#i am certainly not describing everything correctly but i just am mesmerized by this

[tallstars-rewrite]

Chapter 34

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Recovery did come, slow as it was. Some days later, Talltail sat by the big glass window. Jake was curled up pressed against his side, snoring loudly. It still felt a bit strange that the kittypet didn’t have even a small qualm about letting a stranger into his home, and treating him as though they were clanmates their whole lives. Talltail certainly didn’t dislike it. It felt safer than sleeping alone, and even if the water the twoleg put down had an unpleasant metallic tang to it, at least he could be sure it wasn’t going to kill him. 

Another oddity he’d found in the den was the twoleg sometimes lit a small fire inside at night, in a little stone cavern in the sitting room, and somehow kept it contained. It was more than a little frightening at first, but also incredibly warm. It was his first sight of real fire. Talltail couldn’t help but be mesmerized at the rare opportunity to closely watch such a dangerous unpredictable thing, feared by all the clans, without having to worry.

 But that was about where the benefits stopped.

In the couple days he’d been there, he had also suffered getting slobbered on by a dog multiple times, and the twoleg constantly trying to stroke his fur. Once it had made the mistake of trying to pick him up, but Talltail had quickly made it clear that was not going to fly. He also had to deal with letting it take on and off the uncomfortable soft wraps and smearing his cuts with a foul smelling goo. The twolegs paws where clumsy and shaky. It made him long for Briarpaw’s much more gentle touch. I will never complain of the smell of herbs again, Talltail thought. Not that he’d get the chance either way. But however unpleasant it felt, he suffered captivity with as much dignity as he could manage. And his wounds did feel a bit better.

The twoleg came up behind them and crouched down, making strange high pitched noises at Talltail, a sound he noticed the twoleg only made at cats. Talltail ignored it, tail lashing when it had the nerve to start touching his back. He turned slowly with a searing glare.

“You are an ugly hairless lumbering fool. You smell of fox-dung. I’d rather sleep in the dirt place than breathe in your stench.”

The twoleg made a pleased crooning sound and went on stroking his fur. 

Talltail continued, “you have a kits’ senses and wouldn’t be able to find your own stupid ugly nose even though it’s attached to your face. You are lower than a worm, and I despise you and everything you stand for. You are too flea-brained to understand a word I’m saying, aren’t you?”

The twoleg meowed back at him. It sounded like garbled nonsense.

Talltail narrowed his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you mocking me?”

The twoleg meowed again. 

Talltail bit its paw.

Jake snored himself awake while Talltail still held one of its long digits in his jaws. 

“Are you getting along?” he yawned.

Talltail spit out the paw and the twoleg made an amused sound and lumbered away. “We are getting along great,” he said through gritted teeth.

“That’s good. You’ve only bit him five times so far, that’s much better than the last cat he tried to take in,” Jake purred.

“Your twoleg does not take hints very well.” Talltail replied, ears flat in annoyance.

“Well I never claimed he was wise. He’s really very fond of you though.”

“Then he truly isn’t wise at all."

Jake yawned and stretched “How’s your brooding going? Anything go by outside?”

“Nothing more than some birds,” Talltail sighed.

“Oh!” Jake said suddenly. “I forgot to mention...I had an idea about what you can do. My friend Nutmeg has seen lots of strays go through here in the past moons. There’s a chance the cats you're looking for were among them.”

“You forgot to mention that?”

“In my defense, there’s been a lot of other things to think about.”

“In which case,” Talltail stood. “I think I have stayed here long enough. My cuts aren’t bad. I can manage on my own without that terrible goo.

He expected Jake to argue, but instead he nodded. “I’d never expect you to stay in a house like this, even I find it a little cramped sometimes. A promise is a promise. Follow my lead and you can sneak out.”

Jake took a couple paces towards where the twoleg was sitting and let out a very loud yowl.

 “Hey! Time to open the door!”

 Eventually the twoleg grumbled, stood up slowly on creaking limbs, and shambled over to the side door. He looked down at Talltail and tried to nudge him back with his long hind leg. Talltail let out a small hiss. Who does it think it is, pushing me? 

Jake winked at Talltail. “Just be casual. Act like you don’t care.”

Talltail pretended like he was busy grooming his chest fur. As soon as the door was open, Talltail shot out faster than a hare, across the yard, and clammered through a gap in the fence. Jake squeezed after him a heartbeat later. The twoleg made a hooting sound, but Talltail was already out of sight.

He huffed in the fresh air as soon as he set paws on grass. Never had he been so relieved to feel it.

With a contented sigh of relief, he turned to dip his head to Jake. “Thank you for everything. I’ll think of you often for being so kind to me. You’ve more than repaid your debt.” 

Jake blinked at him. “It wasn’t just to repay a debt! And I want to go with you.”

 Talltail stared. “G-go with me? This could be really dangerous. I may not like your home, but you're safe here. Where I’m going isn’t, and who knows how long it will take. Do you even know how to fight?”

Jake puffed out his chest “I’ve been in a fight! I got into a tussle with an old stray once, sort of by accident, but I held my ground! See this scar on my ear?”

He turned his head to show off the very, very small nick in his right ear.

When Talltail didn’t respond, Jake gave a dramatic sigh of defeat. “Well, all right. I can’t make you take me. But be careful of the neighbor dogs. And the alley cats. And the rude twolegs. And the cars. The paths and alleyways can get really confusing if you don’t follow them all correctly, and you can end up turned around and running nose first into all kinds of danger. You know where to watch out for all of that, right?”

He was giving Talltail a very pointed look as he spoke. Talltail flicked his long tail in annoyance, but couldn't help looking out at the town with unease. This place was unfamiliar and completely strange to him, not anything his warrior training had prepared him for. Obviously, because warriors aren’t supposed to come out this far in the first place. 

It was hard to admit to himself after he’d been so determined to do this on his own that weaving through this loud foul smelling town made him nervous, and he didn’t even know where to start.

Jake had an amused glint in his eyes. “I know you’re on a super important mission, but if you want to accept this 'kittypets' help, I'd love to show you around.”

 Talltail eventually had no choice but to accept that maybe he did need a guide. For a little while at least.

Jake perked up immediately. “Great! Then I’ll take you to see my friend Nutmeg. You guys seem like you're a similar breed of paranoid, maybe you’ll get along. You can describe those cats to her, and we’ll decide where to go from there.”

 Talltail still wasn’t sure about this. He felt deep down that he really did want Jake’s company, remembering a time when it felt like such a relief to go see him. And he didn’t realize until after he left WindClan how empty it would feel to be completely alone for so long. But at least unlike back then, he didn’t have to feel guilty about seeing Jake because it was no longer a simple excuse to get away from his clan duties. But still... I came out this far because I needed to do this on my own, didn’t I? Why should another cat be bogged down with it?  

“This could take a while, Jake,” Talltail warned again as they walked. “Are you sure you don’t have anything more important to do?”

Jake’s eyes smiled brightly in the greenleaf sunlight. “I assure you, I have absolutely nothing better to be doing.”

***

Talltail followed Jake, leaping down off the fence into Nutmeg’s yard.

“Wait here, I know how to get her attention,” Jake said, trotting up to a tall glass opening in the nest. He began pawing at the window until a disgruntled looking tortoiseshell poked her head through an opening flap. 

Nutmeg pushed her way into the yard and regarded Jake suspiciously. “I haven’t seen you in a couple days. Is that weirdo still in your house?”

“Actually he’s in your garden.” Jake replied.

Nutmeg’s eyes bulged as she had apparently only just noticed Talltail sitting with his tail wrapped tightly around himself, trying not to look awkward.

“Um. Hi.” Talltail said.

The bristling tortoiseshell flicked her gaze from him back to Jake, not hiding her obvious unease. “Ah. I see.”

“I know, I know, you don’t like strangers in your garden, but I promise we’ll be gone quick. We just wanted to ask about the cats you’ve seen.” Jake looked back at Talltail. “Nutmeg keeps tabs on all the cats in the area, she sees everyone that goes by. Spying is like, her main hobby.”

“I am not spying, it’s a matter of safety. When I see dangerous looking strangers, the cats that go outside ought to know.” Nutmeg’s tail lashed and Talltail knew she was clearly still unhappy about him being there. He remembered suddenly, now that he’d caught her scent, that she was almost certainly one of the kittypets he had frightened not long after arriving.

“Right I'm er...sorry for scaring you before, I suppose.” Talltail muttered. Nutmeg simply flicked her tail in vague acknowledgement.

 Jake nudged her and she sighed. “Fine, I suppose I'm sorry for calling you weird.” She then added, quieter, “but what exactly am I supposed to think when a big stranger shows up covered in blood and talking to himself?”

“Anyway,” Jake interrupted before Talltail could respond, “his name is Talltail and we’re going on a quest to find a group of strays.”

“‘We’?” Nutmeg stared at Jake. "Why are you going?"

“Yes we, because we’re friends and I’m a good guide.” Jake retorted. Nutmeg looked very doubtful, which made Talltail a bit nervous. He hoped Jake wasn’t exaggerating his navigation knowledge, but it was too late to turn him down now.

“Well…” Nutmeg hesitated, “A lot of strays have passed by here. Who exactly are you looking for?”

Talltail did his best to describe the five cats. “The only one I need to find is the smallest of them, dark brown almost black, sort of long messy fur, one ear tip sliced off. His eyes are two different colors. Looks obnoxiously aloof all the time. It would have been a couple moons ago.”

“A couple moons ago, that’s not encouraging.” Nutmeg said. “But surprisingly, I think I know who you mean. They’d passed by here before. Made themselves very known, weird bunch, too friendly for their own good if you ask me. I remember because it was a little before I met Jake. Before him, they were some of the oddest cats I’d ever seen. And before you I guess. They stopped to talk to Quince, I think they mentioned something about staying in the big wooded park in the center of town. It’s supposed to be a big area with no cars, and there’s lots of food, and apparently housefolk will feed you too if you know the right ones to ask. I overheard them saying were going to stop traveling for a bit, I guess they just had a loss or something. Mind you, that was some moons ago, I don’t know if they’re still there, but that’s what they said last I saw them.” 

“Wow you remember all that? You’re positive?” Talltail asked.

Nutmeg sniffed, as if she were offended. “Of course I’m sure! I’m sure of every cat I see, especially weird ones.”

“Alright, alright. Do you know where this park is?” Talltail pressed.

“Um...well no, I have no need to go that far outside my house myself.”

“I think I know!” Jake piped up, “I haven’t been there, but I’ve seen it from a distance. We just have to cut through some alleyways to avoid the cars.”

“If you think it’s safe to do that…” Nutmeg narrowed her eyes, “Not every stray likes you, you know.”

“I’ll be fine. I know exactly where I'm going.” Jake nudged Talltail “See, aren’t you glad you have me?”

“Sure. We should get going though. Thanks for your help. As a reward, I promise never to come into your garden again.”

She snorted. “Actually, as my reward, you can try to keep Jake from doing anything fluff-brained.”

“I never do anything fluff-brained!” Jake purred as he turned with a flick of his tail. “Come on, no time to waste.” 

He scampered back up the fence and beckoned Talltail to join him. Jake was far too excited about the grim mission, and Talltail was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable about not giving him all the details. “You’re only going with me a little ways,” Talltail reminded him quickly. “Just to the park. Then I have to continue on my own.”

“Sure, sure, but let's get going! You’ve never seen a town before, I remember how intense it felt the first time I saw it, I’ve got so much to teach you!”

Talltail allowed himself a small purr of amusement. There was still a distance to go. No need to be a drag the entire way when Jake was being so helpful, right? As long as he didn’t slow down.

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[zeciex]

Obsidian & Angelite Ch. 3

Oya has spend centuries bound to one single plot of land when one day a stranger with a voice of velvet and presence that can only be described as dark and outmost interesting. He comes with an offer she can’t refuse and suddenly her entire world changes, both for better and worse.

But what does Langdon need of her? And how can she use him to get what she want? Maybe they’re bound by something bigger than fate.

Warning: Dark themes, Strong Language, sexual tension

ArchiveLink

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Soil in which the seed grows

A week felt like a long time when restless, waiting to be set free. A week she had spend trying to distract herself from the question of when. In that week the garden had grown with flourish by her hand and a little touch of magic, patience for the seeds to grow all too small to let it grow by nature itself.

When that week were up even the garden couldn’t distract her and she decided that if Langdon didn’t want to answer the question, she’d bother him until he caved. But since Langdon had barely been seen, she drowned her frustration in an old bottle of whiskey.

If he avoided her she’d make so much noise he’d not be able to think, let alone avoid her. At first she randomly hammered the keys of the piano but eventually -or rather quickly she got all too distracted by creating a melody than just creating noise.

With controlled motions her fingers danced over the keys creating a haunting melody. The whiskey started to have an effect, her fingers every once in a while hitting the wrong note.

“Have you played before?” Michael asked walking around the grand piano with his hands folded behind his back in a poised manner. Oya glared at him and continued to play.

“I’m a fast learner,” she said. Michael raised his brow at her, tilting his head curiously. With a sigh she stopped in the middle of performance, leaning back to look up at him. “Do you play?”

“No,” he mused but moved closer until he stood behind her, leaning over to let his fingers continue where she left off. Blond hair tickled against her shoulder sending a trail of goosebumps up her neck. His body heat engulfed with a warm embrace and his scent pulled at her heartstrings in a mesmerized way. “But I’m a fast learner.”

Drinking had been a bad choice.

With her inhibition lowered Michael had a much bigger effect on her. It made it hard to think, hard not wanting his energy to consume her whole, to not imagine what his skin would feel like against hers.

She stood forcing Michael back.

Oya quickly grabbed the bottle of amber liquid and took a swing, swallowing the burning sensation.

Michael chuckled when she glared at him spitefully.

“You’ve kept me here for a week. When are you going to tell me what I need to do to be ‘ready’?” Despite trying to sound angry and brave, her voice wavered under Michaels watchful eyes. Her fingers fiddled over the cool bottle almost nervously.

“Is that why you drink?”

“I drink,” she said with a faltering confidence, leaning against the cold glass of the window, letting it cool her skin. “Because I’m bored and restless.”

Moving like a predator, in a way that was smooth and captivating, eyes burning with a cold blue flame, he stalked towards her. Even the cool of the windows was nothing against the burning he made her body feel. She waved at him, kicking her leg out in front of her in a childish way, shaking her head.

“Don’t come closer,” she protested with a frown. Michael stopped short just outside of kicking range. Looking down at her feet there was a moment she mused over the dirtiness of them and how it stood a complete contrast to everything else in the house. One of the best feelings in the world was burying your bare feet in the soil where life springs from and because of that and the lack of need to dress up she was usually found with bare feet.

The only pair of shoes in Langdons vast sortiment for her that she might wear was the loafers with golden bees embroidered onto them. The rest were heels and though they looked fine on her, she prefered bare feet.

“Why?” Langdon questioned with that velvety voice of his, rich and humming. “Do I affect you that much?”

“Yes,” she breathed honestly. Why bother to lie when he had already told her he’d see right through them. Instead the truth might serve as a shield, if used correctly. This shield, however, were much too little to hide behind. “Why do you keep asking when you already know the answers?”

“Because it’s much more entertaining to get people to admit things than to just presume them.”

“Just tell me, Michael,” she faltered with a sigh, looking up at him with big black eyes. It was the first time, she realised, that she had used his first name without his last name, without contempt or annoyance but rather a softness.

This made him take a step forward, his power moving along the skin of her bare legs, rising up in a way that made her inside flutter.

Stubbornness took over her features, eyes glaring but wavering.

“For me to be able to,” he almost tasted the the word, savoring it, while looking directly at her. “Release you from the spell you need to trust me, fully.”

Oya held her breath as he came closer, his breath warm on her face. Light as a feather, his finger ghosted up her throat sending a fire curling through her body. He made her look at him, directly and without a way to hide.

“You have to trust me and give yourself up to me,” he finished.

The alcohol might cloud her mind but Michael drove her closer to the line she had drawn. She felt herself wanting him, felt the way her body reacted to him being this close and how his power lured her in.

With all the resilience she could muster up Oya broke away from Langdon and his siren song, stumbling further away. With the distance she could breathe easy, think.

Langdon in all his might leaned against the glass in a easy stance, playfulness radiating from him. His golden hair nibbled at his shoulders, still perfect as ever and she wasn't sure why she fixated on that when his lips smirked so mischievously at her. And that’s when a surge of her own mischievousness formed.

“I’m not the only one affected, am I?”

“No,” he admitted with a hum without blinking an eye. “Your face is turning red.”

Oya felt her cheeks, trying to cool them with her hands but finding the heat unrelenting. With a frown she glared at him, something that had become all too common. “It’s warm in here and you’re deflecting.”

“I am attracted to you. There’s this pull towards you and it’s enticing, more so because you try and deny yourself of it.”

“Yea, I feel it. I feel it under my skin, tugging at me, whispering to me but you know what?” She said, putting down the almost empty bottle with a sigh. “It’s not going to happen.”

“Is that so?”

“Trust, Mr. Langdon, goes both ways. When you give me something to trust I might reconsider.” It was her turn to walk closer to him, to let her feet silently walk over the concrete with her back straightened, mirroring his mischief with her own. This dance to each others siren song was a battle. One moves and the other does too, much like before. But these moves were of need and want.

“Something tells me, Mr. Langdon, that you’re a virgin,” the thought left her mind and formed on her tongue, sweet as nectar but ready to poison if needed. Michaels smirk grew, eyes darkening as he tried to read her.

“And would that bother you?” Everything was a game, he moved a piece and she did the same. He had a strange way to draw out one's thoughts, ones needs and wants, a way to reveal his opponent and even further a way see exactly what pieces needed to be moved and where.

“No,” she matched his musing, the one that drawed out the word and made it velvety, filled with a soft sensuality.

“Did you get your needs filled being trapped in that place?”

“Would that bother you?” She copied.

He tried to hold back the chuckle but it vibrated through him with a wide smile on his lips, delighted that she’d bite back. “No.”

Under her skin the need to rise up on her toes and press her lips to his, those that sinfully smirked at her, those that withheld the silver tongue and ways to manipulate. The need tickled under her skin, made her breath hitch in her throat and pulse rise. Need was such a dangerous thing and Michael Langdon even more so. He commanded it, sharpened it, spoke silverd words of it and used it to his advantage. He wanted her to give in and for that she spitefully turned, walking away with inflated confidence in and the unspeakable ache pulsing between her legs begging her to turn around and let him ease it for her.

But there was this thing she needed, this little thing he hadn’t given her and that was the only thing to keep her back. And by the gods it was tethered in a thin string.

“This game is fun but it can only go on for so long,” Oya said over her shoulder, her her tickling down her back in wild locks of ebony silk.

“Indeed.”

“Goodnight Mr. Langdon.” She left up the stairs in a calm pace, walking with the inflated confidence until her door closed behind her and she let out a shakey groan. Throwing herself at her bed, she buried her head in the pillows, trying without luck to rid herself of the ache between her legs and the one that pulled at her heart.

It felt as if strings were wrapped around it and Langdon was the one holding their ends. Or just maybe he had strings around his heart too and she was the one pulling his. There were no doubt anymore of what he wanted and certainly no doubt about the attraction that affected the both of them.

With honesty she came to the conclusion that the only thing that stood in the way was her stubbornness and the need to know one simple truth, what was he?

“I hope to whatever god you believe in you feel just as frustrated as me,” Oya uttered her voice somewhere between a whine and a curse. Irritably she threw a pillow through the room, listening to it softly hit the wall with a pat and fall to the floor.

Pushing the soil over the seed Oya wiped at her brow with dirty hands before letting them hover over the small hill of it. Closing her eyes and whispering a few words, her tongue curling them into reality, letting the energy she had access to flow through her and down into her palm, letting tendrils fall from there and into the soil.

Slowly the seed began to grow, spurting up into the light with a green finger, growing and feeding on the energy. She let it grow until the plant reached a few centimeters and then she cut the line between it and her.

Satisfied with the result she gave it water, caring for it and nurturing it so that it’d grow faster.

On her knees, she moved to the one beside the new addition, fingers going over the leafs looking for flaws to pick at. Her hands and legs were dirty, soil underneath her nails and sticking on her skin. The expensive cream dress Michael had provided all but ruined.

“Have you ever made something grow, Mr. Langdon?” Oya asked when she felt his presence behind her. It was the first time he had visited the greenhouse and she could feel this eyes look through the various herbs she had planted, she had made grow with the little magic she had.

“No,” he admitted. She rose to her feet and walked to the table scattered with seeds and potted plants, finding a rose seed.

“Your power seems more malevolent, like mine,” she said and walked to an empty lot, toes digging into the ground. Michael followed her with childish curiosity. “But you can use it for much more if you want to.” Pushing the soil away until a perfect hole was created she let the seed drop into it and pushed the soil back over before looking up at Michael.

“Would you like to try?” It was funny to see him look almost uncomfortable by the thought. He had used his power to wither and kill, darkness evident and clinging onto his power, much like her own. She recognized it and if he were like her, he also had droplets of light, often hidden by a layer of laced darkness.

If goddess of the underworld could make things grow, he could too.

Almost reluctant he crouched down, letting her take his hands in hers, leading them over the buried seed. He looked at her, face in a mask she couldn’t decipher, waiting for her to tell him what to do.

“Reach out, let your powers flow to your palms and form strings into the soil,” she softly murmured. “Then you tug at those strings and send energy through them, letting the seed grow root and let the sprout seek light.”

Without breaking eye contact she felt his power reach out, a tendril softly caress her cheek unconsciously. His energy grew, his hands beginning to burn against hers. Even Though they were inside a wind gushed through the greenhouse, rustling the plants with a singing whish. Time speed up, the plant sprouting through the ground and into the light pushed by his magic until the first flower, red as blood, bloomed. It grew and grew, more flowers blooming until they withered.

For a moment every plant grew in the greenhouse, blooming and withering until they were all withered and orange, dying or dead.

And their eyes hadn’t broken contact.

“You’re reaching too far,” she said, retracting her hands from his. In a blink of an eye, he pulled his to him, an expression on his face that were unplaceable. With a clenched jaw he rose, hands in balls at his sides and knuckles white. Puzzled she looked at him, disregarding that he had killed her entire garden in the matter of moments.

“I fear I don’t have the talent for creating life,” he said with a strain in his voice, almost angry.

“You’ve have brought someone back from the dead, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but that was… different,” Michael voiced with a strange pondering. “Creating life from nothing and breathing life into someone is vastly different.”

Oya grazed the withered rose bush and watched as the prickly brown leaf broke off from the stem and fell down to the other leaves. Intently she looked at it, picking the withered parts away to reveal one single green stem that ended in a red rose. “Nature is resilient, Mr. Langdon. You may chop it down, you may burn or drown it, but nature will always find a way. There’s a balance to everything.” The thorn pricked her finger when she inspected it and she stood, looking at her middle finger and how a single drop of blood formed at the puncture.

Michael took her hand looking at the blood with fascination. Even goddesses bleed, anything that bleeds can die, but by the powers that be, she’d only return to her turf, at least that’s what she guessed.

“Balance,” Michael drawled and looked through his eyelashes at her. “Is so boring, isn't it? Chaos is much more amusing.”

She nodded agreeingly. “Besides, it took me 6 years to not kill every plant I guided along with magic.”

Michael raised her hand until her finger were inches from his mouth, still looking at her with a darkened and sultry gaze that invoked a burning between her legs. He brought them to his lips and then into his mouth, a hot tongue lapping up the blood in a hungry way.

Her breath hitched and jaw clenched.

As fast as it happened as fast it was over, this time he left her with a smirk on his lips, hands folded behind his back while he walked out, leaving her in ruins among her withered plants.

When he was gone she released her breath and fell to her knees, entirely puzzled. It felt like a dream, or a nightmare depending on how she needed to look at it. Maybe it was just that, a dream.

God she hoped it was a dream.