#The palette of sunset flames

[raingalaxy]

1989 taylor's version

#Taylor swift #taylor swift edit #taylor swift lyrics #1989 tv #1989 taylor's version #from the vault #Ts #1989 #tswiftedit #The palette of sunset flames

[aliatori]

Thread the Needle

The Forsaken and the Forsworn | Post-Fate | Gabriel Berthelot/Jihane N'Ait | 10.5k words | Explicit

Tevnit alerts Jihane to a new presence in the pavilion. She tenses, her claws digging into the white leather padding of the perch she’s made of Jihane’s shoulder. Her narrow reptilian head darts toward the western entrance; the sunset unfolding above the tiled arch sets her fire opal scales ablaze. To mollify her while she sorts out her unexpected visitor, Jihane lifts another bloody rodent morsel to her jaws as an offering.

“Scion-Captain Berthelot, Mistress N’Ait.” Sidqi vanishes as soon as the announcement is made.

Not so unexpected, then. Jihane knew it was only a matter of time before Gabriel sought her out again. It’s why she left standing orders with her household to allow him entry.

Between her and Sea-Trader Melançon, they’ve impressed upon Gabriel the necessity of covering the Watcher’s mark in certain spaces; nudity full or partial is no cause for remark in the Enclave, but bearing another deity’s favor so openly in Rhohnas’ lands, even that of a potential Exiled ally, creates more problems than Jihane cares to solve. More a surprise than the Scion-Captain’s presence is that he appears to have heeded their concerns, particularly after the nonsense with the flagrant cup sharing between him and the Sea-Trader at the recent banquet.

He cuts a striking figure in the sunrobe Jihane gifted him. Instead of selecting a bright Trinoran hue, she made her one concession to the Watcher and her chosen with the colour palette: a dark blue-grey like a brewing storm, with elaborate white embroidery at the edges of the short sleeves and decorating the hem. Circular swirls reminiscent of waves decorate both sides of the low, open vee neckline; the swell of bare, hair-dusted chest confirms Gabriel hasn’t deigned to wear anything beneath it. Continuing her downward sweep, Jihane smiles to see the midnight blue leather sandals she sent with the sunrobe on his feet, straps crossed across the tops of them and continuing halfway up his sturdy calves. A shame he’ll have to remove them for ablutions if she chooses to take this reunion indoors.

A heady thrill quakes through her at the sight. The Scion-Captain’s obedience bodes well for Jihane’s plans both personal and political. Were she a less patient woman, she’d be tempted to take him here and now.

When she lifts her gaze from Gabriel’s feet to his eyes, his arrogant grin reminds her of the challenges ahead.

“Don’t get any wild notions about all this politicking just ‘cause of an outfit.” He sweeps ringed fingers down his body in an invitation Jihane graciously accepts. “I reckon it’s only smart not to make waves… at least when I ain’t in control of them.”

Jihane decides this doesn’t merit a response. It would only be giving him the attention he craves. Instead, she turns to Tevnit, irritation writ plain in her glittering topaz eyes. Jihane retrieves another sliver of raw flesh from the lined pouch at her waist and tosses it to Tevnit, who snaps her maw shut around it with a loud clack.

Now just outside of arm’s reach, Gabriel stops, expression shrewd as he takes in Tevnit’s presence. At least he has a sense of danger.

“What is that? Some kind of pet?”

“To call Tevnit ‘pet’ is an insult. She’s a companion, of sorts. That’s the closest Achaizarian word that translates.” The companion in question stares down Gabriel, stone-still, the prelude to deciding he’s a threat. She holds up her free hand and splays the blood-stained fingers wide in a silent command to stop. “Don’t come any closer.”

The twist of Gabriel’s lips and scrunch of his bold nose signal his displeasure. She half expects him to take a step closer to spite her, and as far as Jihane’s concerned, he’d deserve the flame or claw he’d get for his trouble. But stop he does, which sets different gears turning in Jihane’s thoughts, ones wondering what other commands Xeheia’s envoy would obey.

“She gonna take my eye out if I do?”

“If I don’t beat her to it.” More tease than threat, even if Jihane’s capable when pressed.

Still, Gabriel laughs, rich and deep. “Been told I’m altogether too whole to have been a pirate this long. It would figure a—whatever she is—would take my eye out before some navy dog or piss-drunk merchant.”

“The Empire calls them dragons, like the creatures from their myths. They’re ignorant, but they’re not entirely wrong in this case. They’re flying, scaled, sun-blooded creatures, some of whom can command flame when mature, as befitting children of Rhohnas.” Jihane strokes the pale orange webbing of Tevnit’s folded wing with a gentle finger and earns a pleased trill in response, though her attention remains on Gabriel. That makes both of them, unfortunately.

“So like shadowkraken are to Xeheia. Just.” Gabriel pauses, eyeing Tevnit with curiosity and respect that seems genuine. “Smaller.”

“Exactly, Scion-Captain.” In her pleasure, Jihane rewards Gabriel with a toothy smile. The twist of hunger in his features as he beholds her fangs rewards her in turn. “Though of course, I’ve only heard of shadowkraken second-hand, and little at that. The waters of the Umbra are far from Enclave shores.”

“Most people who see ‘em don’t live to talk about it, and those that do, well…” Gabriel tosses his head, the end of his sleek braid brushing an exposed sliver of collarbone, then laughs. “Let’s just say we’re still tight-lipped about some things. Can’t go giving all our secrets away, no matter how keen the old girl is on cozying up to the rest of the Exiled.”

“Confirmation that shadowkraken are sacred to Xeheia is more than I knew one turn ago,” Jihane says. “How would you feel about a trade?”

Gabriel shifts his weight to one leg, arms folded across his broad, generous chest. She tries not to focus on his dayrobe riding up to mid-thigh with the motion. The smug grin returns with a heated slant, one that evokes a flutter between her legs and a roar to rival Tevnit’s in her pulse.

“You and trades. This gonna be like the last trade? ‘Cause that one worked out for both of us.”

“So you presume.”

“Didn’t hear any complaints, though that could’ve been because your thighs were clamped ‘round my ears.”

So presumptive. But Jihane enjoys taming dangerous creatures, bringing them to heel. Tevnit’s solid weight on her shoulder attests to that.

She unties the pouch at her waist and tosses it across the tiled ground of the pavilion to him. He catches it, clenching it tight in his fist, that intriguing curiosity back on his face. Without waiting for permission—to Jihane’s irritation—he opens the bag, his studded eyebrows lifting.

“Not that it’s the first time I’ve been in this position, but any particulars as to why you threw a sack of offal at me?” Jihane draws back to look at Tevnit, who trains her gaze on the bag the Scion-Captain holds. Her vertical pupils have widened with interest, though her scales are lifted from her skin, a literal bristle of agitation. With a looping snatch of song, Jihane commands her to stay put, just in case she harbours any idea of flying to snatch the bag from Gabriel’s unsuspecting grasp. Ever the opportunistic girl.

“A gift. The first step in establishing trust with sunwyrms is to hand-feed them. It’s what all of Tevnit’s stewards have done to mind her in my absence when she chooses to visit. Often, devotees of Rhohnas seek out a sunwyrm to perform this with as a ritual in the wild. It’s seen as courting Rhohnas’ favour.”

“And what makes you think I need to court Rhohnas’ favour?” Gabriel touches his fingertips to the bird skull dangling from his relic. No surprise he refuses to conceal that; Sea-Trader Melançon made a wine-induced admission that it once belonged to him. “I got more than enough favour to last this lifetime, through all seven hells, and right to the next realm.” “Is that not the entire point of your diplomatic visit? To gain Rhohnas’ favour and bring that promise back to the Watcher?” Jihane holds up a single finger and forestalls the reply Gabriel opens his mouth to give. “If nothing else, I know you’re courting my favour, your creative subversions of my advice aside. I’m curious to see what judgment Tevnit—and thereby, Rhohnas—makes of you.”

A pretty flush spreads up the tanned skin of Gabriel’s chest, making it all the way to his cheeks. Good. Jihane enjoys it when a well-placed shot strikes true, even more so when it has the Scion of a deity shuffling his feet.

The moment passes quickly, and the bluster she’s quickly beginning to associate with Xeheia’s chosen devotee rises like a storm wind. “Fine. What do I have to do?”

“Take one of the slices from the feed bag and place it upon your fingers, then slowly approach Tevnit with your palm extended. Emphasis on slowly. My beloved girl, like me, doesn’t enjoy surprises.”

“And then?”

“She’ll either eat it from your palm, which means she’s accepted you as worthy, or she’ll bite off a finger or two. But not to worry—Enclave chirurgeons are without peer. You’d likely not lose them permanently.”

She watches the emotions spin on Gabriel’s face like bits of stained glass in the toy tubes they make for children, rapid and plain to see. He studies Tevnit for a long moment then gives a decisive nod.

“Alright. I’ll do it.” No hesitation.

Jihane steadies her breathing. The anticipation sets her limbs shaking. In the interest of a fair judgment, she stills her body. The way Gabriel throws himself headlong into danger to prove himself to her, to her deity? It stokes the embers of her desire into a roaring flame.

But there’s a test to be passed, first.

Gabriel, raw meat in his palm, approaches with slow, confident steps, the leather of his gifted sandals whispering against the coloured spray of tile beneath them. Wind rustles through the fronds lining the square, cutting through the stifling heat like a cool knife. He walks like a man used to peril – not flinging himself headlong, but not holding back.

Tevnit stirs as he gets closer, scales lifting further from her skin and making her seem twice again her size. Her long neck stretches to look down at Gabriel from her perch. A gurgle emanates from Tevnit’s throat along with the smell of sulfur. Not the worst reaction, but still in precarious territory.

“Careful,” Jihane says sternly, only realizing after that she’s spoken in Trinoran.

The lightning-glow of Gabriel’s gaze meets hers without a shred of fear. He returns his attention to Tevnit, palm held out, emperor and supplicant in the same moment. Wisely, he pauses until Tevnit stops her warning rumble, then carves out the last steps to get within arm’s reach with measured deliberation, bearded chin tilted in an approximation of deference.

The tension could snap bones. Jihane registers each shift of Tevnit’s weight on her shoulder, reminding herself to keep breathing. She watches Gabriel with a threefold hunger – for the man, the sacred, and the thrill. His palm doesn’t so much as quiver as he waits for Tevnit’s choice, and in that moment, she feels righteousness about her decision to seek his aid.

She only hopes Tevnit—who speaks for Rhohnas—feels the same.

All at once, Tevnit’s sleek head swoops down, dropping Jihane’s stomach to her feet along with it, a shimmering red-orange blur. But Jihane has never looked away from difficult moments and she does not look away now. Because she doesn’t, she’s treated to a marvellous sight: Gabriel’s hand remains unmaimed. Tevnit tosses the meat back in her gullet, scales smooth and flat, then lifts her head and trumpets her pleasure. There’s a sensation like someone pressing Jihane towards the ground, then airy lightness as Tevnit takes off into the fading blue of the sunset sky, flying true as an arrow to the opening of the courtyard, where she will roam the islands to her heart’s content until she comes back to Jihane.

“So did I pass,” he says, voice thick and hot, not bothering to make it a question.

Jihane closes the gap between them and takes the bag of feed from his grasp, dropping it on the ground. She replaces it with her hands, gripping his forearms and trailing her fingers up them, avoiding the lines of sacred ink. To be the first to reach for him in greeting breaks protocol. Then again, so is the slow squeeze she gives his forearms and the soft stroke of her fingertips along his skin. It borders on scandalous.

A perilous combination of rapture, lust, and yearning fills her, scorching like a desert sun. She struggles to subdue it; the casual stroke of Gabriel’s calloused thumbs along the Maw scars covering her arms doesn’t help.

He’s proving dangerous in more ways than one.Time to start balancing the scales.

“Join me for an evening meal.”

It’s not a question.

-----

Gotta hand it to the Enclave, and to Jihane in particular—Gabriel’s eaten better these past two spans than he’s eaten in a Rising. At least when he’s at the Eye, what with supplies still coming in at a trickle compared to the old days of a full fleet. Feels like no sooner than she snapped her fingers and doled out orders to her staff than a pile of vittles appeared before them.

Not that he’s of much of a mind to eye the contents.

Contrary to Luc’s ribbing back dockside at the Squall, Gabriel knows he’s thinking with his dick instead of diplomacy. At least somewhat. Thing is? He doesn’t care.

On the opposite side of the square table, Jihane dips her clawed fingers into a fancy white bowl with six-sided red figures on the outside, matching red petals floating on the surface of what Gabriel assumes to be water. A floral fragrance wafts towards him as she shakes off the perfumed excess, then neatly wipes her hands on a vibrant green cloth beside the tray. He likes the meticulousness of her. He likes it more when he gets the chance to muss it up, which he can admit he’s angling for tonight.

When she glances up at him through her long, dark eyelashes, there’s no mistaking the look in her rose-coloured eyes for anything but flirtation, and—yeah. It’s enough to get his dick twitching between his legs. Can’t decide yet what kind of omen that is. There’s some kind of game ahead. How much he can sway it remains to be seen.

“Not hungry, Scion-Captain?” Jihane asks.

Gabriel doesn’t answer, giving her a slow once-over instead. She’s dressed in all white today, a white so brilliant as to be dazzling, like the way high sun on a clear day can turn the seas beneath his ship into a gleaming expanse of fire. Unlike the short sleeves of his robe, her pleated, dressier affair is missing the sleeves… and most of the chest. He doesn’t bother to hide his leer as he admires the pillowy swell of her breasts spilling over the tops of the cups meant to hold them, twitches again thinking of burying his face in the expanse of smooth brown skin. The clear beads Gabriel’s learned denote her status sparkle where they’re woven into her long box braids, which she has pulled into a half-crown atop her head. One bare foot peeks out from where Jihane has her legs tucked beneath her. The gold lacquer on her toes matches the shade of her claws.

“Not for anything on the table right now,” he answers.

“How unfortunate for you.” Her dazzling smile does fuck all to hide the new huskiness of her voice. “My suggestion? Find a different appetite to whet. Surely you wouldn’t be so rude as to let all this go to waste.”

“Sure don’t sound like a suggestion.”

“It isn’t.”

Gabriel’s stomach, traitor that it is, betrays him with a rumble. It’s almost, almost worth it for Jihane’s laugh afterward, full lips curved in a gorgeous smile.

“I won’t have it said that I mistreat my guests. Even guests who show up with such an… interesting interpretation of how to wear a dayrobe.”

Sparrow’d made that much apparent in a catty snipe upon Gabriel’s departure, that Jihane’s gift was meant to be worn on top of different clothes, but so far, he hasn’t seen any downsides. He spots a stack of lightly charred flatbread and sets to digging in, spreading a paste made of salty Trinoran fruit with the miniature blunt knife on the tray beside it. It’s warm, delicious, and has his mouth watering even more than it already was.

Jihane doesn’t touch any of the stuff yet, which. Weird. But Gabriel likes the weight of her attention, the satisfaction in the square set of her shoulders as he starts in on a second flatbread.

“What sorts of delicacies do you enjoy at the Storm’s Eye?” Jihane asks, clawed fingers curled in a fist beneath her chin.

He swallows his current bite and then snorts. “Hmmm. Nothin’ you’d call a delicacy by your lofty standards.”

“I’ll weigh the scales on that. Answer the question.”

Her tone brooks no argument, so Gabriel begins to reply… then stops, a realization heating the back of his neck. She’s bossing him around. All but dressing him, her ‘companion’, the food, now this. And here he is, going along with it like he’s not the mortal voice of Xeheia on this plane.

“I did, didn’t I? Ain’t my fault if you don’t like the answer.”

The air between them frosts despite a fierce humidity clinging to the dusk, one which beads sweat under Gabriel’s arms and along his back. Jihane diverts her attention to the jewelry on her fingertips as though it’s the most interesting bauble in her opulent pavilion, turning them this way and that. It’s like he doesn’t even exist.

Fine. Two can play that game.

Being pissed doesn’t change the fact he’s hungry, so he keeps on eating: crispy fried balls of dough laced with seasonings, crunchy purple vegetables cut into thin strips, a savoury beige paste spread on more flatbread. Jihane finally picks out a few items for herself – the fried dough, and a few of the black and green salty fruits but whole. Between each bite she dips her hands in the cleaning water and wipes them on the cloth after. There’s a matching bowl beside Gabriel too, but he chooses to ignore it as thoroughly as Jihane ignores him.

A familiar struggle burns and tugs its way through Gabriel’s chest. Anger, yeah, and embarrassment. But it’s the kind of embarrassment that quickens his pulse as much as it heats his skin, the prelude to a fight he gets hard thinking about throwing. When he and Jihane fucked before, it was the usual sort, give or take the burns and bloodshed. Now? He’s not so sure.

Most of his experience in these games has been with Hugo, who’s always more interested in having an excuse to wreck Gabriel with his godsdamned sadistic tortures than being obeyed to the letter. Jihane, though? Disobedience is like dunking a torch in the ocean for all the good it does.

He blows air through his nose, scratches at the fresh growth of beard along his neck, then finally says, “Fish.”

Jihane turns from her throne of pillows and cushions to look at him. It’s just a look, but it’s a look. She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows ever so slightly.

“Lots and lots of fish. Fresh, fire-roasted, pickled, raw, you name it—it’s probably at the Eye. Seaweed, too. Grew it ourselves back in the Umbra and it transferred easy enough. And goats, sometimes. The tough little bastards used to be all over. We took as many of them with us as we could when we had to move.” When he sank the island at Xeheia’s behest, half mad with grief and to be sure nothing was left of the Carnage, but he ain’t getting into that story right now. "And they’re doing fine, but not enough to start slaughterin’ the seven hells out of them yet.”

The more Gabriel speaks, the more Jihane shows interest, until she’s leaning toward him across the table, a delighted smile making apples of her cheeks.

She places her hand over Gabriel’s on the table. The points of her claws kiss the pronounced veins along the back of it. “Thank you. Since I’m hopeful we’ll be allies for the foreseeable future, I want to understand you and your people, even the mundane details. As much as you’re able to divulge, of course. I understand needing to keep the mysteries sacred.” Jihane winks before releasing Gabriel’s hand, and fuck if he’s not dripping—literally—with the satisfaction of giving her what she wants.

Godsdamned inconvenient, his dick.

“What about you? There’s gotta be something you can only find here. Something special to the Enclave. Only fair for me to know.”

Jihane’s smile takes on a new brilliance, sun-bright. “I’m so glad you asked. A fresh harvest from the orchards on the far isles just arrived and brought my favourite Enclave fruit with it.” She plucks a pale blue sphere as big as Gabriel’s fist from the table, then changes her mind and rolls it to him instead.

He stops it with his palm and picks it up. It’s surprisingly heavy in his grip, and if he had smaller hands, it wouldn’t even fit in one. Gabriel gives it an experimental squeeze and finds the husk on the outside firm yet not without give. Dipping his head, he sniffs at it, but whether it’s the savoury smoke coming from the kitchens of Jihane’s estate or a lack in the fruit itself, he can’t smell anything in particular.

“Go ahead. Open it,” Jihane says. She sits up straighter on her side of the table.

Gabriel casts about for some tool or utensil and, finding nothing obvious, opts for the direct route. He tenses his biceps and bears down with his fingers, a claw-like grip on either side, pushing in and pulling apart at the same time. It resists…

Until it doesn’t.

The tension vanishes and the fruit pops apart with a wet, papery crack… and a puff of what sure as all hells looks like steam. Dark orange juice sprays across the lacquered, pale wood of the table and Gabriel’s robe, though it misses Jihane’s pristine ensemble. Glistening flesh the colour of lava fills the inside, a paler yellow membrane clinging to what looks like clusters of tiny pearls on the inside. And he wasn’t imagining things with the steam. Wisps of it drift up from the fruit, which has an intense, sweet, spiced smell now that it’s open. A brush of Gabriel’s fingers confirms the insides are warm as blood. He presses down with the pads of his thumbs and draws out more juice, thin rivulets snaking down his forearms, the liquid hot enough to raise the hair on his arms.

When he finally looks at Jihane, she’s examining her dress-like getup with irritation, though it fades as she finishes her examination. She lifts her face to lock eyes with Gabriel. Black swallows the rose gold of her irises, leaving only a thin pink ring behind.

“What is it that I’m holdin’, exactly?”

“Kliaquat. It’s a fruit that only grows here in the Enclave’s archipelago. In addition to being delicious and expensive, it’s considered sacred to Rhohnas. A testament to his duality.” After a pause, Jihane sweeps a clawed hand at him, twirling it at the wrist in a gesture even Gabriel can interpret as ‘get on with it’. “Go ahead. Enjoy.”

He studies the kliaquat in his hand. It occurs to him it could be poisonous to eat, like spinefish or bubblefish. But his gut says Jihane ain’t looking to do him in just yet. Not without her contract being signed and fulfilled, at least; Gabriel’s got a keen sense for the murderous, and while he’s sure as the Depths are dark Jihane’s gotten her hands dirty, he doesn’t think he’s a target yet.

May as well enjoy himself in the meantime.

Experimental prods confirm the juice comes from the pearls inside bursting. This is clearly a two-hand job, so Gabriel abandons half of the fruit on the table to use both. He plucks out one or two pearls afterward, squishing them between his fingers. There’s a strange satisfaction in each tepid pop. He’s sure he’s not meant to eat the outside, and having torn it in half means there’s no easy way to take a whole bite of it. That leaves scooping out the insides with his fingers.

It’s harder than it looks; most pearls dislodge easily from the faded yellow netting that holds them, but they’re crushed in the process. There’s a hard bit in the middle of each pearl. Seeds, most like. Probably edible. Only one sure way to find out. Gabriel aligns three fingers along the torn edge of the kliaquat, presses down, and digs in, aiming to shovel out a handful of the seeds without damaging too many. Iridescent orange-red juice flows down his forearms, mingling with the black gyre of tentacle exposed by his Enclave-approved robe. The spiced scent is cloying in its sweetness yet still mouth-watering; he’s never met a sweet he’s said no to. Or a spice, for that matter. And the steaming flesh of the fruit…

“Kinda like being three knuckles deep in guts. Either kind,” he observes aloud.

Jihane makes a noise Gabriel would bet his considerable purse was borne of shock, but she covers it with a pretty cough. There’s a predator’s sharpness in her demeanor when Gabriel glances her way, not unlike her little sunwyrm companion from earlier. He starts to regret—but only just, and only a part—opening the door for her budding depraved urges.

“An interesting description.” There’s a solid pause, and then Jihane asks, “Something you have a lot of experience in, I understand.”

Gabriel grins. “Don’t tell me you’re squeamish, now, or that your Sea-Trader has convinced you we all make nice and polite robbing each other on the Fourfold. The fold’s more, huh… discerning about the kinds of violence we visit these days, but some things can only end in blood.”

“Oh, don’t mistake me, Gabriel.” Huskiness returns to Jihane’s voice. “I’m… intrigued. But right now, what I want is for you to eat. So eat.”

Gabriel wrestles down his initial spiteful urge to refuse. Might have been a time he told himself he does it because he’s still hungry, because the fruit looks delicious, but he’s older and wiser—or at least less inclined to indulge his own bullshit. But the plain fact is he likes Jihane’s attention, likes basking in her pleasure when he does as she says. Besides which, he ought to save the fighting and backtalk for the fights that matter, and he’s sure there’ll be plenty as they work out this so-called political and divine alliance.

He raises his cupped palm and parts his lips, drawing the modest handful of pearls into his mouth. Gabriel rolls them around his tongue, though there are only the vaguest hints of tart sweetness so far. Pressing them against the roof of his mouth and cheeks isn’t enough to burst them, so he opts to start chewing.

Flavour erupts along his tongue, the juice as tart and spiced as mulled wine, but with a cascade of new tastes he has no words to describe. They’re sweet, too, and as suspected yield a fibrous crunch when Gabriel gets to the center of the pearls. It should be off-putting, the fruit being a shade away from hot, but when he swallows it kindles a pleasant warmth all the way to his stomach. Almost as good as belting back a slug of fine liquor.

As soon as he finishes the first handful, he digs for more. Faster this time, more careless, to the point where juice trickles over his lips and through his beard, his hands sticky and stained the colour of rust where some of it has dried. Gabriel doesn’t even mind the bitter bits of membrane stuck in the seeds from his haste. By his third and last handful, he lets out a loud, throaty groan before he even chews the pearls. It has an addictive quality; the intensity of the flavour should leave him sated, but with only the hollowed husk and the tattered remains of the webbing left in this half of kliaquat, Gabriel only thinks about the second half.

At least until he lifts his eyes and catches sight of Jihane.

There’s hunger written plain as the stars on her face, though Gabriel knows without a doubt it’s him she’s hungry for, not the fruit, no matter how good it is. Her breasts heave up and down with each deep breath she takes. Haze fogs her eyes when she manages to lock gazes with Gabriel, though it clears in a few deliberate blinks.

“I take it you enjoy the kliaquat.”

Instead of answering right away, Gabriel takes the time to lick each of the fingers on his right hand clean, drawing them into his mouth one by one, releasing them each time with an audible pop.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, “I reckon I did.”

Jihane shifts, an elbow digging into a brilliant turquoise cushion to prop her up. “Then you won’t mind sharing with me.”

“’Course not,” Gabriel says, picking up the other half from the table and extending it to her. He frowns at the smoky plumes of Jihane’s laughter.

“Not like that. You’ll feed it to me. And properly, without mess.”

Gabriel’s frown deepens. A familiar heat prickles along the back of his neck, the equally addictive combination of anger and imminent humiliation. “I ain’t one of your servants to be ordered about, set to wash your feet and fan you with leaves and hand feed you.”

Jihane shrugs a silken, coppery shoulder, the picture of indifference. “If you consider it beneath you, then you can also consider yourself dismissed. I’m a busy woman and won’t waste time arguing with you.”

There’s a moment where it feels like Gabriel’s head has been dunked in a raging river, the roar of his blood like the rush of water filling his ears. It floods his chest, neck, and cheeks. A part of him is pissed as all seven hells.

The other part knows he’s fucked six ways to the Watcher.

“Least tell me what you mean by proper,” Gabriel mutters.

Jihane thaws again, all satisfaction. “Come over here and I will.” She then crooks a clawed finger to beckon Gabriel to her side of the table.

Is this what it’s like to deal with his mercurial moods? The winds of her temper shift nearly as quick as his own. Godsdamn.

He stands, cursing under his breath as his thighs slip against one another, making him realize just how wet he is. Whatever. He knew what he was getting into when he decided to come calling at Jihane’s palatial doorstep. Mostly.

“Kneel here beside me, then I’ll show you how to eat it correctly.”

He bares his teeth in a grimace. The way she orders him about, it’s like she’s forgetting who, what he is. He bites his tongue—literally—against telling her where to shove her imperious commands. Then, a tide of lustful shame rising in him like the dark waters of Xeheia’s holy sea, he lowers himself to one knee, then the other, taking a seat on the backs of his heels. The leather of the sandals digs into his ass, his thin robe not doing much to help blunt the pressure.

“Good.” Jihane all but purrs the word, and Gabriel loves and hates how he can feel himself swell at the praise. Worse still is the traitorous twitch of his cock when she pats his bearded cheek, the tips of her claws clicking against the rings in his ears. “Very good.”

“Just…” Gabriel huffs out an impatient breath, trying hard not to lean into her touch and debase himself more than he has already. “Just get on with it.”

“This is a task that requires patience. Best if you start summoning it now,” she says, a mix of derision and delight in her tone.

Turning from him, Jihane reaches her wide, plush arms across the table to place the remaining kliaquat half on a tray Gabriel didn’t see before. It’s ostentatiously decorated like everything in the Enclave, the base polished ivory and the handles a metallic rose gold. The utensils on it are ivory accented in yellow gold and most make sense: a bowl with high sides studded with pink gems that holds the other half of the fruit, a tiny spoon with scalloped edges, and a steel knife with a carved handle that matches the tray.

The purpose of a rectangular dish lined with several golden needles eludes Gabriel. They’re more delicate pieces than he’s used to, whether from his years of sewing or the fold’s flesh-piercers or Aurele and xyr unflinching sutures.

“The most traditional way to properly eat a kliaquat is threading the seeds on a needle and eating them one or two at a time,” Jihane explains, tapping the needles with her claws. “It’s a delicate process. Use the wrong amount of pressure or pierce it in the wrong spot and the seed bursts. If you don’t use enough force, the seed slips away from the needle and escapes you entirely.”

Gabriel’s frustration mounts just listening to the explanation, let alone trying it. “Lemme guess. That’s the way you want me to feed it to you.”

“It is. And unlike you,”—her eyes sweep down, taking in the erratic pattern of dark stains on Gabriel’s robe—“I expect my clothing to remain spotless.”

There’s a definite ‘or else’ she doesn’t say aloud, so Gabriel asks, “Or else what?”

“If you’re lucky, you won’t find out. I can assure you, the consequences will be nothing you enjoy, so if you were thinking I’d inflict you with pain as punishment, think again.”

A low laugh escapes Gabriel. “Figured me out that quick, huh?” “Watching you writhe as I sank my foreteeth into your chest, as I touched you with Rhohnas’ flame… It would have given away to the most oblivious person, and I’m far from oblivious, Scion-Captain.” She studies him, an excited light shimmering in her eyes. “Are you up to the task?”

He scoffs, then swivels at the hips to pick up the bowl holding the fruit and a needle to match. “I ain’t about to let some fruit and a needle best me after all the shit I’ve done.”

“Let’s hope your skill matches your confidence.” Jihane glances at the tray Gabriel left on the table. “Most beginners—children, usually—make use of the tray at first. It saves some face when a seed inevitably gets away from them.”

“It’s like I said. I don’t need help. You’ll get your fruit without the mess you hate so much.”

Jihane smiles like a trap being sprung. “Then get to it, Gabriel.”

The bowl fits neatly in his hand, its weight solid with the kliaquat resting in it. The needle’s not a dainty piece of shit, but it still feels irritatingly thin and small in his grip for the task at hand. He hasn’t spent most of his life making his clothes and carving scrimshaw and wood for his dexterity to be bested by one godsdamned piece of fruit.

The first pearl he tries to thread on the needle bursts, leaving nothing but wilted topaz flesh clinging to the seed inside. There’s so much juice inside such a tiny pearl; dots of it fleck Gabriel’s freckled forearm and the back of his opposite hand, but thankfully, he’s far enough away from Jihane that it misses her clothing.

“You could still use the tray,” Jihane says.

“Yeah, well, in case you ain’t already noticed, I’m a stubborn asshole. I don’t need it.”

Gabriel slows down, nudging a pearl with the sharp tip of the needle. He doesn’t want it flying every which way and landing on Jihane. Embarrassing, to end the game so soon. He angles the needle downward, about where he judges the midpoint between the edge of the pearl and the seed itself, then thrusts it inward with what he thinks to be sufficient pressure and a steady hand.

The devious son of a bitch still shoots out of the bowl. Thankfully, it lands on a nearby section of tiles, bursting upon impact. His cheeks heat again, pulse quickening with his frustration and the expectant gaze of Jihane on him.

“This is the most hull-licking, bilge-pissing, barnacle-fucking, foolish bleedin’—” Gabriel says, the rest of his words swallowed in a heavy sigh. The notion of tossing the whole bowl across Jihane’s fancy courtyard seems more appealing by the heartbeat.

“Such inventive language. Swears, I assume. Not ones I’m familiar with.”

“Don’t imagine you would be. They ain’t exactly commonplace, and much of a dirty conniving bastard as your Sea-Trader is, his language is cleaner than the rest of him.” Gabriel frowns at the cracked and split husk of fruit in the bowl in his hand, needle at the ready. He reckons he’s got it this next time. “Plus, it’s a particular gift of mine.”

“I’d recommend keeping a civil tongue when you address me. The way you speak of the Sea-Trader? I wouldn’t tolerate it.”

“He gives as good as he gets, believe you me. And anyway, he ain’t here.”

Gabriel places the tip of the needle against the seed and pushes it through in a single thrust. He whoops with delight, though he’s careful to keep his hand even. He lifts it from the bowl to examine his handiwork. In the fading light, the gold of the needle looks like treasure preserved in amber where it penetrates the seed. For a moment, he thinks about popping into his mouth, but Jihane’s expectant look quashes that impulse before it truly gets underway.

“Well done. Now feed it to me, and be careful not to injure me. It will end our game along with mess.”

“Just full of demands, aren’t you? Anything else, Mistress?” Gabriel asks, using the Trinoran word he’s heard Jihane’s staff tack on the end of every sentence and before each use of her name.

Jihane’s eyebrows raise to the elegant, oiled baby hairs at her hairline. Her surprise melts into the kind of expression that makes Gabriel’s heart twist and cock throb: delight with the promise of some inventive cruelty.

“I see you’ve a gift for other parts of language too.” Her searching gaze sends a hot prickle across his skin. “Since you’re so eager to please, I can certainly give you another task.” Jihane flutters her lashes, the bold sweep of gold eye paint glittering as she does. “You can thank me for the privilege of allowing you to feed me before we begin.”

Thank her? For assigning him some tedious, ass-backward work? He opens his mouth to tell her exactly what he’s going to thank her for… and stops when Jihane reaches up and rests her sharp claw against his lips in a shushing motion.

“You’re doing so well, Scion-Captain. Don’t ruin it in a rash moment,” Jihane says, eyes hooded. “Or do. It would please me as much to send you away and deny you as it would to keep going. What happens next depends entirely on you.” She removes her hand and rests it across the curve of her belly, bronzed claws splayed against the white of her clothing, recumbent in the pile of tasseled pillows as she waits.

He hates the way his heart pounds behind his ribs, the way his inner thighs slip against each other in his arousal. Gabriel’s still got the threaded seed and needle in hand as he weathers the hot rush of emotions—fury, lust, shame, desire. He sucks in a deep lungful of air, nose flaring.

“Thank you,” he grits out, face burning, “for lettin’ me feed you.”

“Almost. You’re forgetting the word you and your clever tongue picked up.”

Watcher take him to his watery fucking grave and spare him this humiliation. Gabriel vows to redouble his arguments when they get back to the political part of their negotiating.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

She beams at him, bright as the sun and warm as she claims the fire of her god is, and he’ll be buried inland if it doesn’t feel good to be the reason for it. “Perfect. Now, let’s begin.”

Jihane parts her full lips, the tip of her pink tongue and fangs visible as she waits. Gabriel’s lungs seize for a treacherous moment, cock pulsing at the image. Still, if he’s going to do a job, he’s going to do it well. He lifts the needle to her mouth and slips it inside, the topaz pearl resting on her tongue. Jihane closes her lips around the needle and gazes up at him, rose-gold eyes swallowed by her pupils. It takes him a second to realize she’s not going to draw back herself, so Gabriel keeps an even hand and slides the needle from her mouth, now freed of its juicy seed.

He watches in silence as she works the seed around her mouth, jaw moving as she bites down and hums in pleasure. Gabriel can relate. Just looking at the kliaquat’s flesh gets him hungry all over. Seeing her enjoy herself… Now he’s got two reasons for the spit flooding his mouth.

“There’s always the chance it was beginner’s luck. Again.”

“Luck’s for the Chance and the wildcards who follow them. But sure, I’ll do it again.”

This time, it’s much easier to get one of the seeds on the needle; the trick is going for the ones held in place by the membrane, that way they don’t fly off like hatches unbattened. Gabriel lifts it straight out then offers it to Jihane, threading it through her lips like an offering, clenching as she closes her eyes and waits for the needle to withdraw. Gabriel watches her throat work as she finally swallows the seed. A bead of orange-red juice lingers at the dip in her upper lip. “Well done, well done.” The praise burns like a quarterdeck covered in tar in Gabriel’s gut, quick and dangerous. She crooks her finger at him. “Lean down.”

The beginnings of a heady fog stir in Gabriel, clouding his normal urges to fight back. Not enough to dull his curiosity, though. He’s not sure if it’s pain or pleasure awaiting him at the end of her imaginary leash, but he’s keen to find out, so he leans down, belly clenched to brace himself. Jihane grips his shoulder and uses it as leverage to close the gap, and then her mouth is on his, warm and spiced and intoxicating. She parts his lips with her tongue in a mirror of his work with the needle, bestowing on him a deep kiss that redoubles the ache between his legs. What with his hands full, he can’t grab her by the ample hips and pull her closer as he’d like. But Gabriel’s still got his mouth. He groans and kisses back—tonguing at the tips of her fangs, licking the juice from her lip as the kiss breaks, then huffing out a frustrated breath when Jihane pulls back.

“Didn’t take you for the teasing kind.” “Teasing? If I were in the mood to, hmm. How does the expression go? Play with my food,” she lets a languorous pause fill the air as she looks him up and down, “You’d know it. That was a well-earned reward. I’m sure you’ll hear many rumors about me in your time here, most of which aren’t worth the breath spent to voice them. The one where I’m accused of being overgenerous to the point of bribery when people do as I bid?” She smiles, slow and decadent. “That has some degree of truth to it.”

“Reckon I’ll be the judge on whether the reward is generous enough for the task,” Gabriel retorts, smirking. “I’m used to my ship havin’ a belly full of treasure from all across the Fourfold. And folks can get… creative with their offerings when Xeheia’s crew boards their vessels.”

Jihane tosses her head back with a throaty laugh, generous breasts and belly shaking with each peal. She shoves at Gabriel’s thigh with her foot, a teasing push lacking the force to get him truly off balance. “See, I believe this is one reason we get along so well. Both of us are used to people signing their lives away to please us. I look forward to seeing such offerings for myself when you accept my contract.”

“Who said anything about accepting your contract? I still ain’t finished my talks with the Conflagration. And it’s more than a Rising before the weather will allow passage along the straits you wanna travel. A lot could happen between now and then.”

Jihane’s amusement writes itself on her features, her smugness a mirror to Gabriel’s own. She curves her foot inward and trails the ball along the outside of his thigh, venturing upward until it's tucked beneath his gifted robe. Her toes brush the crease where his leg meets his hip. Gabriel shudders at the delicate touch, then flushes and contemplates abandoning the whole kliaquat exercise, tugging her foot a handspan higher, and demonstrating his capability to turn the tables.

It must show on his face somehow because Jihane drops her foot and gives a sultry laugh. “You will. Of that I do not doubt, Scion-Captain. Now carry on before I lose my patience.”

Right. Gabriel had the bowl and needle in a white-knuckle grip if the tension in his joints is anything to go by. “Alright, alright. Time to see if you’re as generous as you claim.”

Gabriel pierces a third seed, albeit messily; tiny droplets of juice cling to the pinch of his thumb and forefinger. He feeds it to Jihane without incident, though she doesn’t seem inclined to offer one of the aforementioned rewards since it’s imperfect. By the fourth, he’s got the hang of it again. Jihane glows with satisfaction after she swallows the mouthful of fruit.

Turns out, she’s as good as her word. The more seeds he feeds her properly, the more she rewards him. It doesn’t make the task any less godsdamned tedious by nature, but it certainly makes it leagues more enjoyable. For the price of three unruptured pearls painstakingly placed on her tongue, he earns a second; Gabriel can taste the tartness of his own efforts as Jihane licks into his mouth, slow and deliberate. Several more seeds prove the price for more kisses—except Jihane leans in and places these on his taut nipples, tonguing at flesh and metal alike through the robe and leaving new stains in her wake.

“Not fair,” Gabriel grunts, tensing his thighs together in a bid to relieve the ache between them.

“Everything is fair when it’s my home, my game, and my rules.” Aside from her swollen lips, Jihane looks pristine and unaffected. “Keep going. I’m not finished, so neither are you.”

Impatient as all seven hells, Gabriel decides he can speed this up. He eases the needle through one seed then uses the edge of the bowl to push it further down the needle, carefully making room for a second. The second pearl joins the first, and when he lifts it to Jihane’s mouth, she smiles before closing her lips around the needle. She takes her time enjoying them, though by now they must be cool; her lashes flutter, and after she swallows, she lets out a pleased little sigh.

“Very good. You’re catching on so quickly.” With a cat-like smile, Jihane leans forward and places one hand in the valley of his chest, all five tips of her ornate claws nestled together on the skin the robe exposes. She beams up at him, radiating warmth like the galley stove during a winter storm, then drags her fingers down his chest and stomach, hard enough for him to feel the promise of pain but not hard enough to rip the cloth. The way he’s kneeling means she can’t get them where Gabriel really wants them, though even the brush of them across his lap has his cock throbbing and nerves tingling. “Do that again. Three, this time.”

Watcher help him, he doesn’t think twice about questioning it. In his haste, Gabriel misjudges the spot on the first seed; it bounces out of the bowl and off the top of Jihane’s foot, rolling down a groove in the pavilion tiles. A damning drop of orange juice quivers on the top of it. She arches a thick brow at him. “What did I say about patience? That was a close call.”

That does it. Gabriel sets the bowl and needle down, earning him a deeper glare from Jihane. He takes her delicate foot in both hands, one palm against her ankle with fingers wrapped around it to steady it, the other palm against her sole; her foot’s small enough that Gabriel could cover it completely and then some, if he wanted.

Instead, he bends down, back curved, and lifts it to his mouth. Clearly, Jihane doesn’t have much of a problem with this gesture, considering she could kick his teeth in if she took sincere issue. He locks eyes with her over the top of her foot. A delicate set of golden bangles in the interlocking shapes of leaves around her ankle tinkles like windchimes.

“Sorry, Mistress,” he says, overwrought for theatrics sake. Gabriel presses his lips to the top of her foot in a chaste kiss, inhaling deep to enjoy the perfume drifting from her soft skin. He deepens the kiss, teasing at the tracery of veins beneath his lips with the tip of his tongue. A faint hint of tartness confirms he’s gotten to the offending juice. “Won’t happen again,” he says before carefully placing her foot back on its ruby-red pillow.

Jihane’s breath comes deep, breasts straining against the nacreous white fabric of her dress. “And here I discover another one of your ‘talents’: making an apology sound like insolence.”

“Given that I ain’t in the habit of making apologies at all, I can’t see why you’re complaining.”

“My only complaint is you dallying with the task I set you.”

Gabriel smirks, then picks up the bowl and needle. Only a small pocket of seeds remains in the kliaquat. Almost done.

He intends to keep his wits about him, threading seeds three at a time to hurry along the task. But Jihane keeps her gaze on his, sure and steady, stoking the fire in his belly until the molten tension threatens to overflow. She can’t hide her own impatience. Gabriel notices how she draws back first from the needle, not bothering to wait for him to do it, and how she spends less time savouring the pearls.

By the time he finishes, Gabriel’s fingers are stained again, digits a rusty, shimmering orange from all the juices. A shallow pool of kliaquat juice covers the bottom of his fancy bowl, but true to his word, not a drop has gotten on Jihane’s outfit.

Jihane sits up, tucking both legs beneath her. “Here. Let me help clean you.”

Before Gabriel can do a godsdamn thing about it, Jihane takes his free hand in her burning one and brings it to her mouth. She runs her tongue along the curve of his thumb, licking it clean of juice with slow passes. When she gets to his fingers, she takes his pointer finger into her mouth entire, sucking on it in steady pulses; Gabriel’s heart pounds in tandem with Jihane’s attentions as he imagines those same attentions on his cock. She pulls away with syrupy slowness, her long lashes a false veil of demureness over her heated gaze.

He wants to say something, anything. He’s not the kind to get rendered speechless by more gentle diversions, no matter how gorgeous the person bestowing them. Gabriel squares up, taking a deep lungful of breath and intending to give his mouth free rein.

Except Jihane curls her tongue around his middle finger, paying special attention to the calluses on the underside; the silk of her tongue against the rough skin has him shivering where he keels. She kisses her way down to the juice-stained ring, then works her tongue around every golden crevice of the signet; her fangs dig in on either side of his knuckle as she commits to the task. Gabriel moans, the sharp prick of drawn blood and the warm softness of her mouth too much for him to hold back.

He barely registers her cleaning his remaining fingers. It’s hard to focus with the roar of desire washing out almost everything else. The roar becomes a bone-shattering clap of thunder when Gabriel sees Jihane’s just as affected. There’s the tell-tale holy glow to her eyes and scars, and a thin plume of smoke escapes her nose with every exhale.

Fuck it. Gabriel abandons the bowl and chucks it to the ground. Too hard, judging by the delicate crack and wet splash. Jihane hisses a word in Trinoran that must be a swear, but that’s all she gets out before Gabriel frames her heart-shaped face in his hands and pulls it closer. He noses at the divot above Jihane’s upper lip and inhales deep, groaning as he chases the holy smoke of her breath. Jihane wraps her clawed fingers around his wrists and squeezes, but if it’s meant to discourage him, it doesn’t, especially not with a moan—and more smoke—slipping between her painted lips.

It’s a cross between unfamiliar spices—cloves, cinnamon—and the familiar smells of a ship set to the flame, wood burning and crackling as it sinks to the Depths. Gabriel presses his lips to hers and kisses her like she’s a breath of air after diving in freshwater, desperate for the taste of her, grunting and squeezing his thighs together when Jihane gasps a mouthful of smoke into his. She releases one of his wrists to place her hand at the back of his head, pushing him down to her neck and redirecting his efforts. Gabriel’s all too happy to oblige, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, left drenched between the thighs twice over at the sultry groan it elicits from her.

All too soon, Jihane pulls back and keeps Gabriel at a distance with a hand on his chest, her own breath coming heavy.

“Fetch me another kliaquat.” Gabriel gropes for spoken language, words temporarily stolen. “Really? We’re still on that? Ain’t I done enough by now?”

Were it not the cause of some particular suffering on his part, he’d admire the way her expression changes in an instant, cool and imperious, eyes aglow with her god’s fire. “Do not make me ask again, Gabriel.”

He heaves an irritated sigh but does as she asks. His long reach means he only has to twist his torso and lean a bit to reach the table, rolling a pale blue fruit into his palm with his fingers and bringing it to Jihane.

She plucks it from his grasp, then lifts it to eye level, considering. It looks for all the world like a gem in its setting, perched in the cage of her golden claws. Jihane glances between Gabriel and the kliaquat, her icy expression melting into an amused grin.

“This was going to be another reward, but since you’ve decided to be difficult…”

With no warning, Jihane wields her claws like knives against the firm husk of the fruit and splits it in half—right above her spotless dress.

Instinct drives Gabriel forward, lunging from his kneel to cup his hands beneath Jihane’s. Mercifully, the iridescent juice seems to have missed the white, though flecks of it decorate the tops of her breasts and cheeks. Juice from the split pearls flows from the seam in the fruit, dripping into the cup Gabriel’s made of his hands.

There’s a problem, though. There’s also juice running down Jihane’s fingers in tiny rivulets from where she’s split the fruit. He can chart the course of it plain as day – it’ll drip from her forearms to her clothing before long. Except if he moves his hand, there’s going to be a stain whether he likes it or not.

He’s still got his mouth.

Gabriel hunches and starts lapping at Jihane’s wrists and fingers, chasing every drop of juice he can find. He outlines the sharp golden curve of her claws, the deep lines of her palms, the pulse point of her wrist with his tongue, his aim speed rather than seduction. Still, he’s not fast enough. By the time he finishes with her right hand, there’s juice streaming down her left forearm, following the runnels left by the scars of the Maw.

He switches hands and licks those too. He traces the webbing of scars with his tongue, warm kliaquat juice tinting every swallow. It occurs to him too late that he's lapping at her holy mark like a shipcat at a dish of cream, that maybe it might not be welcome. But as his tongue meets the point where her pulse and her scars intersect on the inside of her wrist, Jihane moans, low and urgent. Not unwelcome, then.

Gabriel’s sucking the juice from Jihane’s jeweled claws when she tosses half of the kliaquat aside in a careless flick. His lungs seize, worried all his work will have been for nothing, but the luxurious white fabric remains clean. Deciding he’s better safe than sorry, Gabriel places his mouth to the point where his wrists meet and tilts the makeshift bowl of his hands, slurping up the remnants of the juice before it can dribble through his fingers. When he looks up through his lashes at her, she moans softly, then lifts the remaining half of the fruit to his mouth.

“Eat.”

Watcher avert her all-seeing eye, Gabriel doesn’t hesitate.

Keeping his hands cupped beneath it, Gabriel descends on the fruit with lips and tongue and teeth, driven by multiple scorching heats: Jihane’s gaze, the ache of his cock, the pounding in his chest. He sucks seeds into his mouth, popping them with his tongue, one of his several thirsts quenched by the flood of spiced juice. Gabriel stays as careful as he can, taking seeds between his teeth, licking them out of their nestled pockets.

He stays careful all the way until Jihane slides her palm beneath his robe and up his inner thigh, only coming to a stop when the heel of her hand rests against his cock. With this angle, her claws rest dangerously close to his hole, and when she starts to rub her palm back and forth against him, each pass brings a delicious prick of pain against tender skin.

It wipes the conscious thought from his mind.

He devours the kliaquat like he needs it to live, rutting his hips against Jihane’s hand at the same time. Gabriel doesn’t bother separating seed and membrane; bitter pith and vibrant seeds mingle, barely chewed, swallowed whole. Juice covers his mouth and courses through his beard and down his neck, but he doesn’t care, his world narrowed to Jihane’s hand on his dick and her gaze on him as he eats from the palm of her hand.

It’s against her hand that he comes, moaning around a mouthful of seeds, cock pulsing as she rakes her claws through the soaked hair at the apex of his thighs. He barely manages to swallow before a moan escapes him, thighs clamped around Jihane’s hand as he rides out the aftershocks.

Dizzy, breathless, it takes him several long moments to look down.

He’s finished this half of the fruit… but dark orange splatters cover the white of Jihane’s dress. The pattern puts him in the mind of wounds, of bloodshed. Shame comes hot on the heels of his peak—at eating from her hand like an animal, at failing her task, at wanting to succeed in the first place, at feeling ready for a second climax no sooner than the first ended, at wanting to ply his tongue between her legs and satisfy a different hunger.

Jihane glances down, disappointment mingling with traces of lust on her features. She shakes her head softly, then pats Gabriel’s cheek with the same hand she had between his legs; he can smell his arousal on her fingers along with a metallic hint that might be his blood. “Now thank me, Scion-Captain, for the gift of pleasure I just gave you. By name, please.”

His pride puts up a valiant fight, but what with his defenses storm-battered and hole still clenching in the aftershocks, it loses. “Thank you, Jihane.” Jihane strokes his cheekbone with her thumb, anointing him with his own release. Then she holds her hand in front of his mouth expectantly, wrist loose and fingers draped low. By the time he finishes licking it clean of the most personal kind of salt price, his cheeks are burning and he’s hard all over again from the luxurious, shameful pleasure of it all.

For a foggy moment, Gabriel’s certain she won’t hold the stains against him. But even with his wits addled, there’s finality in the lingering kiss Jihane places on his twice-stained lips.

“For a first attempt, you did well. But I did warn you there’d be consequences for failure.” She stands, bearing regal, as though her dress and skin weren’t covered in kliaquat juice. “I need to change before my next engagement now, which means our time together is at an end. But I’ll have Sidqi come by to show you out, once you’ve had time to… collect yourself.” She gives his cheek a final, condescending pat, then winks. “I’ll see you at the Conflagration two days hence.”

All Gabriel can do is watch her, stunned, as she leaves, head high and hips swaying, her bare feet padding against the tiles of the pavilion. He watches until she vanishes into the west entrance to her estate, then surveys the damage around him: slick thighs, aching cock, stained clothes, discarded fruit, broken ceramic.

Fuck him six ways through all seven hells. Jihane may have won this round. But next time, next time…

He’ll demonstrate just what sort of command being the captain of the most notorious ship in the Fourfold Seas requires.

#the forsaken and the forsworn #gabriel berthelot #jihane n'ait #I haven't come up with a portmantaeu for these two even though they're canon since we've entered the poly part of this verse #my writing #happy birthday times two Gab #you deserve the whole world #and if you've made it through 11k of service submission and food kink #kudos to you #qliatori

[tilthedayidice]

Hello, could I get a character dice palette for my tabletop character Marius? Hes a tiefling Paladin/Sorcerer, with heavy emphasis on fire and flame in his theming. Very protective, and determined to do good in this world, but is being used by his demonic father (first generation tiefling y'know?) to try and end the world, via the eternal flame that rests within his soul. Lots of tragic feelings of lacking personhood and feeling like a monster, y'know? And he's got a solid color palette, lots of warm colors, with pinks, purples, reds, oranges, and gold.

UGH this came out so pretty I feel like I made it just for me man these colors are so GOOD (EXCELLENT colors choices like a chef's kiss sunset) I meant for the more Blue Based purple in chaos theory to come out for a contrast but that sunset vibe took over and I ain't even mad. I hope you like it!

HD Dice Milky Purple

HD Dice Milky Red

Wiz Dice Royal Bubblegum (Multiple Inks)

Koplow Yellow Glitter

Dice Envy Chaos Theory

Chessex Festive Lotus

WOTC The Wild Beyond the Witchlight Companion Dice

#Marius #Marius character palette #Marius dice palette #dice palette #character palette #dice #dnd #dungeons and dragons #dnd dice #dungeons and dragons dice

[b0ring-n4m3]

Blue Exorcist Charachters as Mythical Creatures

With limited palette!

Takezo was the pride of the Shima family. The perfect son. His father, Yaozo, was comfortable leaving the role of Head Hunter to Takezo. The boy was everything a Hunter was expected to be, a champion of humanity against the supernatural: strong, determined, intelligent, but also kind and compassionate. That hadn't changed after the attack, even though everyone thought it had. He'd been attacked at the back by a vengeful vampire, and though now dead, the guy left him a pretty special little present. Takezo suffered one excruciating night before passing away at dawn, but he was not dead. Oh no, maybe that would have been better. At the next sunset, his eyes opened and they were red. A newly-turned vampire is quite dangerous because he doesn't have a grip on his instincts yet and the Shima family was reasonably concerned about his new condition. But that was Takezo. So they tried to adapt, to endure. But the family's generations-old suspicion and resentment against supernatural creatures was hard to erase. And Takezo understood perfectly. He tried to behave at his best, to be even more efficient during the Hunts but it was of little use. A drastic reduction of contact with his family and, eventually, isolation were self-imposed. It was for the best.

(TW: in Renzo's story there's implicit s3xual 4bus3, begin to read after the Snake Defender🐍 if this triggers you)

Every Hunt was dangerous. Most of the time, the worst thing that could happen was losing a limb or a team member. This time Yaozo Shima, Head Hunter and head of the Shima family, was bewitched by a Succubus. When he awoke in his bed the next morning, he couldn't recollect how he had gotten there and his memories of the encounter were fuzzy.

🐍He shoved it off in favor of more important matters, such as the situation of his eldest son, Takezo. But 9 months later the reminder of that night showed up on the Shimas doorstep. A child. A baby with pointy ears and a tail. A demon. Yaozo still welcomed him and tried to explain the situation to his family, but none of its members could properly provide for the needs of the little demon. The Shima killed the supernatural, they didn't look after it. Well, now there were two exceptions to the rule and it seemed fitting when Takezo quickly warmed up to the boy and took it upon himself to raise him. He called him Renzo. However, the atmosphere in the house remained very tense and did no good to anyone. Reluctantly, one night Takezo took Renzo, the essential for living in two, his Khakkara and left the house where he was born and raised. It was for the best. He went beyond the sea, beyond the barrier of Blue Flames- for an infinite moment Takezo feared the Blue Flames would have consumed them but they were actually nice warm on his skin and baby Renzo giggled at the sensation- and into supernatural territory. He settled in the South mountains, where is dryer than in the East. In retrospect, perhaps Takezo hadn't thought it through that much. What did he know about raising children, let alone half-demon children? It happened that another, much older vampire was dealing with a similar situation. Shiro Fujimoto was a great help during Renzo's early life. Then came Yamantaka. The old demon with the snout of a skeletal goat and made of Black Flames was weak when 7-year-old Renzo first met him in the woods at the foot of his mountain and the two made a pact. They bonded together and, despite Takezo's initial concern, Yamantaka took care of Renzo, protecting him and helping him on his hunting trips. As a half-human, Renzo fed on emotions rather than on actions like a pureblood Succubus/Incubus, and less often, since human food complemented his diet very well. Turns out that black flames help a lot with the atmosphere of an Incubus attack. However, it must be said that Renzo liked to use his inheritance as an excuse to flirt with illustrious members of society. Many believed it and joked about it, Yukio didn't. But Renzo was sure it was different with Yukio, more real. And he's nothing but determined. He took after his father/brother in this, but Takezo's goal was to protect his son/brother because he knew that sooner or later the Hunters will arrive and, with them, the Shima family. The barrier of Blue Flames is growing weaker and weaker after all...

#blue exorcist #ao no exorcist #renzo shima #takezo shima #au #vampire #incubus #mythical creatures #art #limited palette #my art #digital art #procreate #after more than a year I think I returned!! #don't know when the next drawing of this au will arrive #sorry

[tired-reader-writer]

And here we have Ranna, my OC!

They're Tahamenay's child, her lost daughter, and I picked her mother's distinctive palette for several reasons— one: to make it impossible to not clock her right away as Tahamenay's child, two: to metaphorically flip birds at Andragoras, and three: because I found it very pretty.

Her first outfit, I've been having this one in my head for a long long time, I think ever since I began this AU character design sheet thing— wait no it was actually when I was designing Kashi, weirdly enough. I already had a vague idea of the silhouette and layers involved by then, though it was still very plain and blank because I hadn't assigned all that much symbolism to her... yet.

For this one, I thought that I wanted a sort of dusk, sunset sort of vibe going on, I recently got to play the remake of my favorite game: Yotsume God. And the entire aesthetic of that game, set at dusk, as if the world was awash in flames, all the red hues, it stuck with me. So I plucked some colours off of the screenshots I took and stuck them on this one— plus the dark colours made me think of Hilmes.

There are accents of yellow/gold (though rather dull) to hint at their secret royal lineage, unbeknownst to themself. Those are scorpion tails on her coat— I was running out of energy that day and could not make myself draw the entire animal. So tail it is. As for why scorpion, Ranna likes bugs and what people would consider creepy crawlies a lot, plus the symbolism:

“The symbolism of the scorpion means so many things including intelligence, independence, solitude, passion, protection, and transformation, to different tribes.”

×

“It is widely known that scorpions have deadly venom that can kill humans.”

×

“The scorpion’s stinger is used as a weapon for hunting, defense, and protection. They also represent that one has the power to protect oneself.

Scorpion bites may be poisonous, but Scorpion symbolism acts as a spirit guide that teaches you to recognize your tendencies and know how to manage them to work in your favor. It also teaches us to be brave and stand up against failure, turn our weaknesses into strengths, learn from our past mistakes, transform our pain and negativity into positivity, and identify our true identity.”

×

Generally, scorpions represent the following:

• Ability to protect other people by chasing off negative impacts and influences.

• Ability to protect oneself through fighting oneself or others.

• Powerful transformation

• Success and dream

• Independence, personal drive, and rebirth

• Mastery and self-control

• A sharp mind and intelligence

• Solitude

• Determination and willpower

• Pent-up emotions

• Aggressive behavior or feeling

• Utmost self-confidence

Ranna is quite the independent sort of person, she has control issues that stem from being expected to conform to ridiculous standards by her former caretakers (in hopes that one day she might be allowed to return to the royal court, and even if not, land a good marriage)— from her perspective her parents were trying to make her walk this path (marriage) that she's not crazy about, and a path that produces much misery and traps victims, at that. Abusive spouses, women in general don't seem to have much power and independence in Pars as far as I know, this all fed into their rebellious and independent streak. On top of that, she's been witnessing the numerous injustices of society, namely the classism and the slavery. Even after she ran away and came to live with the clan at a very young age, the clan is made of runaway slaves, abuse victims, so on and so forth, people who have endured society's bullshit and like Ranna themself sought sanctuary and freedom. That definitely radicalized her so to speak, and gave rise to this... protectiveness of themself, their agency, the clan, and a collection of pent-up emotions, mostly negative, that she takes out on people she dislikes. Ranna is very brutal and aggressive with people they hate, they like to poke and prod and rile them up so that she can feel in-control. Hilmes does his utmost to avoid them as a result.

As for the identify [their] true identity part, Ranna sneaks off to Ecbatana to scratch the itch of the urge to find out what her birth parents are like and why they abandoned them, so yeah.

The necklace with the pistachio pendant is... gotta admit, it is kinda the stretch of the century but bear with me!!

We're going on a journey in this post too, and that's a... I don't have a name for this journey but let's— let's call this Aphrodite journey.

But Egg, you may exclaim, what's pistachios gotta do with Aphrodite of all things?

I know. That's why I said this is the stretch of the century.

Buckle up, buddies.

The first reason why I chose pistachios was this:

“Pistachio forests in the eastern, southern and southeastern districts – 26,000 km2 (10,000 sq mi)”

They're present in the Alborz mountain range too, of course, but why is the southeastern part of Iran (the country Pars is based on) significant in particular?

Well, look no further than this map. (EDIT: This fan map was made by tumblr user chatmant! Thank you @daryun for telling me!)

As ArSen fans will know, Tahamenay was originally from the Principality of Badakhshan, located southeast of Pars— before Osroes came in and conquered the area. I wanted to include a nod to her mother's origins and whatnot.

Pistachios are supposedly dubbed “green gold”, or just “the emerald”, and harvest if I am correct starts in September.

Tahamenay's child was born in the ninth month, which I know doesn't mean it corresponds to modern September but hush. I'm just gonna roll with it to retain my sanity for now.

Keep an eye on the emerald part. This is where the stretch begins.

“Emerald symbolism encompasses not only royalty but also wit, eloquence, and foresight. "The Jewel of Kings" also serves as the May birthstone. Whatever its supposed mystical properties, this gem has long been regarded as a superior jewel. Rare and beautiful, emerald's stunning green color has also brought it an honored status amongst cultures worldwide.”

Royalty for their lineage, and well, Ranna's quite very crafty and cunning.

“A revealer of truths, emerald reputedly could cut through all illusions and spells, including the truth or falsity of a lover's oath.”

The circumstances surrounding her identity, plus their brutal honesty with the people she dislikes. She is honest with people she likes too but... they take delight in tearing down the worldview and personal truths of the ones she hates.

“Western traditions connect emeralds more frequently with the planet Venus. Perhaps the story from Greek and Roman mythology of Venus emerging from the sea makes a difference here. For followers of Western astrology, the "sea green" color of emerald may make a better match with the goddess's namesake planet.”

I took one look at Venus and decided to think about Aphrodite instead, since that's the one I'm more familiar with.

“Aphrodite is an ancient Greek goddess associated with love, lust, beauty, pleasure, passion, and procreation.

Aphrodite has been featured in Western art as a symbol of female beauty and has appeared in numerous works of Western literature.”

Aphrodite is the goddess of love and beauty, and of seduction as well. While Ranna is squarely not interested in seducing anybody save a certain bandit girl (and their idea of “seducing” said bandit girl involves a lot less sexytimes, thank fuck, and a whole lot more bloody murder, adrenaline-charged heists, and general chaos and shenanigans anyways) but, as Ranna inherited Tahamenay's looks, and Tahamenay was met with a trauma conga line of misfortune no thanks to her beauty, and was accused of seducing many men.

Also Aphrodite, from what I know, is an agent of chaos lol, which Ranna also is.

Also also, Aphrodite's origin myth involves her washing ashore from the sea, and Badakhshan is in contact with the sea, and I headcanon that Tahamenay was from somewhere along the coastline.

Also, Aphrodite had a lot of epithets which range from Genetyllis meaning “Mother” (which I link with Tahamenay) to Areia meaning “warlike”:

“Across the Greek world, she was known under epithets such as Melainis "Black One", Skotia "Dark One", Androphonos "Killer of Men", Anosia "Unholy", and Tymborychos "Gravedigger", all of which indicate her darker, more violent nature.”

And as people who's seen me talk about Ranna, this girl is... a Terror™ among terrors.

And that's how I ended up linking pistachios to Aphrodite.

Onto the second outfit, I went for foxy colours since I ended up not putting actual foxes on her clothes.

Why foxes? Well...

“Fox symbolism and meaning include cleverness, independence, playfulness and mischievousness, beauty, protection, and good luck.”

×

“The animal is taken to be the incarnation of cunning, slyness, perfidy, and even wickedness.”

Characteristics that Ranna embodies, plus in the manga Tahamenay was referred to as “that sharp-eyed vixen”. Another nod to their mother!

Also, clawed gloves. Me likes.

What are the purple flowers on her clothes? Why the purple sash? Oh, this is one I've been holding for A VERY LONG TIME.

So a while ago, I had the idea of associating either Ranna or Arslan with saffron/saffron flowers— saffron is precious, and the flowers bloom in autumn. One would be associated with saffron, and the other would be associated with “autumn crocus/meadow saffron” which is actually not saffron at all and instead is poisonous, even.

Pretty neat plan, except I kept going back and forth on who would be which flower. Because on one hand Ranna is secret royalty and it'd make sense for her to be associated with the expensive and precious saffron, Arslan the fake saffron, but on the other hand I ended up linking venom/poison and Ranna (the scorpion, poisoned weaponry), and Arslan ended up embodying a lot of saffron symbolism...

So I decided, fuck it, imma just leave it ambiguous. Figure this shit out yourselves 😭 That's also why I left out the saffron threads/ the styles and stamens of this ambiguous flower, because true crocuses have three stamens and three styles, while colchicums have six stamens and one style. The meadow saffron I talked about? Iirc it's a colchicum, not a true crocus.

“Saffron is harvested from the saffron crocus, scientific name Crocus sativus. This is a different plant entirely from the autumn crocus (Colchicum autumnale), also known somewhat confusingly as meadow saffron.

×

“Colchicum autumnale, commonly known as autumn crocus, meadow saffron, or naked ladies, is a toxic autumn-blooming flowering plant that resembles the true crocuses, but is a member of the plant family Colchicaceae, unlike the true crocuses, which belong to the family Iridaceae. The name "naked ladies" is because the flowers emerge from the ground long before the leaves appear. Despite the vernacular name of "meadow saffron", this plant is not the source of saffron, which is obtained from the saffron crocus, Crocus sativus – and that plant, too, is sometimes called "autumn crocus".”

×

“Crocus sativus, commonly known as saffron crocus or autumn crocus, is a species of flowering plant in the iris family Iridaceae. A cormous autumn-flowering cultivated perennial, unknown in the wild, it is best known for the culinary use of its floral stigmas as the spice saffron.”

×

“The sativus has a long history in the world, and as such has gathered much symbolism and meaning alongside itself. Some of the more common associations are feelings of happiness and joy, with a gift of saffron being a way to send positive vibes and energy to another. It is thought to relate to the emotions of youth as well, and childlike wonder. It was commonly used in roman households as a perfume for guests as they entered the abode. The name crocus sativus is thought to originate from the Greek god Krokus, who upon his death became the flower, as well as the Arabic word “zafaran,” which means yellow.”

×

And the symbolism of individual colours of crocuses (not limited to saffron crocuses):

“Purple, the traditional color of royalty, is tied to gracefulness, dignity, and personal success. It’s great for symbolize someone’s recent accomplishments or to celebrate their many years of service or partnership. Darker shades in particular have a strong association with the wisdom of experience. It represents success, pride and dignity. This flower color is also a symbol of royalty and nobility.

White, the purest and most versatile flower color of them all. A bouquet of Crocuses in this color can indicate a humble approach or wishes of condolences for someone in grief. This color is commonly associated with funerals in some cultures, but it’s also used for weddings due to its ties to purity and elegance in others. White Crocus flower is a symbol of purity, truth and innocence. This flower is usually used as wedding decoration.

The yellow Crocus flower is a symbol of cheerfulness and joy.”

Hold onto these crocus colour stuff. They'll become relevant again in Arslan's sheet. Or really, the entire crocus/saffron section of this post.

How long has this thing become?

“It is most commonly associated with spring, renewal, and rebirth due to its growth during the winter or early spring.

Autumn blooming Crocuses may inspire some artists and writers to use it as a symbol of hope in the face of loss or death instead. These varieties can be some of the last flowers to bloom, making them a reminder of the spring to come.”

×

“By the middle of October, saffron flowers begin to blossom, and this blooming lasts for about three weeks.

Crocus sativus are grown from bulbs known as corms. Crocus corms are best planted in September, then will flower a couple of months later

September is best for planting in warmer locations (zones 7-10). Saffron Crocus can be planting in the ground or in containers in these warmer zones. Saffron Crocus (Crocus sativus) blooms in fall.”

×

“Saffron flowers symbolize rebirth, joy, innocence and new beginnings. It is also a symbol of youthfulness as it is the first flower to bloom in the spring. In ancient Rome, the crocus was a symbol of love.”

×

“The Crocus flower generally represents youth, innocence, rebirth, cheerfulness, pleasure, gladness and joy.”

×

“While crocus do have that well-known association with being the first blooms of the new year, they aren’t necessarily just a spring flower. In fact, some croci (both croci and crocuses are acceptable plurals) bloom late in the autumn. So, while it’s true that the crocus is a symbol of rebirth from the darkest times, it’s also applicable as a symbol and omen of enduring and thriving life. You, like the crocus, can be renewed in spite in the coldness and darkness of the depths of winter.”

×

“Depending on the exact species and variety, Crocus plants can bloom in the spring, autumn, or winter.”

If you're seeing lots of snippets about how they bloom in different seasons, it's because I was getting very annoyed at the sheer confusion I suffered during research, people will just conflate saffron crocuses and regular-ass crocuses, leading to stuff that says “saffron flowers bloom in spring!” and the repeated information about spring-blooming crocuses.

I'm so tired. Get your facts straight, people!

Also, almost forgot to mention, her foxy colours here of course can be attributed to the saffron route as well, if you choose to associate her with saffron and not meadow saffron.

And Tahamenay is shown having purple on her:

And who can ignore the centipede?

“Centipedes are the ultimate "creepy crawlies." Their many-legged bodies are more often the subject of horror than fascination.”

She horrifies a lot of people. And they also cause fascination too, and of course they're absolutely smitten by centipedes.

“Centipedes and millipedes are multi-legged predatory arthropods which live in a variety of different terrestrial habitats. These bugs are found in almost every region of the planet, including, even, the Arctic Circle.”

×

“Centipedes live in soil, under rocks and dead wood, and inside logs. Because they live in dirt, centipedes are often associated with death and decay. Due to its preference for hidden places, the centipede is sometimes associated with the afterlife or the "Underworld." This association sometimes connects centipedes to occult forces and taboo subjects.”

Ranna rolls around in dirt, explores the woods and mountains and is not in the slightest afraid of getting dirty. They're “dead” to Andragoras and nonexistent to the rest of the court, and their existence or the talk about it or their identity can be regarded as “taboo”. It's not like Tahamenay can talk about this to anyone, after all.

“The centipede’s unusual anatomy connects it with speed and dexterity. The centipede’s venomous bite associates these fearsome arthropods with both sickness and medicine.”

×

“Both centipede and millipede are symbols of good luck, energy, and healing. In addition, it is said that centipedes are among the only things that dragons fear. So, centipedes represent the power and ferocity that even the smallest of creatures can embody. Finally, perhaps the strongest association with centipedes is fear itself. Centipedes represent anxieties, phobias both rational and irrational, and nightmares. Because of this, centipedes can also represent the courageous act of confronting one’s fears.”

×

“The Irish Banshee was often depicted as an older woman surrounded by creepy crawlers such as spiders and centipedes. The cry of the Banshee is thought to be a harbinger of death.”

Lots of scary ominous stuff going on here, and Ranna is the one who'd eventually cause Andragoras' death, but not without Tahamenay's contribution, of course :3

Then we have their ceremonial dance attire. Follows the general template, with a few tweaks.

Her sash is a warmer red than Kazai's.

The star symbols on the skirt part also resemble suns, hinting at her royal lineage.

Purple for Tahamenay.

A lot more yellow/gold, again for the royal lineage thing.

The necklace is a chaotic collection of colours, which yeah represents her own chaos.

They just seem like the type to frequently go barefoot regardless of the occasion.

Also, as you may have noticed, Ranna has one or both arms free of the sleeves of the outermost layer in two of the outfits, and that's to show how she cares little about decorum and stuff, such as wearing a garment “properly”.

That's all. It's 3:25am, I started drafting this thing immediately after I finished drawing a couple hours ago, which also I finished this tonight out of an adrenaline rush because I have to return to classes tomorrow.

I hate my life.

I'm gonna immediately head to sleep, I can already tell I won't get enough. Bye! Hope y'all enjoyed this!

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #wolfpack au #winds of wolfsong #ranna (oc) #arslan senki oc #rotten egg's shitty art #the character design sheet saga #me: gonna type this one up real quick and then I'll go to bed! #this post: you fool. you absolute buffoon. #Tahamenay #I almost don't want to know how long this post ended up being #I'M SORRY #long post #just in case

[secondtolastfr]

Happy Flameforger's!

I'm sitting here making noises previously unknown to mankind because this year's fest goes SO HARD. Here are my thoughts:

Familiar

Lil guy's a bush viper! This is such a pretty familiar, the gradients and stripes are so beautiful here. Probably one of my favorites so far!

Apparel

Ok this goes hard- the bright, flowy fire contrasts quite nicely with the dark, sharp barbs. It has villain vibes, you know?

Gene

I don't have the words for how incredible this is. Wraith? Spectre? Never heard of 'em. This is the most Fire a gene has ever been and will ever be. This scry is Sunshine Flameforger's to see how it looks with Fire Primal, but honestly anything from Marigold to Sunset matches pretty nicely.

Joxar Recolor

Now THIS is a recolor. Loving the color palette here!

Favorite Skin - Blazing Sight

I'm a sucker for blue fire, so this grabbed my attention immediately. But I love the subtle details too, like the little multigaze-esque eye patterns along the body, and the gradient in the flames too. I have an Aether plan that would look perfect in this!

That’s all for now! Hope everyone has a great Flameforger's!

#flight rising #flameforger's festival

[bestialchorus]

DATING THE FEMALE RULER OF HELL INCLUDES: PROLOGUE

Photo credit

FIRST MEETING: 

-First “meeting” when you’re offered as a live sacrifice by a mysterious cult hoping to appease their “god.” Unfortunately for them, but fortunately for you, their god never showed up…..but she sure did. You remember being blindfolded and having a secondary piece of cloth cover up your screams. They tied you to a large wooden stake, chanting in an esoteric language as you feel flickering flames inching toward your flesh. You should have accepted death then and there, but, you just couldn’t; blood rushing through your veins, screaming for survival. Something shifts in the air as you suddenly hear sounds of flesh being gutted and sliced.

 A mix of primal fear and confusion floods your system as you clearly make out several figures attempting to run, only to be followed by screams of agony and painful grunts. Just seconds later, all you hear is a series of bodies and chunks of flesh slamming against the ground. Your heart pounds through your ears, adrenaline coursing through you as you breathe shaky breaths. You release an “eep” as you feel someone gently remove you from the stake as if they were floating? But how? You’re taken from the pyre more gently than you’ve ever been touched before, your blindfold and gag are also removed. It takes you a second to adjust to the light but once you do you’re met with the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. A woman in a suit holds you bridal style, giving the impression that you weigh nothing at all, showing no signs of struggle. She tilts her head as she takes you in, brilliant gold eyes stare through your very soul; sending a chill through you. A small frown appears on her face as she addresses you, her tone filled with conviction, “only pious cretins would dare remove beauty from this realm chasing after falsehoods”. - The statement brings a blush you fail to repress. You then notice what remains of the cult; the sight was a thing of nightmares, a punishment akin to eternal damnation, you immediately try to look away. She notices your discomfort and responds to it, “apologies for the violence. I simply have no patience for false worship….which is ironic coming from me.” She finishes with a feral smirk, taking a moment to ponder. Your heart fails to relax under her grasp. Her voice again somehow catches you off guard, “do you wish to come home with me? I’ll be able to nurse your wounds for the night.” Her tone of voice tells you you have complete agency to reject the offer, but you don’t. She carries you deep into the forest, reaching a monstrous boulder that morphs into a mound of flaming skulls and bones. She tells you not to worry, that no matter what you won’t feel any pain. She was right, she carries you through the bones, and you end up in a black void of a chasm with a large descending spiral staircase. She carries you deeper and deeper. The smell of brimstone started to become more pungent the deeper you went, only for the woman in the suit to take a deep breath in and exhale. You quickly realize the original smell is immediately then replaced with smells of lavender. Was she somehow aware you didn’t like the smell? No, that’s impossible….right?

-At the end of the large staircase lies an underground city as vast as the land above. Unlike the world you knew, this place was entirely made up of rich earth and sturdy rock. As far as the eye can see, there’s a colour palette made up of reds, yellows, black, etc., akin to burning flames and calming sunsets all at once. You see faceless beings walking about; their skin and fashionable robes the colour of charcoal, contrasted by golden crowns they wear on their heads, a small flame hovering above them. You try to avoid their gaze, unsettled by their presence. “Do not worry; they are no danger to you. They work for me. I promise you’re safe here.” She says calmly as she carries you into a building that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but the equivalent of a mansion in this place. The building almost looks like it could be a living creature itself; a giant eye in the middle follows you as you enter the space.

-The mysterious woman takes you into an occult-looking elevator which seems to have some form of consciousness as it begins rising without command. A small bell rings, indicating you’ve reached your “destination.” A luxurious room opens before you; rich reds and blacks cover the space, along with gold relics and treasures that take your breath away. Right in the middle of the room sits a large desk made of dark wood, expensive writing materials on top, with a plush chair behind it; you conclude this must be her study of sorts. The “room” was more the entirety of the floor as you notice halls leading to other spaces. She takes you down a hallway to the right, which leads to a lavish bedroom. She gently lowers you down onto the largest bed you’ve ever seen, which ends up being plusher to the touch than you ever could have believed. Her gaze locks onto yours; she gives you a small smile as she speaks, “still with me? I understand that this place can be kept overwhelming if you’re not used to it.” You suddenly realize you don’t even know the name of the woman who saved you from certain death, “who are you?” You ask, your voice slightly breathy. She responds with a simple, “hmmph” before turning toward a large wardrobe at the end of the room and collecting towels from it. “ I’ve had many names, some I no longer use and some that will stick around for the rest of my existence, I assume.” You start to slowly put the pieces together as you realize just how “deep” in the earth you must be. “Is this…hell?” You ask with a confused tone, slightly nervous about the answer you’ll get. She brings you a small stack of towels, each with an intricate crest you’ve never seen before. “Well….we personally prefer to call it the underworld down here. But yes, this is in fact, hell; or the inferno for those who prefer dramatics.” She answers nonchalantly as she grabs a robe off a nearby hook. You quickly blink a few times, the weight of the response becoming heavier by the second as your thoughts start to race, (will she let me leave? Am I able to leave? Does the fact that I’m here mean I’m dead???). She must take note of the fear behind your eyes as she places a hand over your own; the contact sets a jolt through your system (as if you weren’t just being carried by her just a minute ago). “I meant what I said; you’re just here so I can nurse your wounds for the night, and tomorrow morning I’ll bring you back home. You are not a prisoner here; you’re my guest.” The statement visibly eases some of your anxiety which brings a small smile to her face. She picks up the towels and robe and hands them to you, removing her hand from your skin in the process which you can’t help but miss. She leads you to a nearby bathroom, somehow setting the exact temperature of water you love in the shower, giving you some alone time, and closing the door behind her. The warm water washes over you, soothing your system enough that you almost forget you’re literally in hell, but you’re quickly reminded once you leave the bathroom in a silk robe. The woman has set up a small seat by the bed as she motions you over. 

-The bed dips below you as you lay down. Her voice is soft as she speaks, “please relax.; I’m going to tend to your physical wounds first.” Your muscles can’t help but tense up a bit down as her hands hover over your ankles, lightly brushing against them as they begin to glide up your legs. You can’t see how your wounds start to disappear as she moves over them, but you do feel the relief where pain once was. Something you do notice is how your healer’s intense gaze suddenly looks away whenever she hovers over any intimate spots; you wonder if the pink in her cheeks is just a trick of the light….yes, that must be it. You chide yourself for having such juvenile desires; you hope she can’t notice how warm your skin has become under her touch. You’re not sure what makes the air feel heavier, the silence or the intimacy of the moment. 

-Words leave your lips before you can stop them, “Do you know the devil?” Your eyes widen, but the woman over you simply grins, flashing a brilliant canine. “Are you interested in meeting the devil, my dear?” Her playful tone sends a shiver through you, but you answer her honestly, “I just can’t help but wonder what the ruler of this place could possibly look like now.” The woman meets your gaze, a mischievous spark behind them, “Well, if there’s one thing I can tell you, the devil is as unsavoury as they come. You wouldn’t want to meet them. Plus, I hear they love luring unsuspecting maidens into their lair.” She bites back a smile as she finishes. A pregnant pause fills the air as it finally hits you. “It’s you.” You instinctively sit up as she allows you to have the space you need. She gives you a small nod before confirming your statement, “yes. I am in fact what you call the devil. I am the one who rules over this land.” 

-“B-but you look so human, you don’t even have any-“

“Horns? Red skin? A giant fork?” She says with a small giggle, finding your disbelief quite endearing. You can’t help but feel embarrassed by how childish you must sound, wishing you’d be sucked into the bed. She leans back into the chair, crossing her arms, “I’m sorry to disappoint.” She says lightly, flashing you that brilliant smile. You frantically wave your hands in front of you, “ oh no! I’m not disappointed at all! I’mjustsuprisedconsideringyousavedmeoutofnowhereandthenalsohappentobeattractiveandnowimramblingrightIdontmean-“, The “devil” gently leans in and places a finger over your mouth, putting a stop to your anxious rambling. It feels like time stops as she speaks, “I’m simply being humorous. It’s nearly impossible to offend me.” You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. She raises a perfect eyebrow at you before continuing, “forgive me for being direct, but I also find you quite attractive, my dear.” Your breath hitches as your eyes lock.

#my writing #dating #devil #demon #female demon #female devil #monster fucker #hell #Female reader #devil x fem reader #inferno #woman in suit #lucifer #prologue #dating hc #dating list on the way #reader self insert

[fullmetalgirl98]

30 days Hypnosis Mic challenge

DAY 26: favorite MV

🎤 「Scarface」 - MAD TRIGGER CREW

Partly because this MV appeared completely out of nowhere, totally out of the blue, partly because the song is absolutely wonderful, I have to mention this. The first thing I thought when I saw this MV on the YT home, was that FINALLY HypMic had also started the video rigmarole for individual division songs, like Paradox Live. So the elation was patently justified. But let's dwell for a second on why I like it so much: first, the font used at the beginning, with the words breaking apart, like shattered glass. Then the colors and the atmosphere, that literally screams Yokohama (!!!): sunset, seaside, orange, pink, blue ... alghalfg And also the way each individual frame is introduced by the previous one, as if the latter is burned under a flame ore broken and dismembered, to make the following one appear. I think the editing is absolutely outstanding. You can tell there was a lot of work behind it, all the more so because (if I'm not mistaken) this is really the first MV done in such a thorough way for a single division song. The thing that absolute sends me into ecstasy is the colors palette, a little darkened, perhaps? I find it perfect for the vibe of the song, plus the fact that they used the most beautiful official art released for MTC up to that time (honorable mention to Jyuto smoking silhouetted against the sunset).

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #30 days hypnosis mic challenge #30 day challenge #day 26 #scarface #mad trigger crew #mtc #division rap battle #hypmic drb #samatoki aohitsugi #aohitsugi samatoki #jyuto iruma #iruma jyuto #rio mason busujima #busujima mason rio #anime #manga #japanese rap #Youtube

[flam-burr]

Eclipse - Yautvember day 7

Content: Ko'pa and Elena's anniversary.

Tag: fluff, dating, sfw

A/N: This is shorter than the others, but I wanted to focus on the prompt without getting distracted by too many things lol

Thanks to everybody that is liking, reblogging and following, I see and appreciate everyone of you <3 And if you want to join, check out @jacklycan for the original prompt list!

“Just, repeat me why we are here.” Elena huffed, stopping to catch her breath.

“Because I promised you a good time.”, Ko’pa answered.

Elena scoffed, taking her mates’ hand to help herself over a particularly sharp bush. They had been climbing for hours now and Elena was starting to feel the fatigue that led inevitably to her patience and good mood at stake.

Ko’pa, on the other hand, kept leading her with little to no sign of tiredness, moving the colorful plants out of their way as they kept going. The light of the star painted his green-moss skin with the shadows of the leaves, reflecting on the jewels braided on his locks. His back muscles flexed as he pushed himself over a boulder and turned to face her.

Completely covered, with only his bright eyes to bring some color in all that green, he looked like a nature spirit from the old legends.

“We’re almost there, promise.”, he said softly, reaching out for her.

Elena snorted, then smiled: she never really managed to stay angry at him for too long.

She took his hand and the Yautja lifted her over the obstacle, wrapping his arm around her waist as he led her in a small opening between the trees.

The floor was covered in soft grass, big enough for both of them to lay down, and surrounded by trees on every side except for in front of them: there, the vegetation framed the valley underneath, like an impressionist painting hanging on a wall, full of green and purples and blues. Moving closer, Elena saw the side of the mountain went down on an overhanging cliff.

She heard Ko’pa coming closer and putting his hands on her shoulders and she leaned back over his powerful chest, lifting her gaze to his face.

“You like it?”, he said.

Elena nodded and reached out her hand to intertwin her fingers to his tendrils, drawing a happy purr from him.

“You really have an eye for these kinds of places.”, she teased him. “You were right: the climb was worth it.”

Ko’pa lowered his head to press his forehead over hers, nibbling lightly at her shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist.

Elena sighed and moved her head to better expose her neck, feeling herself getting worked up, but a little disappointed when Ko’pa stopped to whisper in her ear.

“You didn’t see the best part.”

She frowned and Ko’pa put a finger under her chin to move her face towards the sky.

The pastel light blue that greeted their arrival was slowly washing away in a palette of oranges and reds, like a sunset in the middle of the day, and there, just at what looked like a few inches from the star, the dark, round shape of a moon.

Elena followed Ko’pa as he sat on the grass and placed herself on his lap without taking her gaze off of the sky.

She watched as the moon slowly moved towards its bright twin, setting the sky on fire with each mile conquered until the celestial vault looked like a bloody painting. Then all went dark and, as her eyes adjusted to the new light, a ring of flaming gold shone above them.

They stayed still for hours or simple seconds, watching the show nature gifted them with until the moon resumed its path and slowly left her twin free.

Ko’pa shielded her eyes with his hand, bending his head over hers so that their eyes could meet in the returning light and warmth of the day.

“Was this a good ‘anniversary date’, my chakria?”, he asked.

Elena smiled, a small laugh escaping her lips as she lifted and turned to wrap her arms around his neck and push him on the ground.

“You can bet it was.”

Glossary

Chakria = life mate

#yautja #yautja oc #yautja x human #yautja boyfriend #yautvember #predvember #the predator #predator x human #original predator character #original male character #original female character #the eclipse #dating a yautja #writing challenge #writing prompt

[zinabug]

I forgor to post this within a reasonable amount of time, but better late than never and such! Behold my 2023 art summary.

[ID: Quinn’s 2023 art summary, with one thumbnail drawing per month! January: two young men in red uniforms sitting in a sunset. February: a frightened teen girl holding up her phone flashlight in a limited blue and green palette. March: a black-and-white drawing of a man in a victorian suit sitting in front of a pink and orange window. April: a smiling older woman with a cigarette sitting in a window seat. May: a young man in green with blood on his face. June: a necromancer in a plate doctor mask rousing a skeleton. July: an air genasi in regency clothes in a pink and green limited palette. August: a teenage sailor climbing between ropes in a red and green limited palette. September: clean lineart of a scruffy human man frowning at a smiling drow. October: the same air genasi casting a spell in a limited bright green palette. November: a half-elf in sleeveless armour raising a flaming sword over her head. December: an old woman in a jacket holding a compound bow at her side.]

(My commissions are open!)

#my art #art summary 2023

[raingalaxy]

evermore • Taylor Swift

#taylor swift #ts #taylor lyrics #taylor swift edit #Evermore #Evermore edit #Evermore album #tswiftedit #tswift #tswiftlyrics #Evermore lyrics #Lyrics #Lyricsedit #Vintage #Swiftie #Tsedit #Tswiftedit #The palette of sunset flames

[alasblogpoetry]

autumn

An oversize coat the beige of my coffee,

A maple leaf carpet the flame of my heart,

A cloudy sunset the palette of autumn,

A beautiful world the color of love.

#a short poem about autumn #because autumn is my favorite season #i literally love everything about autumn #the rain #the wind #the colorful leaves #i just love it #autumn #poetry #writing #creative writing #by emerald #alas blog

[snowshinobi]

do you think Kyo would ever wear something a little more traditionally feminine? Or if there was an au where he did so? what would he pick?

ye absolutely, I don't think cultural norms of any kind matter to Kyo. He's chill about Senjuro not being a great fighter (thus ending the chain of flame hashira in the Rengoku family, poor Sen is so ashamed about it and Kyojuro's just like my guy! As long as you're happy who cares what you do!) As others have pointed out, Kyo has some real neurodivergent mannerisms when he converses with ppl (LOUD, doesn't maintain consistent eye contact, murmurs along while other ppl are speaking, etc). Boy doesn't know how to read the room and/or simply doesn't bother to. Following that, I'd imagine clothing gender norms take up less than 0% of Kyo's brain space.

I think fashion in general takes up less than 0% of Kyo's brain space actually, which is why I love fanart of him looking SLICK AS HELL bc I automatically think "damn whichever one of Kyo's buddies put this 'fit together did a great job!" Speaking of:

Mitsuri smothers him in floral patterns, the more peachy pinks the better. She wants to make Kyo look like the sunrise he is <3 Even in a modern AU, Mitsuri picks out yukata for him. She has a pinterest board full of kimono she'd LOVE to see Kyo in but the one time he let her ... Kyo tried to be a good sport about staying still while all the layers went on but she could tell he wanted to scream (speaking from experience here. such a gorgeous outcome but the process takes foreverrrrr)

Tengen tends to put him in reds and purples, more of a sunset vibe, alternatively he'd put Kyo in full bright red or neon yellow outfits bc FLASHY and MONOCHROME MEANS YOU'RE FASHIONABLE EVERYONE KNOWS THAT! Also miniskirts. Kyo likes the flowy ones (swishy! good!) he does not vibe with the tight ones (can't squat! bad!) Tengen whines about this but usually lets Kyo have his way.

Senjuro's taste leans simple + effective. Single-color yukata with light floral or geometric patterns all over, either pastel colors or deep tones. Maybe an obi in a contrasting color for some flair. He'd probably stick to the fiery Rengoku family color palette (black/white/red/orange/yellow) bc matching is satisfying. In a modern AU, Senjuro notices Kyo admiring Mitsuri's sundresses and suggests that Kyo should try one. The sunflower print sundress + black T underneath outfit is Sen's idea (: Kyo loves it

No idea what Kyo picks for himself. In canon, the guy dresses pretty much exactly how his father did back when he was the flame hashira. Now I'm inclined to put Kyo in leaf print button down shirts and denim cutoffs, which I don't think he'd mind, but I dunno if he'd choose that himself. I really think Kyo really just let his brother and friends style him all his life. Releasing Kyo in a thrift store would be fascinating.

^also shoutout to this official (?) illustration of Kyo in a gorgeous floral get up <3 irises suit him (more in this post)

#ANON THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK I WENT WILD I HAD FUUUUUN #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #rengoku kyojuro #Rengoku #uzui tengen #uzui #Kanroji #kanroji mitsuri #Mitsuri #rengoku senjuro #Senjuro #snowswords #snowfire #image id in alt text #tried my best on that one but hmm i can't make out the coat that well. not sure it's a coat tbh. could be a cape? #OH ty for the reminder to draw sundress Kyo #boy deserves skirt twirls after the canon existence he's been through. jesus

[rochelledenara]

Vibrant Symphony Of Hues

Colours are the smiles of nature, a vibrant symphony that paints the world with boundless beauty and enchantment. Each hue, like a brushstroke on the canvas of life, weaves a tale of emotions, whispers of awe, and echoes of harmony. From the delicate pastels of a sunrise to the fiery palette of a sunset, nature's chromatic tapestry embraces us, evoking a profound sense of wonder and reminding us of the infinite creativity that thrives in every corner of our planet.

Within a single flower, we witness the gentle blush of petals, adorned with nature's tender touch. In the lush meadows, fields of green intertwine with wildflowers, as if Mother Earth herself is indulging in a joyful dance. Majestic forests become a riot of colours, where emerald canopies mingle with gold, russet, and amethyst, painting a picture that stirs the deepest recesses of our souls.

The cerulean skies stretch above, decorated with the majestic arcs of rainbows, nature's grandest display of her kaleidoscopic palette. With each raindrop, a prism is born, refracting light into a spectrum of breathtaking colours that ignite our spirits with childlike glee. Like a hidden treasure, a double rainbow emerges, captivating hearts with its ethereal allure, a fleeting bridge between earth and sky.

Beneath the ocean's surface, a silent world reveals its secret wonders, adorned with a mesmerizing array of colours that rival the wildest dreams. Coral reefs thrive with vivid hues, where coral polyps dance in vibrant tones, harmonizing with their fishy companions, who wear coats of every shade imaginable. It is here, in the depths, that colors become poetry, telling stories of life's intricate interconnections and the delicate balance that sustains our planet.

Colours are not merely visual indulgences; they possess a language of their own. The golden warmth of sunlight breathes life into every living creature, nurturing growth and igniting inspiration. Fiery reds and oranges ignite passion and ignite the flames of creativity within us. Tranquil blues and greens offer solace, reminding us to find peace in the embrace of nature's serenity. Mellow yellows and soft pinks whisper of joy and happiness, uplifting our spirits with their gentle radiance.

In the tapestry of existence, colours are nature's gift, bestowed upon us to marvel, appreciate, and be inspired. They awaken our senses, inviting us to immerse ourselves in the grandeur that surrounds us, to pause and truly see the world with new eyes. From the tiniest wildflower to the breathtaking landscapes that stretch beyond our horizons, colours illuminate our journey, reminding us that in nature's smiles lies the infinite beauty that awaits those who dare to look.

-Rochelle

#NatureSmilesInColors #VibrantSymphonyOfHues #PaintedByNature #poetry #ColorsTellStories #PoetryOfColors #passion #literature

[wickedsrest-rp]

NAME: Will-o’-the-wisp

ALSO KNOWN AS: Ignis fatuus

RARITY: ★☆☆☆☆

THREAT LEVEL: ★★☆☆☆ | Just don’t follow them; it’s fine. Right? Likely to lead people astray or into the maws of other monsters.

HABITAT: Most often seen near bodies of freshwater, and especially at night or when there’s fog. They’re common sightings in swamps, bogs, and wooded areas. Mossthorn Bog is full of them.

DESCRIPTION: Will-o’-the-wisp are atmospheric “ghost” lights frequently seen over swamps, bogs, or in wooded areas. They draw travelers off the safe path and bring them towards danger. Many people who followed will-o’-the-wisps are never seen or heard from again. There’s speculation that the will-o’-the-wisp are the souls of people who died in the woods and were never able to find their way out. However, if they are ghosts or spirits, it doesn’t explain why ordinary human beings are able to see them and why mediums are no better at detecting them than anyone else. However, kitsune can control will-o’-the-wisps, and are unaffected by them.

ABILITIES: Something about the way the will-o’-the-wisp moves is able to compel people to follow it, even if they normally wouldn’t. This often leads to people following them into danger, whether that’s the deepest part of the bog or right into the jaws of the hungry monster. Interestingly, wisps are charged with magical energy. While kitsune are most adept at tapping into them, spellcasters and others can use them as a magic source when they’re nearby. Of course, this isn’t without risk.

WEAKNESS: If someone is aware of what they’re looking at and knows it would be dangerous to follow a will-o’-the-wisp, they won’t be affected as strongly by the compulsion, and should be able to break away from it. Kitsune are completely immune.

OTHER VARIANTS:

Ignis kaboomus: These wisps look like any other at first glance, but once they draw someone in close, they don’t lead them astray – they simply explode. The barrage of flame can be a hazard to anyone nearby, and also sets off other nearby wisps. Some kitsune keep these around and use them like explosives when the situation calls for it. 

Dying light: Containing a bright sunset palette within its flames, dying lights are beautiful sights to behold. Unfortunately, if you see one, it’s a sign that you’re either about to die, or will have a very close brush with death in whatever the swamp the wisp is in. Dying lights are sometimes seen as forces of good in the world, providing a warning of danger to come. Seeing one is still sure to give anyone chills if they know what it is, though. Some believe that dying lights are psychopomps that guide people into the afterlife, and as such they should be followed.

Enenra: These wisps take the form of a compressed orb of smoke rather than an eerie flame. Said to be seen only by those who are “pure hearted” (the meaning of which is always left vague), enenra are actively malevolent, floating toward its victims and forcing themselves to be inhaled. Sometimes they will choke their victims from the inside, killing them; other times they may reside inside of someone, giving them breathing issues until the wisp is magically removed.  

Onibi: It’s no wonder that their Japanese name translates to “demon fire”. Onibi are blue or white balls of flame that appear in clusters ranging from 20-30 fireballs, floating at around eye level. Anyone who wanders too close will end up swarmed by all of them, and in grave danger as the onibi siphon away the life force of the victim. If someone stares into an onibi they’ll see the faces of those who had their life completely drained by the fireball, and may even hear their dying words. Onibi are made when a person or animal dies nearby, but they themselves are not the ghosts of the dead.

Žiburinis: Originally described in Lithuania, these will-o’-the-wisps take the shape of fiercely glowing green skeletons, spectral in nature. The skeletons beckon people to follow them, drawing them into underground caverns and mines rather than into the swamp or other dangers. Their appearance is said to precede a death, which is, well, often true despite not being prophetic. Kitsune may have some extra fun controlling these rare wisps, feeling skeletons are upgrades from the usual orbs and flames.

(Art credit: Oxeren on dA)

#monsters #magical #aquatic #freshwater #woods #ignis kaboomus #dying light #enenra #onibi #ziburinis #will o' the wisp

[gai2024]

An Unforgettable Summer

The beauty of the hottest season of the year is incomparable, and that summer... oh, that summer was definitely unforgettable. It all started with the anticipation of months ending, suitcases packed and dreams being fulfilled under the immaculate blue sky and the sun that reflected the golden glow in the hearts of adventurers.

The trip began with a kaleidoscope of landscapes that passed through the window of the old car which, despite its noises and mechanical whims, was the time capsule that transported us to a parallel universe where everyday worries simply did not exist. The songs that played were the soundtrack of a summer movie, where each melodious song carried with it the promise of eternal moments.

The destiny? A small and welcoming coastal village, whose beaches were fringes of pure magic bathed by the ocean. Every grain of sand, every shell on the shore, every wave breaking with delicate force on the beach was an invitation to start over, to inspire something new. It was as if time there had its own rhythm, a kind of peaceful cadence that soothed the soul.

And it was there, in the softness of languid afternoons and starry nights, that friendships were strengthened. The laughter shared under the shade of coconut trees, the improvised games and challenges that only detachment from routines allows, the tropical flavors that blend perfectly with the sea breeze... Everything contributed to building the tapestry of experiences that we would come to call "the best summer of our lives."

Love also gave the air of grace, in a way as natural as a sunset that dyes the sky with an impossibly vibrant palette. Summer loves are made of different stuff, woven with the golden light of the sun and the freedom of the wind that knows no boundaries. And although not all of them last beyond the season, their flavor is revived with each wave that kisses the beach in an eternal return.

There were also moments of introspection: the solitary walks along the beach at dawn, when the sun rehearses its first chords on the horizon and the breeze still carries the freshness of the night that is leaving. In those moments, silent conversations with one's self were possible and the sea became the best listener to confidences and dreams.

As August drew to a close, nostalgia was already beginning to cast its shadow, but it was a soft shadow, because each memory was already recorded in vivid colors, ready to be accessed when the cold of other seasons blew through the fallen leaves of future days. .

The unforgettable summer taught us to live, to love, to be free. He showed that happiness is made up of moments and that the beauty of life often lies in simplicity: a swim in the sea, a shared smile, the warmth of the sun on the skin.

When the bags were packed again and the old car took us back home, we knew that something within us had changed. We were loaded not just with souvenirs, but with an experience that had transformed us. And so, each summer subsequently would carry a little of that magic, a perennial flame that would warm us with its memory of days of an absolutely unforgettable summer.

Follow on Instagram: @mylife.usa2024

#art #history #text #science #photography #movies #illustration #romantic #usa #usa news #news #Spotify #gai #united states #united kingdom #uk #england #english