well, he’s not sure. He’s spent so long focused on the bar, on the ocean… And he’d told Loren he didn’t even know what to do next, what else there was to do. He purses his lips for a moment before exhaling and rolling a bit more onto his back, pulling Maea close, he looks up at the feathers that block the ceiling from view.

“I want to make a boxing ring in Torchline, maybe move there.” He contemplates, shrugging slightly. “But I don’t really know. I have the Guild here, I have the bar here… I’m content to just, see where life takes me I guess.” He turns his head to her. “What other things it has in store for me, what things Safrin might have me do… That sort of thing.” It’s as honest as he’s probably ever been – too afraid previously to say what he wanted to do to many others because they’d typically outright deny it. He recalls the way that he’d told Loren that he’d move to the ocean when he found it, how Loren had told him that Phoebe had her life here and it would be unfair for him to take her away or marry to just be apart. A quiet sigh leaves him, focusing on the pale lines of her face, of a woman who burned in the sunlight if there too long, who’s home her entire life had been the Grounds, who goes to school for magic in Halo…

He’s not sure what to prepare for.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint