faded flowers, fatherless dead

POSTED: Wed Jun 12, 2019 5:05 pm

(396)

*rubs hands together*

Tawny fur meshed with off-white and dilute gold in the cold watch of night. Somewhere beyond the ivy draped window a raven called as the siblings took their rest. The yearlings were still as they dreamed of landscapes and faces both foreign and familiar. Their chests rose and fell in unison, Wisteria’s pale arm lifting with each breath as it lay languidly over her brother’s chest. Her forehead pressed against his ribs, her long legs draped one over the other.

The walls around them were dark and bare, wisps of shadow playing upon them as silvery light crept through the swaying branches of trees outside. Clothing lay in piles, some folded, others draped across scant furnishings. Notable among these was a bycocket cap, feathered and frivolous it rested just beyond the pile of furs towards the tawny man’s side. All was quiet, save the soft sighs of air passing through two sets of lungs and the distant snorts of horses.

Wisteria shivered in her sleep. The prickling sensation crept from nape to tailbone, treading up her spine like the grim march of soldier ants. Her breathing hitched, switching from diaphragm to chest, becoming all at once ragged and broken. Behind closed lids her ember eyes blinked doubly and darted.

She dreamed a dark and desolate space. Faces passed, her mother's, her father's. Others blurred before her mind's eye, nameless and unfamiliar. A raven called, a horse cried. She felt trapped in a foggy abyss, paralyzed as the scenery shifted to a stone cairn. The grave was marked by a rusted blade and the longer she watched the more the stones appeared to move, shaking and breaking, parting. Within their stone cradle lay the bones of long dead children tiny and forgotten.

In the waking world her body shuddered, her lips parted and she murmured nonsense words. She spoke of a flower, bastards, betrayal, and death. Her eyes remained closed, but she saw...everything.

The stone cairn shifted to a well-worn path. Beyond it a solitary fire glowed bright, a flaxen horse grazing within the halo of light. The air was fragrant with roasting meat as golden hands reached out to turn a spit before them. A rustle nearby caught her attention and then tawny hands wrapped around her chin and the crown of her head. The horse screamed and bone cracked, then darkness.

Wisteria woke up.

Wisteria Valentine
Salsola
The Tradesman
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Stormie
Luperci In memoriam

POSTED: Fri Jun 14, 2019 3:29 pm

seester y u wake me

Sleep came easy.

Granted, there were few times that it hadn't - but there was something to be said about the cool carress of Northern air that crept in through slats in wood and stones, snuffed out at the points of platonic contact that the siblings shared, intwined for warmth, for security, in a tangle of comfort that they shared clear back to the womb.

Summer was setting in. The delicate, refreshing chill would not last much longer.

Aurelion was snoring, ever-so-softly, more or less the smallest of rattles against the back of his throat with sleep-laden breaths, though it paused, as he swallowed, feeling the face mashed into his ribs shift, the curl of a spine under the hook of his arm twitch and shiver.

His eyes cracked open, slow and bleary, while he blinked away. The rasp of his voice was low and quiet thing, not entirely his own yet while it crackled with residual sleep. Bringing his hand up to knuckle at his eye, he half-listened to the pallid, silver-washed dark.

"Wiss," he mumbled, his lips thick and numb as he slowly sparked into waking. "You're talking."

His sister, pale-white and ghostly suddenly started awake, and her legs knocked against his with enough force to jostle him from his subtly disturbed half-slumbers, and he sat up, looking bewildered as though seeing their room for the first time all over again.

Salsola
The Family
Despi
Luperci

Salsola