[m] - blackbird singing in the dead of night

Alaine Winters · 12-23-2010, 01:28 PM

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table © Mel
wc: 200+

It was in him, the energy that consumed all else; the burning drive for supremacy above all else, the deep and dark of wanting what could never truly be his throne. There would always be those born of the shadows and of the hatred who would rise against him and his blood. She could see it, now - There would be no end to this, not in their lifetimes. But to withstand time and continue the battle, the blood of the paladin must continue on. His role was too crucial, too essential, to rot with age.

This was something she could not give, something she believed to have been taken from her a long time ago. Perhaps this had been her burden to tote from the beginning. Her's was a final weight, one to be carried to the grave as he would carry the demons that lived and lurked always behind amber eyes.

"I believe in nothing, Gabriel," Her tone was stripped of pretense, bone-dry, hollow and mourning in the darkness. Emerald eyes held fast to his own, her slender fingers twining tightly with the hardened palm he offered. For a moment, she gazed at the union - His dark hand contrasted sharply with her delicate ivory. "Not your God, nor mine," The woman leaned towards him, her supple frame still echoing with the energy of the moon, the energy of him, "But Gabe, sometimes... Sometimes, I think I can believe in you." And this was her truth. She, the ruined: body fit for no mere man, womb fit for no mere child.

She leaned closer, breathing in his rich scent, emerald eyes round and daring in the haphazard moonlight. "I want to believe in you." Just a whisper, now; A whisper of hope in the darkness, her tilted face only inches from his own.

Gabriel de le Poer · 01-07-2011, 02:20 AM

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SSWM:443. We can fade to black or play it out, your choice. :]

Had Gabriel ever truly gotten to know his son, his first and only legitimate son, he would have balked at the knowledge and faith that Ezekiel placed within his own history. His son understood that heredity made men what they were—that they were all of them made up of ghosts. He would have recognized the need for conquest came from his ancestors, and they had been barbaric and terrible monsters in their own time. He would have tasted the long-gone blood of conquerors who had taken power by force and by chance and known it would forever be so. Gabriel was too, made up of ghosts. One of them, darker than the others, was also a Shadow that even he would never escape.

The faithless would never understood why it was he did what he did. To burn, to set fire to unscarred lands, this was done without doubt and without fear. Guilt had no room in his faith. When the Voice spoke, he answered. It was his duty and it was thus owed. No-God was a frightening idea to him. Without his faith, he would become responsible. Everything he would have done would have been for naught. He would need to face the madness even now he fled from, face that madness that was in itself a ghost carried on from the first de le Poer that had born red eyes and slaughtered his brothers.

He closed his eyes against her weight, so very frail against his own scarred body. Gabriel would never have imagined her to feel like this now. She was so slight, so much like a girl-child, and yet he knew she was capable of doing him harm. The half breed slowly found her face in the gloom and sought to capture it within his own eyes. How desperately he wanted to explain the world to her, to warn her of such things she knew as truths, but he saw the uselessness in this and held his tongue. Black tendrils snaked over his shoulders, hair unkempt but as sleek as a raven’s wing. Once he had been very beautiful. Now all that was left was a man worn by war and by turmoil. The beauty had left him for the mask of a warrior-king.

Gabriel breathed in her scent and knew that even if he wished it, she would never be his. That stung with a bitterness he had not felt since Jezebel’s departure—yet he did not flee from her, as the last woman had fled from him. “I am here,” he reassured her. “Dona nobis pacem,” he whispered a prayer, and closed the distance between them.

Alaine Winters · 01-07-2011, 04:17 AM

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table © Mel
ooc: I'm game if you are? XD
SoSuWriMo: 477

There was a potent energy that crackled through the tense, dark air. Something otherwordly, something that sent premonitions running cold fingers up and down her spine. She would have been cold, but his eyes flamed her skin, the feel of sculpted muscles beneath tentative fingers enticing flames to run along the hollow corridors of her veins. He was the sun, and she the moon - Never could the be together, not really, not in this life. Maybe they had been presented with a chance once, but that golden youth had been twisted away all too soon, and lingered now only as the most delicate of faded photographs in the back of her mind.

She'd been lost to him long ago, regardless of how fate may have brought him together. Perhaps, even before her birth, this had been the path set for them both. How the cruel hands of destiny, God and fate turned her world, Alaine cared little to know. To dwell on it would be to seek the absolution of her minuscule life, the irrelevance of her freedom. It would be to be trapped again.

Alaine knew the plight of the cage-cornered canary was overrated. She had tasted this freedom. No god would take it from her.

There was a sudden desperation that burned in the holy man's gaze, and she felt it connect with some small scared part of her - The part that wanted to be reassured, the part that craved promises of safety, the small child within that wished only for the warmth of his embrace to shield her from those worldly monsters. It could never be so. Together, they would run for the rest of their lives - She away, he to, back and fro in endlessness.

But here, now, the monsters were held at bay. For this moment of weakness, this fraction of lives torn asunder by the merciless talons of fate, the moon and the sun could be together. Just for this moment, she could pretend that this was the reality she had.

It was a sink or swim moment. His husky voice made her tremble, but she was converted by him, a wild thing temporarily tamed to man's gentle touch. The words settled deep in her bone, and she believed. Hands rose from chest to twine delicate fingers through the locks of spun midnight, entranced that she could touch him so, that he was not spun of the twilight madness and the lurking shadows that plagued always those bright emerald eyes. As delicate dancer's body finally, finally came into contact with the masculine planes of the Warrior King, the Dark Prince, those wandering moonspun hands claiming that which a portion of her wished she might have owned, the war-torn face, the ravens-wing hair.

"Show me," Pained words. They were for the nighttime, now. The Shadow was in them both.

Gabriel de le Poer · 01-15-2011, 01:59 PM

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SSWM: 500

Once upon a time, a prince and a princess had traveled to a distant land and stolen the treasure of a pirate-king. The story had ended there, but in truth, it had not. Both of these children were perhaps cursed by this treasure, or by their blood alone, to suffer greatly. Pain and fear had come from all parts of the world, from monsters with yellow eyes and crooked teeth, or from men who were supposed to love and protect and instead abused their power. Destiny wove and twisted and destroyed the light that had kept them pure. The prince, once golden, had grown as dark as the charred remains of the worlds he had been set to burn. Now king, he was bound to the path of war and of such terrible things. She, though her scars were few, had been rotting from the inside from that despicable touch.

So it came that the two once again met, twice over, and once more the prince saved the princess. Now, though, they were no longer children. The monsters were just as real and just as terrible. They too, perhaps, had become infected by such things.

Gabriel had been running for years. He still ran. He ran from feeling, ran headlong into battle because it was there he was capable of tasting what it was he lacked in life. Nothing made him content anymore. He lived, but he did not exist without such things. Blood and fire were as much a part of him as his own thought. Delicate fingers, those destined for the calling of a healer, touched him and set his skin aflame. A shudder caused his skin to ripple like a horse’s, and Gabriel knew then what his body had known since he had first touched her.

They would not save each other, but they needed to make each other understand. Gabriel could not tell her with frail words what she needed to hear. Alaine could not explain her hurt. The devil was inside of them both, but they would need to face the darkness together to conquer it, even if this was only temporary. He did not love her, but once he had—once he would have saved her if only he had known what destiny lay in store for them.

His hands moved to her back and he lay her down, this time without force. There was no true romance in Gabriel anymore, for another woman had stolen this from him. Yet his eyes were soft for her even as he knew that he might break what was left of her heart. His absence, his inability to be there, it might destroy her. It had done so to another woman. Gabriel lowered his face to the side of her own, seeking to breathe in her scent and know her without walls.
He parted her gently and with grace, finding her warmth now necessary and his own body demanding.

Somewhere in the dark, an owl hooted mournfully.

Alaine Winters · 01-15-2011, 10:54 PM

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table © Mel
SoSuWriMo: 534

There was a joint need now; no saving grace to tear them from the nightmare that had overwhelmed each waking day, but a single thought that hovered on the gilded wings of hope, maintaining light where once there had been none. Two hearts, one wilted and one charred, could beat as one in the wings of the nighttime. She had loved him once, to be true - Now, perhaps, she loved the idea of him. Gabriel had become a figurehead for her hope. Within the dark channels of her lucid frame, the woman knew that this collision of theirs was nothing lasting; never would the love they had known as children be returned to bless them again. She did not deceive herself with thoughts of a bright white future, the kind of fake color that peeled from picket fences once they were left to ruin.

Ruin was what they knew. It was who they were. Together, at this moment, they would embrace each others' wrecked and craven shells, and perhaps for a second become whole again.

He handles her with a tenderness that belied the power of rippling muscles, scarred face twisted in an ironic portrayal of the sincerity they both felt. So gentle, was the War-King; Claws that had ripped flesh from bone caressed her softly, as though she were the porcelain moon - Breakable. Alaine could sense that her savior had broken many creatures, and perhaps he feared to see her crumble, moondust in his blood-stained palms. But she was stronger than that, as strong as he in a polar way. Where his hands brought chaos, hers brought healing, and they swept through the thick plushness of ocher and shadow pelt, sweet ivory and bone white.

She could give to him what she gave rarely - The blessing of her body. It was an inevitable chapter in a story worthy of the Brothers Grimm; but they were no Hansel and Gretel, and this thing was hers to give. It had been taken from her by force, once; a sin that could never be forgotten. The cruelty was written in lines across her arm, readable to those who knew the dialect of haunted emerald eyes. But to him, she could surrender, a temporary hiatus of the walls that had held her frigid and restrained for so long.

He could give to her what is was she had needed from him, all this time; but this was a thing she did not consciously know, when her body opened itself like a flower in bloom to accept him. Moonlight pulsed through her like electricity, and in the darkness their eyes glowed mineral and harmonic. A soft sound spilled from her - A sound of relief? There had been no pain, though she had mentally readied herself for its intrusion. Instead, her body welcomed him; Two pieces of a puzzle slotting together at last. Lithe frame arched against him, a friction of dark and light bodies. Slender, tentative fingers now wound with purpose in the dark locks of his hair, eyes shutting slightly as she trembled, taught as a bowstring, beneath him.

His scent washed over her, branding the beauty as his own, for this night.

Gabriel de le Poer · 01-22-2011, 05:00 PM

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+3

The thing that Gabriel had become—for he was too many masks to be a singular idea—was one that in a small way perhaps mirrored the figurehead he served. God was an abstract concept to him, one of both wrath and of love, and one that both cured and brought on suffering. There was a swirling mass of all these things within Gabriel, a hurricane that was caught up in the winds brought on by others. He would destroy her if she allowed him to do so.

Her fur was porcelain and a soft shade of the earth in the moonlight, not meant for such a dark place as this. Yet even still he sensed that growing shadow in her. It was familiar to him because it was not unlike his own, though the Shadow that the coy-wolf knew was a much more terrible monster in truth. Haku had been a demon before he had fallen. Gabriel knew that as certainly as he had known that the thing within Laruku was sent to destroy the golden coyote. Men were meant to break.

She gripped him and Gabriel heard her voice above the night, felt her fingers grasp his hair with tremendous force, and he knew then that for this night he loved her. His body moved without the aggression it had when he had been with Anu, without the need as it had been with Jezebel. Their scents now mingled in the air around his head, making it light. Gabriel kept his eyes on her, caught in green moonlight and that sorrow within her eyes that he had seen twice over now. His fingers dug into the cold earth and his thrusts became deeper, as if his body instinctively sought to find that shadow within her and destroy it.

Alaine Winters · 01-23-2011, 03:48 AM

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table © Mel
SoSuWriMo: 333

Her body was a wild thing, a creature born of cool air and whispering wind. His fingers, fire and ice, stirred her blood to sensual frenzy - Each thrust melting them together, until she had no conscious thought but the feel of him beneath her demanding hands, the scent of him that overwhelmed her. In his embrace, the darkness could not reach her, and that which resided within her was blinded by the potency of this joining. It was meant to happen here; She could not explain it, but she knew it within her bones.

Gentle curves, meek enough to be of beauty but not of voluptuous perfection, bucked against hard muscles and dark coffee fur. There was a building within her, and she urged him to fulfill it, fingers tangling in dark tresses and glazed emerald searing in the darkness. The air around them was bitterly cold, but she felt nothing that was not him, thought nothing that was not him. She loved him here, and now, with all the remaining pieces of her heart. No sense of urgency forced them upwards; the connection wished to linger, as though they might pretend it to be endless, not as fleeting as fate may have it. Even with that looming promise of finality, Alaine could feel no fear; could feel nothing that was not him. This was the way they had been created, to fit together, to create alone what life they dared.

Breath swelled in her lungs, was panted back out in a puff of white. Back arched against the ground, bringing him closer, deeper. The night smothered them, a fake world, their own world; the stars had been stolen and placed in her eyes.

A sheer elation flooded her bones, her blood, her mystical flesh. The woman cried out, her sound swallowed by darkness. Nails bit into the thick fur and muscle of his back, not wanting to harm, but unable to refrain as the electricity glowed brightly within her.

Gabriel de le Poer · 01-27-2011, 11:54 AM

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There was no longer cold and pain—their bodies became things of fire and comfort, things that needed each other in order to survive. Together as they were there was peace, if only temporarily. Together they were locked away in a private world with no hurt, no pain, no fear.

And they were crazy to believe this, but believe they did.

His body rose to meet her, a hard thing finding soft curves against itself, and Gabriel too felt a growing need within them. Pressure mounted deep within him, demanding, no longer asking, and he now took her as she offered all that she had. A cry to the night, one that filled his head with warm light and an even stronger need, this brought on his own voice—a much lower, feral thing. He exhaled in silvery mist and shuddered against her, feeling her tighten around him, feeling his own spasms rock through his body like little earthquakes. He did not feel her nails on her back. He did not feel anything except for that moment, which felt like death and life and rebirth all at once.

Then there was only silence broken by their breathing, broken by the sound of two heartbeats in and out of time. Gabriel leaned over her, supporting himself with strong but scarred arms, panting, and closed his eyes.

Alaine Winters · 02-08-2011, 12:06 AM

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The precipice loomed before them, but it was only tangible in the rush of hot blood through her veins, and when they fell, they fell together.

Hot waves of pleasure continue to rock through her molten muscles, euphoric and so sharp as to be on the very of pain. But slowly, they eased, and the heavens cleared from her glazed vision such that Alaine could once again see the man she held tightly in her arms. He was Gabriel, the one who had saved her, and she thought she might have loved him, once.

The waves ebbed through her, pulsing like drugs through her heady frame; breath mingled in silvery clouds, heavy as lungs filled with cold air. She blinked, and moved to settle more heavily against the earth - The small movement loosened muscles deliciously, and a soft moan trailed off into a sigh that was swallowed by the nighttime silence.

She felt relaxed, but beyond them the shadows were already gathering, and the time she spent protected within his muscled arms was slipping away through her fingers. His job had been completed - Her body had taken what it needed from him, and even now was stirring magic, bringing to life things long thought dead and forgotten.

Cool palms slipped down from his back, nails having since released their sharp grip on the impressive muscles there. Slowly, delicate fingers trailed through the dark mottled fur, easing up his neck to rest as they would, meshed in the raven hue of his wild mane. "Gabriel..." Came soft, breathy voice; time and the dream of perfection were slipping away, fighting for mindspace with the cold protrusion of reality. Not yet - She didn't want to remember, not yet...

There were no words need be shared. Each knew the union to be real only for this passing moment; the sun and the moon could not linger together, not for long. She could not be his, not in the world in which they lived. Sweet body cradled him close, but their time together was almost at an end.

Gabriel de le Poer · 02-15-2011, 08:51 PM

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Somewhere in his memories there were other faces, other women that he had known in this way. His body knew how to respond to the primal urges within his blood. It was not romantic—he did not love her, he did not desire to be her mate—but they needed each other in this dark place. Deep inside of them were Shadows, born out of hate and despair. The blackened male breathed out as she spoke his name, finally opening his eyes. Under him the woman was a white-brown shadow with deep eyes. He knew she had been wounded deeply, and knew he had done something to her by taking her as he had. Like Anu, he offered her only the reassurance of his body. No loving words, nothing to reassure the woman who was by no means weak.

He let her hold him as his body slowly eased. It would take time for his body to release her, for that was the way that his species was made. Gabriel lowered himself to her side, wrapping one arm around her waist protectively. There was nothing he could do now but wait, yet he did give her what comfort he could. His warm body curled against her back, smelling her sweet scent and thinking of her eyes in the dark. She had the potential to become terrible, if she so allowed it. He prayed she would not.

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