she danced in the starlight

A warm gust of wind greeted him as he reached the edge of a stony walkway along the upper reaches of Empyrean’s mountain; he surveyed the domain below as he had often been wont to do recently at the height of summer. It was quiet, though as his gilded gaze swept outward to distant plains lost in the haze of limited perception, he could see the thunderheads as they bloomed and blossomed. Out there, where curtains of rain raced and dampened earth adding to the haze of a summer slipping from its peak, where just as the warmth in the gust of wind that had greeted him would race them soon out of sight and mind.

It was a picturesque scene that Dirge could admire and did so, lingering for a spell before his own gentle steps guided him along in descent to the thick head of forests he had keenly become acquainted with. He did not know them perhaps as innately as he would in time, but they were far less unfamiliar than before. All of them had woven their own trails through the wood, the pathways diverging where they pleased from what had become a main thoroughfare; there may not have yet been a centralized point where they mingled and gathered, but then again one could wager that they had many.

He picked up on the scent of @Hydra on one such divergent path and took to following it; she had been the one to come and go as of late while he had stayed behind, for once willing to share the joy of exploration rather than hoard it all for himself. Not that he had any particular control over it, just as she did not have any particular control over what he opted in and out of to do as the days passed.

But all things had a check and balance.

Checking in on her was one way of staving off complacency, though it was difficult not to slip into the sense of it. They were relatively unburdened, he thought, adapting to the high strangeness of all things as they were, and as all they continued to be. He had lost interest in querying of it, lest it take him and steer him toward madness all consuming and torrential. No, it had been the easier course to make do with what they had and what they could make of it… for better, for worse, and for all there was in between.

She was near now, he believed, lost and not at all lost to the growth that encapsulated his surroundings. His was that of almost a predatory prowl through that tangle of weeds and grasses taller than he along the roughshod trail, his keen eyes focused on what was disturbed; how the thorns along the way had pulled loose tufts from summer coats still blowing out, or how a dew-dampened patch of earth held the remnants of stone-worn nails like an ink stamp.

If she had not wanted to be found, she would have passed without a trace.
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She had, of course, wanted to be found—by him in particular. 

There was a reason she now kept to the depths of Empyrean, near its heart rather than its borders. The passing days had caused a great deal of aggression to rear its head within her, and now Hydra could understand why as she felt a great and terrible burning within her. Nothing could put out the flame that had changed from kindling, to sparks, and now threatened to become a wildfire. The oppressive Summer heat was as maddening as the then insatiable itch, and Hydra kept to the forests as she headed, now, toward the alpine reaches. 

It would be cooler up there...

And Dirge, he would know where to find her. Here, there, anywhere—time had shown this to be so, in this place and the last.  She did not make it so difficult a task at all for him, all her actions seeking some sort of penultimate relief. By the span of several miles, it would become apparent to him the scent on the wind as she paused and looked over her shoulder. Hydra would not yet see him there, but could smell him too on the wind.

With an intentional lash of her plume, Hydra turned to make a bid for a more secluded place to lead him to. 

In all things, it had only ever been Dirge who was capable of putting out her wildfires. Her sisters helped to fan the flames as surely as she herself did, and no one else would ever be permitted so near to her other than him. Over the roar of the flames, it was his voice that could temper them; but today, it could only be his touch.

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This was a game that they had played time and time again, whether in business or pleasure; a test of senses and nonverbal wit, a test of willpower to see which of them would cave first. It did not take him long to piece together that this was occurring—she always seemed to be just one step ahead of him along this trail, leaving just enough clues behind to lead him on and along further, deeper into the wood.

There had been a time when wildfire alone would have sent him searching feverishly, fervent to either be burnt by flame or extinguish it in the best way he knew how; to cinders, to coalesce, but never to smother so that kindling would reignite time and time again. He knew all to well how all consuming such a fire was, how it burnt both candle and wood at both ends; he knew why she left him a trail of breadcrumbs as it were.

And he knew that it would burden her to play the long con. So he did, taking his time as he wove through the thick wood where alpine met blackberries on the wind; through creekbed and over tumbled stone, where he did not pause to drink, but drank in the scents that roamed.
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The higher she climbed, the cooler it did become—but still, Hydra and her own temperature did not shift. It was an almost maddening thing, this feverish feeling, and yet it gave her the inclination to stretch her legs and feel the hours breeze. She was grateful for the clouds that drifted in the sky rather than the sun, because that might give her the mind that it was even warmer than it was. She stole away to shadows and lingered, no light bleeding in between the branches where she stood to rub against a fallen log, covered in lichen and all matters of things. 

She became quite occupied by this for a long moment, before she looked over her shoulder again—frustratingly, Dirge was not yet there quite yet. By now, it felt as though she could breathe fire; an ear twitched as she darted in the direction he might be coming from, before she spun on her heel and bounded off again with another impish fan of her tail. 

In this season, patience was not her strong suit; he knew it, and she did not in her own addled state. Yearning and desire was all that she knew, and still the ancient thrill of being chased. Hydra herself was not moving half so swift as she typically did when canvassing the territory, but would likely pick up the pace once he was within earshot. Her favorite of games were played this way; as ever, the snake charmers song was one she did not try too hard to resist as her paws grazed over the loam that was shifting again to stone in the forest she drifted through.

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Her trail began to curve upward, the course ever changing like her whims. He lost it once, only briefly. The path had opened up and with it the traces of every tuft and print seemed to disappear where the earth turned to stone beneath his feet. He stayed the course regardless, and was rewarded when he found just a trace of her along the brambles.

Such an event did hasten his step—to make her wait too long to be found would surely invoke her wrath, and Dirge was very much the sort that would have rather been rewarded than punished. Nor did he want to give her the illusion that he had little interest. It was quite the opposite, and as ever, he would push and test her boundaries bit by bit.

He crested the thin band of a ridge to capture a glimpse of her, all shadow and nothing more. It could have been the sun playing tricks on his eyes with the way it was scattered here but he couldn’t be sure. Like her, the sun hid away, tucking itself into passing clouds as the wind rushed along the canopy above. He followed the shade, not quite blending fully against the greenery. There was no need to mask himself—she would know where he was in due time.
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The wind whisked with it traces of him; he was closer, now. Hydra was half-inclined to pause, to look and to see... and she traveled several more feet before she gave into this desire. And when she did, he was there; he blended well with the firs and the aspens, as surely as she did with the shadows they created. But his was a shape that drifted, as was her own, and it did seem and feel a trick of the eye to her too in her own haze. 

But she knew it was him. With a lick of her chops, the matriarch rumbled a playful warning as she darted nearer to him, before sinking into a playbow. Her eyes were bright, even against the shadows, as she looked upon Empyrean's King; and as she slapped her forelegs against the earth, she rose to make a playful bid for his ear in a flash. All in play, of course, and it was nothing the man was not used to; it was her own way of getting closer, and should one somehow fall into her grip, it would only be laved with a dozen kisses (rather than nibbling teeth) before she retreated halfheartedly, giving him every opportunity to make up for her own potential accosting of him. 

A trick of course; she wanted him near. As close as possible. But she always did enjoy the ceremony before their own proverbial ball, and was ever one to act upon that too.

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He found her in waiting in the shaded glen, where not much higher above them clouded mists coiled their way around spires that pierced the summer sky. Her pose may have seemed sweet, even serene, but there was a fierceness resolute in even taut muscle that held her in place. Ever the pit viper, she was poised to strike; the look in her eyes was severe, teeth sharp and ready to strike.

The edges of his lips curled, both in smirk and faint smile.

Closing in the distance between them with reasonable caution, his tail swayed coy behind him; their eyes were locked together for what could have spanned an eternity in seconds, and then she severed the tension building between them. Her bow towards him morphed as she used that momentum to push herself forward and he scarcely had the time to return the gesture and meet her before he felt teeth go grazing past an ear in jest.

It was song and dance and like skilled performers that they were, neither seemed inclined to let too much space come between them as they fell into step to an unheard tune. Though for all her femininity, Hydra was not quite the delicate flower that she dressed herself as. Like a rose, she had thorns; very playful knock into him bore strength in their rough and tumble play. He may have been the taller, more rangy counterpart, but she was even on that playing field without question.

As she pulled away, he followed up with sharp nips to her flank and rump; a tease, a playful warning that he would keep at her heels now. Another part to their song: the bridge before another rousing chorus to guide them along.
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Her gaze was alight upon the man (her man, possessive woman that she was... as surely as she was his, though neither were caged things) as she withdrew, tail swaying behind her. He was ever the handsome man, dressed in his autumnal and forested hues with eyes of saccharine honey. The matriarch loved him as much as she ever had, but burned for him now as he drew against her, then behind her. His fiendish nips were met with a low growl devoid of any anger, and as he lingered there Hydra bounded but a few feet ahead for him to pursue. 

The first time of the season, at least now, she truly could not resist him; it was not something she made terribly difficult, though she did have her own fun as he showed his willingness to move with her. It was not her fun alone, she always knew, which made these encounters that much... more to her. 

A few more steps away as her plume kept concealed what he sought, but again wafted the scent with a sway of her plume as she gazed at him over her shoulder, before moving to throw herself into a run. As ever, the matriarch loved her thrills.

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She was an enticing creature, but then again she had always been that way. From their first encounter, she had proven a rather alluring prize; a treasure that he had coveted for himself and held fast to, though there had been very few who had ever dared to try and attempt to pry her from his clutches. While there had been times when he had pondered the many “what-ifs” of the world, he had scarcely spent a moment considering what the world would have seemed had their paths not crossed.

They would have surely not built an empire out of the ashes of another.

She took off again from him, this time giving in to the thrill of the chase, appealing to his better nature as a hunter; sunlight broke through cloud cover ahead of them, warm on his back as he pursued her. There was no time to take in the vistas here, his gaze fixated on her. She would choose the challenge, decide on the safety of the course they routed now, just as she would choose where the inevitable he believed would occur.
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Up a bend that twisted and turned, her footing was careful even despite the flames that shrouded her mind, her body, her soul—gnarled, ancient roots were minded as she turned 'round the sharper slope, only to descend. Her mind recalled a place she had seen but once, and had wanted to take him to—secluded, and quiet, but by no means quaint. 

A cavern just ahead, and it swallowed her—into the mouth of the mountain she went, but the earth was softer here. A dull roar from this distance, and Hydra weaved between the ferns and the shrubs there, touching all things that she went to leave hints for her estrus there as she prowled. But this road had a natural end, and Hydra found it swiftly (as the roar became all the louder) with her mate surely close to her heels, now. 

The falls she had found were not so grand as the ones that dropped into the abyss, but there was a simple beauty here and an appeal away from the sunlight, too. From the ceiling lingered all sorts of things, but Hydra could not pay that any attention right now. Secluded where no others had found this place (or else frequented it, yet), Hydra instead looked over her shoulder to watch the ferns rippling like the waters before her, for the impact her mate would surely cause in crossing them. This place would do, and Hydra, panting from the effort of their run, turned to meet him with a lolling tongue and an impish look.

“Oh, no,” she drawled, “it seems you have me cornered,” she quipped, feigning damsel in distress. With him, it was never so; her tone was far from that, anyway. No, she sounded... rather delighted.

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He heard the rush of water long before he truly saw where she was leading them, and it would have seemed that the territory still yet held secrets from them. The path she had taken them on had long devolved into wilderness where the forest itself stood like steeples, their branches long and reaching as they almost intertwined until the ground gave way to a basin eroding in the halls of a time long before them.

It was breathtaking, truly, and not entirely lost on him as their pace slowed. He couldn’t resist letting his gaze follow the curve of the open-mouthed ceiling above them as he crossed beneath its cavernous maw and harlequin foliage, and by then the roar of the waters as they tumbled in nearly overtook any other sound. Sunlight illuminated the mist, and her voice tore his attention fully away from the sight to gaze upon her instead.

“How awful of me not to let you escape,” he answered, humored with her mock theatrics. “However I would like to wager that you had this planned all along with that siren’s song of yours.” It was a smirk that seemed half a sneer that crept onto his face; he may have been inclined to be more the lech, but even she had her moments.
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With Dirge, Hydra could be quite the scoundrel. It was a side of her that only he had bore witness to in such a way, and she grinned as he looked back to her. Only he could look her in the eye, and there was a feeling of peace that settled as he did. Hydra squinted fiendishly as he spoke of her siren song, as though she had been discovered: how dare!

But, as ever, she bit; taking a step into the cool and clear freshwater, she drawled, “come into the water then, dearest,” with a sway of her tail, “I promise not to drown you,” oh, she took her role very seriously. Too seriously, perhaps. Hydra, fierce warrior woman that she was, had learned some things from the knave... but was not always quite so disarming as him. The opposite, rather... though Dirge knew her well enough to know she would do no such thing.

And Hydra, well, she thought herself quite tempting. Siren, indeed—who proudly finished the song with an oh-so-subtle shift of her tail. She would not go any deeper than the step she had taken, and so she simply awaited his accompaniment with a watchful gaze.

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“I think I’ve heard that story before,” he said, “but I can think of worse ways to go.”

He reached the water’s edge, trailing her still some several feet behind. The air here was cooler, but not enough to do more than temper the spark between them that had long started that very fire. There were few with whom he was at relative ease, Hydra naturally being one of them; the seclusion here let him relax as much as he was willing to give in to.

The water lapped at his toes a beat or two more, and he went towards her again. It was at his own pace, ever curious and cautious to see which head she would rear first. She could spurn him here and now, extending their game. She could cave to carnal desire. And of course, she could drown him even if it seemed the lesser of desires to yield to.

Nearly nose to nose, he grappled with his own proclivities.

In sotto voce to her: “But truth be told, I always thought we’d go down together.”
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The matriarch listened to her mate, grinning toothsomely all the while. “What are you waiting for, then?” She drawled, seeing that he was not as he drew nearer. Ankle-deep, now, it was here that she lingered while he was given pause. He was slow, and wisely so; Hydra was not a predictable woman even at the best of times... and this he might consider one of those. Hydra did not withdraw, though; she fanned the flame, taking a step closer so that they were nose to nose. 

Hers pressed guilelessly against his own, gaze soft for but a moment. She nearly missed his words, so wrapped up in him she was—

But when she heard them, the thought pained her. It was terribly familiar to her, but she could not remember how or why. Only that “You and I,” she breathed, “we will never go down in such a way,” no, not them. That was not their fate. Two figures, yin and yang—

She would not let them present themselves in such a way to her as she pressed nearer to him then, dipping beneath his chin to bury her face in his chest and close her eyes tightly so as to obscure it. And she was grateful for her season in the way that his scent invigorated her so much so that her own train of thought fell off the tracks. It was Dirge, and only him with the sound of the water and her heartbeat in her ears. 

We will rise, she willed, pressing her cheek against his chest now and rumbling a needy, low note from her throat. The weight of him would be the very same as the weight of wings; she needed him, she felt. Beside her, but here and now... above. Hydra sighed against him, the thought enough to ignite her as she drew alongside him then, nibbling at his side to comfortably invade his space and further incense him with her scent. 

This time, she would not flee from his grasp.

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His words were a barb and he knew it such even if recognition didn’t strike her the way it did for him; he could have regretted such a boonless utterance had he wanted to, but the fact that it drew her closer to him was the better effect. He only half-heard her words as he worked through the softer strands of her coat closest to him, distracted and lost in his gentle ministrations.

She could will them to rise all she wanted, but they had long ascended as two parts of a whole. Perhaps his only concern somewhere buried deep in a recess was that she would escape the earthly plane before he. Yet this thought did not cross his mind, nor would it yet for some time. His interests had aligned more with the consummation at hand; only a fool would have second thoughts of snatching the opportunity, and a fearful creature would only have thoughts of mortality at a time like the present.
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Fading <3

---

He did not retreat, and neither did she as he tended to her with preening teeth. Hydra did the same for him, nibbling away any knots with a gentleness reserved for moments such as these. His own ministrations caused an inferno within that at last presented itself entirely as her plume swept aside, and before very long two became one to bring to fruition Empyrean's next generation. 

The consummation was no swift thing, and by the time they had finished Hydra settled alongside him to rest. Here they would remain sequestered for a short time, hunting and killing together... a time for reprieve and relief they could only find in one another.

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