RP:Bliss
Note
This is part of the The Obsidian Pool - The First Wave story arc.
In The Obsidian Pool
Castellian moved deliberately along, his strides taking him forth into the perpetual darkness. How long had they walked? It seemed to matter little, for no progress could be distinguished. It was then, with a soft crunch lifting beneath him, that Castellian realized the ground had turned loose beneath his feet. A crackle lifted, and then another, while light bloomed lazily along the horizon before them. The Drow stood with his fiance at his side, stilling his movements to watch as this 'dawn' opened their eyes to what lay about them. Together they were standing on a knoll of short grass, the blades promising to be cool and soft, and trailing off toward a sandy shore behind them. Fresh water waves pounded relentlessly there, and the world was empty save trees, and a soft, swaying breeze.
Tenebrae blinked slowly, eyes conditioned to the darkness crinkling against the morning light. She took a deep, cleansing breath; the vampiress had not felt such peace for a very long time. It seemed that this morning had dawned not merely a new sun, but somehow healed her, heart and mind, of the burdens she'd carried too long. Slipping her arms around the waist of her Lord, a gentle smile curved rosy lips and she canted her chin up, jewelline-green gaze seeking his own alabaster. Another breath, a sigh of sheer contentment, as his embrace enfolded her. "Caste... I had the most horrible dream last night. Everything was dark, and you weren't there..." On tiptoe now, she pressed her lips to his, rose-pink on ebon, and her words a warm whisper against his mouth. "I love you."
Castellian responded to the warmth from his vampriss' frame with a renewed ease, his body suddenly void of the aches that had burdened it. Sinuous arms, lined with compacted muscle and smooth ebon flesh, wrapped around Tenebrae's lithe form and crushed her softly-curved body into the hard line of his own. They kissed, deeply, his tongue plundering the sweet confines of her mouth before he spoke, breathy and ragged, nuzzling each word into the full pout of her lips. "And I, thee, Tenebrae. Thou art as soft and stunning as snow, wrapped about the black rock of a mountain. I am that stone, and the life of snow is what I have longed for. Thine's embrace warms me to the bone, and thrills me to the boundary of my depths."
Tenebrae's smile broadened; as ever, she loved his poetic praise of her, the archaic phrasing. "You'll spoil me, Castellian D'Onri, if you're not careful." Dropping back to her heels - or as close to it as those rugged arms would allow - she turned to have her back against him, small hands drawing his larger ones around her waist tightly. Leaning back, neck craned aside to look up at her husband, she mused: "How can two people be so happy? Look at the wonder of this world, Caste. The beauty. And here we stand, upon it, blessed with each other." A slight and chill breeze had her press closer, still. "And our son." And as though on cue, a small figure ran toward them, laughing, trailing a makeshift kite behind. Snow-white hair whipped around the lad's face, revealing the pointed ears that marked him half-drow, obsidian eyes the only shade he possessed, other than stark ivory. "Lucien! Watch your feet... don't get them ..." The boy was already racing through the water's edge, the lower half of his pants darkened by the spray. Tene shook her head, laughing. "Love, he's as stubborn as you, I swear it."
Castellian didn't attempt to fight the response his body drew as Tenebrae pressed into him, the feel of her rounded backside crushed to his hips setting a heat to spread along his flesh. Tightening his arms about her, keeping them tight together, he regarded his son's dash along the lake's edge, an avian blade slashing along with remarkable swiftness. His response to Tenebrae was coy, and soft against the curve of her ear. "I would argue, my love, that stubbornness is a trait held with strength by us both."
Tenebrae's lips were pursed in mock-disapproval as she tipped her head back, spine arcing away from Castellian's body. "Caste... not in front of Luc!" This sharp whisper, edged in laughter. "And I fear, as ever, you are right." They watched the child, in silence a moment, his eight year-old body only just beginning to lengthen out of infancy hurtling along the shore, the kite a sodden, forgotten pulp on the water's edge. Her pale fingers gently stroking the smooth midnight skin of his forearm, as that limb once more drew her tight against him, the necromancer added, quietly: "Remember how hard we fought, to gain this peace? I only pray our son reaps the rewards, now. He deserves a good life."
Renin stares down at his comrades, Leo still imprisoned by his pyramid of light. Hopefully Jayde will prove a useful sentinel, for Ren now pushes into a standing position. After all, if someone is going to hold watch all night, they do need some exercise. Groaning the drow pulls himself afull, but something is odd, and then in a wave of emerald those flames of life etch their dancing rotations in his mind, this time of a certain pair- a drow and vampire. His body swings to the North, and in the distance those flames burn ever brightly. “Damn I’m good, all I have to do is be here.” He smirks, and without further readying begins his advancement. Once again his body is lowered, skin of darkest night allowing his search to be one of stealth, forwards advancement hasty despite this pursuit.
Castellian replied easily as he bent, dragging his lips further along the slender expanse of Tenebrae's throat. "It is well-earned, and deserved, Tene'. Just as the reward that waits for thee is well-earned; for raising our wonderful boy." The dreamlike sequence had taken hold of the mighty Drow, bending around his desires and using his love for the vampriss in his arms. Their bodies crushed close, intimate, false in its apparant chastity as they gently ground together in that simple sway. It seemed no embrace could be without its affections, the pair had loved for so many years without relent. His hands walked a warm line over her smooth belly, drawing her tight to him before they stilled to share a soft kiss.
Tenebrae's next breath was a soft sigh, her head canted slightly to allow his caress, her Lord's words bringing a tender warmth to grace her features. The breath she took after that, however, came as a sharply in taken hiss. Fingers dug to her husband's arm as she froze, peridot eyes grown wide with horror. "Luc!" Her son's name a terrified whisper, an alert to Caste. For that gentle lake had suddenly become dark, as though oil had seeped from some unseen source to taint the surface, and as the stormclouds joustled together overhead that water grew blacker by the second. The boy stood still, the liquid lapping at his ankles, seeming to grow deeper only around those stark-white and stripling legs, gazing out to the oncoming wave that swelled like some ominous and irate stallion to charge toward the half-drow lad.
Renin continues his hasty advancement and to his surprise a third flame of emerald flickers into being. This was not right, the aura was dimming by the second, though Ren still had limited control over this newfound ability he knew that this meant dire consequences. The pace is hurried, body picked up into more of a charging motion, now, and swiftly does the drow advance. Trees are evaded by simple, yet deft, leaps to either side, obstacles in his path’s way- vaulted over. Sandals slosh in the mud, his distance attained, great, and he now steps onto the wet sands of a beach. Like a bat out of hell does this drow exit the forest, rapid steps accumulating to a hell-defying pace. The towering wave first noticed seeming to flex all of its might right before it was to plummet into the unsuspecting babe. Somehow, Ren understands that this –cannot- happen, and is willing to risk more than a little to prevent such. Normally bright green flames flicker, and almost completely die out now, the young one almost surely to die. Rennion now plummets into a forward spearing movement, a slight wail heard, and naught but a moment later the wave crashes down with finality. However like an arrow of alabaster Rennion rockets from the foamy aftermath, body crashing into the rocks, and with that the unharmed boy emits a terrified cry once more, as he is held in by the unconscious, bleeding body of the valiant drow of Da’Telleson.
Castellian drew sidelong from Tenebrae, arms leaving her without his embrace as he took a step toward his son. There were few things that phased the austere hunter, few things that unnerved him. His child, the product of years of effort and a miracle by any standard, was one of his few hearts left along the mortal plane. He, and Tenebrae, were most precious to him. His ebon foot stood a contrast against the white sand, the shifting grains slowing what could have been remarkably swift strides. The water churned, tumbling, frothing hungrily as it bore down, and his son... His son was not comprehending. As if in a bad dream Castellian found himself bogged down, unable to move as quick as he could have otherwise, and fight as he may was forced to watch as that horrible realization came to terms before him. Still yards away, his son turned, perhaps to finally meet eyes with his mother who had so desperately cried his name... but instead, Lucien's coal-black gaze levelled on his father's own, and an innocent's smile crept on his lips. Then he was gone, the impact of the waters slamming down on him from above, masking him briefly from view amidst a churning wash of angry water. Castellian heard screaming, hoarse and loud, And then, as the water drew back from where it came, he could see the tangle of black and white limbs, Renin's form cradling the battered (but alive) boy. He wasn't aware until Tenebrae caught him, her body crashing into his own and her hands tightening on his arm, that the cry had been his own. And then it was gone, all of it. And he was left with Tenebrae on his arm, the hazy darkness of the dream world they were lost within', and the battered form of Renin lying at their feet. Lucien had gone, along with the trees and the shore, leaving them stranded from their own hallucination.
Tenebrae reached with clawed and desperate hands to clutch at ... darkness. "Lucien! Luc!" Wild-eyed against that utter lightlessness, she turned to Castellian. "Where is he? What's become of my son?" A terrified sob issued from her lips, the vampiress stumbling forward only to trip over Renin. Her fingertips sought the features of the prone figure desperately; it was soon apparent that they belonged not to a child. "Luc!" The necromancer's cry echoed, dull and unanswered, into the all-pervading shadow as Tenebrae lunged to her feet, the forward thrust of her body checked sharply by the strong arm of Castellian that lashed out to circle her waist, preventing the vampiress from embarking on what would surely have been a fruitless - not to mention dangerous - mission. She struggled weakly, uselessly in his grasp, her words wracked with panic. "We must ... Caste, we must find..." And then it was as if some unseen hand had cut her strings, the way her struggle ceased, her body slumped. Utter defeat, had her features been discernable, would have met the drow Lord's own concern-furrowed visage. Slender hands circled his waist again, her wretched tears those of a woman in the throes of mourning. "Caste? He wasn't real. Luc... wasn't real. Was he." And as the words spilled over her lips, fingers alit on the cool metal of the chain he wore.