RIGHT TIME, WRONG PLACE

[KK]

BUT I'M NOT GOOD WITH DIRECTIONS AND I HIDE BEHIND MY MOUTH I'M A PRO AT IMPERFECTIONS AND I'M BEST FRIENDS WITH MY DOUBT
    

Entirely comfortable in the presence of elk, Phaedra padded quietly through the Southern grasslands. They were large, uneventful creatures - elk - and she felt she could sit silently among them for hours. Not only that, but the ground was also far too soft and grass far too gentle for her to ignore its whispering. Phae loved the way she felt here, loved the way the soil fell to her touch - loved the way the tall foliage caressed her sides. The elk were like friends, too. Their dark eyes were always invitingly soft.

This was a big step for Phaedra. It was true that elk were not the kind of feeling beings she needed to come in contact with, but it was far better than the relationship she had built with the earth. Gaia was her mother and the moon her caretaker, but they did nothing for Phae other than give her strength. The girl needed to face the grit of who she was - come face to face with each wall she had built within herself.

The wind whistled through the plains. The elk began to raise their elegant faces to the sky, a slightly alarmed wave rushing through them. Unsettled by their sudden atmosphere change, Phae watched with them. It had grown dark without her knowing. Rain smelled fresh and clean on the next cool blast of air she faced. With an irritated flick of her ears, the girl began to weave her way through the elk. They were startled, but only startled enough to trot their ways to safety. She took to their advice and placed herself quaintly under a tree.

The first drops began to all. Phae, suddenly aware that the trees were going to offer her no covering, drooped her ears and settled herself down for what was sure to be a miserable storm.

--------

honestly…….this is shit but yoooo maybe you could brighten her day lmao RED

[RED]

YOU'RE A VISION IN THE MORNING WHEN THE LIGHT CAME THROUGH
I KNOW I'VE ONLY FELT RELIGION WHEN I LIE WITH YOU
YOU SAID YOU'LL NEVER BE FORGIVEN TILL YOUR BOYS ARE TOO
AND I'M STILL WAKING EVERY MORNING BUT IT'S NOT WITH YOU

    The wind sings its surreal lullaby, a natural kind of music that whines more than it comforts, and on the edge of the steppe there is a boy - dark-eyed, his skin gold as if touched by Midas - thinking about the rest of his life. It is a pretty picture. The grass up to his knees, bent-backed and howling with the promise of a storm. Underneath his temple, where the prince's life is barely protected, his mind is going in circles. Fat gray clouds smear their way across the sky; and through this continues whatever his on his mind, the thought of blood and glory, which has been there, bruising, since the moment of his birth. The painting continues, stretching outwards, turning panoramic, showing perfectly where the land drops off below and the sun has pulled away from the horizon. Flashes of gold here, red there, brown everywhere. Messily made, strangely accurate. The painting ends. He does not move, caught in that utter stillness that should belong only to the animals that will eat him eventually, but that his line has somehow captured. And like this, still and breeze-tousled, there is still some constant, ethereal vibrancy that crackles across his form. Argent is not a boy from this earth: or at least, there is no evidence for it. 

    The elk start all at once, a rolling tide of brown and sage, and Argent moves sharply. There is a flash of movement as he gather his legs beneath him, tosses a mountain of sable waves from his vision. The grass crackles; he turns his dark gaze upwards and sees the clouds swelling, lazy diamond drops splashing to the overturned dirt. A chill races down his spine, along with the first real torrent. On the horizon there is a cluster of trees trembling in the wind. He pauses for a moment, savoring the chill that rushes through his bones, then starts forward with lazy, swinging strides. His hooves leave half-moon marks in the dirt, winding a perfect path to the grove, which turns out to be farther than it looks. When Argent arrives, his golden skin is dark with rain and mane plastered to his razor-sharp cheeks. Cool drops quiver across a plethora of lashes; he blinks them off, shakes his head. Realizes that the shape around the curve of that tree is a mare, a stranger. His eyes narrow.

    There is a moment of pause, then the moving-forward, the swishing steps and rolling shoulders. His inky lips crack open in a shark's smile, gaze cold but genuinely curious. The background booming of thunder sends a rumble through his chest. 

    Not a fan of the rain?
    
KK lmao ok he does not look the kindest but let's see if he likes her

    EVERYTHING WAS BLUE
HIS PILLS, HIS HANDS, HIS JEANS
AND NOW I'M COVERED IN THE COLORS
TORN APART AT THE SEAMS

[KK]

BUT I'M NOT GOOD WITH DIRECTIONS AND I HIDE BEHIND MY MOUTH I'M A PRO AT IMPERFECTIONS AND I'M BEST FRIENDS WITH MY DOUBT

Bone-chilling drops slapped Phaedra’s hide with screaming force. She was forced to shiver, to stand huddled against a tree like some snivelling child. The girl was a child, emotionally underdeveloped and constantly tiptoeing around taking care of herself. The fact that she lived in denial of who she was proved the immaturity that resided within: she could not accept; therefore, she could not grow into the being she was meant to be. The rain was gripping, far to cold for Phae to really think about who she really was (or that is what she told herself, always excused and always excusing).

The sky was dark, each cloud a roiling mass of deep grey. Phae lifted her head. Her eyes, normally topaz and sapphire, were a whirlpool reflection of the world that surrounded her. Each cloud was depicted crystalline in her eye. She felt sharp, jaded by the cool breeze and the biting weather. Droopy lids and curled corners were a perfect picture of who she was: put to sleep by depression and frowning at her situation.

“Not a fan of the rain?” his voice was smooth and jarring, a double sided sword that stabbed Phaedra in the chest. She whipped around, eyes both startled and calculating. Who was he? Could she leave? Would the rain put them both at a disadvantage? Quickly, though, she shut down her fight or flight mentality. It was not do-or-die, and she had an appearance to keep up. It only took one moment to size up her opponent - one moment to lose who she was and mirror his every emotion. For all that she cared, Phaedra was now a bay man with detached, brisk eyes.

Brief seconds passed (important seconds, seconds that would protect Phae’s fragile state). He looked like a predator, all canines and blood and dripping maws. The storm surged with the man’s appearance. Lightning struck in the distance, thunder clapped loudly overhead. Phae hated the storm, hated this man for wandering into her miserable hut (something she would regret later).

With the same crisp face as her opposition, Phaedra opened her mouth - and choked, lost in thought and afraid of what she would say next. No words came out; she was nothing more than a dropped jaw and frantic eyes. Gaia screamed, the earth screamed, the wind screamed - all howling and screeching, PROTECT YOURSELF. She wouldn’t though. She would fade back, overcome by panic and enveloped by the impending sense of lost time.

What did come out? A gurgling noise, something guttural that probably resided in the deepest depths of the girl’s mind. She took a deep breathe and stared furiously at the ground. What was she to do? This was that woman’s fault - the one with moons for eyes and gods swirling in her head.

“I’m sorry.”

lmao stop me i cant write anything coherent RED

[RED]

WOULD YOU LIE FOR ME?
CROSS YOUR SORRY HEART AND HOPE TO DIE FOR ME

    As soon as he meets her eyes, Argent realizes that there is something different about this girl - not the kind of different that makes his heart soar or piques his curiosity, but the kind of different that makes him want to leave immediately. He has never been good with people, even people who are at their best. And it is obvious that this girl is not at her best, looking at him with those shining glasswork eyes. He swallows. Between them passes a strange current, a suspicion, Argent's muscles tightening automatically as his mind starts promising danger. 

    There is a long silence: wind howling in the background, water dripping into his eyes, and the intensity of this girl's gaze turned silver by white-hot flashes of lightning. Breathing, slowly. He realizes that she is standing up taller, exhaling deeper, copying the roll and crush of muscle under his rain-dark skin. And she does it almost perfectly. Argent raises an eyebrow, looks down at her, trying to judge what she's after. Perhaps just the amusement of it? Even if that is the truth, she does it with an intensity that is unsettling.

    Her jaw drops, eyes glassy, and Argent feels a sharp jerk of foreboding. Nothing comes out, but with the way the earth is rumbling - it seems as though the whole storm is hers, that this girl is the eye of it,  that it is her howling instead of just the sounds of the atmosphere. Like a miracle. Like some oracle just out of her cage. He steps back, that jerk again, swinging from his chest up into his throat. Argent is afraid of nothing, but some dusty corner of him is dreading the moment that she finally speaks.

    But when it happens her voice is soft, and his suspicions are instantly erased, eyes hardening again. She is no deity. Some girl, battered and bruised, sinking into the overturned earth. Heat bubbles into his blood, affronted by the simple exchange of power between them, and Argent sweeps forward, closer than the first time. Her eyes are like sea glass; his voice matches the rumble of thunder. What for?

KK <3

[KK]

SHE'S GOTTA LISTEN TO YOUR TIRED ASS LINES I KNOW IT'S HARD TO BELIEVE THE GOOD HEARTED WOMAN COULD HAVE A BODY THAT'D MAKE YOUR DADDY CRY

Ashamed and disgusted by every aspect of who she was becoming, Phaedra stared wildly at the man before her. Eyes bright and unblinking, both broken and angry, she stared ( all she had was to stare, just to stare ). He was afraid, if briefly, but suddenly not amused and unaccommodating. The way he looked at her made her squirm, made her want to slam her hooves into his ever-pressing chest. How dare he reach into her chest and rip out every ounce of strength she possessed? How dare he open his mouth, create this storm? He was no god. He did not deserve the power she gave him. All too suddenly, Phae was angry. She was furious, shot full of liquor and lightning and ichor.

She was no angel, but her blood would bleed gold tonight.

The stranger was too close, so instantly within a gross proximity that Phae could not dance into the dark. She turned to him ( a quick snap of her head, a slamming pressure behind her eyes ). He was the storm. The thunder, the lightning - it did not exist outside of their encounter. Between them was a swirling hurricane, an explosive armory of nuclear power; she was fucking pissed. The girl with star-eyes did this to her. How dare this man take advantage of her weakness? Fury boiled hot and red in her veins. She wanted to brand her wrath into his roiling muscles. Nothing else would do.

“For what?” he inquired, completely unaffected by the line that had snapped within her. She stared at him - hot, cocaine eyes spilled lava from the edges.

Drawn with elegant marks and long legs, Phae pulled her body together. She was no queen - not yet - but Gaia would not proud of who she was becoming. Invasive eyes and seething breathes met burning wire and boiling water. Phaedra would not stand for this, not in this rain ( not in this mental state ). Lips curled like the lazy tails of smoke, she said, “For not disguising my anger - and for not burning it out before we met.”

The embers of her eyes cooled, now blackened and detached. Her feet met his - almost absentmindedly, almost instinctively. “Quite the storm, yeah?” something was behind her words, a boy laced his drugs into her voice. She wasn’t talking about the rain.



RED wow lmao

[RED]

WOULD YOU LIE FOR ME?
CROSS YOUR SORRY HEART AND HOPE TO DIE FOR ME

    They remain still, land-locked, pushing and pulling to no avail. Examining her does nothing. Moving closer does nothing. Speaking does little, at best. This girl looks like she's in a living coma except for the unmistakable flare of anger in her eyes - anger that the golden prince is confused and frustrated by. He's starting to be annoyed by the way her moods change as fast as lightning flashes, the constant rumble-and-crash of emotion, endless and chaotic, just underneath her satin skin. He exhales: slowly, deliberately, watching the twitches of impulse cross her face.

        Argent watches and waits and waits some more: utterly still, severe and sharp-edged as if cut from marble. His patience is endless and unspooling like Ariadne's thread.

          She speaks again, quiet, the sound of it almost swallowed by the storm. For not disguising my anger... At that the golden boy grins lazily, just the barest pull of his lips upward, and the flash of teeth like pearls in the black cage of his mouth. Wolf and deer, the two of them, but the balance is tilting. So: amusement. The wolf satiated by the deer's strangeness, for just a second. Argent raises his head, light flickering in golden shards across his deep-brown eyes, and shrugs. You are what you cover up.

            He grins again. The eloquence of it, the truth, makes him giddy.  Argent's gaze flashes upward to where the leaves tremble under the weight of the weather, crystalline drops splashing, the clouds sprinting across the sky. The light has all but drained, leaving only the barest touch of gold on the horizon. Under his feet - which, he realizes, are almost touching the girl's - the ground is turning black. There is no space between them, and Argent is trying not to suffocate.

    I've seen worse, he mutters under his breath. What's your name?             

KK excuse this ugh

[KK]

SHE'S GOTTA LISTEN TO YOUR TIRED ASS LINES I KNOW IT'S HARD TO BELIEVE THE GOOD HEARTED WOMAN COULD HAVE A BODY THAT'D MAKE YOUR DADDY CRY

Argent was uncomfortable, and a crazy flash of satisfaction rushed through Phaedra’s body. She does not have to abide by anyone’s rules or stand idly by while this man walks all over what she has created - no, Phaedra would not taken advantage of tonight (never again).

She stared him down with eyes that burned solely on her self-deprecation. There was no turning back now - the inevitable heat of the storm was beginning to swallow her. She was lightning, brilliant and blinding and gone in the blink of an eye. Phaedra was not playing games tonight; she would not be trifled with. His attitude infuriated her, sent ripples of deep displeasure down her spine. This was not a time to be toyed with, she thought. Vulnerability was a real threat, and Phae was no taking her chances. It was odd, though, the intensity of her indignation - she wondered if she would be cowardly under any other circumstance.

Meaningless, noncommittal shrug followed by, “You are what you cover up.” Phaedra’s eyes narrowed, exposed the roiling lava enveloping her from within. She would fight him, she thought (a comical and ironic thought, something she would not be able to pull off). Argent is grinning, and Phae understands his pleasure. The unsettling fascination with other beings, she knew that all too well. He was not as distant as he tried to be, an amusing fact that she was able to relish in (if only for a few seconds). Her heart pounded deliciously in her chest. The adrenaline spread hungrily through her veins. Phaedra felt like she was going to die, to combust into sporadic flurries of burnt-out sparks.

“I’ve seen worse. What’s your name?” he stopped her thrumming heart with normal words.

She turned away from him now, faced the lightning as it flashed over the clearing. “Phaedra,” she stated firmly, then turned back to him with magma eyes. “What’s yours?”

---

SORRY FOR THE WAIT AND CRAP QUALITY IM FORCING MYSELF TO GET MY CRAP TOGETHER RED