Colloquial Formality

[Maí Lé Rosà]

Camouflage.

Step lightly else thou shall fall
Spread thy wings and let thy call
Bend thy fingers 'til they crack
Open thou mind
Memory, come back.

The quarter moon had faded the night before, into nothingness. It so selfishly led those with weak eyes into traps and danger that they would have so otherwise encountered with wide, alert senses. It left the orchestra of trees to rustle quietly and murmur amongst themselves, while their conductor - the moon - was invisible, and their audience - the stars - hid timidly behind thick masses of candy-floss black - rain clouds.

An audience never did have the courage to give the orchestra a chance without their conductor. Random music played games with their hearts, none of them could ever stomach it long enough, none of them had the will to sit through something unpredictable, all of them would depart. All of them shot across the heavens like bullets from the barrel of a gun; the only time they made themselves visible. The only time they cared.

The demoness lay with her back against the earth, tender, silent, orgasmic thoughts fluttered through her mind as she felt the pulse of nature beneath her. It was ever so enchanting, if one had the sesitivity, and perhaps patience to witness it. The earth spoke to people in so many ways, and only a select few listened. It made to demoness smirk to herself, as she thought of mortals questioning her ability to read their next actions, mime their next words, and be one step ahead of every move and idea that skimmed their brains.

It helped that she had nature on her side.

Her black corsétted dress lay smoothly over her lithe body, her chest rising and falling only once each minute that passed. Her long tresses were pulled out of the dirt and over her shoulder, trailing all the way down her body to meet her hips. As the demoness lay there in the center of the forest, silent and flawless, a sense quirked her smokey lashes, but she kept them closed, and only the smallest of smiles drew itself along her painted lips.

"Darling, darling, darling..." She trailed off with a silky voice, almost eerie in the moonless night. Within the space of less than a second, there was a snap of movements, a rage of material, and a flash of silver, then had one opened their eyes after blinking, they would have seen the demoness standing with a dagger tight in one hand, her scarlet orbs open and darting wildly around her surroundings.

Oh was she ever quick, faster than those glamorous bullets in the sky.

Mai narrowed her eyes and rounded her gaze on one point of shadows, low and between two sturdy tree trunks. She parted her lips and whispered with a hiss.

"Show yourself." And that was it.

[Mikayla (back <3)]

So we find ourselves
Under a trance surrounded by darkness
In life we walk
Catching nothing with our eyes
In life we climb
Digging for our souls
End the suffering, bring back the light.

[/center]

The sky looked ominous-would it never clear again? So far had the lonely walked under those skies, waiting for the first of the sun, and yet ill-nurished they continued without the sun's loving warm embrace. Could it last eternity this time? Surely not. All life needed the sun...all life needed...warmth.

Mikayla Siarra squinted at the sky, sighing as she viewed nothing but darkness for the seventh day in a row. The skies seemed heavy, ready to fall upon the unsuspecting if they looked away for just a moment. One thing was clear, and that was that the young lycan's bright blue gaze would not be so easily distracted. She snorted, moving a bit farther into the woods, watching the clouds change shape above her. Perhaps the darkness was not so bad...perchance it was time to embrace the cold.

A soft wind picked up, gaining in strength as the seconds ticked by. Soon the tree branches were swaying ominously, giving Mikayla more reason to glare at the sky above her. The same cool wind tugged at her honey-colored curling locks, willing, no, asking them to play. "Come," the wind whispered softly, playing its damnable game. The game which stripped Mikayla of her best weapon-her sense of smell, stripped her of a sense of location, time, and safety. Mayhap that was the reason for what happened next.

The breeze carried soft words to Mikayla, words not far away.

Darling, darling, darling...

The voice was soft, rolling through her mind like a soft roll of silk. It entwined around her, grabbed her, carried her away until she walked towards that voice of silk, of unspoken promises. That voice...it was incredible. Her only impulse was to see the owner just once, if only it was death. Soon, however, she realized her mistake as she snapped a twig. A form in the darkness lept up, the voice saying something with an undertone of anger. Mikayla had not wanted to anger the creature! A flash of silver-a knife, and she knew she was in trouble. She became frantic in her own mind, forgetting that she was powerful in her own right. Maybe not as powerful as the form in the clearing, but she had her merits.

Mikayla stepped forth, not wanting to anger the form further. The closer she got, the more chills tickled up her spine, raising hellish goosebumps. Her skin was white-paler than Mikayla had seen on any but a vampire. The hair falling over her shoulder was beautiful, as was everything about her, yet everything about her screamed at Mikayla to run. Especially her eyes. Her eyes glowed with light, like that other woman she had met. What had she called herself? A demoness? Was that what this woman was?

"I am sorry, Lady, so sorry," Mikayla murmured, hoping, nay, praying this creature would not get mad at her. Demoness or not, danger was written all over her. "I was merely walking and came across this area. I did not mean to startle you." Please don't attack me, please don't attack me, please don't.... "I am Mikayla." She offered her name like an olive branch, a peace offering. A plea. It was time to see just how strong a prayer truly was.

[Maí Lé Rosà]

The clouds rumbled loudly, again orchestrating nature in all it's magnificence. Placing the knife's sharp edge side on to her nose, Mai could see all around herself as she stood in one spot, studying the black abyss around her with a calculating, fixed stare. Her irises swirled with shades of scarlet, royal, bloody, and drop-dead gorgeous.

As was her company, the demoness had concluded.

It was true, all life needed warmth, and some recieved far greater amounts than others. Some recieved Hell, in return for the light that always burnt in their eyes, so true, and so full of a hellish fire it almost hypnotized one into a coma if they stared into those orbs for such an unbroken amount of time. To tame her would be imossible, let alone a shame.

To be a spy was a very artful game, and Mai knew this was no spy tracking her - though she'd had the pleasure of one before. No, rather this was a very fine specimen, a female, for certain, with a skilled breed of immortality, but a fear quite hidden and unlike one Mai had come across before. The demoness lowered the dagger by her side and gazed off into the darkness before her, analyzing the graceful movements of the young woman approaching her.

Mai could have been death for the other. If the other wished her to play that part, she would, quite gladly. To dance with fact, there was near to nothing that satisfied the demoness more than stealing the souls Death so wretchedly fed on. She always knew how to get to them before Death, and she always managed to deliver them to him empty, quite usually with their respect still pumping blood in her hand. Mai and Death were less than friends.

But alas, not tonight.

Tonight Mai sensed no reason to get sappy and play showgirl, she felt no reason to prance around spiralling danger off her tongue - although that was a given talent -, no, no, tonight she felt was quite different. This moonless night was one of secrecy, betrayal, pain, and between Heaven and Hell, a lot of suffering. Yes, the demoness sensed unease from the being approaching her.

Tonight, she would play councellor.

A twig snapped, and a second later, a darling figure stepped forward. The weakening wind changed directions and Mai finally caught the scent of the girl. A lycaness, of course. She was a doll, and the demoness smiled a delicate smile, flicking her wrist backwards and sending the point of the dagger into the earth with a thin slice of dirt under dirk.

Caramel locks framed the girl's troubled features, and striking crystal-blue eyes shone from under a veil of some sort of insecurity. A twisted past, no doubt. Mai lowered her chin only slightly, in a gentle greeting to the young woman, then let a distant smirk flicker over her cherry-red lips as the girl broke out into apologies and explanations, then offered her name.

"Mikayla.." Swam off Mai's tongue softly, and she took a few steps forward, coming inches from Mikayla. Reaching up with her spiderlike fingers, Mai curled a curl of the girl's hair in her middle fingers, letting it's silky texture ride over her powder-soft skin. "You didn't startle me dearest." She uttered quietly. "Nor should you be apologizing for walking on land that is just as much yours as it is mine." She added with a breath-taking wink.

"Maí Lé Rosà." She whispered, introducing herself as she let the girl's hair fall gently by her cheek again, her finger retracted and positioned loosely by her side. Mai smiled a cynical smile. Mikayla was a pretty one indeed. And Mai had every intention of making her pretty both inside and out.

[Mikayla (back <3)]

The sky gave a sharp whip of light, a bang so loud following it that it that it seemed to shake the very earth two figures stood upon. A single drop of rain fell to the earth, like a forsaken tear cried for one and all who walked. A heavy silence pursued the thunderclap, rain falling softly to carress, tickle its way to the earth not far from where Mikayla and Maí stood. In some time it would be upon them, but that didn't matter. It was beautiful, as rain always was, but it seemed beautiful in some perverse sense of the word. In some hidden meaning. That was how demonesses always looked to Mikayla, for now, with the lightening that had illuminated those glowing eyes, there was no doubt left in her mind. She had entered a den of wolf and instead found an undead stalker, perhaps a lion.

Mikayla stopped feet away from the demoness, not wanting to get close. Garnet eyes looked her over, eyes matched by lips the color of fresh blood streaming from a deep wound. Were her lips naturally that way? There was no way to know but to ask, and she did not want to further anger the demoness.

But she didn't look angry. She looked positively pleased, a sardonic smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Her eyes even seemed to hold a twinge of sarcastic joy, even with their light. To Mikayla she looked like a Goddess...from the smile, the Goddess of mischief and temptation. From her looks, the Goddess of love and temptation. From her voice the definite Goddess of temptation. And the Goddess had noticed her, inspecting her as a doll. It was a fair analogy after all. Mikayla's skin, although tan, was silky smooth, her body was perfect, slim with curves in all the right places. Her eyes were a clear blue that matched the sky as the sun dipped down to sleep. Her hair was almost her crowning glory, a color so pure it shone, framing a face of all delicate lines. A doll standing before a Goddess. What a thought.

Mikayla's breath caught at the way the demoness said her name, finding her voice at this distance slithered through her body like some small snake. Mikayla's voice was lyrical, soft, but it would never be that good. Next the demoness herself moved forward and she felt trapped, unable to move after hearing that glory of a voice. Long fingers reached up, closed the slight distance between them. Mikayla felt a slight tug on her hair and a sigh eased itself out of her mouth unbidden. It was both relief from not being hurt and from being so close to the demoness, the Goddess.

Nor should you be apologizing. The first words Mikayla heard after her name, the others lost under the entrancement of the demoness' voice. The demoness winked, and the lycaness felt her heart opening to the other figure. Her heart raced faster, faster, and, as if on cue, lightening illuminated the sky, thunder roaring over them. Maí Lé Rosà. The name was like the breaking of one spell, the creation of another. Maí's hand dropped, and Mikayla could breath again, but now she knew the Goddess' name and did not want to step one foot from the glory before her. It was like she had found her sun, her warmth, her life, in that one accepting move. Maí may have been taking advantage of her mental weakness, she may not have been, but it remained true that Mikayla's search for acceptance had now latched itself onto yet another soul, the Maí Lé Rosà.

Mikayla had to try twice to find her voice after Maí lit that same smile on her, the one that invited her to take her chances with life or death. So she did. "You're so beautiful...like a Goddess," she whispered, reverance on her tongue. "You are a demoness, or my mind has wandered farther than I ever thought I could imagine." She reached up a tentative hand, brushing it across the skin of Maí's cheek like a butterfly's touch. The skin was so soft to the touch, softer than her own silk skin. Mikayla's hand dropped, a mirror of Maí's, both hands that had touched not quite comfortable where they lay. "I can taste your power on my tongue," her whisper had dropped even more, just a soft sound on the wind. "Smell it winding through my nostrils." She closed her eyes, eyelashes looking like thick honey dripping, sliding from her eyes like golden tears. "I know I have lost my mind because no one, not even a demoness, only a Goddess, could rule temptation as it seems to dwell in your touch."

Mikayla's eyes opened and she took first one shaking step, then another from Maí. Her own legs wouldn't hold her as she fought a nasty battle with herself, one side saying to run from temptation while it did not crush her in its grasp, the other telling her Maí could be acceptance. She stumbled, falling with a thud. She stared up at the demoness, feet haphazardly strewn across the ground, one twisting left, the other right, her hands on the ground at either side of her hips. Doll? Here was Maí's doll, a doll dressed in tight black jeans, a thin black shirt and red sneakers. Her eyes upturned to meet the face of the demoness, of temptation. Those bright eyes said, you want me, Goddess, demoness, Maí? Come get me.

[Maí Lé Rosà]

Instinct.

Calico patterns leak into mud
A tapestry of emotions confirms
Cunning and wisdom bloom from a bud
Then drop as a tear to the worms.

Like a knife slicing through silence, the strike of light that streaked across the sky above Mikayla and Mai gave warning to the burst of thunder that bellowed out over the land. It sent tree trunks into a vibrating frenzy, and even the toughest animals would have felt a shiver of insignificance roll down their spine at the guttural sound from above. It radiated power, one that only the very finest quality of skills could control. And even then, it was near futile if nature disagreed.

A stalker indeed, perhaps undead, perhaps not.
But certainly a lioness.

Mai felt the blood around her cheeks tease her and threaten to taint her porcelain complexion rouge, just enough to let the lycaness know that the demoness understood the way she looked upon the fallen with such glorifying admiration. Though the demoness fought it, the tiniest shade could be seen of as different, hinting perhaps a shadow of those glowing red eyes, and hidden more-so by the enveloping darkness; the gap between lightning.

Her own apparel consisted of the same dress her beloved had dressed her in when she came to from a living death; black silk all prettied with carmine ribbons, around her wrists, corsét and even tied into a ripple of her ivory tresses, though for now this elegant ribbon was hidden under the mass of cream and darkness once more.

Her knee-high's were stiletto's, strong enough to plant a man's heart in the trunk of a tree, backward and out his behind from a single blow to between his ribs. Her hands would have been laced with black glovettes, however she knew the rain was coming, and it would have been a shame to get such beauties wet. In addition, Mai wouldn't have felt the rhythm of the earth between her fingertips as she lay, back sprawled on the warm ground, now stuck silent with those sharp heels that stood so perfectly balanced and light.

Oh! The glamour of a heart beating faster, and faster yet. Not with fear, but suspense and determination. Pulsing blood through thin, invisible veins, pumping a melody through Mikayla, who stood so framed, so in reach, so vulnerable, before the demoness.

These hearts, these things...
Why, they could have given any demon an orgasm.

This was her ecstasy and she let her eyes fall closed, fighting the urge to simply raise a hand and place it atop Mikayla's breast, just to feel the sensation once more, of the heart of another, so close. Mai had made the mistake of stealing her last victim's heart. It had been such a shame. Shae, the darling girl, her heart was just so unbearably close, so like this one, so black in a certain beautiful way, so touchable, so untainted...

So, perfect.

"You're so beautiful...like a Goddess,"

Mai's breath stopped short of her lips and she let it dissolve like acid under her tongue. Her misty lashes moved ever so slightly, giving her vision to those red sneakers. No smile crossed the lips of the demoness, nor did she look up. Mikayla kept talking.

"You are a demoness, or my mind has wandered farther than I ever thought I could imagine."

A hand touched Mai's cheek and her jaw tensed, body flinched, and eyes snapped closed with a just audible gasp.

"I can taste your power on my tongue, smell it winding through my nostrils. I know I have lost my mind because no one, not even a demoness, only a Goddess, could rule temptation as it seems to dwell in your touch."

The demoness' lip quivered a moment and fell open, as if she were about to say something. Even the rasp of a sudden breath escaped between those lush bulges of passion, but instead, three cold tears shuddered down her cheeks, two down the touched, one down the untouched. And Mai opened her eyes; they sang a twisted fear and sadness that would make any creatures stomach churn.

Realizing this, the demoness shut the windows to her soul instantly, and raked the back of her hand across her touched cheek unforgivably. She turned for a moment, gaining her composure, urging away the tremble that threatened to overtake her body. And then, she swallowed it all, and rounded on the lycaness once more; cheeks flawless, gaze double-sworded, posture strong.

She turned to discover Mikayla had tripped, landing in a position that somehow screamed 'help me' to the demoness, and what was she to do but follow?

Not follow, of course.

Stepping back her heels, Mai soon came back-to-back with a tree trunk, and so she slid herself down to a sitting position, resting her legs at an angle. Her fiery eyes didn't leave the doll, who was now a few meters away, but a gritted explosion of forked lightning splayed itself like silent fireworks across the sky above the canopy, spreading lightning to the eyes of the demoness.

I want you, my doll, lycaness Mikayla.
And I've got you.

[Mikayla (back <3)]

With mutual fascination,
one must always be more prone, it is granted,
is it the Goddess or is it the Doll,
who finds herself more enchanted?

[/i]

A tentative brush, sliding down its canvas to paint a broken, twisted line. A single raindrop, falling upon tan skin. Another fell, then another, crawling across that smooth skin as a lover might. And then, suddenly, it was raining. Not hard, mind, but it was enough to sprinkle smoothly on the ground, sprinkle upon Doll and Goddess both as they tried so hard to not lose themselves to eachother. It seemed a loosing battle, marked by the clear shield slipping through the thick air to ceate a sparkling wall between them.

Mikayla felt the rain wash over her and sighed, letting her eyes flutter shut. It felt so cold upon her skin, like a slap across her cheek. And it felt wonderful. She had just barely noticed it, but now, out of her own haze, she noticed that the demoness was having her own problems. After that one first touch she had stopped, even stepped away. What was wrong? Mikayla wasn't good enough for her either?

She felt the tentative walls to her mind begin to tilt and sway. Not again, no please, not again. It was all she could think as rejection split through her like a burning hot sword. How easily the simple step had effected her. The Goddess, she had seemed to be restraining herself, but Mikayla? Mikayla was bargaining for her sanity back. For all she had ever wanted. And having even the thought of not being able to achieve it...sliced through her mind, bringing her dangerously close to the brink of insanity. She took a shuddering breath, and another, and a third, trying to bring herself together. Her hands convulsed on the soaking grass. No.

Once upon a time there was a child.
Her family cared not for her, she had no friends.
Her name was Mikayla and she just barely lived,
waiting, waiting for the end.

Mikayla's eyes snapped open, the enterity of them hazy and uncertain. The pupils were dilated, the eyelids splayed wide to stave off tears. And still they were a blue so bright it was painful to look upon those sapphire eyes. They focused on Maí. The look in the demoness' eyes started the lycaness, bringing her back to reality more surely than anything else. The look was clear, an answer to Mikayla's challenge. I want you, my doll, my lycaness Mikayla. Not rejection then, but, what?

Confusion turned to determination, her mind becoming slightly more stable. Acceptance was so close, closer than even the cold rain sliding down her spine. She would do anything, anything at all to gain that simple pleasure of having one who was with her, as a friend, as a sister, as a mother. As the person she never had in her life. Mikayla held out a hand to Maí. "Don't leave me," she whispered, her voice just barely audible over the patter of rain. She stood, clothes heavy with water. If Maí would not leave the tree, Mikayla would go to Maí, simple, easy. The most difficult thing she ever did.

One foot moved, willed forward by sheer pain. "Please." Another step. "I don't think I could stand it if after having seen you, after seeing my Goddess, she disappeared without a trace." A third. And she was to Maí. The young lady was in no way tall, petite by any standards, yet she met Maí's eyes with defiance. Pain. Promise. Trust. And a plea so plain it could not be ignored. "I need you."

Mikayla's hair hung in dripping strands, making her face seem more delicate. Her hands, light against the black of her sleeves, crept up to hug her arms, as if still fearing the rejection. "Please." She turned slightly, as if not willing to face Maí completely. "Please." The last was just lips moving softly, breathing the word.

You want me? You have me?
Prove it.

[/center]

[Maí Lé Rosà]

It is the Goddess and the Doll,
Who find themselves in awe,
But which will pay the toll,
For whom they adore?


That artist, skimming crystal droplets from the sky across fawn skin, and just as soft, making them tears on his very own cleverly curved, slightly perturbed, wholly unnerved Mona Lisa.

And through that hazy mist they stared,
Each unflinching, each unaware,
Of the other's power, the other's grace,
The immortality on each other's face.

Why, they were stuck inside their very own fairytale.
And oh, how beautifully gruesome it was...

The rain free-falled openly, pouring down the licked edges of tree trunks, slipping and sliding like leeches down wet skin on the leaves, racing like crystal balls, hellbound, ready to shatter like glass at the feet of the two statues below. The Doll, and the Goddess. And as this rain fell, Mikayla closed her eyes, and Mai had the snippet of an opportunity to escape, but alas, she remained.

Mikayla's hands were convulsing, her mind tip-toeing on the border of reality; and the demoness was in her element, she could reach out a painted nail and push the scapula of her victim, sending her toppling headlong into Hell after a six hundred and sixty-sixth zillion meter drop from one of Heaven's fluffiest, cotton-candy-soft clouds.

But she wouldn't.
The demoness wouldn't.
Mai couldn't.

Mikayla opened her eyes, looking almost terrified, and Mai shifted, moving her legs ever so slightly to raise her back higher on the tree trunk behind her. She tilted her head to the side, hardly noticable, and studied the lycaness, feeling the rush of an emotion, so strong, she had only felt with one other girl; Shae. And the emotion? Sympathy.

Ruby set on sapphire and the two females stared it out for a few seconds; which felt like years. Mikayla had intentions, and Mai was almost afraid of the determination written all over her face. The demoness shivered, and Mikayla outstretched a hand, making Mai's brow furrow in a confused manner. What was this, this...Gesture? A trap?

"Don't leave me,"

Mai's lips parted in distant surprise, and the glow in her eyes intensified. Mikayla suddenly stood, and for once, since so long, Mai was petrified.

"Please."
"I don't think I could stand it if after having seen you, after seeing my Goddess, she disappeared without a trace."
"I need you."

Mai slid herself up the tree, spine gritted against the rough bark; numb against the flood of emotions that suddenly tangled themselves into tight knots inside of her. Her ivory hair stuck against her tender collarbone and bare neck, sopping, while a facade of blank confusion; hardly a mask, wrote books on her features. Her arms moved, and Mai tried to back away, thinking Mikayla was about to embrace her, but the tree kept her where she was; the small of her back taught and sore against it.

"Please."
"Please."

Mai felt tears roll down her own cheeks, as Mikayla turned. The demoness' features relaxed, and something, some sort of emotion? No...Instinct, overwhelmed her, and her arms lifted, reaching out to thepoor, broken girl before her. The Doll, her doll...Mai's Doll. And such a beautiful doll she was, so, so flawless, yet so blind to her own beauty.

Mai's arms wove around Mikayla's waist, brought her closer, then her arms held Mikayla's shoulders, keeping her warm and in a secure, loving...Motherly? embrace. The demoness was still crying, and the rain didn't disguise it; even her body shuddered every now and then, weakened under the strain of past and present emotions. Her eyes closed and she whispered sweet and softly to her Doll as she stroked her hair.

"Hush Mikayla, my darling. You're safe now."
Shh...

[Mikayla (back <3)]

I'm over it
You see I'm falling in the vast abyss
Clouded by memories of the past
At last I see
(Queen of the Damned Soundtrack)

[/center]

The rain poured harder, like pellets of pain now, striking the ground as if to hurt it. The artist was angry, his painting was not as he wanted it to be, and so he stroked harder, used more paint, tried to salvage the canvass before it went to waste. The lightening which had taken a short break lit the sky to see Maí step forward and embrace the broken figure before her. It was an act of pure beauty, an act so pure that it held one sole purpose. To comfort. To remove pain.

Mikayla's body shook harder as Maí's arms wrapped around her, tugging her into an embrace. The type of embrace she had never known. An embrace of heat, of safety, of love. Time passed and the shaking eased, but something took its place. Now Maí was no longer the only one crying, as Mikayla's eyes showed the pain she had gone through all her life and what was yet to occur. It was as Sealla had thought. No one that young, that innocently beautiful should ever experience the pain Mikayla knew all too well.

"Hush Mikayla, my darling, you're safe now."

[/center]

The crying eased to sniffles, and the occasional streak of a tear. The demoness' strong, delicate hand combing through the tangles helped to calm the young woman. Mikayla, upon being held, had hidden her face to the side, her arms involuntarily holding the acceptance-the body-around the shoulders as she was held around the waist. Now her blue gaze rose slowly, painfully to meet closed garnets. Somewhere in her mind, Mikayla still expected to be tossed aside like a used Doll, her clothes torn, missing a shoe, and a limb half torn away. As if that wasn't bad enough, somehow the family dog always found her, abused her more, left her gasping in pain.

When she saw that Maí had been crying, she reached up a hand and gently wiped away the tears. Her own tears were drying upon her cheeks, her eyes lined with red from the crying. Maí's closed eyes told a story-full, spoke of Mikayla's beauty, of her naivety in not realizing it. To see such things brought a pang to her heart. Joy, she realized. Absolute joy. Someone loved her...someone was embracing her. Someone was like a mother to her. And that someone was a Goddess. Not just any Goddess. Her Goddess. Mikayla's.

"You promise you wont leave me tonight?" she whispered, face scant inches from Maí's. She, however did not want to see whatever lay in those rubies when they opened, and so she tucked her head back onto the demoness' soft shoulder. "Cast me aside after becoming tired with me?" What horrid words to be spoken by one of eighteen years. "Let me be taken? Die when I turn round for a moment?" Such promises, of course, were difficult to be made. But for a deluded mind, it was everything just to be able to hear them spoken.

Don't leave me.
Love me.
Be with me.
Forever and for always.

[/center]

[Maí Lé Rosà]

Dove
I don’t think I’m falling
I’m rising off my feet
Away from flame and darkness
Up off this scorching heat

So take me to this place of yours
Feed me this euphoric drug
Open up those stained-glass doors
Give my wings a loving tug

Preach a song to wake my heart
Tell me how you’re doing this
How can we, the damned, part
Back away, but treasure my
Kiss.

They were the artists now, caught up in a reverie of bliss. A crooked snake of lightning snuck across the heavens once more, and the demoness could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. Mai felt as though a hand of barbed wire was ripping through her insides, an angel's hand...

The body in her arms shook, leaving her arms and body paralyzed around Mikayla, her bones frozen, stiff and her muscles numb, though like iron. Her powder-soft skin was still ethereal to the touch, but the insides of the demoness were raging a storm, of emotional anger, bliss, euphoria and hate all at the same time. Who knew her weakness was simply this? A-A...Aff...Aff....Damnit.

A f f e c t i o n.

The cynically beautiful, carmine eyes of the demoness dried to caked slits, and she stared, either in wonder, or shock, who knew. But she stared, at her doll, for God knows how long. This was how it felt to be needed. To be wanted. And to be...Dare she even think it? Could this be a fool's errand? Her grip on Mikayla flinched under the weight of this thoughtful suggestion...Love?

That combing effect in the hair of the lycaness was such an effort, yet so easy. Her honey hair, so impossibly sticky to get through, so soft and soaked by the rain, so smooth, silky, and vulnerable. Mai's hand grasped a lock of it and just held it, not tightly, but with a grip. And she tucked Mikayla's head under her chin, taking in the scent of the girl's hair. Honey...Comb...

Mikayla looked up, and Mai's figners slid through her hair, losing her grip. The demoness inhaled, keeping her lips pursed, and she closed her eyes as Mikayla's porcelain fingers wiped her tears away. Just like her mother had done...When she was a little demoness...Hadn't she?

“You promise you wont leave me tonight?”

Mai's knees almost buckled, and she had to step back an inch, the nostalgia was killing her. These plee's...This voice, that damned affection. All of it was like her mother, but Mikayla was her doll, she couldn't play her mother. Mikayla kept whispering plee's, and Mai's arms skimmed the edge of the girl's waist, her nails rushing past the flesh of the lycaness, though only a tickle, not a scratch.

"Shut up." She cooed between almost solidified lips. Her tone was not harsh at all, pleading, if anything. And at this, her arms left Mikayla and she fell back against the tree, her spine hitting it hard and her ivory hair splaying back out either side of it; sending droplets of rain around her. Mai's face contorted into a blatantly obvious show of pain, of a secrecy, a fear, and a longing for those arms around her again; but a mask and stitch of wire through lips not to admit it.


{ooc}: I'm sorry I took a while to reply...Emotional issues, erm...'Stole me' for a while.

[Mikayla (back <3)]

So much hurt, so much pain,
is this all just a game?
Would a touch of silk heal,
or would the touch of agony better apeal?

If two sides of a broken coin,
were together whole,
would the glue of understanding hold,
or is that just a pointless goal?

For these two sides,
though attatched they be,
and though agony doth hold,
too easy it would be to break back apart and become not more than debris.

At first, Mikayla attributed to the pounding hurtling through her chest to herself, but suddenly the idea came upon her-such a beating could not emit from one heart alone. In fact it was that the Goddess and the Doll, as though linked by some tenuous string wrapped heart-to-heart, were pumping blood at the exact same time, emitting a strange thunder of their own. In this thunder was a lonely dream, sent up to the sky, for peace, happiness, and love. But could it hold? Throughout such doubt, would it survive?

The body pressed against hers, hammering against her heart, and comforting against her soul, shuddered. The perfect picture was straining. What if their torment could not hold them together, what if she would never find a home, and her Goddess never find her Doll? Mai took a step back and it was Mikayla's body that shuddered. This was her worst nightmare. She had finally found a home, only to have it torn ruthlessly away. A tear began its way down her cheek, echoed by another, soon to have a brother on the other side of her face. A steady stream began, and Mikayla thought ironically that if she ever wished to commit suicide, she could probably dorwn in her own tears in the bottom of a pit built from despair.

Nails tickled across Mikayla's waist and she shivered, pulling away. It was too much, all of it. Even with Mai's fingers tangled in her long hair, she shook her head, over and over. A nightmare, it was all a nightmare. And when she woke up...God, she prayed, when she woke up, that she would never remember, because if she could...Never could Mikayla live with just a taste of affection. Greedy as she was, she wanted complete affection, given without restraint, for eternity.

"Shut up."

[/i]

Mikayla heard the words like a slap across her face, like a knife dug to the pit of her soul. Was this what it felt like to die? Bleeding from a wound so deep it would surely never heal? The Goddess' hands left and Mikayla watched her fall back through eyes moving to stay centered as their head was unbiddenly moving back and forth still, slowly, painfully. "No," she whispered. Pain was writ across Mai's feature so obviously, Mikayla wanted to hit herself for putting the pain there. Because she had to be the cause. She was always the cause. Letting out a howl unfit for human vocals, Mikayla let herself be swept with her own pain. The howl of sorrow and agony lulled into a moan, a soft cry as tears sloughed down her face.

A muscle twitched, pulsing with a deep set pain. A bone snapped, closing Mikayla's eyes. As if the trigger for it all was the mere shutting of her eyes, Mikayla's body sprang to pain, bones crunching loudly, muscles morphing with a stiff tenseness. It was all changing, her clothes shredding as she collapsed to the floor, fur growing in one straight line from her head down to her back toes. And for all the pain, she writhed, still in a surprisedly human form, which was refusing to complete the Change. A broken rib pierced her lung and Mikayla gasped, unable to utter a sound. This had never happened before. Never so much physical pain to accompany the mental anguish she felt.

Finally, deciding its Mistress had sufferred enough, the Change came normally, the bones resetting in the proper shape for newfound paws. When it was done, a brown wolf lay, gulping air with every second and yelping with every gulp, for the rib lung remained pierced. She was bleeding internally, dying from the inside out like a cancer patient on its last limbs of life. All she could do was close the eyes that had opened with the surprise of the finish of her Change and yelp softly every time she involuntarily drew the breath she now tried so desperately to withhold. Anything, anything to dull the pain.