[P] [M] 'Cause she's a tidal wave

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: Language, alcohol (?), sex/sexual themes.

WC: 287
OOC: Set a few hours after this thread

A cold, nighttime bath had sufficed only to wash the scent off of Deirdra's fur. It had swept away the scented oils she'd brushed through her hair, the faint oils of Lev's fingers in her fur, and his saliva from her jaw and neck where he'd peppered her with kisses and quick bites. It hadn't cleaned her from the memory of the encounter that set a fire warm in her belly.

She'd spent the better part of an hour searching for Sol Valentine but Deirdra never had been a skilled tracker. The night air had set a thick dew on the grass that hid his trail from her and he hadn't arrived at his own door before Deirdra got bored of waiting.

So she took a bath to calm down before she went home. Only it hadn't calmed her down, so she hadn't gone home. She had an itch that had been grown to gargantuan size since it's start and she hadn't managed to scratch it. At all - she'd given it the honest try to fix it herself to no avail. This was an itch that only someone else could reach.

Knowing that no trace of Lev's touch remained on her skin, she'd folded her dress and tossed it aside to be picked up later. She wore only her dark cloak to shield her bare fur from the white moonlight. Sabriel would appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night for this. They had a few hours still until sunrise where they could make sweet love with no interruptions. It was a fool-proof plan!

Deirdra de le Ulrich knocked on the dark witch's door, ready to greet her with a flurry of ravenous kisses.
When she’d found him, Sol had been distraught and retreating from the Library with great haste. Sabriel had been tending to her garden in the fading light, pruning back the plants that had wilted at last in the final days of summer. The sound of the oversized Valentine man hurrying down the road stole her attention and she came around the side of her house to see what all the commotion was about. Seeing his distress, she stopped to calm him down but was instead assaulted with knowledge that she wished she could unlearn.

But what was done was done.

Hours passed and Sol Valentine was gone. Sabriel sat alone in her home, her garden chores forgotten. The fire smoldered in the hearth, casting a feeble glow across the cottage floor. A lone candle sputtered weakly on the table beside her, accompanied by a bottle of wine and a small ceramic cup. The bottle, full only hours ago, now sat half-empty beside her. Black fingers curled absently around the ceramic cup and brought it to her stained lips where she drained the rest of its contents.

Sabriel reached for the bottle again as a knock sounded on her door. The witch paused, bottle hovering over her empty cup momentarily before she continued, filling the vessel to the brim. Slowly, she sat the wine down and brought the cup to her lips once more, draining it completely with deep, long gulps.

“Come in,” she said flatly, setting the cup down. She remained seated as Deirdra entered, her cloak swishing and bringing in fresh evening air. Sabriel could smell the other woman’s arousal and though her own body stirred in response, her heart and mind were like ice.

Sapphire eyes looked up to meet ruby ones. They were both Arbiters now as well as lovers. Rank had no bearing here–not tonight.

“How was the Library?”

OOC: ref to sol approved by adel! let me know if i need to change anything re: dee's entrance (313 WC)
i'm still a believer, but i don't know why
i've never been a natural, all i do is try, try, try
WC: 308

Dee pouted a little that Sabriel didn't answer the door herself. How was she supposed to throw herself on her lover this way? Oh well, Deirdra threw the door open with an eager grin. Her cloak flapped in the sudden wind of it and revealed her nakedness for what it was. Sabriel was no novice to Deirdra's antics. So why was her gaze so cold? Deirdra wilted like a neglected plant in the garden. "Sabriel, honey, what's the-"

The witch's sharp words cut through the air like a knife. Ah, so that's where Sol had run off to. Deirdra closed her eyes and pulled the door shut behind her. This was not a conversation that would go over easily.

"If you must know, it ended up a wash." Deirdra unclasped her cloak and hung it by the door. Her golden fur, freshly washed, gleamed in the firelight. It was just as the night they first met, when Sabriel had first announced her intentions towards the de le Ulrich witch.

Deirdra took her familiar place on the chair next to Sabriel's, though she didn't dare reach across to hold the dark hand that trembled with barely contained emotions. Dee wasn't experienced in the ways of love but she wasn't a fool either. She folded her own white hands in her lap and did her best to look contrite. "I can see I upset you, though." It wasn't very effective.

She watched her dark lover out of the corner of her eyes, hoping that the deference she showed would win her points. She was surprised to find that she rather liked the stony way that Sabriel kept a straight face. She found beauty in the harsh lines of her face and the tension of the witch's dainty body. She looked like an arrow ready to fly at the archer's ready.
Deirdra didn’t even try to deny what Sabriel knew. The witch wasn’t sure if that made it worse. With blank eyes, she watched as Dee hung up her cloak by the door and, naked, made her way across the small cottage to join Sabriel at the table. The sight of Deirdra’s golden fur gleaming in the firelight would have delighted and enthralled Sabriel on any other evening, and the two would have fallen to bed without hesitation. Instead, there was coldness and silence between them.

Though the golden woman’s words and posture were repentant, they were at odds with her actions. Not just her actions from earlier, but from the past several weeks. The Single’s Party had been the beginning, where she had openly entertained the attention of Mogis Meloy. And now, she daringly consorted with a Prizmov in the Library of all places.

Though Dee had always insisted that she wanted an advantageous mateship in the future, Sabriel thought she had time to make something of herself–to be someone Dee would be proud to marry. Clearly, she was wrong. Clearly, it didn’t matter and had never mattered from the start. Anger flared inside her, fueled by hurt.

“Lev Prizmov, hm?” She carved a groove into the table with a dark nail. “Just a Tradesman, isn’t he? A bit surprising for you. Though, I suppose his brother is the Paladin.”

i'm still a believer, but i don't know why
i've never been a natural, all i do is try, try, try
WC: 221

Deirdra couldn't help but wince at the gouging line Sabriel drew into the table. She'd known that Sabriel didn't like the idea of having to share her, but she didn't realize just how upset the dark witch would be. Surely she'd seen this coming? Deirdra had done her best to prepare Sabriel for the reality that they weren't exclusive lovers. She was clearly wrong.

"You were a Tradesman when we shared out first night." Deirdra smirked at the memory. It had been a dark, smoky not unlike tonight. Her salmon pink eyes examined the now-Arbiter with an ascertaining gaze. It wasn't time to make her move. Not yet. "You wooed me with your honey-sweet words, a daring display of magic, and your beautiful, gorgeous blue eyes."

Eyes that were hidden from her in the shadow of furrowed brows and dark hair that fell over Sabriel's fair face. Dee ducked her head down. "Sabriel, my sweet, can I see those eyes that I fell in love with so many months ago?"

Love was a strong word, but it was the most accurate one. Deirdra loved Sabriel Kali, even if she couldn't marry her. Even if she still wanted to sleep with the tall Prizmov man, it didn't diminish her love for her petite coven-sister. Why couldn't Sabriel see that?
A war waged within Sabriel’s heart. Hurt so acute it made her want to crawl inside a den underneath the roots of a Blackwoods pine. Anger so fierce she could devour the world. Lust so consuming she was sure would burn her to ash any moment. She was only a small vessel–how could she contain such multitudes without spilling over?

As requested, Sabriel looked up into Deirdra’s eyes. She could not see for herself the heartbreak and frustration reflected in the midnight-blue pools of her eyes, but she had never been very good at hiding her true feelings. Her lover’s words, once sweet music, now sounded like nails against slate.

“Why am I not good enough for you, Deirdra?” the witch asked quietly. She wanted desperately to take Dee’s golden hands in her own, plant kisses on each finger, and beg to be chosen. Deep in her heart, Sabriel knew she was worthy. She would not beg, not today.

“All I want is you. All of you. You already have all of me.” Why is that not enough?

OOC: *sobbing* 
i'm still a believer, but i don't know why
i've never been a natural, all i do is try, try, try
WC: 282

Love was fleeting and insincere. It was gilt with promises and fluttering feelings in the stomach. But at its root love was nothing more than biting pain. Deirdra knew this in her aching heart of hearts, breaking at the sight of her beautiful witch so struck by another's actions. Love weakened you to the onslaught of emotions that you could never control. It bound you. It corrupted you.

It made even the golden daughter of a Pentiti witch kneel before another in supplication.

Her white fingers splayed against Sabriel's dark knees in a stark relief, grasping at flesh as if to hold Sabriel back down to the earth where she belonged. Her grip was tight without rage, instead it was the strength of desperation to heal that which she had hurt. "Oh, Sabriel my sweet."

Was this what it meant to offer one's heart to another? Was she destined to hurt everyone she ever loved and be hurt in return? For why else would Sabriel say such cruel and harmful things as this if not to hurt poor Deirdra as she had been hurt? Sabriel was a cruel mistress to make Dee crawl like this. But for one kiss from those dark lips, Dee would grovel in the mud.

"Sabriel, you are perfect and wonderful and gorgeously powerful. In this moment, I am - all of me - yours and we shall forget all the other people who exist in this world. Forget with me that we are not the only two people in this universe. Let's make a new one just for us."

For that was the only way that Deirdra de le Ulrich would ever shackle herself to a single other soul.

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