He had seen her here, mingling amongst the others. She was unlike them. Perhaps this was what Dare had become – a new mare. He had heard that sometimes, if you asked the gods in the right way…they would let you come back. Sometimes, you had your old memories, and sometimes not. It was a desperate, fool’s notion that he clung to. He knew that Dare was dead. Gone. And he would never see her silver flesh again; would never be able to touch her, to spar with her, or to be comforted by her. He would never again be used by her as a tool to her own gain. There was a tiny part of him that suggested he should hate her for what she had done – used him… but the rest of him had decided that he had actually loved her, and that she had simply nurtured that and had guided him. Besides…who could hate something so perfect? And so, now, his dark eyes searched through the crowd for the red mare. He was tall enough to see over most of the other horses here, and so finding her wouldn’t be hard. Or so he thought. He had only seen her once, but he knew it had to be Dare. She had come back to him through it all, and now it was his job to find her and remind her of who she was. Once his black eyes fell upon her, he felt his cold heart skip a beat before he moved closer, stepping around the festive-goers and those who had over-indulged on treats and cider. Despicable creatures, really. Defenseless and vile. Oh, how he could rape and pillage this entire world right now – creating an army of baby Plagues to raise as he sees fit. But instead, his mind is set on one thing – finding this mare. Once he wove through the crowd and saw her, he arched his neck and couldn’t help but prance however slightly. It was half a show of his masculinity, and half a show of his gorgeous physique (I apologize, but Plague is slightly vain). He stopped before her, muscles rippling. Truth be told, he was handsome – a true display of masculine virility and strength. His black eyes caressed every inch of her without reserve – he was not shy. This was, after all, his mare. He had found her after what felt like a hundred years of searching (and who knows…it very well may have been). ”Dare…” His deep voice was almost a whisper, a breathy sound that you may question if you actually heard. ”You came back…?” He hadn’t seen her die, but surely, she must have. What else would keep her from him? He wanted to touch her to be sure; to feel her fur beneath his muzzle, but he refrained. Oblivion didn’t recognize him…what if he was wrong, again? What if this wasn’t Dare? What if this wasn’t the only mare who had ever tamed him enough to use him as a weapon? Stop! It was Dare. It had to be. And so, he stood there waiting to hear what she had to say. Certainly, this was his beloved. ”Speech”
She was shadow; a rose-tinted goddess floating in the crowd. The witch came down from the comforts of her tower, her beloved library, and entered the throng of laughter and music and fire. Her body a beacon of dapples the color of dusty roses and the break of sunlight at dawn. The beat of the drums thrummed and flirted against her skin, sending tingles down the length of her delicate spine as she moved through the throng of bodies. Dancers and festival-goers and merriment hummed all around her, cocooning the city grounds in joy and firelight and the smell of delectable treats. Her mouth uncommonly began to water as she cut through those around her like a knife through butter — fluid and graceful — as she neared several tents that sold those lovely pastries for coin.
However, it was not the roasted pumpkin and sugary desserts that caught her eye. Neither did the tents of mystics and games catch her interest; instead, she moved closer to a pyre of burning wood. A bonfire who's flames danced and licked the night sky in fingers of bright orange and flickering yellows. The heat traced her skin in circles along every dapple on her body, and without realizing it, the witch began to sway. Not once in her entire mortal life had she found herself in tune with song and revelry. Not once.. she despised crowds, and people, and anything wonderful and beautiful in this world.
But maybe, after all, this was just a true testament of how she was changing. How the magic of the festival could have been something truly divine, to have enthralled the Witch Child to do such a reckless, rare thing. To twirl in the wild, hot embers and let down the confines of her walls that bordered her heart and soul in thick vines. To be free.. more than she ever had in the five, nearly six years of her mortal existence, and the multiple millennia of immortality before her curse.
As her body began to move, like a ballerina underneath a sea of stars as night fell over Delumine in a beautiful indigo blanket, Nimue let herself go. The fire scorching the edges of her skin in blissful shivers of warmth, her muscles loose as she pranced, hooves kicking up embers of light into the sky above. Maybe, she wondered, some of the younger acolytes had slipped her wine when she didn't realize it.. for she never would have done such a silly thing before.. to dance in a crowd, her body laid bare and open and her soul a fragile thing caught inside the cage of her chest.
She was completely unaware that she was being watched; clueless and lost as a shadow slowly cut through the crowd. Like a beacon of rose, the gem at her throat casting violet light across the planes of her neck and face and entwining with the light of the pyres, Nimue danced. In the corner of her right eye, her mortally good orb, she had half a thought that the shape of a man slowly rose in the crowd, closer to her now. The witch simply ignored them, pushing the thought to the side, until she heard a whisper flicker through the music of drums and pipes that thundered in her ears.
Dare?
Her eyes blinked, and suddenly, without warning, he was upon her then. She stopped, halting as embers shuddered beneath her feet. At first glance, her haunting gaze widened to take in the view of him. Her magic curled and pulsed, a dragon wishing to be unleashed, to find out who this man was.. but she reigned it. Instead, the rose witch rose her chin, sizing him up, as her crown tilted to the side. Was this man talking to her? Was his question, however soft, directed towards her or someone else?
You came back..?
His voice was deep and rumbling, a perfect sound that matched the beating drums and the flutter of her heart in her chest. Her nostrils flared in attempt to place his scent, to name where he could have hailed from, but she found nothing. Only woodsmoke and pumpkin and flames coated her lungs, leaving ash in her throat and dust on her tongue. She couldn't deny that she could feel the masculinity wafting off of him in thick waves; her gaze roving over the deep obsidian of his coat. He could have stepped out of a black hole, for there was no light that caught him or clung to his skin. Fathomless, depthless onyx.. that was what he was. A stranger masked in darkness.
She stepped back, another delicate hoof poised as surprise burned in her blood and into the marrow of her bones. Cautious, Nimue licked her lips, unsure of this man and what he wanted. Who he was. With a slow inhale, she tasted the cinnamon in the fires and the tang of uncertainty in the air that was left after his question laid suspended between them both. "I can assure you I've been here for a while now.. but my name is not Dare." Poison threatened to coat her words, but she swallowed it in favor of tried civility. Trying, with every ounce of her being, to slowly become a better woman than she had become.
Her eyes narrowed, whether she realized it or not, as her crown tilted to the side. The deep reddish brown of her tangled forelock and mane falling onto the lovely arch of her neck, opening up the planes of her face so she could see him with both of her eyes. One blind and marked by her divine power, and the other a deep blue-violet jewel. She blinked at up at his face, searching for a shred of familiarity, but found nothing. "I don't know your face."
@blackplague here you go <3 Nimue is becoming - slowly - a changed woman xD I'm excited to see how this goes!!
Through the flickering firelight, and the embers that burned his already hot skin, Plague saw her. It was his Dare. The abandon, the reckless joy and muscled physique. It was her. He saw her ivory skin, her dark eyes; could smell her – intoxicating and alluring. He moved closer, closer, until the fire singed his own skin, but he hardly noticed. He was watching a ghost as it danced for him, and only for him. And before he could reach out to touch her, to feel her under his muzzle, she changed. She was no longer Dare, but this rose gray mare. He knew it was her – another time, another body; but it was still her. There was no other answer. Just like the strange horned mare who denied being Oblivion was certainly her. The wretch had come to haunt him, just as Dare had come to save him.
She stopped then, though the music continued, and it allowed him to fully study her; more than before. She seemed sleeker; taller, perhaps, less muscled. The color, obviously, was wrong, but perhaps that’s what happens when you inhabit a new body – you get what you get. He wondered if, when he died, he could come back as another – another warrior with a better record, perhaps. He was notorious for his battle record in his first home; winning perhaps 2 out of well more than 10 battles. He fought with his heart and soul, but his body just wasn’t enough. Hence the scars that cover him. He didn’t feel they made him less attractive – they were a testament to his willingness to defend his home, his family, and his woman. Like Dare…whatever body she inhabited.
Before long, the mare spoke, certain that she was not Dare. Plague wondered if she would remember her former life, or if this was another curse of inhabiting a new body. Would she simply not remember? Would it take time? Or was he wrong? Had he been so long asleep that his mind was too foggy to tell the difference? Was Dare alive and well somewhere, and he simply had to find her? He eyed this rosy mare for a time, listening as she spoke, stating she’d been here a while, and the denial of knowing him. He took a step forward – and through the flickering light, could be questioned if he moved at all. His muzzle reached forward toward her shoulder, an attempt to touch her, to know for sure. The heat of the fire increased (or was it just his blood?) and the embers continued to land on him at random intervals; fireflies that bit his skin.
How could this not be her? ”I think in time, you will remember…” It had to be her. ”I came to you when I was young…a product of my father’s teachings. Certainly you remember him – The Black.” The Black was a notorious man-whore. He had more children than this land held horses. Plague had tried to be like him in every way – never falling in love, never putting himself out there. Until he met her. He had become a disgrace to his father then, but it didn’t matter – he was already in too deep. ”I loved you…” His sultry voice was whisper-soft again, almost begging her to remember.
A voice in his head told him that perhaps he was wrong. This wasn’t the mare he had fallen in love with. He simply had her mistaken for someone else. He was wrong, imposing, bothering. Part of him didn’t care. His father’s voice told him to take her anyway; to make her his. But Plague remained still, desperately trying to determine if this was his Dare or not. ”You truly don’t remember?”
Embers danced along her skin, igniting the air in heat that flirted along the smooth curves of her body until it scorched her. She relished in that heat, almost leaning into it, as her muscles craved the dance once more. But she was no longer alone. The man before her dominated the space around her, almost as suffocating as the smoke that coated her lungs. Her eyes gazed into the deep space of his eyes, searching for a shred of familiarity. Her words still hanging in the air between them like the glowing embers that reached for the stars.
Nimue couldn't shake the distinct feeling that this man was inching closer to her, his muzzle all too near. The stranger stepped towards her, his lips reaching towards the dapples on her shoulder. But she leaned just out of reach, her hooves kicking up a flurry of flames like a rush of fireflies. Tiny lanterns of gold and orange and yellows that dared burn the rose of her skin and the dark tangles of her hair. She didn't focus on those things. Her entire body attuned to the stallion before her. How the shadows of night clung to his skin. How something flickered in the dark of his eyes for just a moment, and she realized that for once, she did not have an inkling of how to handle such a situation. Her Sight, the magic laced in her blood.. dormant. Asleep. Powerless.
I think in time you'll remember..
Who was this man? Who was this Dare he spoke of? Surely, if he had an ounce of sanity to him, there could not be any resemblance. She hadn't a clue to whom he spoke, except for herself. She was a witch, Delumine's resident witch and seeress. Not another woman, and most definitely not the woman who which this man believed her to be. She was sure of it.. Nimue had once lived since the beginning of All things. Before Time had struck it's first toll, before the stars were even a thought whispered in the Universe's dreams. She had seen so much.. from the rebirth of worlds and kingdoms fallen into ash. Timelines overlapping and dissipating with each possible choice and outcome.
But she had never seen him. Not once.. and for the first time since she had been reborn into mortality, a shred of fear wound it's way into her heart.
I loved you..
Nimue did not balk. Instead, she swallowed the fear that struck her like a dagger. She stepped forward, her chin rising so her muzzle was nearly at his cheek. Her eyes boring into those twin black holes. Fathomless, without end, and completely maddening. With every fiber of her being, she knew the truth. She did not fall in love with this man.. but someone sweet, and brave. Stars blessed his skin in burnished kisses, his voice something that had the blood in her veins thundering. Her heart a wicked lovely thing, his name tattooed onto her soul. But not this man.. no.. definitely not.
"I don't know your face," she breathed once more, her crown quirking sideways. The mess of her forelock falling to the wayside, revealing the phantom of her blind eye, her Seer marking a shimmer of blue in the firelight. Let him see her as she truly was.. and not a woman he so claimed her to be, whoever she was.
You truly don't remember?
Her voice was soft, but strong, as it fluttered into the man's ears as the distance between them burned and burned. She blinked, scanning his face, searching for something she could not name. So she spoke, her words lilting in the flames beneath their hooves: "I remember many things.. but I think I would have remembered you." If not for the waves of masculinity and dominance wafting off of him, but for the light that seemed to drown in the onyx of his coat.
Because only a god could leach the world of sunlight and fires without so much as a drop laid onto their skin.
@blackplague <3 I'm sorry in advance if this reads weird, I'm sick and things but I couldn't help it! I wanted to write xD
He watched the embers float up in a frenzy, scattering as the breeze took hold of them. Some landed on his skin, singeing the hair, but he remained where he was, determined to bring Dare out of this strange slumber she was in. But again…could it be possible that this wasn’t his Dare? Was this mare someone else entirely, and he had wasted both of their time in trying to make her remember something that wasn’t hers to remember? He sighed softly, smelling the fear that crept up; a tiny hint of scent that didn’t make sense to him. Perhaps he imagined it. He was no threat to her; he was not acting outwardly violent, nor was he challenging her. He wasn’t even trying to be “a stallion” with her. No, he had imagined he could smell fear on her.
Listening to her words, he came to the conclusion that no matter how hard he wished it – this wasn’t his mare. This wasn’t the one who manipulated him, threatened him, broke him and rebuilt him. This was a mistake – someone he had never known; someone who had never known him. The firelight seemed to grow in intensity then, as if to mock him. The fire had its mate – the dry kindling sparking and popping; making their own sounds of lovemaking. He stared at her, at the shape of her body, the colors reflected by the fire, the knowing in her eye, and knew that he had made a grave error. He had allowed himself to believe for just a moment, that a miracle could happen to him. That he could be happy. That maybe he deserved that bit of happiness. He forced down the emotion that wanted to rise up – disappointment, anger, sadness, and a hint of regret. He would not show emotion to anyone – lest of all someone who wasn’t his Dare.
”It would seem then, that I have made an egregious error.” He remained where he was – close to her, close to the fire, close to too many things. He missed the heat of his first home; the heat of battle; the heat of passion. The closest he could get, it would seem, was standing by the blaze with its embers kissing his dark skin. His black eyes bored into hers, still hoping to see a glimpse of the mare he once knew, but he knew she was not lying to him. This was not Dare. He would likely never see her again, and that knowledge drove an icy needle into his very soul. She was the only one who kept him in line. What would he become without her? Without a guiding force, and a direction in which to cause his devastation? Would he roam the earth, raping, pillaging, and fighting without end goal? Perhaps. But did it matter? Without the love of a woman, did he truly have anything to live for? Not really.
”I have, however, enjoyed our few moments here.” For the first time, he was uncertain. Should he leave? Should he stay? What was expected of him? He wanted to hurt her for not being what he wanted her to be; but in truth, it wasn’t her fault. So he remained, tall and proud, black coat shining against the moonlight and the flames, waiting to see what may come next.
Surely, she knew, that a god stood before her now. The only one who could leach firelight without a single drop shining along their skin. Her heart thundered, but still she watched his face. Like an open book, without the use of her Sight even, Nimue could almost name each emotion playing in the obsidian of his eyes. Like pools of darkness, a black hole in deep space, she could breathe life into each feeling wracking him if she truly wanted. But she was not a sadistic type of woman, most definitely not a twisted kind of witch. Just a woman who was older than Time itself, who had seen too much; from worlds being born from dreams and nothing and then destroyed by ice and fire. Over and over again; kingdoms rising and falling, kings and queens of old. She had been a god herself once, and before her now.. if he was truly divine, would he feel the mortal things she saw in him now? Even through the mask of handsomeness and masculinity.. was she truly in the presence of a holy being?
It would seem then, that I have made an egregious error.
A god might have never admitted to a mortal mistake, that she was sure of. The sorrow hiding in his words was palpable, tangible.. she could almost taste the sadness there. She did not know why, but she regretted her sternness, if only for a moment. Nimue knew, all too well, the anticipation of finding someone that you were looking for, yearning for. She still was searching.. for her own brother, who she had not realized was her kin until the day they had been separated in the In-Between. Sibling watchers, divine children of Phobos. At the very least, she had found Astarael, the man she loved, despite that she had yet to tell him the truth about what she felt in the core of her heart. Knowing this, Nimue felt a strange desire to wipe away the melancholy from the dark stranger. No matter the air about him, she did not want another soul to feel the same ache that ripped through her with each pump of that shriveled organ in her chest.
"Don't be sad," she breathed, blinking upwards at him. A lilting smile curled one side of her lips upwards. "I do not regret you finding me."
I have, however, enjoyed our few moments here.
There was a hesitation that she noted, but tucked away safely in a pocket. Regardless of his words, of the tint of sadness hidden beneath them, he stayed. She could not fathom why; surely, he must have felt some range of disappointment at the expectation that she was another woman. A mysterious Dare. Nimue saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. But for the life of her, she did not move. She was transfixed, watching the emotions play over his face. Embers fell onto her skin like ash, as she quirked her crown sideways. Her pink lips were close to his cheek, so much so that she could feel the heat from his skin, and not just from the fire burning in their proximity.
"Who was she? This Dare?" she asked, her brows lifting. Curious, devious, and something else entirely. The witch merely looked at him with gem-colored eyes, never wavering from her stance. "You're a bold man, coming up to a woman you've never met before with such things," she told him lightly, "I don't even know your name."
@blackplague awe sad plague D,: if I didn't know any better, I'd say Nim is (uncharacteristically) flirting xD
