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+---- Thread: [AW] Open Arms [Relic Contest] (/showthread.php?tid=243)
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RE: Open Arms [Relic Contest] - Camdis - 07-11-2017
"Oh, Pretty Bexley..."
His words are soft, and he gazes at her with a mixture of sorrow and bittersweet reproach. Slowly, he shakes his horned skull, watching the way her feminine frame reacts to the anger that is practically thrumming from within her, that tangible sense of rage rolling from that golden skin and into the impending dusk. Camdis Lohir had made her upset, or the sky had made her upset, or the grass, or the air, or her own self - it did not matter to the scarlet spattered bay, and he would not dwell on the possibilities. What did matter to him was that he find a solution to whatever issue plagued the viper, because despite their short time together, Camdis' wretched habit of possessiveness had fallen into place around the gilded girl.
She would wear his invisible brand of avarice and greed about her shoulders like a weightless mantle, whether she knew it or not was of no consequence to the stallion; she was his to care for, his to protect, his to provide for.
His to piss off and make glad and make laugh and make sad and all other expressions of self.
HIS.
And he would accept no other alternative.
A sudden burst of fury rushed over the male, though it was mostly in reaction to the fear that coursed through his blackened veins at the prospect of losing her, his Pretty Bexley, the venomous doll with creamy curls and razored fangs. He followed her, long legs eating up the ground left between them when she had turned away until he strode along at her side once more, his expression stormy and silvery eyes a tempest within his skull. How dare she? Didn't she know the dangers of leaving his side at night? The night was his home, the darkness his friend, it would not look so kindly upon the golden skin of a day court woman - not when Solis had spurned Calligo with such vehemence.
His brow crinkled with the effort to hold back his rage - it would do them no good for the pair to yell at one another, would it? He assessed her, trembling with fury and teeth clenched against what he was sure was a tirade. Indeed, from the moment she had appeared, all bubble pop and pomp, she had seemed to be craving some sort of reaction. Camdis glared, ears burying themselves in his mane even as a small spark of happiness lit in his chest - this could be how he fixed her.
"You want something, then? You want me to be something? Do something?" His gruff voice rose with every syllable, till he was nearly yelling at her, this cruel, beautiful medusa whos talons had so easily pierced his chocolate flesh, "Fine. I'm Regent. I lead the Night Court in Reichenbach's stead. I am the Runner-Up King and I pray you find yourself in the Night Court instead of slinking around with those hideous, sand slurping wretches in Delumine because," Because you're mine and I don't want to settle for anything else "They won't ever deserve someone as invaluable as YOU."
His sides were heaving as he came to a stop, moonlike eyes wild with the combination of his own anger and the senseless feeling of betrayal that had flooded his mind at the prospect of her abandoning him.
The world seemed to stop as he whispered, "Is that what you seek?"
@
Also I freaking LOVE threading with bex. holy cow the muse i get from her
RE: Open Arms [Relic Contest] - Bexley - 07-11-2017
![[Image: 500_by_memuii-dbfxt60.png]](http://orig02.deviantart.net/75f6/f/2017/192/d/5/500_by_memuii-dbfxt60.png)
" BEXLEY BRIAR "
Oh, pretty Bexley… A virile disgust rises in Bexley’s head, so strong she could choke on it - hot and acrid and nauseatingly powerful, so that she has to fight the urge to snarl at him, to say something about what feels like pity, like an empathy that she never asked for. How dare he. Pretty Bexley, that’s all she is, and usually she doesn’t mind it, but today is not a “usually” day. Still walking, every inch of that small body trembles with frustration. Muscles locked, blue eyes blazing. Each breath widens what feels like a tear in her chest. Calm-down-Bexley-calm-down. She knows she won’t.
Her head pulses with something horrible. Unnamed, painful. The source of her anger has changed ten times in the past minute, from Camdis’s commiseration the oncoming fall of night to the scratch of grass on her legs to the chill in her bones, it doesn’t matter, what matters is that Bexley’s angry, and when she’s angry, the world is nothing but for that anger. Finding the reason for that anger. Her strides stretch longer, hooves slicing half-circles in the dirt. She feels him catching up to her, walking at her side now, but doesn’t bother to look, knowing she’ll do something stupid if his expression holds anything she doesn’t like, which it’s almost guaranteed to.
I'm Regent. I lead the Night Court in Reichenbach's stead. I am the Runner-Up King and I pray you find yourself in the Night Court instead of slinking around with those hideous, sand slurping wretches in Delumine because, they won't ever deserve someone as invaluable as YOU.
Bexley stops short. His voice is huge, reverberating in her ears a hundred times, and a hundred times again. She can feel it scratching at her bones. Her stomach twists and turns, squeezes, makes her want to cry or collapse or both. Fuck you, she wants to say, You don’t know anything about me. Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me. It goes on a loop in her head, incessant, raucous, until her whole being blisters with the idea of turning on him, how good it would feel to let him know what’s actually happening, since he obviously has no damn clue.
She turns to face him. Her eyes are glassy and fervent, chin raised defiantly, gaze sparkling with an anger as cold and hard as diamonds, but she makes eye contact without shaking, teeth bared in a half-hearted snarl.
Yes, she says finally. It is. But I know Reichenbach, I know you, and I know the Night Court couldn’t handle me. Get your head out of your ass, Bexley snaps. You don’t know where I came from and what I love because it’s sure as hell not Caligo. She takes in a sharp breath, eyes narrowing. I don’t understand. Do you think you own me or something? Honestly - do you?
@camdis they're dramatic TOGETHER I love it
RE: Open Arms [Relic Contest] - Camdis - 07-25-2017
Is that what you seek is that what you seek is that what you seek.
Please tell me it is what you're searching for.
Please tell me I'm not wrong.
I know I am.
So very very wrong.
Tempest eyes were wide, wild, the silvery color mottled with some sort of emotion that the stallion didn't have the energy or the time to think about. No, all he could think about was her and the prospect of her leaving, of her taking those claws that she had wrapped about his throat and dug into his skin and simply releasing him without a backwards glance. Far away, some small voice within his head called that she had every right to leave him, to toss him aside like the refuse he was, that she didn't owe him anything - least of all an explanation.
Yet, that wasn't how it felt.
Gritting his teeth, the stallion stoked his anger, preferring the punishing pain of rage to the weighty mass of sorrow. He glared, oh, how he glared at the prim and proper viper that stood before him, bedecked in gold and ivory and all things pretty and vile. Camdis seethed at her, hating those beautiful eyes, that sharp tongue, those all too knowing smiles - but he did not hate her for those things, no, he hated her for the ease with which she had shoved her way into his affections even as he knew what threat she posed. From the first moment she had approached, prattling about "fun" and "interesting," he had had the distinct feeling she had been operating under ulterior motives.
He had known and still fallen under her thrall.
There was a small part of the horned stallion that remained burning in grudging admiration for her skill in manipulation, but it was easily ignored and drowned out by the helplessness that nearly consumed him as she turned those almost feverishly glassy eyes upon him. Camdis refused to let his fear of abandonment show, even as her words lashed at him like glass shards and the stallion glanced at his skin to make sure that they hadn't left marks.
He wouldn't wince or flinch before her, couldn't show that level of weakness to the medusa as her own rage poured from her gilded skin like a river of ice.
Do you think you own me or something?
Fear sliced at the stallion and he struggled to keep his breathing steady as his thoughts banged and clattered against the recesses of his mind. For once, Camdis fumbled for his words, silvery eyes sliding to the grass at his hooves, the darkening sky, the distant horizon - anywhere but at her, at his(?) Pretty Bexley.
"No... Yes? I..." He gritted his teeth, willing his damnable tongue to stay in line with his thoughts, "There's something wrong with me and I don't know why, and I don't want to tell you any of this because damn it." He glared at the earth, silvery eyes flashing as the muscles in his jaw worked to spit out the truth, "You don't need anyone to take care of you, I know that. You don't need anything or anyone but you, and that's good, but I... It's not a feeling of ownership. Not quite. I just want -- need -- to provide for some of those I meet. It's twisted and it's weird and it's not at all natural, but you're mine - and I know that sounds bad, okay? - but you're mine and I..."
Camdis stopped, grateful for his dark coloring and the scarlet that stained his cheeks to hide the heat that had crept up his neck. Straightening, yet with a stiffness to his posture that left him feeling brittle, the stallion focused on the soft spot between Bexley's nostrils instead of meeting her gaze. With a voice as stiff and uncomfortable as his stature, Camdis spoke eight syllables before pivoting and walking back in the direction that he came, "I am leaving. I am sorry."
He had suffered humiliation at his own hands before, this was nothing new.
Please tell me it is what you're searching for.
Please tell me I'm not wrong.
I know I am.
So very very wrong.
Tempest eyes were wide, wild, the silvery color mottled with some sort of emotion that the stallion didn't have the energy or the time to think about. No, all he could think about was her and the prospect of her leaving, of her taking those claws that she had wrapped about his throat and dug into his skin and simply releasing him without a backwards glance. Far away, some small voice within his head called that she had every right to leave him, to toss him aside like the refuse he was, that she didn't owe him anything - least of all an explanation.
Yet, that wasn't how it felt.
Gritting his teeth, the stallion stoked his anger, preferring the punishing pain of rage to the weighty mass of sorrow. He glared, oh, how he glared at the prim and proper viper that stood before him, bedecked in gold and ivory and all things pretty and vile. Camdis seethed at her, hating those beautiful eyes, that sharp tongue, those all too knowing smiles - but he did not hate her for those things, no, he hated her for the ease with which she had shoved her way into his affections even as he knew what threat she posed. From the first moment she had approached, prattling about "fun" and "interesting," he had had the distinct feeling she had been operating under ulterior motives.
He had known and still fallen under her thrall.
There was a small part of the horned stallion that remained burning in grudging admiration for her skill in manipulation, but it was easily ignored and drowned out by the helplessness that nearly consumed him as she turned those almost feverishly glassy eyes upon him. Camdis refused to let his fear of abandonment show, even as her words lashed at him like glass shards and the stallion glanced at his skin to make sure that they hadn't left marks.
He wouldn't wince or flinch before her, couldn't show that level of weakness to the medusa as her own rage poured from her gilded skin like a river of ice.
Do you think you own me or something?
Fear sliced at the stallion and he struggled to keep his breathing steady as his thoughts banged and clattered against the recesses of his mind. For once, Camdis fumbled for his words, silvery eyes sliding to the grass at his hooves, the darkening sky, the distant horizon - anywhere but at her, at his(?) Pretty Bexley.
"No... Yes? I..." He gritted his teeth, willing his damnable tongue to stay in line with his thoughts, "There's something wrong with me and I don't know why, and I don't want to tell you any of this because damn it." He glared at the earth, silvery eyes flashing as the muscles in his jaw worked to spit out the truth, "You don't need anyone to take care of you, I know that. You don't need anything or anyone but you, and that's good, but I... It's not a feeling of ownership. Not quite. I just want -- need -- to provide for some of those I meet. It's twisted and it's weird and it's not at all natural, but you're mine - and I know that sounds bad, okay? - but you're mine and I..."
Camdis stopped, grateful for his dark coloring and the scarlet that stained his cheeks to hide the heat that had crept up his neck. Straightening, yet with a stiffness to his posture that left him feeling brittle, the stallion focused on the soft spot between Bexley's nostrils instead of meeting her gaze. With a voice as stiff and uncomfortable as his stature, Camdis spoke eight syllables before pivoting and walking back in the direction that he came, "I am leaving. I am sorry."
He had suffered humiliation at his own hands before, this was nothing new.
@
RE: Open Arms [Relic Contest] - Bexley - 07-25-2017
let's wrap it up here!! <3 @camdis