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Rush Revel [Fin] Read 7525 times

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #30 on: February 19, 2017, 03:13:33 pm »
Dionysus was an often target for her smarting pass-time, his heart wide open to her. It was a grand display to see the cruel titan son, who could undo other students and their social worth on a mood, cower visibly when Poppy disapproved. She'd know not to practice the frowns that affected him the most when others saw, perhaps as a mercy, or to preserve the family standing by not airing out Dion's weaknesses, but he'd seen her shake her head in a minimal way across a prattling room, and it always took some power from him. It is always our greatest loves that make our deepest hurts.

Many of those nerves were alive with her protests now, and ran a net over his face to the top of his spine asking him to recoil from her, as he would when she forbade something. But he wasn't only the boy who'd look at Phaedra with some worry as they'd followed Poppy into mischief, back when mischief wasn't murder - he was a boy who'd seen other girls too, and learned himself against them. To this other boy, who liked to play other things, her vague veto tasted like temptations. And the sear left him incapable of obeying her.

Vulgar, she said, but it made him want to do more. He said the word back into their lips. That was what this was, then. Vulgar, before when he killed to eat, but meant to eat for pleasure. And now this, cutting her for an impulse, and trying the resulting trickle because it spoke to his thirsty synapses, vulgar. She did them both a disfavor by saying his full name, like that. This was Poppy's real protests, and they were delectable. He was successful in understanding the dire, but when he let go of the lip he'd cleaned, a reaction that had waited in his bones for his lowered guard sent him forward again, just a little more, so his tongue could draw at the slick of her cheek until it tore gently at the cut.

The tip of the intrusion tried to hold on to the closest corner of the littlest wound when he found sense to pull back. His mouth was small to spread her flavor as he swallowed, and he looked confused but willing when he meant to seem regretful. Dionysus realized he'd taken strength for himself by holding her arms harder, and knew to let go, giving her hands back to her lap. "I don't think I'm good anymore." he said, and realization put more green into his eyes. If either of them waited for shame on his expression it didn't come.

Her taste was subtle compared to the onslaught of flavor he'd rolled in in the RV, but like Poppy, she did a lot in the little. He wanted her closer, this new communication that had yet to suffer a blow of clarity to allow shame in, and took her by the neck, thumb over her throat and fingers pulling at her spine. His body close so her legs were on either side. He was in control over himself, he thought, enough to listen to a real refusal. "Do you think it'll be alright, anyway?" he wanted more of her mouth and that pretty flavor, and he wanted to navigate her jagged phrases for it.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #31 on: February 20, 2017, 09:49:27 pm »
Poppy was offended, that much was clear, and more so for her obvious disadvantage in physical strength. It is that way with brothers and sisters often, where a sister is forced to accept her stature. But Poppy, as is also common, had kept her sense of authority by learning to leverage psychological barbs where her musculature failed. To have her voice silenced, muffled by his invasive mouth, was too much. When her hands were let free and he stepped back, her expression was incredulous.

She was compelled to agree with his self-assessment. You are not good. Somehow her reasoning was petty, though. She’d been such a good and kind sister, visiting him against their parents’ will. Sympathetic with his cruel temptations and remorseful for losing him in their home. Poppy had expected to be treated well for these reasons and assumed his self-control by her own standard. Those thoughts were also plain in her expression. They were no good protest, though. If she considered them honestly she’d understand that herself. Perhaps that was why she did not look further offended by his lack of shame.

Poppy would have removed herself then, if she’d had the sense to follow Phae’s ever advice and maintain her careful constructs in this space. But Dion was her midnight snack partner in crime, the one that giggled with her about a woman’s absurd hat at one of Mom’s fancy parties, and the one that had been her safety when she’d wanted to learn how to kiss like a grownup. And here they were, too grownup. She did not move from her place, though she rubbed her wrists lightly between her hands to ensure he realized he’d made her uncomfortable.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she began, but the words were halting. If he cared to notice, and surely he’d not miss it, her cheeks were flushed where her freckles splayed. She was not unaffected by the taste of his tongue and her blood, self-righteous indignation aside. “Of course it won’t be okay. You’re cultivating a disgusting habit.” She said, but she’d drawn her face close to his, feeding him the words off her hot breath. “Mom would be beside herself. Dad would disown you completely, if he knew what you were up to out here.” She said.

Poppy swallowed hard. “We were all holding out hope you’d be coming to your senses. Stupid. You’ve got responsibilities to our family. To me.” She said. Don’t leave me to carry the family burdens; it’s selfish. But her lips were around his lower round and she bit hard into that flesh until she tasted his metallic red. “You’re not special, Dion. You’re supposed to suffer politely just like me and anyone else with half a brain and this… this… illness.” She said, and it was appropriately rude and bitter for her mood. She clasped his lip between her teeth again and bit harder. She was making her rules again; against the games she couldn’t have for herself. Cruel girl, loving him that way like she was a good big sister.



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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #32 on: February 21, 2017, 07:27:04 pm »
Dion looked at her as though she might strike him when she tended to her wrists, as though she was some kind of physical adversary, righting her cuffs before she ran her knuckles into his cheekbone. It would have worried him more to see her sitting there, seething with the lips he’d tried without permission, if her judgment hadn’t been burned gently from underneath her freckles. On any day Poppy was irresistible to anyone, especially the brother that loved her, but like this, her usual sharp charm with a new, rosier hue, her pretty was devastating. His hand on her neck played her skin a little deeper when she came close with the harsh words that spilled on him with secret warmth.

The pain was clear, teeth always daunting on skin, and she mixed the exaltation with her lecture. His heart didn’t know what it was hammering for, anymore, guilt or incredible want. One of his eyes closed, leaving the other alone to reflect both of hers, which made his a richer green. She wouldn’t give him comfort and pardon him with a song, but her actions were inviting to another delight, and he moved in close as he bled, tilting his head to let her have more. The more she had of him, the more like him she would be. He wanted to please her, and listen as he used to. They could play in their large house, and hide away in secret rooms, but he wouldn’t be stealing her dolls and putting his teeth on them, anymore. There was enough keeping him from that idyll that it wanted to remind him. He closer his last eye, then, so she wouldn’t push that dream on him anymore. He took refuge in her taste, hand bringing her further into his kiss, so they could both have each other. Violence, trying to eat her without engaging his teeth. He’d never loved anyone if this was what love felt like, famine and parch.

“I can’t.” he said, looking at her finally, a mess of her red and his around the words, and on his chin. His lids were sleepy, or ready, or sad, at half their height. “I wouldn’t leave you if I had a choice.” His mouth felt empty, speaking. He could be tasting more of her. He let her go with the hand that had brought her in, and started to fuss with her hair, trying to put it back into place as though he could save her from him if she looked proper with their blood on her face. He continued to melt out of the bites she’d given him. The essence she’d drawn wanted to her. He wiped with his arm twice to no avail. “Father was so angry. I’m not his son anymore.” He said as he slid both his hands into her hair instead, undoing whatever peace he’d given it. “I think this illness is taking everything away from me.” He took another peck from the corner of her lips, and it made him let go of her hair so he could have her flavor again, deeply while his hands made ruckus behind her.

He’d not known what he was looking for until he grasped the blade of the knife. It was serrated and his palm screamed up his arm for him to let go when he squeezed it. He took her wrist again, so she could take the handle, coated in him now, the temperature of his heart. And then he let the kiss break with a gasp, but he kept close to her, the weapon between them. He wasn’t done with her deliciousness. “I’m not the brother who doesn’t listen to you, Poppy.” He tried. Always on trial before her. “I still have good in me.” He spoke against a dimple that hadn’t woken on her yet. “You can cut it out, the goodness, you can stop me.” She’d not do it, he knew, but with her fire, she might still damage or threaten him enough that he’d come back to composure.

That hypothesis of goodness faded, selfishly leaving the choice in her hands as he let her have the wet knife. “I’ll suffer politely.” He echoed. “But I need your help.” A hopeful martyr, practicing a horrid thing. Because he loved her in all the ways he could think of, he wanted her close, and held her legs around him, pulling her off the chair slightly, breathing like he was drowning but not wanting to make a disturbance. Beautiful Poppy. He sought out her neck and raked his teeth there, making lines but not wounds. They’d never played like this before.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #33 on: February 24, 2017, 05:39:20 am »
Poppy made a strangled sound against his mouth and dug her fingers into his shoulders. He was being very unfair, leaving her alone and chasing these wild desires like he'd be drawn onto a helpless tide. She hated that. Poppy gasped and recoiled when she found him too willing. "You're not helpless." Panting in his red. It slipped along the edges of her lips, wet caress, and she swallowed hard to keep from licking away the slick. She was angry and flushed when she kissed him again. "You can control yourself. You're not some base animal." That hypocritical tongue dug where her teeth had been. There had been that first kiss, when they were smaller, and a startled eager in the aftermath. Poppy's rules had applied shame to them both then. Or so she said. What repentance could she possibly demand from them for this.

She would not be sympathetic. "If I can do it, you can. You left, not me." She protested. "You're being so selfish. So, ridiculously selfish." She said. Poppy squirmed when he found her lips again but it was weak protest and they both knew it. They were not so different. Poppy would not have been as upset if they were. Her palms were against his chest, pushing him away on principle while drinking him in as if she’d been starving.

He pressed the knife handle to her fingers and she felt the warm slick soaking into the wood. She pushed him away for real then, eyes wide because he was saying vile and dangerous things. “What the fuck is your problem?” she demanded, hand trembling with the blade. Like she hadn’t just been ravenous for the taste of his salted carmine. “Do you see what this is doing to you? You’re going to destroy yourself and everyone else close to you with this behavior.” She was trying to be the adult again, and doing a poor job of it. Her vitriol wasn’t scathing, just a hot breath on his ear lobe when he pulled her close again and took his teeth against her throat. She was still clutching the knife.

“Stop!” she shrieked after several pained breaths, pushing with her free hand and throwing herself sideways to be away from him. It was a rather reckless thing to do, because he could let her fall and she would certainly hurt herself and that knife would hurt whatever met it on the way. Poppy or Dion or both. But he wouldn’t, in the same way he had known she’d not cut a damn thing from him. If there had been less risk of her smashing her head or some other gruesome thing, he might have let her tumble. Instead, she was fighting for the sake of hurting his feelings, not to get away.

If she did happen to have misjudged and she did not know this brother the way she was so certain she did, he might let her collapse back onto the barstool and then teeter, even tumble onto the floor. The knife would clatter free and skitter across the hardwood, threatening them both but damaging no one. She would bruise her elbows and lay there in some curious skew, ultimately undamaged but delightfully vulnerable to both their appetites. Even if Poppy was correct and he held her still, the thought of that cascade would cross both their minds and her breath would catch as if he’d drawn them to a precipice from which she saw no clear return.

Poppy’s phone buzzed in her pocket. A call from Phae. She wanted to know how Dion was doing. 

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #34 on: February 24, 2017, 04:05:16 pm »
She tasted like his conflict, but painted it in other emotions. He’d borrowed her voice when the hunger was manageable. Her judgment had kept him away from everything he wanted when his own reprimand failed. How daunting, to kiss her resolve now, seasoned with her protests and feel it transfer to him but be spent at the same time, like kissing snow. But I am an animal, and animals are ridiculously selfish, Poppy. His eyes would look at her, heavy with a warm curtain, begging her to stop her delicious fighting, so it wouldn’t urge him on so. It was not in her nature to oblige that.

The suggestions of the knife woke her back to a sister he’d known, but that persona wasn’t so strong, swirling with the urges that was in their blood. How prettily she could have snuffed him and all his wrongs, beautiful Poppy with a knife. When he cleaned her lip again, and suckled it gently, always looking deeper for the source inside her cheek, it was to make her quiet, as though she ever would be, so the lovely punishment she sang wouldn’t make him so ravenous he’d consume her. At least he could do this well, eat her words, hoping fervently for a bladed strike from her.

Worse, when she fled to the side, using him. He understood quickly, and took her wrist once more. Her head hung to the side, hair falling too, and his other hand secured her legs around him. He looked down at his sister as his blood made her arm slide from his grip. She was aware of the knife, which made it less likely to hurt her. So stunning, delicate, doll Poppy, serious in a glass cabinet, now tasseled and breathing like they’d danced. He should have pulled her up and put her back on the chair, but he lowered her to the floor and pushed her legs off, anticipating her to fall as awkward and as elegant as only the judgmental can.

He would be on her then, his breath at least, trying to find her inside her undone halo of hair. Nearing her like a wolf asking a lion intimacy. His knees on the floor, and the bloodied prints of his pulsing hand. I am sorry, his cadence said, nose to her cheek when he’d smelt her thicket of hair deeply enough. For pushing my strength when you hate that. But this can’t stop. If she looked at him he would throw away his shirt, because it was too warm here, and because they needed to be natural now that they were animals. His humming wound and the palm that framed it caught her lips to let go, and left half her face so vibrant. Without a kiss this time, he just held his mouth to hers, to flick at her inside cut again, gracing her teeth if she’d let him in. If the crusted dark on his torso was strange to her, he had nothing for that.

Dion made sure to find the knife she was still holding with his side as he laid on her. The further down, the more it’d cut under his ribs. Never fatal, just shallow, but he groaned into tasting her. His other hand, not bloodied, held hers in place to keep the knife steady, so she wouldn’t stop. “I’m losing, Poppy.” He said against her tongue. “I’m not going to keep.” And was alright to indulge in his punishment, maybe until he became anemic, and that would be enough. But the force and weight that he had on her subsided when the phone transferred the alert through her onto him. He had to let go, and hold his own mouth, and look away, and be aghast at himself. For a naked moment he saw through the glory of flavors onto what he was really doing. Slowly he shook his head at a question she’d not asked. He was coming undone inside this red, and Poppy was bewildering him further. He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t be far from her now, not when she smelt like the only thing that could sate him. He was only a shift from trying to taste her again. “Please answer it.” He prayed to the floor so the disheveled sister wouldn’t be directly in his sight, just her hand and her leg. So that I can have time to become human again.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #35 on: February 27, 2017, 04:45:47 am »
Poppy was trembling, or shaking with some latent bitter, fingers flexing because she wanted to drop the knife that Dion was carving himself on. She didn’t want to be responsible for spilling his blood; wielding an implement like that seemed so much harder to disown than the accident of her teeth. If she’d been in a better place, she might have considered that defaulting one taboo on another was hardly a reasonable way of dissolving her shame, but Poppy was defiant with her pride.

She was returning the pressure of his lips, his tongue, reluctant and forceful in turn, brows furrowed. When he finally sat back, her phone shocking a bit of reality into them both, her chest was tight. Her eyes were very green in that light, something secretive and lush, and it was probably a very self-indulgent sentiment to hunger after her him when he stared back with the same color. She swallowed hard and nodded, sitting up on her elbows in a pretty dishevel.

“Hello?” she asked, licking her lips clean of him as he separated himself from her. Not much, just enough that they could devise an edge of control. Naturally, it was Phaedra’s voice that set the appropriate barriers upright again. Still flimsy, but they’d always tried to be good for her. At least a little bit. Poppy had actually apologized to Phae on occasion, and that said enough in and of itself. On the other end of the line, cars passed in an urban static. “Phae? Where are you?”

“I’m in the city. I was going to visit a friend. You parents gave me the night off since you told them you’d be sleeping away.” She said. She sounded a little muffled, walking somewhere. “Are you with Dion?” she asked.

Poppy looked to her brother, a flicker or guilt lost in her freckles. “Yeah, I’m with him. He’s doing okay. Stubborn, though. I think he just doesn’t want to come home because Dad will scold him.” She said, even tone and faint laughter. Phaedra would worry if she said anything else. “You said ‘was’ like you’re not going to see that friend of yours anymore.” Poppy started, picking at the hem of her shorts. Phaedra laughed.

“Oh, I mean. I guess I still am, but he said to meet him at some party.” She explained. Poppy’s brows shot up. Phaedra had a good number of male friends, or she thought she did, being a sweet and somewhat naïve girl. Still, she’d never been close enough to any of them to meet them out for a soda, let alone head for the city.

“He?” Poppy asked. Phae made a dismissive sound over the line.

“Yes, he’s basically a cousin. His mom helped my mom a lot when she first moved, before she started working for your dad.” Phaedra said. Poppy nodded to herself. That sounded more like Phaedra. “Anyway, he wants me to meet some girl he’s really into. I guess maybe they’re serious or something. He calls her Sugar, which I thought was cute, you know?” Phaedra said. She must have been anticipating a bit of a walk, filling the time like this. Or maybe she was waiting for Poppy to pass the phone off to her brother.

“Sugar?” Poppy asked.

“Yeah, Sugar. I told him it was a cute nickname. He looked at me funny though, like it was actually her name or something. Isn’t that ridiculous?” Phae hummed. Poppy snickered.

“Sugar is kind of lame, even as an endearment.” She agreed. Poppy glanced back at Dion again. “Phae’s going to a party without us, can you believe it?” she asked with a slight smile. Ridiculous sister, pretending this two-minute conversation had stopped all the bleeding. “To meet a girl named Sugar, no less. That sounds scandalous.” Poppy said to her brother, whom she’d never think to call Deerest.   

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #36 on: February 27, 2017, 07:43:41 pm »
Dion was left to gather his mind over the expanse of freedom not owed him. A little control here, that he’d forged biting his tongue during brunches, a pinch of introspection veering toward self-hatred there, courtesy of every scolding. She was beautiful, laid out on the floor, torso tilted up by her elbow. Flower on a stand, one or two petals threadbare. He should look away but he couldn’t, and with hubris they’d proven to be unfounded he thought he could resist her, ultimately. Hand on the wound the knife had gnawed into existence on the lithe stretch between his hipbone and the ridged skin over his ribs. The knife had bitten him on that palm too, so this was just a matter of bleeding into himself. The other set of fingers reached to touch her lips and the phone at the same time, admiring her. He wanted for her to be occupied like this, but close, forever. That way he could enjoy her but never be in danger of hurting either of them. Annoying little brother.

Phaedra’s nickname felt cool on his fingertips when they filtered the sound from Poppy. He smiled a to himself as he dipped a brave digit into red residue her tongue had not cleaned. Phaedra would save them, somehow. He dropped his head when his sister made light of his reason for not returning, but she would see the smirk before the shadow that the one lamp on the island could not chase away. He supposed he was a bit surprised too, when he gathered that their friend and maid was off on her own adventures involving a male companion, but he didn’t care to examine the entirety of that possessive impulse. Instead he listened to Poppy chat as he leaned onto her lap, his brave finger in his mouth. This was an honest moment, and he should be in for as long as he could.

He thought he heard a name from an eternity ago, but he decided it couldn’t be. That name was a word too. Poppy’s information chased away what he realized now had been dumb hope. He sat up and it whipped his hair to the side, the antlers glowing bright in their dim. “W-what?” he asked and let his side leak as much as it wanted. It wasn’t much in the mood anymore, threaded over with lines of a scab already. “Sugar? Is she sure?” And the atrocity in the forest came back to him. The pale face and its vivid other color. He reached out to relieve her from the phone, staining it, of course.

“Phae?” he asked. “Listen. You mustn’t go.” He said to her. Despite preparing his throat he was locked into his old defenses, and his voice wasn’t friendly, the way he’d always speak to her. She was a friend, another player in their childhood games, not a maid or a maid’s daughter. The way he spoke now, it sounded like she was a leper that had coughed on his lacquered shoes. “Go home, Phaedra.” Yes, a little like his father, after all. It was the worst possible tone. “Go to our house and don’t meet with these people again.”

Despite the sound of it, his posture wasn’t tall, it wasn’t double breasted or bleached or folded in paper. “Where are you?” he demanded, and it seemed the deeper his hunch to get closer to the phone that was already held up tight to him by two speckled and drenched hands, the less love was produced by his voicebox. “Tell me where you are and I’ll send a car for you.” He stood up quickly, and the blood he’d lost, even if it was marginal, sang with its absence in his body, and drew out what little colors he could see. He staggered once as he came to the fridge, staring at Poppy, or fighting her off if she thought he was being rude.

The cold box would open when he tore the handle and listened for his friend on the other line. The bucket made the realest sound he could remember when it landed on the floor by his reckless tug. “I know a Sugar.” He said to Poppy as he bent the lid until the mouth of the container gasped, and the orbs in the rosy vodka swirled to be reveal for what they were. In the fridge’s offensive light they were lewd and distasteful all at once. He heart became sick but his mouth watered. “I got these when I met her.”

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #37 on: March 03, 2017, 10:25:22 pm »
Poppy rolled her eyes as he made to take her phone and snatched it back. “Phaedra! He sounds jealous of your evening, doesn’t he?” she sighed. “Go have fun, Phae. Text if you drink or anything, we’ll send a car for you then.” She said. Poppy shot Dion a look, like he should be less selfish with this too. “I’ll talk to you later.” Ended the call, slipped the phone back into her pocket, stared at Dion with arms folded across her chest. She might as well have forgotten the taste of him on her tongue or her own red on the corner of his lips. When she climbed her towers of piousness, it was impossible to get Poppy to look back down.

“What’s your deal?” she asked, annoyed. She reached to pull at his shirt, unwilling to let him stumble away from her chastisement. “She’s not your pet or something. Shouldn’t you be happy Phaedra’s out doing something fun? She’s been so down since you left, it’s ridiculous.” Poppy said, grabbing his arm and pulling herself to stand.

--

Phaedra stopped at the cross street and frowned. It was the correct place – she verified in her messages once more – but Theo was not there and she saw no obvious building in her vicinity for the promised party. From behind her, there was a swell of loud music and a sharp call of her name. Familiar, but still startling when she turned. “Theo!” she said, relieved. She’d generally kept to going out with Poppy and Dion. It was more nerve-wracking than she’d anticipated, venturing into the city on her own like this.

“Phaedra! Quick, come this way.” He said, striding forward to grab her wrist and tug her back in the direction he’d come. She stumbled after, laughing and confused.

“Why the rush?” she asked. Theo glanced over his shoulder.

“I told you, these parties are private. Like, super private. We can’t be seen.” He said. Phaedra nodded at him when his pointed stare seemed to demand it. She understood, sort of. “Now, hurry up. You wanted to talk to somebody in that scene, right? About your boss’ kids?” he reminded her. Phaedra nodded again.

He pulled her down an alley, two buildings back from their designated meeting place, and behind a dumpster. There was a door, unlit, with a latch that should have housed a sizable lock. He knocked twice and a bolt slammed back on the inside. The door cracked open. “Can I help you?” The person inside had not opened the door wide enough to see either of them. Theo stepped closer.

“Yea, it’s just me again, I stepped out a second ago. We’re here to see the Fox Den.”  Theo said. There was a long pause, the sound of thumping electronica pulsing through the small entry. The door slammed shut, but Phae didn’t hear the bolt lock back in place. “Okay, here, put on this.” Theo said, and offered her a mask from his satchel. It was crafted to look like a rabbit, white with empty eyes and delicate ears.

“What is this—“ Phaedra started, but Theo was already setting an owl’s face over his own. He glanced at her and gestured that she should get on with it. He was impatient and anxious in a way she wasn’t used to. Phaedra smiled, apologetic and a little nervous. She put on the mask. Theo took her hand and pulled her inside, bolting the door behind them.

They descended a dimly lit stairwell, the music swelling as they went, and Phaedra was quickly submerged in a throng of dancing bodies. Everyone wore animal masks and red lips, swaying and sweating as they pressed near one another. Phae clung tightly to Theo’s hand as he lead her through the crowd. “She’s the one you want!” he called to her through the noise, pointing when they’d reached a break in the crowd. There were old couches and chairs strewn, and too many bodies occupying them. Some seemed like they were in a stupor, running their hands over whatever skin was nearest, and many looked as if they’d been adorned in saturated dark war paint. If she’d looked a little closer at some of the pairs, who seemed locked in various passions, she would have seen more teeth than love.

Sugar was seated alone, a solitary wraith without a mask, and yet she looked like she could have been birthed from that place. “Cavern, is this the friend you promised me?” She asked, staring at Theo the owl like she’d been expecting him. Theo nodded and pushed Phae toward her lightly.

“Yea, she has some questions about her friends.” He said. Sugar smiled at her.

“Oh? That’s brave. Or do you not know where you are, Bunny Rabbit?” she hummed.

--

Poppy was, uncharacteristically, unable to form words. Scalding or otherwise, she was at a loss, staring into the bucket with parted lips and her heart racing. “What the fuck is this, Dionysus?” she asked after too long. Poppy blinked at him. She’d not walked far enough into his new world to hunger after these dismembered parts. It was still frightening and repulsive. There was no comparison to what she’d drawn from Dion’s lips. She wouldn’t see it.

“How could you be doing this?” she demanded, and fear for her brother that chased Phaedra’s peril from her mind then. Poppy was blinking fast. Poppy was a flare. She didn’t cry, she burned. But there were tears slipping down her cheeks now. “Dion, what the fuck is this?” she asked again, and took a step back. Like she might run away from him.   

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #38 on: March 04, 2017, 12:10:04 pm »
He clawed at the air when she took her phone. Even with Phea's life swaying, it was hard to oppose his sister, the momentum of her will. His mouth remained wide and bitten when Poppy sent their friend off to meet the embodiment of their vice. Sugar, who'd let him have her fading prize. He gladly let Poppy hang on when he took her to the evidence. Her disbelief had no impact, but her judgement stung him more than it should through the fear he felt for Phae's sake.

"It's what you think it is." he said and reached for her face. It was always his job to take her tears. But it was his job to keep Pahedra safe, too, though the fuck-up brother. His hands came down and took hers as he turned for the door insted, leaving those pearly lines to glisten on her. The kitchen, the lonely lamp and the forgotten fridge light that had witnessed them, could see them leave a moment he wanted to live in. He'd been weak enough for one day.

"Father's motorcycle." he explained. The city wasn't impossibly far from here, and if the machine started, they could be there faster than any car they'd call for. "Log in on my Locapp. The password's..." he hesitated suddenly, standing still in the hall with her hand clenched in his fingers. It was a breach of trust to have installed it under Phaedra's most used software. She'd been so happy when he brought her the phone when here's cloudn't take picture anymore. He didn't want Poppy to know he was that kind of controlling, possesive friend, who distrusted the other boys that would come an visit their house. "it's bloodonphaeandpoppy." And he didn't want her to know that either. When she did accsess the account, the map would have two red dots. If Poppy was upset about her own mark, she could easilly delete it.

Whether she would follow or not, he threw clothes out of the garage closset after descending the stairs into the room that opened to the driveway. He'd always thought it was romantic to have a spare warderobe here, where they'd huddled together sometimes after a swim. Ragged jeans and a shirt, and leather for the wind. The gloves were father's and so was the helmet. The scarf for his mouth was his own, new. Somehow the white line on the white fabric always frowned when he tied it. When the bike barely complained upon the instiance of the stolen key, he almost let the relief bring along the sobs of frustration that were strung between his cheeks and his heart. It'd be his fault, he was sure of it, if Sugar hurt Phaedra. He let the bike roar for him, instead. When the beam hit the large door it rolled up to let him out.

He would want Poppy with him. It'd be-- unsavory to leave her here with the bucket and let her think all the bad things she could conjur about him. But he'd leave without her also. It would be assymetric of him to think she couldn't be safe on her own when the only monster in it was leaving to meet a dear friend among his kindred.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #39 on: March 07, 2017, 11:13:24 pm »
Phaedra did not know where she was. She stared at Sugar, through the mask with her red-earth eyes, and her naivety was not lost on the white wolf. Sugar smiled, saccharine. Phae had never seen a girl like her. Predation was in her angles and there was a bladed kind of elegance in what should have been a scrawny form. She hardly looked human, in a way, unsettling and beautiful like an alien world. Sugar let Phaedra’s eyes crawl. This judgement was the kind of thing she’d come to anticipate. “Bunny rabbit, why are you here? What sort of friend has you crawling into a fox den?” she asked. Sugar was not of this place, debauched and writhing underworld that served the city’s Fox King, but she had her usual phantom’s passage. Not quite benign but never an enemy.

“I’m here to ask about a boy named Dionysus and his sister, Poppy. They’re twins, very dear to me, and I want to know if they’ve really fallen into this—“ she stopped then, realizing that anything she said would surely offend. “If they’ve started hanging out in your circles.” She said. Because Theo had said Sugar was in most of these circles. 

Sugar licked her lips, ingesting new secrets as she considered the other girl. This one was pretty, conventionally exotic, and it was obvious regardless of the rabbit grotesque. There had been a time when she’d disliked things like Phaedra. They’d been an insult to her sense of higher self. It didn’t matter too much now, because Phaedra would still be pretty bleeding but Sugar would be a goddess bathing in that life-run. This rabbit was a friend of that brat, the Deer. Deerest. Whatever. Danny was supposed to find that boy a full meal, fresh and crying, for tomorrow. He’d told her to let him know if she happened to stumble back with anyone useful. It hadn’t been a request to fetch, just an offer for disposal of the things that might bore her in the early hours of morning. She wondered if she could make this bunny fit that description.

Probably not. It might be rude, anyway. She disliked Deerest Dionysus for his ego, but she thought there were less vulgar ways to watch it break. Feeding him his friend was too base. “I’ve never heard of a Poppy,” Sugar said at last, which made Phae sigh with some relief. She’d somewhat expected that; Poppy had not sounded concerned on the phone. Still, confirmation was a lifted weight on her shouldered.

“And Dionysus?” she pressed. Sugar let her head fall back over the edge of the old sofa, staring up at the glitter of too many party lights tangling across the ceiling. “He… you know him, don’t you,” Phaedra breathed. Sugar shrugged.

“Maybe. Let’s see. You don’t know where this is, or what this is, but you’re here so you know the sort of thing we like here,” she said. “So then, I have to wonder if you have ideas on how to get your way.” Sugar said, tipping her chin so that she could stare at the rabbit mask again. She patted her thigh softly. An invitation. Theo, who’d been quiet behind Phae, began to protest.

“Sugar, I thought you said you didn’t mind talking to her,” he started. Sugar grimaced at him.

“I’m being nice, Cavern, you must realize. Restrained, even, because she looks so fucking breakable.” Sugar said with an air of practicality. “So, shut up or I won’t listen to you later, when you’re begging me for all those other favors.” She said. Phae glanced at Theo then, confused and worried.

“Theo, you’re part of all this?” she asked meekly. Theo the owl would not meet her gaze. It made him kind of angry to hear her say that. It wasn’t fair that she hadn’t realized it until now. Like he’d know this pale siren and her bloody songs for any other reason.

“Ah, you’re paying attention to the wrong thing, Bunny,” Sugar called back Phaedra’s focus and gestured again at her lap. Phae inhaled sharply. How frightening. But she had to know what sort of mess Dion was getting himself into. Poppy was too calm. There was no way she knew this much. Phaedra needed to know so she could help him. So the three of them could be happy, like before. She stepped timidly toward the couch and sat beside Sugar, who laughed and pulled her quickly into an overly familiar embrace. “Don’t be shy. You’re not a timid girl, if you came this far. You don’t need to be nervous.” Phaedra nodded mutely. “I’ll be nice, because you’re kind of interesting. You and Deer, and this mystery sister of his.” Sugar promised.

--

Poppy was numb to the things he said, reeling from a reality she’d superficially grasped but thrown to her brother’s childish fantasies. To see the glistening mounds now, slick in their biting broth, was too tangible. There was no romance to it, nothing to be coy about. She wished he’d been satisfied with steeling tastes of her, chaste because she made it so, and pure because it was their childhood explorations and no more. It only partially registered with her that he’d been keeping tabs on Phae and herself for some unknown amount of time, and when it did it was nothing bothersome in the wake of his loathsome bucket and that insidious password.

“How far gone are you, really?” she murmured, staring at Phaedra’s little red circle pulsing on the screen. She didn’t watch him as he shuffled about to find new clothes, staring angrily at the offending vessel on the kitchen floor instead. If there had been any chance of sentience in that dirty white cylinder, she’d have been happy to blame it for her brother sins. He was being strung along by this stupid impulse. Weakness, sitting there, because she was staring at it and she was not hungry for it. If she couldn’t sympathize, how could he be so malleable?

Poppy didn’t follow him when he went for the bike, either. “You better bring her back, Dion. It’s the least you can do, playing in that filthy world.” She called after him. “Send her home.” It would not surprise him later, when he returned and she was gone. The bucket would be put away in the refrigerator and the kitchen left mid meal. The knife would be clean by the sink. She’d have gone to fulfill the sleepover she’d promised their parents, because Poppy was a good girl if she felt like it. If he stepped into the upstairs bath, he’d smell the linger of shampoo and find her clothes discarded on the floor. She, too, had spares in this house. A final slap on the wrist for his behavior, and hers, that she’d have felt the need to wash herself clean of him.

Poppy would spend the rest of her evening waiting to hear that Phae was okay and attempting to chase the taste of her blood and her brother’s from her mouth.   

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #40 on: March 08, 2017, 09:47:05 am »
So he made white lines through the blue night on his own. He supposed it was better, trusting these wheels by himself. A thick roll of paper crowded his chest inside the leather, his savings until he could shake more out of his privilege, and he hoped it’d be enough. It offended the image he had of himself that Phaedra’s peril couldn’t pull his mind from Poppy’s sweet salts. It kept him company until he had to wake up, paying the toll of the bridge. The man on his new shift still looked like some weathered keeper of the neon spangled towers when he gave silver back for the small bill. He cussed after Dion when the brat on father’s bike took his gloved hand back so the coins could play on the platform. It’s not littering if it’s glittering, someone had said, sometime.

On his way, chasing Phaedra’s red, he took his urgency out on other vehicles. A cab had its window cracked and the driver had not dared argue at the face which splintered in the many times divided reflection. The sadistic signals of traffic became swearing people behind him. He wasn’t reckless because he knew he couldn’t be hurt if he made it to his friend in time. When he did, there could be no secret about which building might host a soiree and a supper, because he didn’t have Phaedra’s naïve. Father’s bike on its side, laid to bed with his jacket to cover it, after he’d armed himself with the family weapon, rolled in his pockets. A shadow with bare arms, swinging the helmet to make way across the street, following the ghost of his maid friend.

There were procedures to these events. He’d been to enough to know. He supposed there was need for additional sifting when the theme was so objectionable to most. He had no plan ready to enter until a boy stumbled out of one of the metal doors, bloodied and masked. He was handsome, throwing the horned likeness of his head to be sick all over his shoes. A dark mass of indulgences on black laces. After a flawless arch, the helmet rung the boy’s temple and Dion dragged him to sleep in safety while the damage to his gray mass marinated into his spine. The deer who’d been so unruly knocked on the door, promising fervently to behave. The behemoth had mercy and stepped aside.

The naked arms shook as venison made its way through gamier courses. Doors with cracks spilled color into the corridor and he glanced little oases inside, where people latched on to willing animals. Some of them were in tandem, and some had teeth in every limb, fighting furiously to stretch their own wounds. He thought it was a warning first - the gasping mice, the clawing men - and then it smelt and felt like prophecy, rather. Without Poppy’s judgment, he wouldn’t mind. Just a dance toward common raptures.

He asked a bear about Sugar, and took his mask. Some of them were afraid and some of them, whom he pulled out of others, strings still connecting gash and gape, were addled enough to gossip. A detective splayed in strobes, looking for someone sweet and white that wouldn’t be. He’d changed into a handful of totems until he wore a badgers nose and eyes, his own jaw visible, smeared for a favor from a rat. And everything he touched in the long ass fucking hangar of a corridor stayed with him, until he was bursting with justification for a life brimming with gluttony. When he came out on the other side, into a living mass or lighter pecks and shyer teeth, the music stirred his ribs to put fire and recklessness to all the things he’d seen and learned. Only worry for Phaedra shackled him now. He wanted to be in these woodlands, too.

The arrogant badger who’d strike you if you didn’t answer, or break your finger mutely inside the song without eating it, also, followed revealing stares and admitting nods. He’d forced his importance on so many by the time he had to topple into an armchair across from his prize. Sugar’s hue would not be mistaken, even in this lake of characters. The lusts that were not as loving as sister’s fine flavors argued in his nerves and he’d fall into following them for the smallest instance, twitches like micro sleep into a freer self, until he remembered the girl who would sometimes tell Poppy to be gentler with him.

A snake slithered her arms around him, and pressed her shoulder into his lips without obscuring his view. How would her muscles complain against his bite and how would her collarbone think to resist before it splintered? Blue hair under the scales, but it was a trick of all the stars in the room. His teeth were clenched tight against the temptation as he waited for strength and watched his beautiful friend on the ivory lap. If he went, would he just be going to open Phaedra up, like her mother did pigeons, or would he ask Sugar’s services? He hissed low at the snake and wrenched her head to the side. She didn’t mind. He tried to concentrate across the busy floor.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #41 on: March 12, 2017, 03:29:52 am »
Phaedra shuddered under Sugar’s tongue and squeezed her eyes shut tight. The pale girl giggled. “Relax, it’ll be a quick taste. I have remarkable self-control.” Sugar promised, suggesting that this should be a comfort. Phae swallowed hard and nodded, though there was a peculiar dread in her chest that made this feel like she was about to submerge herself in an unretractable filth. Sugar tested the surface of Phae’s skin, teeth indenting the soft flesh of the girl’s neck. Her dark hair fell over her shoulder. She muffled a soft cry by digging into her own lip when Sugar cut her arc. It was a quick flash of pain that flared into a throbbing ache, blood rushing toward the stitch-mark curves the white wraith had carved. Phae had always been quick to bruise, and she’d be a nebula of violet and blue by morning.

Sugar was true to her word, but Phaedra was still quaking by the time the blonde sat back with red-ringed lips and sighed with too much satisfaction. The bow had been peeled into a larger gash, which left Phaedra panting, and the frenzied rush of her circulation was already cooling to a dark magma crust. Phaedra had lived a fairly soft life, all told. Her scrapes had been tended to as quickly as Poppy’s and she’d never been quite as adventurous. Sugar had performed something raw and frightening in this rusty deflowering of her flesh. Phaedra blinked back hot tears.

“You should visit around here more often. You’d be a popular menu item.” Sugar said. A compliment, or a piece of advice. If she was going to go digging up her Deer’s secrets, perhaps it would be best if she made a claim to her heartbeat. She could be a delicacy around here and ensure her continued pulse. Sugar shrugged. “Not that I care. I’ve already gotten a taste.” She said. Before Deerest, too. Would he feel robbed of Bunny’s first taste? Sugar thought it might be a bit tragic if he didn’t. This quivering girl had descended into a hazy purgatory for him, after all.

“Will you tell me now? What do you know about Dion? Is he… Is he hurting people? Is he coming to places like this?” she asked. Sugar snickered. As if Dionysus hadn’t been hurting people before he’d begun eating them.

“Well, I’d say we’ve only met recently and he has an appetite.” Sugar said bluntly. “But that look in your eye says you don’t want to believe me.” She said. Sugar was not looking at Phaedra at all though, as she licked her lips clean. Little shark in bloody waters. Sugar could see the familiar, long-limbed form through the throng of other bodies. He seemed purposeful coming toward them, but there were just so very many distractions. “Too late,” Sugar mumbled. Phaedra was clasping the raw wound on her shoulder. 

“What?” Phaedra asked. Sugar jabbed her chin in the direction of Phaedra’s answer, caught in a sanguine Eden. She gasped audibly when she saw him, squeezing her fingers a little tighter over her wound.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t see. Not that he won’t notice if he makes it over here.” Sugar sighed. Phaedra twitched, as if she didn’t know why Sugar would say such a thing.

“Dion…” Phaedra murmured. Sugar slid out from underneath her.

“I don’t really feel like dealing with your asshole friend right now. But you can tell him I did him a favor since you’re sitting on this couch and not under a horse down the hall.” She suggested. Phaedra was trying to see past the thick of people that had drifted to obscure her view of Dion and his mask. “Either way, go to him or get out of here if you’re not here to play. It’s time for me to take my leave.” Sugar said. She glanced at Theo, who’d been doing his best to remain quiet. He told himself he would have intervened if Sugar had taken more than that little bite. The look Sugar gave him said she knew he was lying to himself.

“You too, right? You’ve got that stupid expression on your face again.” She said. Theo hesitated, glancing at Phae with a great deal of regret before he was at Sugar’s side and ready to slip off into the crowd.

“I’m sorry, Phae. I should have warned you about all of this. Get out of here quick, okay?” he said. Phaedra nodded numbly but hardly looked when Theo stumbled off with the strange white girl. She was too captivated by Dion the predator, who’d come back into view. Her shoulder throbbed. It was an awful moment to find herself so far from him. The Dion she’d grown up with was nothing like Sugar and her wanton teeth. That beast with the snake was a stranger she’d not set out to find.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #42 on: March 12, 2017, 02:56:24 pm »
There was very little flora in the wasteland of his eyes when they flared at Sugar's little indulgence. The snake, her blue hair, paid for the slight, but the scaly mask did not contain any protests more than what was reflexive. Rude of him, though, to promise like that, and then push into her so she would move away. The snake continued to dance around him as he fit himself like a key through the springs of other bodies becoming part of other bodies. She was lost somewhere behind him when he was finally in front of his dear friend.

The badger wasn't as feral as it should be, not on its surface. But there was something committing violence to his aura from far behind the mask and the cheekbones it covered. Electricity out of tune with the music. A suit distorting his nude arms and pulling at his outlines. Her looming obelisk, then, when she was feeling the baseline tug at the edges Sugar had created. He'd acted out his urgency interrogating other beasts and now there was only the other parts of his new persona left. Lips wide apart, saying something around a swelling tongue. Innocent Phaedra, in the middle of this colorful, harmful festival. Hardly a frame that should surround her, but it fit like rust around wild, young flowers.

Offense in his fingers when the long arm came from her above to examine her hand, the tourniquet. "Phaedra." and he was that woodland thing, then, one of its illusive lords, whispering her name lower than speech, but louder than the shocking violins running through their diaphragms and stirring the shells of their ears. You don't belong here, was his intention, but if he said it, he was afraid she'd listen. Phaedra usually listened. "Why did you come?" but it was of such little consequence the music didn't let it cross them in its entirety. Still, she would know the question if she was curious what his lacquered lips communicated.

At first the lengthy deity with neon halo lifted her protective hand thinking he was taking this sweet rodent and her mar back to the city outside. The hero he'd come here to be, the Samaritan Poppy requested. But with Phaedra's prints radiating skeletal from Sugar's mark he saw a truth in himself, the way he'd had to confront it all of today. There was some color left somewhere in the aftermath of drying, well-meaning cells, enough for his fingertip to draw a stark and then fading smile to her mirror shoulder. He applied pressure once his nails had reached the other side, and it was as soundly as an unspoken request should be. He wanted her too, the way this place carried his spirit and its vices.

"Offer it to me, Phaedra." and if he was her friend in their flower speckled memories, with his blood sister, he was a bane to her now, but one that expected her to be deeply to her own detriment. On his knees, still loftier than her, his colored teeth revealed themselves politely behind the calla lily petals with rose coat. Here to save her, here to try her. Still waiting for compliance, invitation, he undid the space between his weaponized kiss and the untouched skin. He'd not registered his hold on her wrist, one Poppy would recognize.

If this had been anyone's fault, Dionysus would have said in his current mind that it was his father's and mother's. He had gravity enough because of features in their collective cauldron of noble pretty that he could believably sell death to those that wanted all their years. Spoiled genetically and with voracious mind, he was offering favor to Phae, if she would suspend her protests that weren't sweet until he was satisfied. A villain and her friend.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #43 on: March 14, 2017, 02:58:57 am »
Phaedra felt her pulse surge as he approached. There had been times in their past when she’d felt a flutter, some curling secret in her belly when the light caught the green in his eyes right. This was not like those times. She wore the flighty heart of her mask, a small beast in tension, and twitched like she might run. But Phaedra couldn’t run from Dion. Even now, when she’d had his bloody secret thrust against her skin, she could not quite untangle the sweet bonds of their youth. If she had warned Poppy often of her brashness, Poppy had warned her as many times of her ingenuousness. Neither girl had taken the other’s good intentions to heart and Phaedra had come looking.

“Dion,” she started, when he was close enough that the curve of the couch was a sanctuary for their voices. The thrumming music around them had created a keenly intimate shell, isolated in the anonymity of animal faces and strobing lights. “I was worried about you. I heard things. I wanted to know it wasn’t true, or if I could help.” Desire in the first sentiment and honesty in the latter. She was a good girl. Even in their foulest moods, Neither Poppy nor Dion had ever had the heart to hurt her. It was too simple. In some ways, that had spoiled her.

She flinched when he moved her hand, but her hopeful stare did not waver. Phaedra waited for him to wear horror or disgust, perhaps gasp like he’d been woken from a dream. Here, a dear friend wounded. Phae received none of that fantasy, even if Dion might have wanted to provide it in some far unraveling segment of his family home self. Instead, he introduced her to a Badge beast with nails and an appetite. Phaedra’s wide stare followed him as he knelt. Dirty prince.

Phae inhaled sharply when he formed the request on his tongue. “What…?” she felt the word tumble from the cliff of her lips, a jagged fall, and shuddered at his pink slicked teeth. Poppy had been their centerpiece always, because Poppy had demanded the attention. In long lashed glances with subtle intentions, Phaedra had quietly wished she too could command Dion’s conscience and felt guilty when it seemed Poppy had tried to preserve her from him. He’d not left her without hope though; whether out of kindness of possessiveness he’d given her enough in incidental contact for her fingers to construe between her thighs.

So Phaedra didn’t know what to think when he asked for her with any measure of desire. It was frightening out of his bloody mouth, but it struck upon that acute longing she’d worn so prettily for so long. “Did you come for me? Is Poppy here?” the little rabbit asked, and it was impossible for her to know what answers she wanted. His breath across her wound set her nerves dancing. Her fingers curled. His grip was tight. “Dionysus, I don’t know what’s going on with you. I don’t understand and it’s scaring me.” She murmured. “Why are you in a place like this?” she was speaking too fast. Dion was proposing a dangerous game for Phaedra, and she was no equipped to find the appropriate way out.

“Does Poppy know? Let me help you.” She said. “I’ll give you whatever you like if we can leave this place. I don’t want to see you make that face.” She said. The rabbit sat in the trap. Phae had always wanted to take care of him. Poppy had told him to be careful with her for that very reason. Their friend had never been as covert about her devotion as she’d hoped. Phaedra would spoil him rotten if he asked sweetly enough. She couldn’t stand to see him wanting. Poppy had told him it was unseemly to use such a noble fault to his advantage. Phaedra was trembling in his grip. “Please talk to me, Dionysus.”       

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #44 on: March 14, 2017, 11:13:13 am »
He’d not caught her goals over the phone. How could he have with all the fears ringing through his ear to take his heart, then? That harrowing anxiety had been enough to propel the boy who’d dressed her in thorny stems all the way here on a night he’d had Poppy in his arms. She gave clues to them now, her goals, and it was perfectly symmetric to the Phaedra who’d protest in quiet, and come along in earnest when the twins wanted to play out stories that were darker than her sensibilities. Even in her search, the way she told it, she should have known there was danger here with whatever truth she was hoping to find. It connected him to a somber tune in an inspired passage in the electrica. Phaedra was innocent in herself, and she was projecting. And she was mistaken.

There was still enough beastly momentum in him to want what Sugar had gotten, and the question tasted thick and sweet when he spoke it. Beloved Phaedra who’d flinch but not flee. And her response was flawlessly confused. It started to wake the boy who’d walked behind the feral in him. The boy who’d run shoulder to shoulder with Phae in the grass so he could catch her if his and Poppy’s game’s had her misstep. That boy was happy to have a truth for her, even though he had to speak it with a monster’s teeth and voice. “I rode on the old Triumph all the way for you.” He assured her. “Poppy’s home.” It meant she was safe. She’d not be in mom and dad’s house because of her excuse. “This world is dangerous” with its salty dolce and cartilage morsels, “and I wanted to get between you and it.”

How perfectly saintly, Phae, to have gone for the sake of his soul when she was still too flattered to assume he’d come for her, too.

Her questions like breaths. Prey should not be so assumptive. “Poppy knows some. She doesn’t know everything.” She’d seen the orbs in the vodka and she’d hated it. He was not going to tell her he’d spent another person for his curiosity, today. Perhaps he was already unhinged and there was no hope for their sweet Phaedra. But she was stirring, fanning panic with her own words so he petted her cheek and her mask, leaving small lines of scarlet on both. “Then I won’t make this face anymore.” But his lips were set in the same hunger, even if the tilt of his head drew on reminiscence, like a chimera remembering the life of one of its beasts.

He wondered if they’d ever play again, the three of them, and if all the ditch blossoms in summer colors would just become red roses, then. “I want.” He started, when she offered. Maybe just a little payment for all this herculean restraint. Her downfall was that he loved her. How beautiful and wretched it could be to sample his second sister, the twins treasure. “I want.” And his mask touched hers, but if she thought it’d be a kiss, the way youth kisses inside vibrating chambers of music, she would discover his mouth never pinched. A search for texture, pearly weapons ready in a row if something was caught. She was a whim away from being a maid in a mask forever. Then he gasped. Then he stood up, still with her wrist in his hand.

“Let’s go.” And he was a little mad at their childhood then, for taking this delight from him. He pulled her up with him as though she was being unreasonable for being dear to him. A few tosses of his head tried to locate the pale hostess before he pressed Phaedra into his chest, her spine to his abdomen, and walked them through the other bodies. How possessive, wound around her like that. It brought the attention of a lynx. It wanted to see if it could examine her the way Dion already had, nose to nose. When it pressed close enough to fulfill the meeting, Dionysus pulled Phaedra in closer as his head barreled forward to collide with the forest cat’s. The impact became part of the baseline and the lynx laid in the neon jungle grass. The badger likeness split from Dion’s bleeding brow, and the plastic halves fell away.

If she thought to ask him how he was, there, above her, he might take her thoughts elsewhere when he bent down to press a tightly closed mouth against her neck. His hands climbed and dug into her body. Dion knew better. Dion wasn’t there with her. “Phaedra.” He asked, choking. The building crescendo of the song drew at him harder. A flicker of a friend and an admirer stood strong in the forefront of his self and shoved her away suddenly, even as his teeth clasped in the space she barely vacated. But those pristine men dissolved before she’d been ushered out of arms reach, and he pulled her around, face to him this time. He held a bleeding forehead to her mask as he drank oxygen and expelled deliberations for her sake.

“I am that thing.” He answered himself against her lips. “I don’t want you to save me.” He put her up on his body, and tied her legs around him. A flood of saliva and he barely lifted his chin to swallow it down. This place raised his hunger too healthy. There was a wall on the other side of her and he thought about being lovers instead. His mouth quaked with the need, and he almost believed its ruse when he leaned in. A groan and dark, dry laughter when that affection veered off impact. They slid down and he was only locked teeth and chants, then. “Just forget about Dionysus, Phae.” He said with a sigh, and his body calmed because he’d already promised to sate it. His fingers were sure against her, there in his lap between him and the wall. I’ll give you whatever you like. He pressed himself against her, and easily found Sugar’s mark. A sweet pressure at first, pulse with teeth, beating harder and harder like he was convincing her body to love it. She could think it was the tender kind of love because there was some of that there, too. Between determination to carry her out, and a boiling dream of her pretty slaughter, he cut into Sugar’s traces, and the reward was a reach of Phaedra’s composition across his tongue. It was an intimate gulp, mingling with the scent of her hair, and he wondered dreadfully if it couldn’t be worth the world as he’d built it, if he could just consume her. Already his teeth were unsheathing from the new depths in the print he’d altered. A tenuous compromise his beast would not be content with for long.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #45 on: March 16, 2017, 04:09:29 am »
Phae was staring into his dark eyes with anticipation that couldn’t possibly satisfied. Tell her it’s all a sick joke, Dion, one that went too far. Nothing has changed and you can come home. Phaedra’s breath was soft. He pulled her up from her seat and she felt him yank her away from that wilting hope. She swallowed hard. “Okay,” she said, though it hadn’t been a suggestion. His chest against her spine should have been a pretty dream, but it wasn’t.

She didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. He defended her, she thought, as they navigated their way through the tide of swaying bodies. But dogs defend their carcasses too. When his mask split, she had the audacity to wonder if it might break this unfamiliar character too. It did not. Instead, when she tipped her head back to see if he was alright, she was forced to acknowledge Dion in the blood.

He seemed to be struggling with the same ghosts then, her name strangled when he’d met her tender throat with his lips. She gasped when he held her. Phaedra could have found a million ways to weave affection into this, but he was quick to push her away. There was a moment when reality struck them both, caught between his teeth where she had been a moment before, and then she was floundering in the neon space again. Phae stared up at him when he reeled her back. “Dion, you’re bleeding,” she murmured. Her presence seemed more painful.

Phaedra had pictured several versions of this act in the privacy of her room, most of them sweet and thoughtful. On a rare occasion she’d dream something more daring, perhaps with the taste of liquor on his tongue and a bassline thrumming through them both. In all those contrived ideals, she’d never broached something like this. It left her sorely unprepared for the truth of his body against hers. She hadn’t had time to understand whether she could want this or not. “But I would do anything for you,” she tried to reiterate, and her suggestion was lewd played in new tones. He rode her octaves higher with his tongue. She hadn’t meant it, but she hadn’t not.

She didn’t know what might happen in a dark room against the wall, where eager adolescents were quick to impact their affections. Phae had been well kept from mot boys her age. Poppy’s fault and Dion’s too. Perhaps the twins had wanted a little sister and molded it in their maid. Their love did her a disservice now. “How can you say something like that?” she asked him, but lost her inquiries against his fingertips. When she moaned, it was simple enough to construe it however he liked. She reached to curl her fingers tightly into the fabric of his sleeves as she bled for him. She was trembling when he pulled his mouth away. “Please, not here,” she asked him, because this place was frightening and made Dion something she did not want to see him as. If they were alone and he wanted her then, she’d not refuse. It was plain on her face, though her quivering was evidence enough that he’d hurt her. As Poppy had always told him, Phaedra could not deny Dionysus anything.

Phae might have though she was being good to him, but it was simply that she had always been an enabler for whatever he wanted. She had the sweet kind of affection that couldn’t turn hard and armored when it needed to be. It was no different now. Poor rabbit; she’d never understand the wolf beyond the eager of his teeth. It might not matter if she loved him. “Don’t come to places like this. I’ll come to you, if this is how it is. You have to be safe. I’ll take care of you.” She said, and reached to touch his bleeding forehead. Perhaps she had forgotten he had come because of her and was bleeding because of her too.   


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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #46 on: March 16, 2017, 01:57:55 pm »
He cried, somewhere in the parts that loved her when she was so kind in all this red wool, needled through by blue and green and white lights. Perhaps the luminescent show wasn’t the stage, perhaps it was the billowing black underneath. His loyal, dutiful friend, saying things to sweeten herself for his palled without knowing it. He shouldn’t be so hungry, and he couldn’t turn away the way he ought. He’d always try to be a dumb figure in their games, when with Phaedra’s character, because she’d not cause friction for him, at least not until Poppy demanded such. It was now that he understood her adoration was an obstacle, even if he chose to taste it as that of a pure heart, and not one that was directed solely at him. Perhaps they viewed each other the same.

Her salts were different from Poppy’s, but familiar from other shelves in his memories. He was thinking at the flavor, asking it to stop climbing his tongue and visiting his nose, when she wanted away from here. His eyes closed and opened slowly. There was strength left in his body, but his will was ancient, tattered. He wanted her to be alive and well, he wanted craters all over her body. She was afraid, not of him, and she wore it on her face. And it was enough to start his way out. At first he held her, standing up, and then he pulled her along the wall to the corridor that birthed him into this place. Bleeding Dion without a mask, with the pale scar horns cut through with violent red. He looked back at her, and then beyond her at the askew and flickering pillars of colors. What a hellish place. What a banquet.

She’d promised him the histamine of her sacrifice if he’d only bandage his hungry maw and concentrate on her. Her saintliness translated into an uproar in his chemicals, pleading with him to accept. What a sweet affair it would be, and how thoroughly Poppy would condemn him. Did she know what she was offering? It was not just collecting a pile of trauma and hiding it, skirting extinction while building a corset of coagulated visits. It was intimacy too. He wasn’t on some restriction for nutrition. He’d been born addicted, and raised lacking. If she knew what was roused, would she offer tinder and fuel, still? Ah, but Phaedra, though pious and mild, wouldn’t be opposed to that even if she’d blush out of her own skin. She’d paid the price of coming here even though she loathed it, hadn’t she? If only she’d been a throwaway heart, the kind he’d toss with soundly, roughly, and leave for themselves. He was afraid of his own love because he’d not known it well. Perhaps because he’d met other’s often, and treated them like nuisances, fogs. Dion sighed and held her hand tighter, every flicker of a crack in a door playing with her safety from him. He tried to be blind to it all, walking back through the gauntlet of dreams he’d lived. Here I gave violence to a robin, and here I traded my teeth’s favor for a rats gossip.

“You’re too good, Phae.” He called, and they were far enough from the speakers in the main room, Sugar’s room, that his yelling might be unneeded. A scolding, then. The large critter had no qualm with letting the bleeding boy and his rabbit out. Just don’t wear this justified attitude of yours if you expect me to let you in, his look said. Dion looked beyond him, not even realizing his spoiled ways. With a moan and a face, turned away from her, that suggested he might cry like a toddler, he shouldered the door closed. He was one, he supposed, an urchin closing the lid on the aromatic, hearty simmer in a cauldron. Some of the frustration stayed in his voice. “You’re not allowed to save me anymore, Phaedra.” But she’d offered. Even the sordid undercurrent was enough to accept. A maid and a slave. Who knew, maybe he could find escape in her whimpers and gasps.

In the streetlight with his shoulders low, the toil of his restraint showed. There were traces on his arms to tell her what he’d done. There was a crimson delta from his forehead running along either side of his nose. Dion who’d been fueled with someone’s life, and an abundance of meat, and then even Poppy’s tendrils of blood, had the audacity to be almost bent. “I’ll take you.” He wanted it to be an acceptance of her help, but he’d only meant ‘home’. As he went past her, he took her hand. Nobody told him, but he loved puling her around. If she didn’t take the helmet he’d not give up until she did. He kept the scarf for himself and tied it before hanging the jacket on her, as well.

And then, when he was masked and she was armored, he pulled her in and squeezed her tightly. He laughed one short cough, and it had tears. Somehow his sins hadn’t come to take her away. Somehow he’d saved himself from her bad fate. Some of the tears carefully stacked in the green of his eyes above the thin cloth disguise were caught on his cellphone, with his arm around her possessively, so he could send it to his sister, captioned ‘she is safe’. He sighed then, bravado rolling off his posture before lifting the bike with a groan and throwing an endless leg over it. He couldn’t stay awake for the trip to either home. “We’re going to the apartment here.” He said. Just a few blocks away, from when mother thought she liked to buy trinkets from the local stores. Dion and Poppy had always been inlove with the location, but never been ambitious enough in their longing for a grittier city life to spend the night. How forbidden to go with his childhood friend, that every-day kind of forbidden to contrast the fundamental transgressions he’d reluctantly left inside the quavering house. Perhaps the couch and all their forgotten vintage treasures in that place would be fitting, the way they’d lived, today. What would his parents say? What would Poppy? He should have a talk with Sugar, soon.

Dion’s head nodded, and it was an unadvisable state to drive in, with his painted fingers fumbling with the key, other hand drunkenly romancing the clutch, all while the abused horse waited to be ridden right. Still he’d go, and he’d make it if Phae was on his back.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #47 on: March 27, 2017, 08:18:47 pm »
There are always souls that romance the idea of taming beasts. So many wolves urged to be dogs, so many dogs with too many teeth. Nature’s natural like an insistent heartbeat, it was possible to dream in the pause but the pulse would come. So, Phaedra was neither a novel nor profound heart when she saw the untouchable desires in Dion’s eyes and fabricated a future in which she domesticated his hunger. It was in equal degrees selfish and altruistic, and only because her cultivated naivety allowed it. She was hopeful when he made to lead her from that place.

He called her good like it was an accusation over praise, but Phae took what she wanted from it, eager to find something pretty in this unsightly journey she’d made. She was easily Orpheus’ tragedy in lesser hues, much too quick to look when she should not have. “This place is awful, though.” She said to him. It was not untrue. Phaedra did not know what it was to want awful. “It’s not safe. What if somebody hurts you?” she asked, and she should have paid more mind to that sample carved from her shoulder. If she examined the nature of self-sacrifice a bit more closely, she might have found that it was awful too.

Phaedra held fast when he took her hand. If she had misinterpreted what he said to mean he heard the logic in her plea, it was fine. If he was taking her anywhere, she was sure she could be happy with it. Even if it was to another frightening place where people gnawed with animal faces. She could be a saint for him there and win his affection. Or something like that. Phaedra, the help, had wanted the fairytales far more than Poppy and her silver spoon had. It was not ultimately to her benefit. Phae curled her fingers.

She wasn’t happy when he gave her the helmet, because she was eager to continue with the idea of saving him. This did not fit with that imagery, but the small happiness of being cared for won out along with his insistence and she set the dark globe snuggly over her head, long hair spilling around her neck like some sea creature. The rabbit mask had suited her better, but this had its merits too.

Phae liked it when he embraced her and didn’t understand why it also seemed sad. It wasn’t out of lack of compassion that she was blind to it, but Phae had never had a carnivorous soul. Not understanding made her worry just a little, and she was quick to agree with his plans and remain quiet for the ride. She was even careful not to anticipate the place he was taking her too much, because somehow he was not as delighted she’d come as she had hoped. She wondered if she shouldn’t have come and ignored the fact he’d made as much clear. “I’m sorry,” she offered, when the throaty roll of the engine cut and he killed the headlight. Phaedra hoped he’d accept that as it was. She didn’t really know what it was she thought she should be sorry for. He’d not been happy leaving that place though. He must not have been happy to have her judging it either.

The apartment was quiet when they stomped their presence in; she shed the jacket he’d hung on her like a tired skin. Phae had only been here once before, when Dion’s parents had thought it would be nice to bring her and her mother with them into the city. It was uncomfortable that the place was unchanged. Things on the mantle greeted her just the same. “Can you tell me what’s happening, Dion?” she asked. “You and Poppy… why you left… are you like them now? Are you doing dangerous things?” she was asking questions she wouldn’t understand the answer to. She had them already and hadn’t wanted to see them. “Can’t you stop it? Is there a way to help? I want you to be safe. If you need that kind of thing, can’t you get it from somewhere less…” she let the rest of the thought die in the still air. “That Sugar girl is kind of frightening.”


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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #48 on: March 29, 2017, 10:10:20 am »
There had only been confusion for her at first, when she outwardly wondered about his safety as they left the unholy wonderland.

He'd wanted this to be something else when he led her to the apartment. Dion didn't really ransack himself for what it meant that he was wishing they were going here for tryst rather than its aftermath. Being alone with Phae like this wasn't that common. Usually Poppy would be in the other room, and her presence transcended walls. Here could have been ideal for resolving dormant adoration, if it hadn't been such a practical escape, instead. At least it was warmer inside. By the time he reached the window to look at the signs that hummed with curling lights on the opposite building, he realised he'd not turned on the illumination. Going back for the switch by the door seemed like an endless journey, and the pay-off worthless with the room already basking in a nighttime cascade, where shadows also got to play.

When he listened to her worries and his aura was extended with what glow it could borrow from red and blue neon, was he still the silhouette of her Dion then? His teeth were clean and smooth with the ever moving film of his excitement at her taste, the one he’d taken over Sugar’s marks. Phaedra and her kindness, the way it affected him, proved he was had not been wise to take her hand and bring her here. What was happening? An upheaval of barking nerves, mouthing her name in the froth. She wouldn’t hear that. If she could make out the sound she’d not listen the way she should. “Didn’t I look like them when I came for you?” he asked and it was not rhetorical. He needed the illusion she had of him, but he was aghast at it too. Surely he was not so distorted in her eyes, innocent with her blood on his breath. It made his heart ache for her.

He moved from the window and went to the bathroom, stringing the air tighter between them with what he put into their silence. The setting among the tile was strangely familiar, and he found his way in the black without trouble, the faucet and then the towel that might never have been changed since its purchase. Wiping away life was as necessary as it was a courtesy. “I think I should apologize to you.” He said, emerging with pearls still on his cheek, that became amethysts and yes, rubies, from the beacons outside. There was a glow to the antlers that mother gave him, with his hair slick from water and back. “because I think I’m those dangerous things, now.” He was sorry, in his voice, because he felt he was betraying Phaedra’s imaginings of him the most.

With his fingertips the temperature that hot water smear has after being carried for a while, he reached for her at a distance that only his arm could bridge. “But Poppy’s innocent. “ she must always be. “I left because I—“ his fingers sought deeper against the surface of her face then. “I’m not welcome anymore.” Boys and their fathers. “And you shouldn’t have to live with me.” Fathers aren’t always completely unreasonable. There was a tinge in his knuckles that electrified the inside of his fingertips. He wanted to have her, wanted to lift her onto the wall and have some intimacy before they slept on the couch or on the floor. But she wasn’t some debutant who’d become addicted to the ruthless under his porcelain. Not someone who’s scorn he’d enjoy when he ignored her the next time he saw her in a dress with her hair so far back it was reflective. She was Phaedra, and he had probably lived all the stages of a boy’s heart through her, from dependent to sordid to whatever badness his current romance was.

“I can’t stop it.” And the laughter that made his throat dry surprised him. Short and weak. He turned away and the hand that climbed her pretty fell. She said all the things he was trying. Poppy had almost wretched at the things in the vodka soup. And that wasn’t even his sins, he’d only bought them. If either of his loves knew he’d left a girl breathless over a dinner date he’d not be their Dionysus anymore. So he had to agree “Sugar is all kinds of frightening, Phae.” And I will seek her out and punish her, somehow. Urgency when his eyes came back to her. Poppy’s green in them was prominent because there no light there, otherwise. “That’s why you’re not allowed to see her again, not for me or anyone.” He said and took her arms and squeezed them hard so she’d know he was quite adamant to make her comply. Phaedra had revealed herself to be someone who’d be foolish for him. “And whatever friend brought you to her. You’re not allowed to see that bastard either.” If she was inclined to those things, she could read the kind of passion that comes with jealousy and possessiveness, then, because he wasn’t sure that would be wrong. “And I’m like her.” Sugar. But not proud, and not strong. “Aren’t you afraid of me, too?” but the lips that had drank the faucet water and her blood said it like it was a request for affection. While still firm, his grip was warmer now, and he hated it. He thought he was connected to everyone, through this urge.

“I could have taken you here to eat your arms” and stick my tongue between the bones of your forearm. He let go and turned. It was harsh after he’d been so willing to be a budding lover with her, just now. “and tossed you out the window into the city container underneath. And missed the rusted edge and laughed.” It stung his nose because he wanted it, to live in such a decadent abandon. He took his shirt off and threw it into the darkness before he started walking for the window, that corner, and sat against the wall. Half his shadows were gaunt by the frame of sanguine light. “I love you, Phaedra.” And he didn’t know the depths of his cruelty for saying that. “But I can’t live in that house anymore, because I don’t think the people I love should live with the animal I am now.” He blinked and everything that had been circling him came in, finally, to make him pay for their suspension. He sighed. “Go to bed, Phae.” And it was a plea for her to listen, even if he wanted to sleep against her. His head was heavy on the wall, and he wondered if his dreams would kill him if they tried to process today with its wealth of flaws and delights.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #49 on: March 29, 2017, 11:41:41 pm »
Phaedra shook her head urgently, because admitting he had looked frightening would make it real. She was invested in preserving her gentle friend as he had always existed. These new stains and scars could shade but not change him. Otherwise, she’d be forced to meet him as a stranger. Phae could not accept that thought. “No, I knew it was you.” She said. It wasn’t a lie. The badger mask had done nothing for the signature of his limbs or the brand of his shoulders. Dionysus was beyond reproach in that respect. “You took me away from there, so you can’t be like them.” She reasoned. It was a poor exercise of logic. She was a smarter girl than that. The superficial effort was what she wanted right now.

“It’s my fault for going into a place like that.” As if he wouldn’t have gone into that den otherwise. “You’re not dangerous to me.” She added. Phaedra tucked her long hair behind her ears. It was entirely unfair, but neither of them was being tender in truth. She placed the weight of her expectations on him neatly and it was nearly a shame he’d not caved to his carnivorous wants. He was feeding her own delusions and she was requesting he continue to play along. Some small part of her might have realized he’d likely see some comfort in her fantasy too. Phae could not have accurately weighed whether that comfort was enough to make it worthwhile.

He told her Poppy was not a beast and it made her sigh with relief, the way she’d sighed with relief when Sugar had hinted at the same. She felt the same clutch in her chest she’d felt at that time also. Poppy was innocent, but Dion refused to give himself as much. He’d not done more than she could forgive in that bass-pulsing city organ, but that did not say he’d not done more. Phaedra hadn’t seen him in over a month. “It’s your home. You must be welcome.” She tried to reason. “I like it better when you’re there. I like it better when it’s the three of us.” Phaedra hesitated, as if she had only just then recalled she was under his family’s employment before she was his friend. In theory, it was never really the three of them. It was the two of them and Phaedra. She thought she should say something to pretend like she could remember that sort of distance, but it was a thoroughly worn ruse that neither of them needed then. “I still keep your room clean for you.” She said, and it was familiar rather than practical as she let her eyes close and pressed her cheek closer against his palm.

His laughter and the way he gave her his fate like it was unquestionable killed the other hopeful arguments she’d begun preparing. Phaedra stared at him with a long look that felt strange miles rushing up between them. His touch left her cold in its departure. She didn’t like that more than she found his confirmed reality frightening. In some sense, she was protected still. Poppy knew the gut wrenching hunger and the bitter of her own saliva welling when scraped knees and torn lips caught her eye. She knew the stirring monstrosity clawing from the underbelly of their precarious society, enticing and disgusting and threatening to drag her down. It meant Dion’s drift on that tide was acerbic and honest; Poppy could fear for him in a real way. Phaedra, as always, was left reading him through a lens. Her fairytale, in which he was now a cursed prince but a prince still.

She said the sort of thing a heroine might and could get a real girl killed. “I won’t have to see her again if I just know where to find you. I want to be able to make sure you’re doing alright. If you won’t come home.” Her idea of compromise, then. He said she wasn’t allowed to see Theo either. She was bold enough to give him a rueful smile for that. “I’ll stay away from whoever you want. As long as I can still take care of you and Poppy…” she liked that job description. It kept her close. “I’ll never be afraid of you, Dion,” she said.

Phae should have waited. But she had not and she couldn’t eat those words the way Dion said he could eat her slim arms. It didn’t matter. He carved her through to her bones without lifting a finger. Maybe he was a monster, after all. Her lips parted. She’d been about to break her promise. She’d nearly located the appropriate fear of death he offered her, even. But then he cut all the stillness and quiet dark with a breath she’d wanted to hear, imagined hearing, for years. “Love…” she echoed it so softly he might have missed it and the recoiled when he thought to send her away. She didn’t move. Not toward him, not away, she just stood and suspended. Strung on strange ribbons and adolescent hopes that throbbed through her veins with too much force. It would have been a good deal safer for that girl if she’d admitted her passions earlier. She could have been prepared. Like her nighttime conjures had ever really been faceless.

The slide of her thin sweater over her skin was painfully loud in the empty. She didn’t know how incredibly late this offering was, that he’d spent another life already. That he was a glutton if this was temptation. Phaedra would have believed he was starved. The soft fabric hung from her fingertips, goosebumps raised on her bare skin. Soft, grey cotton bra and snug jeans; Phaedra could have been in so many other dreams if she’d known the appeal of her own sweet and fresh. Dreams with less teeth, probably. “I won’t be afraid of you, Dion. We’ve known each other for too long, right?” she started, staring at his shoulder blades outlined through the gloom and faded neon. “Can I keep you out of places like that?” she asked him. That same, terrible offer. More insistent now, because he’d said he loved her. Perhaps she felt the smallest bit entitled. “Can I be enough?” she asked. Like he hadn’t just told her he could eat her and leave her for dead. Phaedra took a step toward him. The dark, coagulated edges of Sugar’s ghost and Dion’s looked black on her skin.     


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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #50 on: March 30, 2017, 02:43:15 pm »
His ego wanted to swell in tandem when she called him a hero in so many sentiments. Took her away. What else was there to do if not take her away? She would not have had time to be eaten in that quaking place, just the proximity of the collective vices would have melted his sweet Phaedra. If he was any Dionysus, in name only, he could not have let her be there when he found her. And she continued to string together the drifting pieces of him that he’d tried to shatter for her benefit. Poppy pivoted him into any course with direction, and smarting displays. Phaedra built him. Mother and father had chosen and then fostered a perfect complement in their maid’s daughter. Perhaps Poppy could have had one too, if she wasn’t a whole person already. Or he simply hadn’t seen the ways Phae affected his sister.

And so she set the scene of his homecoming so beautifully, calling on the memories that he persisted of on his time away. How naïve that he’d always have a place in a house that was home. In his head he scolded her for it, and that taste helped him keep her drawn-up idyll at bay from his heart. He had to be a cynic to protect himself from the romanticism she lured him with. He almost cried, though, the same as he almost had when he closed the door to the club, when she told him she’d kept attending to his bedchamber, that was smaller than Poppy’s but still an often haunt for the trio. Phaedra’s smarting was effective because it never meant to leave a mark.

But even Phae knew to negotiate, it seemed. She said the conditions like they were necessities for her continued breathing. Wouldn’t he talk to her if she stayed away from Sugar? It was fair, and he couldn’t remember any reason why he should not, in that moment forgetting his own inclinations toward marking people with his teeth. “You’ll know then. And I’ll come to you.” The way I came for you tonight. He could believe it. But she might forget that little compromise when she heard his admittance to loving her. He’d not meant it like that, not when he’d said it. When she repeated the word he realized it had ricocheted. It was too potent. He’d spoken to a candle with a hurricane voice. It broke his heart but not completely. He’d always loved Phaedra.

He was frightened, looking at her from where he’d retreated, when she lifted her top. By no means was he confident he’d recovered from his urges, but he thought they were sleeping. And she was standing there, equivalent to filling her lungs as though to call them rudely out of their rest. Protests clogged in his airway, even though lips had parted valiantly to deliver a refusal when her skin took on the shadows and the blushing hum from outside. Her surface looked soft, like it wouldn’t hinder his teeth at all. And he was that other kind of hungry, too, that all boys are, the starvation they inherited from their fathers. Valiance became vengeance on his mouth, and love folded noble petals behind his teeth, to silence that clever, but soon cunning set them free. “What can you offer that would be enough?” he asked, and it was the kind of thing he’d say to rich girls, who asked him to dark rooms when the ball was down the corridor. That kind of tone was not for his Phae. An apology in the large of his eyes, but as he stood from his hiding place, where the walls converged, there was no gentle in his gait. “I mean,” and his voice was contradictory in its softness, telling her to run, still. “ you mustn’t. Do you even know what you’re saying?” Drunk on your kind heart as always.

But it might just be coy, it should have looked it, him hesitating like that, and coming closer with the confidence of a walking collection of fangs. He’d never doubted Phaedra was beautiful underneath the sometimes uniform and her simple clothes, but he’d thought it was irrelevant. Before his throbbing famish he also had the kind of affection that forbade him from treating her badly. And he always treated them badly.

Good little wounds on her. Even her blood dried in the most delicate fashion, ornamental. The lining swelling couldn’t be seen here. Twin crowns of fingers lifted to catch her face in that net of digits as he bent down. He felt sullen for her chances. Even the boy she’d grown up with and worn flowers for, might not have the tenderness to give her the adoration she deserved. And still, all the blood in all the chambers of his heart tried to hold him back from himself, from her. When his head was low enough, the first kiss was the kind of ginger she should have. If he meant to give her space after that, and push her out of his own reach, she’d not feel it. He kissed her violently soon even if it was over fast. His mouth had come down as though to take bits out of her, but there had only been lips.

“Are you going to spend yourself until you’re all gone?” That would work, he thought desperately. Her syrup that wouldn’t stick to his teeth. And then, when he made a final mistake and her veins wouldn’t run anymore, he’d be crushed into apathy, his sobriety a monument to her sacrifice. His disappointment tinder and Poppy’s words a spark. His mortification a cliff and their memories strength to his legs. He never considered that tasting her like this with nowhere near the weight behind his emotions as she harbored could have been worse to her young heart than her own murder.

When he finally shoved her back it wasn’t out of mercy, or to let her escape, not the way his head tilted to consider her, like she was the next layer he’d leave behind. Perhaps it wasn’t a kindness to funnel one vice into another, equally primal. I can wring you here, and fold you in to place like so, and then you’re left to moan or protest while I try your untouched slickness around my insistence. Assumptive Dion, who could kill a girl, but still believed completely Phae was new for him. He pushed into her, elegant like only practiced beasts can, chest and all. “I apologize to you, but I don’t feel the least bit sorry.” And all that confusion was in the next cruel kiss, with his arms as her chains. Spoiled noble – who was never read anything at bedtime but his triumph - crashing into his greatest ally now, ready to spend her quickly. How dearly she must mistake this for passion. How wrong he was to believe it was not.

With insult he broke them to breathe before he twisted his head back to her, and dented the skin of her neck with the white weapons that had already tasted her tonight. He gargled but couldn’t bring his jaws to close. The hunger had just been underneath all that want, shallow. With trembles that could land his limbs in any course of action, he rested his nose to her cheekbone and swallowed over his soaked tongue as he drowned in her scent. Like her pillow that he’d slept on when all three had played too hard and too late. “I told you.” He said through a tightly assembled, enamel fence. “Go to bed. You don’t want to be my tourniquet, and I don’t want to be quelled.” So he didn’t know why one of his hands was fast down her abdomen, and two fingers bit around the hole in her denim to dislodge the button. “Go to bed, Phae.” He said with demeaning authority, but still found a home for his touch between her cotton and the flier outside. His body wanted something for sparing hers, and he thought in his struggle to leave her pulse alone that it should be tense finality before wrenching revel.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #51 on: April 01, 2017, 03:39:56 am »
Sugar recoiled, his slick fingers reaching for her in shades she thought might make her wretch. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. Theo looked lost, eyes half wild and half asleep. Panic through his stupor. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I just… I got ahead of myself and I—“ She slapped him, a swift and evenly dealt sting across his cheek. There was definitive judgement between her tightly pressed fingers.

“Keep your hands out of your fucking pants.” She snarled. “Get out. Go away. I’ll tell the Fox King to serve me your skin the next time he sees you crawl through his doors.” Sugar was livid in her own battle paint, smears of red and leaking holes in her skin. Theo had lost a whole finger and begged her to take the hand if only he could use the other to dig fresh gashes in her thigh. He’d been so appropriately desperate for a glance at her innards she’d given him a small reward. In exchange for praying her rosary she’d let him shove his tongue and teeth along the smooth arc of her ribs. In the revel of adrenaline his violence had delivered, she’d not been paying attention to his bloody hand roughing urgently below the waist of his jeans.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it wasn’t allowed. Next time I swear it won’t happen. Never again, I promise.” Theo babbled, blinking hard at her to show he meant it even though he couldn’t quite concentrate.

“Do you listen? There isn’t a next time, dumbass. Get. Out.” Theo was stumbling, and then sobbing a little because he’d tasted mana and been sent to persist on stale crumbs. He clutched his hand as he left. It might have been over the lost digit, but Sugar felt certain it was because he had realized how repulsive he was. “Fucking ask, Pervert.” She muttered as he left.

--

“Anything you ask,” Phae said, breathy and unaware of the scorn that could twine with questions like that. There was something to her interpretation, the inherent belief that she had enough if he’d just call for it, that was a greater ego than anyone would have applied to her. Phaedra herself would have denied that kind of self-confidence with remarkably believable blushes and saccharine timidity cast up through her lashes. Spell weaver, then, reaching and hoping to pull him into the girlish dream world she inhabited. His love was as she wanted it. His heart, conflicted but ultimately pure. His questions were earnest. There was no doubt in her saintly sweet expression when he came closer. She was a fool, if he’d let her be.

“I know what I’m saying,” Phaedra told him bravely, and it was impossible to tell whether she did or not. She wore his punctures as deeply as she wore Sugar’s, the stuttering scabs lacing her white skin like fine print. But Phaedra was also a slave to good intentions. If she had fully grasped that he might entertain the idea of devouring her whole, leaving nothing but her bones to dress the carpet, she had buried it deeply enough in some romantic notion that he should almost not feel bad. To devise such devilish utopias on the crux of her own suffering must mean she was as sick as he, if under a different affliction.

Her redemption was only that she had always been pure and good in their home, so there was no reason to believe she was not just as pure and good now. “I’ll give you everything,” she told him, the very picture of a tragic maiden as she huffed from his kiss. She shivered and thought to bring herself closer to him still. “I mean, I’ll give you whatever you want. Even if I don’t understand, if it’ll help you, I’ll do it.” She said. So she did understand, at least a little, even if she’d only thought to the point of romantic sacrifice and not to the permanence of being maimed.

Phae gasped and shook her head, more distressed by the thought of him being sorry than the aggressive confidence with which he pressed upon her. She was captured by his lips and did not seem to see that she was snared. More practiced girls might have rebuffed with their own haughtiness, strung the tension tight between them, but Phaedra was the tide of his current only. Her cheeks were flushed when she stared earnestly back at him. “I love you, Dion, I always have.” She said. A cheaply won confession, because she’d been too hasty to hear him.

Poppy had warned him of this before. Warned her too. Little fires, she’d said, of them both. Ready to blaze and burn all their memories and trust down. She always looked a little offended when she told Dion these things. Like she expected him to be better than someone who’d need such a reminder. But Poppy always expected him to be better. She was a glutton for disappointment. Maybe Phaedra was too.

Her eyelids fluttered and she was trying to nod in disoriented obedience when, again, he told her to go. She should listen so that he could change his mind and have her stay. She’d already broken the practical pattern, baring herself to him with high handed offers of a world she could hardly connect with. Phaedra twitched, like she really thought to listen for a moment, and then could not bring herself to move. Foreign, his fingertips playing suggestions she’d only fleetingly considered. Naïve creature. Storybook heart. Phae gasped and trembled. “Dion, do you really want me to go?” she asked meekly.

A bang on the door. “Dion, you’re here, right? Open up.” Poppy. As if she could ever be anything but the center of attention. It was like when they’d been caught with the flowers when they were young. Phaedra had felt guilty without knowing why. “I wanted to check on Phae.” Poppy said, muffled through the door. There was a tightness to her tone that said she was still thinking about the bucket on the kitchen floor. Maybe she didn’t trust him, changing her mind and showing up like this.     

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #52 on: April 01, 2017, 06:07:44 pm »
He had thrown all the filtered vile - far less than the spoiled mouth could utter to creatures less dear to him - and impactful orders with the hopes that he would become distasteful to her. He was too used to this with his sister. She'd take the words and turn then on him. He wouldn't have to say much for her to have all the weapons she needed. He loved Poppy and how she'd impose her version of his best. He'd not had such a contract with Phaedra, even if he wished she'd amalgamate his demise out of his desires now. The more he tried to be a monster, the more willing she was to save him with herself. If they had started sooner, a month, a year, had he consumed her already?

So he had to find something else to blanket the fire. Using the inherent willingness for skinship had been a brilliant thought, he mistakenly believed. But her love came at his heart with an edge on this side, as well. If there was to be anything left of Phae, it would have to be something that he spared. He kissed her harder, oppressed her mouth and sucked at her lips until they dressed his teeth. It was a cruelty to take her air like that, but it was better than anything he wanted. Why are you hanging your life on my goodness when it is rotten? She tasted softer than Poppy, and more like a real affair, because there was no blood on her palled. He let her go again, but his hand in her jeans curved and pushed firmer against her, to map the outlines of that apex and learn its heat.

He thought to engage then, selfish as always. To take her first, if her first it would be, and have her violently all over these forgotten spaces. It was better than eating her and washing the floors himself, without his maid forever. And even if she'd be sore where his hand was now, and he'd scramble the heart in her chest for how he'd push her away afterward, at least she'd be alive to hurt. Ah, Phaedra's hero. What a lacking titant, with only scars for antlers.

"Yes." he answered her finally, and his fingers disobeyed when they moved cotton to the side. "This isn't our night." Still trying to spare her, so she'd be available for any urge later. He must be every weakness in every man. But before he could caress her in the middle, Poppy, who was both their strengths, put her voice to the door and rattled it with the judgement of her question. He laughed and his throat was miserable, bereft, but the sound was thankful. His hand back, his hungers back, away from his sweetest friend. He hugged her tight, and their skin touched. That was a real tender. "She saved you." he said. And me.

He could quickly forget the cotton he'd put askew on her, and turned around to merrily - even through his stupor of fatigue - look for his shirt. Poppy was as insulted as ever at the time it took, he was sure. He pulled the shirt back on, and it was as beautiful as shoulder blades and the hasty strings under them, and his noble spine and the valley of it, running into the start of his jeans. It is always a sin for parents to let their sons grow up beautiful. "You too, Phae." he encouraged and was suddenly wearing such delight on his face that it might mean, to her, that he much preferred Poppy. In reality he was just grateful for her interruption.

He could not open without looking like an ordeal, murder in one eye and other fleshward hunger in its twin, wild in his hair, so he swung the barrier wide without care after having turned the lock. There she was, clean as though they'd never had their own toss with volition in the summer house. "Poppy." he said, my salvager. "It's Poppy, Phae." he said, as though she should like the news better than him. "She's alright." he assured his sister.

He still leaned in, through the distaste she wore for the secrets in the liquor. He needed that shame now. "Found her in a bad place but she'd not been hurt, scratched only." He kept his own secret, the one he'd put in Sugar's mark, and that was only to safeguard his image. "I wasn't fit to drive home like this." As though she was a parent come to hear all her son's explanations to all his missteps. "I was going to bring her back early." There was still Phae on his lips, her taste and all the declarations they'd made in the apartment that wasn't lit yet. He tried to make his eyes bright as he stepped in, having occupied the frame for long enough to allow Phaedra to put on her sweater, lithe, if she intended to. "I... it's all going to be alright, after all." And the celebration was for his lack of sins, currently.

And there was their childhood friend, turned late adolescent something else, and he was hoping for something from his sister then, he supposed, that might feel like approval. He didn't reconcile it with the truth that he'd use it to slather over the raving ghost of the dance that was still warm in their blacked out, neon tinted atmosphere. Poppy would see from the front, and Phae could see from where she stood also, a boy who perhaps wasn't a murdering monster - because they wouldn't know - but all the falsehoods that a beloved boy can still be, as he tried to charm his way out of it.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #53 on: April 04, 2017, 04:27:34 am »
Poppy had a nose for offense because she was hungry for it. The places they were in now, the three, were disgustingly poetic. She, restrained appetite and gluttonous for her usual vices. Dion, walking through the door they’d uncovered together, bloody and lost and shouldering all the blame she was willing to heft. Phaedra, their sweet keel, the deep middle of their pendulum as the twins ever reached. Reality would leave Phae adrift in their gravity. Poppy knew this, and she supposed Dion knew it too. It was not only her accusatory nature that seethed when he opened the door then. It was practicality. She had known them both too long.

The green in her eyes was still acrid, the way it had been acrid as she’d stared at him over the bucket. In the dim of the apartment that shade looked sterner still. Her darting gaze was swift, ingesting all the details she might flay her brother with later. The syncopated rise and fall of Phae’s chest under thin cotton not quite correctly in place. Dion’s silvered ribbons peeking through his hair. Mother’s marks that he usually hid well. The dark.

Phaedra had always been a terrible liar, if she was trying. Her slick lips and hasty fingers, dragging through the length of her hair like she might find order there, and the way she exhaled whatever atmosphere they’d shoved beneath the couch. When she smiled at Poppy it was apologetic. Poppy returned the expression, tight lipped. Her stare slid to Dion, who’d been talking since he opened the door. “Good thing I came then.” Poppy said. “It wouldn’t be proper, leaving you two here alone.” There was no humor in the way she said it, like she was spilling his liquor soaked organs to the floor with each syllable. Wet, fatalistic thuds from a bucket. She laughed after, though. It was meant to be reassuring to Phae, who’d be blushing more now.

“And, I mean, I trust Phaedra. She’s a good girl. But you, Dionysus…” she tossed her head, her bob of dark strands floating across her shoulders. “Any idiot knows better than to trust a smooth talker like you with a pretty thing like our Phae.” Ours, because she seemed to think he needed reminding. It was Phaedra’s turn to giggle. She sounded nervous. Phae always did, when Poppy caught them without her. But Phaedra had never cultivated and illusions about Poppy. She supposed the other girl could see right through her. Made her remember to be ashamed of the flutter Dion placed her belly.

“Dion did come for me. The party wasn’t, ah, wasn’t what I thought it would be.” Phaedra said. She seemed puzzled. It was hard to gauge how forthcoming she ought to be. Poppy must be aware of Dion and he of her. Poppy probably realized Phaedra knew too. But Poppy was good at setting the pace and nothing was real until she said it out loud.

Poppy hit the light switch and shut the door behind her. The fluorescence was jarring. “Oh, good. I guess you’ve got a bit of gentlemanly charm left in you after all, Little Brother.” She said. She didn’t smile at him. Poppy crossed to Phae and came to stand behind her, looping her arms over the smaller girl’s shoulders and peering back at Dion. “Shall I take her home? If you’re not fit to be driving, it’s better you sleep it off here, right?” she asked. “Or do I need to stay and keep an eye on you too?” Poppy said, sighing as if she’d already resigned herself to the latter option.

Phaedra stiffened. “Oh, I didn’t mean to cause you trouble tonight. You’re both causing too much of a fuss.” She murmured. If Dion chasing after her was flattering, Poppy doing the same made her feel as if she must be a sore inconvenience. Which was not, in the least, to say that Phaedra had any less affection for the older twin. Rather, there was some level of worship there. Dion had probably been untouchable to her too, once. It was only that her hormones had made him human. Poppy tightened her wrap on Phae’s shoulders, a gentle squeeze, and shook her head.

“No trouble, Phae.” She disagreed. “We like fussing over you, anyway.” Poppy pressed her cheek to Phaedra’s. “Really, you wanted to see Dion anyway, right? It hasn’t been the three of us in a while.” Poppy said. A benevolent ruler, in the end. She shot Dion a curious look. If he behaved, maybe there was forgiveness for the earlier evening at the end of this night. Poppy was certain he’d want that much. He’d already begun vying for it the moment he’d unlocked the door, too slow. Or, if not, he should want it for her. Because Poppy could not be content with believing the offense of her brother’s hunger was his most present reality. 


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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #54 on: April 04, 2017, 10:36:25 am »
She came, standing at the door, with the kind of suffering that drew from his endurance rather than his reflexive resilience to sudden. It pulled some of the illness out of him, and he felt the sober boys see when they jumps from cliffs, before the break of the ocean. When the sister of his blood looked at the sister of their hearts he wanted to perform all the gestures in the world to have Phaedra collect herself in a better way, even though he couldn’t quite place why she screeched so of their close-to, of their almost. But Poppy’s tentacles were out, running over every ill-concealed clue. If he thought too much she’d accuse. They were both prone to fall apart, then, him because maybe he wanted Poppy to know, and Phaedra because she was innocent.

His mouth opened to laugh for answer, but she didn’t jest about what ought not happen when purposely scarred boys and their perfectly soft opposites congregate in the dark by themselves. He thought to fortify his case, and perhaps draw on some history where he’d shown great restrain, but that would be odd – because Phae shouldn’t hear that, because then Poppy would know he’d folded Phae into their world – and useless, because that wasn’t the kind of logic that would govern this interaction, now. It would all circle and land on a point where she’d be right, anyway; improper. He wanted to collect the lightness of Poppy’s laughter for himself, he wanted it almost as much as he’d wanted blood earlier, but it was just like her to throw precious metal to clatter all over the floor and tell him he couldn’t pick up any of it.

She went on with the game she’d mastered, wrapping Phae with tension’s chords until pleading, merry sounds bubbled from her lips. Their friend had no weapons, here. “But I didn’t talk smooth…” he petitioned. And that lie was so much a lie it was blacker than the room. He felt pleasant from remembering how he’d scolded and then swayed Phae. He had been shameless, hadn’t he, even hiding from himself? And there she was, trying beyond her means to save him again, this time from familiar judgment. Poppy burned that attempt with yellow firelight, and he thought she’d turned all the secrets here to cinder with the switch, as though telling them both they were hers now.

He was eager to dress himself in the guise of the moral archetype she threw out, but knew better than to let his fingers be slapped. So he stayed when Poppy held Phaedra, and the image was sweet and taunting at the same time, because his sister blatantly took their friend from him, then, to show him how to really play with her. From the two options she laid out, he’d rather keep them both here, had actually winced at being left alone as a punishment. As though there wasn’t more in his future, if the truth about Sugar’s Dion found someone righteous. His head lowered in a common gesture of ‘I leave it up to you’. And she would usually know what he preferred.

It was so delicious, his women cheek to cheek, and it was followed by the smallest invitation for redemption at the ends of Poppy’s smile. He had begun to worry there’d be no reprieve at all, for a while. He was eager for it, and this was a task he’d longed for. Of course, when he’d been overzealous as little lords become, and waved his arms enthusiastically with no intention but all the fate of bruising, the forgiveness he’d been working toward was for such small slights in comparison to the things Poppy now knew about. Still, he came to them, shifting attention from gentle friend to hard sister. “Yes, we live to serve you, after all, Phae.” It was a distasteful joke from the outside, but the three knew he meant it. If their mother and father could have old thoughts, Dion had always held Phaedra and her mother in his heart, which was why he felt the accompanying shame when he faltered in that bond.

Weary of Poppy’s opinion on his closeness, he encircled Phaedra’s waist also, which brought his hand around to her spine, where Poppy’s stomach was. A bid to let him into the pride again. He thought to excuse himself after this embrace, but Phaedra’s warmth through her sweater, that he’d known first hand before, and Poppy’s lips sang for him to stay. He touched his brow to his sister’s and pressed Phaedra deeper into himself, unaware that it might look like an attempt at reclaiming her.

“Thanks for coming.” He said on Poppy’s face as his knuckles caressed her abdomen. His cheek pressed against her always bladed lips so she could forgive him if she wanted. It was affectionate enough that he wouldn’t be left too awkward if she didn’t. With some distress, he remembered the twofold attention Phaedra had received on this shoulder they leaned on, and he wasn’t entirely sure this kind of friction wouldn’t upset the hardened surface of the marks. If the sweater stained, so did his lie. “There’s nothing here to offer.” Or to share. Maybe some water in the fridge, and a wealth of forgotten clothes. He pitted his cheekbone against his sister’s, and held Phaedra even tighter to nuzzle and force Poppy’s head from the damning shoulder. It was hard not to think of what he’d deceitfully opened inside her mouth then, in the summer house kitchen. If he was unsuccessful in prying Poppy away, or even if he succeeded, he’d take them the couch.

He got to lead them, sometimes, when they played and he wanted to change the scene. Maybe from a castle of boulders and moss among the tight trees to a clearing with noonday light. He’d hold Phaedra’s wrist and Poppy’s hand, because their friend should follow, but sometimes Poppy needed more gentle to be convinced. “We should stay up, then.” He suggested. “Now that we’re all here.” And the couch that would have been Phae’s bed could easily host the three of them. He wondered if he should sit between them, since he thought Phaedra was such a liability now, as though he wasn’t some crackling vial of secrets, too. Instead he sat on the floor in front of them if they wanted the couch. In a rough sense that made them a circle, which in a naïve mind would make them equals.

He gave attention to Poppy, and it was a little transparent, then. He took off her shoes and absentmindedly tended to her leg, spoiling it with kneading and rubbing. “How are things?” if she would thaw, could it be at least a small taste of the forgiveness he wanted? The question itself was stale, more telling than anything else he could have said. She wasn’t some forgotten acquaintance recently resurfaced. He desired fervently some topic that could catch the right momentum. All he could think up was jokes of Phae’s recent roles as a party goer and quips about walnut shells.

“Caspian.” He breathed. “Caspian!” it was not a shout but it wasn’t conversational volume, either. “How is he? Is he treating you like he should?”

A lieutenant during hazing and – admittedly – the torture of those with beginning bloodthirst, Caspian was sweet, pretending at mischief in front of Poppy. Dionysus, who had always tried to present himself as very pleased by the pairing of his sister and his closest kindred, did not always easily stomach Caspian’s company after the clean-cut jokester had basically begged him for a chance to at least speak familiarly with the pretty sister. Back when Dion had given his blessing, he assumed Poppy would have nothing of it. Dion had all his training for considerate lying from watching and encouraging them at cost of his own patience. There were nights when he came home and Poppy was away with her beau that Dion thought of biting Caspian’s nose off, and sucking out his eyes. Now, however, Caspian was more than welcome in the room. There could be nothing more neutral than a common, absent friend. He was most likely conspiring for punishment for the new students, a bloody, wonderful ordeal.

“Phae here is dating too.” He teased. He’d already forbidden her from seeing her guide to the thumping butchery. Hubris faithful, he did not worry about her dalliances, anymore. He also didn’t look into himself to see why they had mattered in the first place. Instead he put her foot on his knee, as though she’d be next when he’d properly softened Poppy. It was mostly for contact, he couldn’t imagine Poppy being sated any time soon, and rejection would also put him out of the mood to massage anyone else.

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #55 on: April 06, 2017, 05:08:22 am »
Poppy’s eyes had rolled at his tar lies. They were washed away with the apartment lights. Brightness in a quiet that made their visit seem foreign. This space was more theirs now because of the conspiracy of its alien. Poppy frowned at the sensation. She’d not come with any real eagerness to make amends. She’d been worried for Phaedra. Poppy had been half way to her alibi’s house when she’d been unable to stomach the thought of Phae spilling across some sidewalk and Dion hunting for guilt.

“I told you, I came for Phae.” Poppy reminded him when he came to them, eyes narrowing like a peeved housecat when he applied his touch. She could accept the effort without being impressed with its execution. The light peck she granted his cheek was terse and exacted with such a practiced aura of obligation that it might have been kinder if she’d not at all. He’d been subject to this sort of behavior more than once. Poppy liked to act this way when she wanted other people to see that she was feeling slighted. It was a slight disappointment to her when it became apparent that Phaedra was too distracted to pay much mind.

Phaedra was fidgeting between them. She’d never been overly good with their closeness. In many ways, Phaedra had envied the way Poppy and Dionysus had often moved like curious extensions of one another. They made contact like it was for photographs, pretty twins with dark stares and cut cheekbones. She’d sometimes wondered if it were the product of a sibling bond she couldn’t understand, being an only child herself. As she’d gotten older, she realized it was simply Dion and Poppy. Decadent with each other because they could be. Phaedra thought it was lovely until it made her uncomfortable. She shifted again.

Poppy didn’t take kindly to being moved, though she let him play at affection because it suited Dion to behave that way. She didn’t think to be suspicious of the way he nudged face away from Phae’s shoulder, though she wondered why such a gesture might make their friend shiver. Dion would feel the intensity of her stare on his neck when he did finally tug them toward the couch. “You’re so much more domestic when we leave you alone.” Poppy commented. Dinner earlier, with blood. Fussing over their comfort now, with eager dishonesty. She glanced at Phaedra, who looked back. “He must miss you.” She said.

Phaedra laughed because she knew she should. “Rather, maybe he just doesn’t need my help as much as I thought.” She said. Her volume dropped as she said it, the twist of other implications rushing up to swallow the sentiment. Maybe he would have let her help him if Poppy hadn’t come. But maybe not. Somehow the possibility of that kind of rejection stung more than the simplicity of a denied love. Phaedra was not so fatalistic as to lust after his appetite, but she had idolized being needed for as long as she’d known him.

The elder twin shrugged. “Need doesn’t much matter. Preference does. Dion is spoiled.” Poppy said. Phaedra smiled. Poppy sighed. “You know you’re spoiled, right?” Poppy asked him. She was thawing easily enough, despite the fact she was still keenly suspicious of her brother and the things she might not have interrupted. It was difficult to stay too offended when they were a trio again, though. And it was easy to ignore Dion’s meats in this separate place with separate memories. She settled in on the couch, pressing her shoulder into Phaedra’s. As if she still thought it well to remind her brother that she had come expressly to distrust him. There was that, but also she’d seemed to accept they had settled on spending their night there. Poppy would only ever scold him to arm’s length, no matter the crime. She’d also not acknowledge it as a concession.

“Oh, that would be fun. It’s been a long time since we’ve stayed up all night together. Even since before you left.” Phaedra agreed. She was earnest. If she minded that Poppy had soaked up Dion’s primary focus, it was not apparent. She was happy to settle into the couch cushions as well.

Poppy watched Dion as he plied her skin with practiced hands. He’d done this for her often enough, when she’d come home complaining of soreness after running with the cross-country team. She wondered, briefly, if he’d exercised this skill with other girls. Or with Phae. She arched a brow when he injected Caspian into the slowly enveloping calm.

“Caspian is fine. He asks about you, like I told you earlier.” She said. Poppy could pretend he wasn’t a monster, but she wasn’t about to let him forget the earlier evening either. “I think he’s a little less confident when you’re not at school with him.” She said it like she found it a bit endearing, which was curious. Poppy did not tend to find any hint of spinelessness endearing. “He always treats me well, of course.” A given, because he’d not be around still if he did not. Poppy inclined her head.

“You joke, but our Phae is in high demand. Caspian’s older brother mentioned her, even. I hear Morgan has an interest too.” Poppy said. Phaedra was blushing, and it was a little scandalous in the wake of all her pretty rosiness for Dion’s touch. If either twin hadn’t known better, it might have seemed she was simply weak for attention, no matter where it came from.

“It’s not true. I think boys just say things, you know?” Phaedra offered. She had not applied the same reasoning in the dark.
 


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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #56 on: April 06, 2017, 12:38:28 pm »
How cruel, the little affection on his cheek, and he gave a reaction as though she’d ran her palm across his face, fast, but the recoil was slow and shallow and faded, because in truth, she had not. A little backward nod, in the end. He could forget it when he was able to deceive her with his nudges, to save Sugar’s secret under his own. Then he could delight in Phaedra’s worming. It was always in a subtle way that the friend took his attention. That was why it didn’t happen often. Poppy’s expectation of being their sun was usually enough to make it so.

“I am.” Domestic. But he couldn’t turn, because that would mean having to meet Poppy’s eyes, and then she would see everything, he though. His murder, that he’d not cried for yet, and how he’d all but had at Phae. “I do.” Miss her. He squeezed Phaedra’s hand a little tighter then, on their way, and made it another thing between them that Poppy might not be wise to. He squeezed harder, almost to punish her when she suggested she’d outlived her own use to him. Spoiled as he was, and proud, he’d see it as the wrong kind of evolution to be able to exist without her help. He finally did turn when Poppy addressed it. “Ah, spoiled? No. Just very fond of my comforts.” Which was only cementing her point. He tried some cheeky in that smirk, to test Poppy’s mood.

He sighed, sitting on the floor, looking at the two girls gathered and hearing Phae attaching herself to the plan. He reminisced over missing them when father took him hunting, and being beyond himself when he returned and he found them together. If only that impossibly young, clean exaltation had been left alone as it was in him, instead of mingling with other possibilities with girl’s charms, now. It was good to hear Caspian was not as prolific without him. Perhaps because in his base, Caspian was sweeter and needed Dion’s darkness to guide him when doing wrong to others. “He will get into it. The other’s will look to him for hijinks now.” It was a kind term for abhorrent acts. Dion would miss them. “You  just tell me if he ever is inappropriate.” He teased. But it was a null subject. Like she said, it was not in Caspian to be anything but good to her. Sometimes Dion wished for the opposite so he could include the friend-in-law in the cull to be punished. The thought of even upstanding Caspian’s hands on Poppy made Dion dizzy with wrath. If she liked it, it would only make it worse too, so he pried carefully.

“Oh?” he pressed about Phae as a commodity. He looked at the girl with some playful accusation. At least it was meant to be perceived as playful. Hadn’t she just been so adamant about holding him back from a crimson cliff with such a tempting, touching declaration? It was her own fault that others looked, wasn’t it? Armand had said things to corroborate Poppy, the brother a collection of Caspian’s darker sides and more. The two were different because of one another. They both looked to their brother for how not to be. It had been said Armand was on his way of being quite dear until Caspian was. Dionysus had heard a lewd comment from him about Phaedra, and quickly retaliated. Something about monetary superiority that was a sore point for both brothers. After that Armand hadn’t said much, which almost made Dion regretful, since it made it harder to survey his intentions. “It seems you like to listen to the things we say, though.” He added and didn’t point, but was overly clear that he meant Phaedra’s adorable, deeper color. “Who would be your favorite, out of the two?” And then, without knowing why, he shoved his thumb deep into Poppy’s foot’s inner arch, which was pleasurable from his experience, but also, with his other hand, pulled one of her toes until it popped. He suspected it was for delivering such upsetting news. While the boy was somewhat docile with them, he was rarely so about them. Some of Sugar’s friend in him, now, and that boy liked to think the world was locked around his axis.

“Ah, we do have this!” he said and pulled out his phone. It was still bleeding edge but he suspected he wouldn’t be able to afford to upgrade it when it wasn’t. Hopefully the next iteration would be indistinguishable from its predecessor. The screen was overtaken by a triangle soon, long. He placed it on Poppy’s lap. The name of the game was spelled out in orange, whimsical font. Truth or dare. He told himself it would be sweet like they used to play, silly. Did you steal my sweets, pretend to be a dragon. But they’d matured a great deal since last. His own preferences had become overly ripe, hadn’t they?

It was rigged, this particular digital contraption. Depending on pressure and area, he could control the arrow. The boys he governed used it as a gateway to girl’s giggles, usually, and then tried to push the familiarity by steering the outcome. He already knew the first falsely randomized option would be Dare by his design, and that it would land on Phae if he spun. He would start off light, of course, and tell her to imitate Poppy for him in a conversation. And for a bit of a finale, he’d ask this new, pretend sister what she thought of Phaedra, herself. Of course, as he quietly celebrated his triumph-to-come, there was plenty of time for either of the other two to flick their finger across the screen, and truly make it all an ordeal of chance. Hubris is only a sin when it is punished.

When pressed, though, Dion would always play. Dare, especially. He didn't expect any of the Girls to offer a challenge to this new monster he'd become.
« Last Edit: April 06, 2017, 03:58:31 pm by Verse »

VenomousEve

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #57 on: April 09, 2017, 04:35:11 pm »
“I’m not encouraging him to take the lead on your ridiculous games, if that’s what you’re implying.” Poppy said blandly. “It was getting a little stale anyhow.” She said. Rather, Poppy had sympathy for their targets now. If Dion caught her stare he’d see her agitation. She was a slave to the same wants as he, but had apparently never harbored the same predatory heart. Poppy was the type to torture a soul, not maim a body. “Besides, that kind of behavior is concerning, right? If he’s bound to treat me right…” she trailed off. “You might find it soft, but I don’t see a need for Cas to be gruff.” She finished, because there was not a good way of rounding out that line of thinking.

Phaedra pressed her palm to her cheek, as if the gesture wasn’t itself further incrimination. Armand and Morgan. They were both boys at the upper end of demand in school. Dion had always been there with them, though the two were his upperclassmen. It spoke to Dionysus’ potential and had, on occasion, made the others jealous. They had the practicality of wealth though, and had thought it best to draw in what they envied rather than quash it. That trio had been mostly friendly before Dion left. Phae had understood those superficial dynamics in the same way the other wide-eyed girls had, but she’d generally seen it through a lens. She was only at that academy out of the good graces of Dion’s mother. Phae was good about her place. If Morgan and Armand had noticed her, it was like celebrities had looked her way. It didn’t matter whether she took a returned interest or not. There was no real chance that she’d not be flattered.

Poppy’s lips parted to offer Dion that explanation, sympathetic because she supposed Phaedra would always be inept at spinning the appropriate dance for her brother’s prying. “She—“ Poppy began, but Phaedra had begun to speak as well.

“They don’t find me interesting. Or, if they do, I’m certain it’s the novelty of slumming with a family maid. I don’t have a favorite.” She said. Poppy blinked. It was in the vein of Phaedra’s usual self-deprecation, but she had rarely shown such taciturn assessments of Dion and Poppy’s world. It stung somehow. Perhaps because it had been said in this place, rather than one of their bedrooms. Poppy had not anticipated Phae would be the one to inject distance where there was already too much.  Poppy’s toes twitched in the wake of Dion’s pressure. She stared down at him from her place on the couch.

“That’s probably for the best. I hate to brag, but I think I might have already snatched up the only good thing from that group.” Poppy said slowly, a vague smile for her sweeter Caspian. She did not choose to address the stark contrast of their persistence in the same sphere. She’d have used such a comment to lash out against someone else, but she didn’t want Phaedra to be other to them. It would make their usual jokes about Phae’s cleaning and pampering seem cruel, rather than endearing.

Phaedra exhaled when Dion brought out the phone, a poorly conceived sense of relief when he suggested the game. She, too, was imagining their old games. They could be together over prim Poppy squawking like a chicken. “Fun! It’s been a long time since we played anything like this.” Phaedra agreed. Poppy leaned over the phone and then glanced back at Dion. The steadiness of her stare was not at all coincidental when she flicked her slim finger over the screen. The arrow bobbled.

“Yes, I agree. Let’s play. But Dion, no cheating. Caspian is pretty candid about your games, you know.” She said lightly. Verdict from big sister. She had been kind enough not to be explicit with his little deceit, if Phaedra was still sweet enough to miss it. It might be concerning that Caspian was so open about the boys’ games now. It seemed that Dion’s short time away might have given his friend courage and that Cas was vying to be closer to Poppy’s heart than he’d been before. “Anyway, Dion seems to have picked you to go first, Phae.” Poppy said with a smile, perching her chin on her palm. Phaedra nodded and swiped at the screen. Chance still said Dion had a good chance of getting his way, for this round at least.


Verse

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #58 on: April 09, 2017, 10:25:14 pm »
It was not Poppy's place to judge the traditions of their school, he thought, but realized soon his new side of things. It wasn't such a leap to imagine that the boy who'd thrown other children at their own inflamed lusts had a hard time letting go of his privileged position. Still. He held dear some of the work he'd done in bloody pits. It was denial and realization, swimming but not melding, like fat in store-bought milk. She was right, that Caspian should not believe too deeply in their boy's creed if he was to have any future with Poppy. Caspian couldn't know this. It was ludicrous, though, to Dion, that she would ever reveal to her current significant what she was, what she was becoming.

"So you'd rather have him out of it, then, suddenly when he's been the face of it with me?" A wrinkle on the brother's nose, thin shadows that never became a snarl, that held irritation and challenge all the same. She'd not tested him on this subject before, and it was exactly in the center of his broken-up life. He meant that it'd indite Caspian terribly to act like that. Dion thought his own departure could be blamed on family matters, but staying in their circuits while not persecuting the hungry was the same as jumping from their echelons down into the Colosseum sand. In all his new found grit, Dion was still a snob.

The reflexive answer, the way it had taken his features and made them look doubtful and dark, were swept away with different disbelief, a heavier, grayer kind when Phae spoke of herself. For a childhood friend of hers it was hard to hear. He wanted to inject value into her somehow, and make her understand how decrepit others were compared to her. Their darling innocent friend. But she'd not said it with any sadness. She'd rambled it like truths she thought anyone would know. He could not formulate anything in her defense before Poppy laid the subject to rest. He returned his sister's look shortly but then lingered at Phaedra, wishing that kind of thinking away.

The game was welcome, then, and he shared the lightness it seemed to bring to Phae. Anything to have her smile, after that. His eyes narrowed slightly when Poppy boasted her knowledge and he felt more than before that he should have a talk with Caspian. There were severe punishments in their little cults, even if this wasn't technically connected to the bloodletting of lower classmates. At the very least it was a breach of brotherly protocol between them. Perhaps it bothered Dion because he himself had not told Poppy of this, which of course raised Caspian's standing as a moral man in her eyes.

"I am sure I don't know what you're speaking of." he said with the amount of coy the situation invited. Filibustering about the intricacies of boy's lies would not help him, now. Poppy would always win any length of discussion if she wanted, anyhow. She had used her asset well, he realized, since the kind of trick he'd planned to play couldn't possibly take place now. He did, however, feel a bit sour with his beloved Poppy at the moment, and casually gave her leg one last squeeze before he placed it on the floor. It was Phaedra's turn to have her foot spoiled. He started under her knee and watched her finger command the arrow.

He thought there was a pretty difference between the two pretty faces, then, in the way they waited for the digital judgement to fall. He might have hugged Phae's foot a little tighter in anticipation, as well. When the triangle slowed he scoffed in triumph as it all but meant to aim at his older sister. He was not so gleeful after, when it had come to its real stop, clearly stabbing in his own direction. He looked up at Phae with some accusation, but it was all part of the game. If he shrugged it off, it would simply not have been as entertaining.  There was nothing at stake between them, but this game hinged on them acting as though there was. It was not far from his nature to be competitive, also. The square with the dramatic, almost gaudy font flicked a few times before it settled on Dare and the phone gave a taunting chime, announcing the the word.

Dion gave an overly obvious grin as he looked at the current queen of the situation. "Oh, Dare? Surely this needs to be a slow start, since we haven't played in so long, right, Phaedra?" His acting was a bit less pronounced after that, but he'd already reveal himself as trying to influence her. "Maybe I should tell a joke, or go on about how easily I can best anyone at my age in sprint? Oh, maybe you'd like to see my lats flexed, I've worked on them a bit." Fox that he was, he tended to her shin a little extra, and petted her caff in a very precious way. "Actually, if it's too hard to decide, just skip me at let me have my turn, yes?" So far, their pending adulthood had not found its way into this remnant of their early youth.

VenomousEve

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Re: Rush Revel
« Reply #59 on: April 11, 2017, 02:45:13 am »
Poppy was an animal of a different kind, regardless of the civilized skins she thought to wear. It was difficult for her to maintain the appropriate degree of placid when she found her syllables had struck uncomfortably with her brother. Poppy was sure she was justified in all the things she had said, so his stirred ire was simply incriminating. Willful and brutish boy, living away from home and without her guidance. Even mother had never had such thoughts. But this girl, less than an hour Dion’s senior, had been born to be the first. She was almost smiling, a little pity in the curl. “I never told him to stay after your games or not.” She said. “I just don’t see a reason to encourage the behavior. Inherently, your targets were already doomed without you.” Poppy brushed a dark strand behind her ear. “If you’re so inclined to keep Cas running with your silly boys, handle it yourself.” She said. Her stare narrowed. She’d not be disappointed at either turn. Poppy would have been happy to goad him back into attending school.

She might have gone for his throat, antagonizing as she could be, had Phaedra not been with them. Those spats had often ended in wrestling as children, though Poppy had stopped the practice years ago. In its place they brewed peculiar tensions that the sister seemed to thrive on, long past the exhaustion of whatever arguments they’d conjured. In some sense, Dion might have read real affection behind all her spitting. It would not have been wrong.

As usual, the twins were willing enough to settle into lighter moods for Phaedra’s sake. The girl had watched the exchange and said nothing, smiling mildly like this was the usual sort of banter. She had learned this was the best approach. Phae was glad to be absorbed in watching the digital needle spin, though Dion did pull at her attention when he reached for her. She made a small sound, almost a protest, and wore her pretty pink for them both again when he tended to her calf.

Poppy almost rolled her eyes. There were moments when Phaedra was practically too much, no matter how much love she had for her friend.

“Make it something hard, Phaedra, just because he’s being an ass.” Poppy said with a spritely grin in her brother’s direction. Children with adolescent words and grown up secrets. Phaedra sighed and shook her head.

“You’re both being ridiculous.” She informed, though she didn’t sound upset about it. Phaedra tapped her palm to her cheek, chewing on her lower lip as she rolled various options over in her head. “Anyhow, I dare you to…” she trailed off, uncertain of what she might want to ask. There were a number of things that came to mind, most of which demanding Poppy’s absence. She thought of the way his fingertips had felt, slipping below her jeans. She blushed a shade deeper.

“I dare you to apologize to Poppy and me. A good apology, for leaving so fast and not calling. You made us worry. And—and at least Poppy can go see you easily enough. Seeing you tonight, like this, was practically an accident.” Phaedra blurted in a sudden rush. It had begun as a quick cover for the less pure ideas that had crowded in and turned rapidly into a spill of more heartfelt frustration. She didn’t look upset, really, but she didn’t look like she was joking.

Poppy let out a little hiss of air, a short pulse that turned into a loud laugh. “Oh my god, that’s perfect. Dion! She’s asking you to grovel. Fucking grovel! To Phae!” Poppy yelped. Phaedra sat up a bit on the sofa, waving her hands to protest.

“I didn’t mean—“ she began, but Poppy waved her off.

“But you did! Or, you should! God, Dion, you kind of do owe us an apology anyway.” Poppy giggled and sighed, running her hand over her face. She didn’t look at him. She probably wanted that apology to be for earlier, too.