Love grows a cruel tyrant, hard to please;
Orange and black and white tuck tight against the phoenix, seek entrance into her mind until their consciousness is one. Thoughts flow between them, before them, and neither phoenix nor tiger might know from whom they originate. All that is there is the union, the one-ness. Anger and jealousy and a sullenness vying for dominance, demanding she act (they act) on impulse and instinct. Could the jungle cat have her way, the king would be minced meat, a thing of the past for Moira to no longer shed water over, to moon over, to become jealous and possessive. The cat does not enjoy having to share the attention of her companion, her soul-bonded.
He is something she dislikes even more than the unicorn who is not kin but more to the girl on fire.
Only when Moira’s brow touches striped brow does the tiger turn once more, facing the stallion with a challenge. He approaches and she counters with her own forward steps. At last breath touches breath, but it is discontent in eyes of ice, even as she relays his words faithfully. ’I think he cares for you.’ I think he was distracted more, she retaliates, letting jealousy get the better and a small huff force its way past tightly pressed lips. The tiger withdraws from the man, whiskers twitch but teeth hidden.
How Moira morphs so quickly from pleasure to pain! Muscles tighten and pull inward, wings tremble as she remembers the silver man.
The first to meet her these strange lands, Raum had been an intrigue even then. Back when she was younger, greener, ready to take on the world and carve out a home for herself and her beloved cousin… Ghost or not, crow or not, he’d never hurt her. Oh, he’d hurt her unicorn, he’d stolen her Queen, he’d slain a member of her home… But she is no killer. A keeper and tormentor, a thing that sings sweet songs of death to men who turn her out on her own when only anger and joy flood her system simultaneously… And yet she could never act on those words.
"Would he be brought to justice, would you remember a girl with flowers in her hair who asked that they only be something you liked so long ago? If we were to find him, Neerja and I, and deliver him unto you and Isra and Eik for all you have suffered, would you ever think of me again?” And it is an intimate whisper, reflecting his own hushed tones with an inflection of their own. Gold in black upon black peer out from beneath lashes, turn bright eyes pensive and dark as she remembers what it is to be forgotten… Or worse: to never seem to have existed at all.
"We’ve different goals, it seems, but I am glad to see you here no matter the circumstance.” Warmth returns again to husky voice that hums and soothes and smiles, for no matter her fury or jealousy, she could not stay angry long when having been apart for longer. "I’ve never seen a jungle like this - not that I’ve seen many. Neerja remembers her home and the leaves and the pool and the humidity. I think she’s fond of being back in something akin to where she’d been born. Perhaps someday she and I will find our own little paradise…” A place where they could hide away, where war and tyrants and death would not penetrate… A utopia for two, a senseless, hollow dream without the faces she’s come to love so dearly.
'My strange, winged cub, I could destroy all your problems with ease.'
You know you never would.
