Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

Harou finds the curve of her neck and settles against her without another sound. His heart thrums, as if coaxed back to life, a steady thud, thud, thud racing like an echo bursting beneath his skin. His muscled chest brushes against her delicate bosom, as he leans into @Faolán, resting against her. Here, he inhales her fragrance. She tastes soft. Soft and sweet and his.

His breath pools into her skin. Here, in the darkness, her slender fingers caress his face. Her nails smoothing against his lean jawline. Soothing, the caress is strangely soothing. Like she'd never left his side, like she had been with him all this time. Warmth blossoms from where she's touched, a small ember. It's a steady glow of warmth against the raging, wrathful blizzard, but it's a warmth he desperately craves, as he finds himself involuntarily leaning into her.

He breathes in her delicate-scented skin. Roses. She smells like roses and green, rollings hills. She smells like cloying sweetness. Life - one that he's desperate to hold onto. His breath escapes suddenly, a warm, diaphonous tread that curls against her face. Inhale. Exhale. Her. In this moment, there is no forest, no moonlight, no curse. It's just him and Faolán. Lost in this wilderness. Lost in another dream?

He feels her fingers caress the back of his neck, another soothing motion, and as he presses closer, his arm loops behind her, attempting to pull her into him by her waist. He holds his breath for another moment. Afraid. He's afraid that this is not real. That it's another figment of his imagination.

And then, he brings his face next to her face.

He brushes his lips against her lips.

He kisses her. Softly.

you must fix your heart
and you must build an
altar where it swells

the moment blooms, grows; here, with @Harou ♔, reality always feels flimsy. nothing ever feels real. it’s dreamy in the worst possible way, a fairytale come to life — albeit one with thorns and terror. a nightmare made soft, the monster declawed. slowly, by degree, he seems to unthaw. he seems to come to life. warmth blooms beneath her cheeks, dusting her wintry features a pretty rose hue as she watches it — pride and something darker, something more base, curling in her chest like smoke. and then —

she does something very stupid.

she moves forward, leaning into him and his embrace. a little sigh pulls from her throat, enjoying the feel of him curled so close in the waning evening. what does it say about her that she likes this? what does it say about her that she’s missed this? she does not want to know, she does not want to think about anything but this.

she whimpers, soft and sweet, when he leans forward and kisses her — lips soft against her own, glancing and tender. it’s not real and it is; he’s not real, and he is. another pleased, little noise hums from her chest as she pulls back, lips curving up in a little smile. not quite teasing, but something close. then she pulls back even further, her free hand going to her satchel.

there’s something there she wants to show him, there’s something she wants to do. another idea, one that is stupid; she stops thinking, though, and simply does it. from within the satchel she finds what shes looking for, and pulls them out. two little petals, their ruby color a little faded as they dry, sits delicately in the palm of her hand. the rose itself was in her room, next to her bed — safe from the elements, but not the prying eyes of her sister. a few of the petals, though, were kept in the satchel she always wore. carrying them with her, secret and safe. maybe it was not red thread she's been following, but instead red flowers.

but don't they both lead her to the same place?

postscript by aurora & lyrics by my chemical romance

Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

It's a dream-state now, settling like prayers against his flesh. All of it feels unreal. Imagination, dreams, fairytales come to life, whenever he is alone with Faolán. Together, when they embrace, he feels a sigh leave his body. It leaves his lips curling with warmth at the sight of his swan princess, tender and wanting. Another breath of life surges through him, as his soul is brought back into his cold, almost-dead body. Hope, lives in his eyes now. It's a faded hope, it's a half-drowned promise. But it's still hope. A hope for their love. A hope for their future, together.

His winter wrath settles deep in his bones, now, replaced by the love he has tried to buried, tried to slaughter. Buried, drowned, only for all the emotions to surface back up with a violent gasp. All his emotions come up for air now. It's like he can breathe again. It's like he can feel her. And it's all just another dream, another fairytale bursting at the edges of reality. It's his fist punching against the frozen ice of his almost-coffin, reaching from the other side of death, to grasp at her hand, that reaches back for him. Oh, but surely. She is real? She must be real, standing here before him in the flesh. He wants to believe it so desperately. He wants her love. He does not want the fear and paranoia that preys his mind. He wants Faolán and their eternity together.

Will we ever find it?
Our happily-ever-after?

When his powerful arm finds the small of her back as he pulls her close, he can feel the remnants of ice peeling away from his hard flesh. He inhales her sweet-scented hair, her soft curls brushing against his lips like candied apples. When he kisses her, his heart seems to race faster. Faster. A steady thrum now, wild and wanting, in tune with her soft, little noises and whimpers of pleasure. When she steps back, his lips curl upward into a gentle smile. It's a patient smile. She's teasing him again.

Teasing, as she steps away. He has half the mind to follow her. And he does. He steps forward, once, close enough to catch her flashing arm as she pulls something out of her sachel. Petals unfurl from her fingers. A muted red hue, against the palor of her skin.

"You kept the rose."

Harou whispers back. Surprise, evident in his voice. He sounds half-way between bliss and pleasure. Disbelief, and something more. Love. Trust. Desire.

you must fix your heart
and you must build an
altar where it swells

he does not let her get very far away, her harou. the army’s wolf keeps her close and closer, using his considerable bulk to arrange her how he wants. but, ah, she holds strong here. she wants to show him the petals she’s been toting around with her all this time — she wants him to know. it’s a secret that’s best left alone, truthfully; the only thing that will come from him knowing this is danger. it will give him an advantage over her, but… doesn’t he already have that?

( why else had her heart fluttered so when he looked so icy, just now?

why else had she been worried when she’d seen him? )

it is power that she gives him, it is power that @Harou ♔ takes from her. lightly scented with muted red tones, this is how she loses her edge — with a soft word, a gentle kiss, and a dream. the rose is just an extension of that, of what uncurls in her chest when she sees him. it’s easier, of course, when they’re wrapped up in her bedfurs — being out here, with him, makes everything seem more… real. the rose petals, though dulled with age, look stark red against her palm now. shining like blood droplets.

she smiles, something secretive and almost a little shy, as she reaches towards him. her fingers trail through his hair, her gaze lowered to watch — separating a small piece from the rest and threading it back through, braiding a small section of his mane if he’ll let her. and, if he’ll let her, she seeks to braid those few rose petals into his mane — a gift, from her to him. a memento that he, too, can carry with him. she works dutifully, stealing only a glance or two at him as she works — smiling all the while.

a secret, just for them.

postscript by aurora & lyrics by my chemical romance

Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

Every moment spent with her seems an act of love. It's merciful and tender, the way she expresses her mysterious emotions. She is delicate, vulnerable and sweet, his @Faolán. His violent heart, softens at her touch. How could he not soften at her touch? A hot-blooded warrior like him, having only known violence all his life, succumbing to the tender desires of his Wolf Princess? His swan? If I kissed you again, will we wake from this dream? Will the spell be broken? If I kissed you, again...

Each caress of hers seems to melt the ice from his skin. Her delicate body stirring warmly against his flesh, brings a breathy sigh of relief from his lips. For her, there can only be love. There can only be tenderness. No matter what happens between them, he will cherish her, forever. Isn't that truth, though? Why else would he feel oceans move through him, whenever he is near her? Who else but Faolán, to break his curse, and replace it with love and eternal hunger?

When Harou feels her moving against him, her fingers gently braiding the petals into his hair, he is almost surprised. He says nothing as she leans into him and fervently tucks the rose petals into his braided strand of hair. His heart burns at this gentle display of tenderness and affection. His heart burns, and howls with life. Here, his fear is forgotten. Here, his love for her only grows. Wild and wanting, feral and hungry, as the moonlit wilderness surrounding them.

"Faolán," He whispers back, a soft and lulling croon. He tries to grab her by the wrist, an almost playful though still-gentle gesture. A tentative caress, to match her shyness. Harou tries to pull her closer to him, in the hopes that he may surround her delicate body in his powerful embrace. His lips seek her again. This time, hoping to trail a path of kisses from her neck to jawline.

"Oh, Faolán," Harou breathes, again, but it's darker this time. Needier. It's almost a groan, hissed hungrily between his teeth.

you must fix your heart
and you must build an
altar where it swells

ah, to break his curse — if only it was that easy. if only it was that easy, to tear the heart from his chest and bring it back to life, revive it with kisses. if only all bjorn needed was a soft touch and a gentle smile… perhaps, then, their lives might have turned out different. perhaps they still would’ve stared in this strange, fairy-tale romance — he, the marauding barbarian and she, the woman in the tower. instead he is the monster and she is the waif; instead, there is gallons and gallons of blood between them.

but — there is also kisses.

and rose petals.

and soft, breathy words of love.

it’s almost easy to forget the horrors that @Harou ♔ has wrought, as he stands so still and patient. he lets her braid his hair, tugging gently at his hair. a few times she catches a snag or a knot and she takes the time to soothe her fingers through, working out the worst of it so she can replace it with the petals. gentling him further, so he might always remember her, remember this — he will walk around this island with her scent upon his fur, her mark upon his heart, and her petals in his hair.

( she wants to mark him, just as well as he’s marked her. )

she’s almost finished — she gets so close! there are only one or two left when he grabs her wrist, grip gentle but insistent. she is not angry about her work being paused; instead, she makes a small sound, almost a laugh. fluttering in the scant space between them, just like the petals that fall from her grasp, floating gently to the ground below. forgotten, immediately, as her head tilts up to meet his, a smile blazed across her face.

they suit you, she murmurs, breathlessly, tilting her head to the side to give him better access should his kisses want to travel further than her jawline. her hand widens to press against the arm that holds her, eyes blazing in the quiet of the grove, finishing her own sentence for her — i look good on you.

postscript by aurora & lyrics by my chemical romance

Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

They say love can change a man. Harou feels these changes now. He's covered, now - by the scent of Faolán. Luscious and soft, her delicious, unearthly fragrance, mingling with the aftertaste of their roses.

Oh, he feels too much.
Harou feels all of Faolán.

Here, he is surrounded by her essence and feminine purity. Here, her softness subdues his volatile emotions and vindictive temper. He feels his heart swelling like an ocean in his chest. All these violent emotions come to rise within him, surging like an elaborate waterfall. Oh, Harou can barely breathe. All these emotions that Faolán makes him feel. It's beautiful. It's dangerous. Harou feels vulnerable for the first time. He feels weak; in a delicious and wholesome way. It's soul-deep and heart-wrenching. It's almost too painful, to feel all of this for her. All these emotions, that would surely destroy him, if he ever lost Faolán.

"I'm afraid of losing you," He finds a way to edge his words into his kisses. It's hot and breathy. Each kiss trails her neck, softly. He finds a way to taste her, and be weak for her, all at once. Desire, too, grows with him. It's whispers of love, crawling with the throbbing after-thought of lust.

It's -

"I cannot imagine my life without you in it," Another whisper, another confession. His last kiss is deeper, finding the center-column of her throat in a bloodless bite.

Everything about Faolán feels tender against him. She brushes against him, softly. He can feel her fingers trailing against his hair, before he pulls her into his possessive embrace. Her soft laugher tastes like rain across his flesh. Her skin feels like rose petals, the very same ones she has woven into his dark hair. When his kisses brush against her neck, he has to subdue another groan from falling past his lips. Oh, she is irresistable. An otherworldly beauty, come to undo his heart, and the hearts of many others.

In this moment, however. It's just Harou and Faolán. Here, they are alone. Harou is allowed to be himself. He's allowed to be vulnerable in her arms.

"And you are beautiful, Faolán, the most beautiful woman in the entire world," His purr, when it comes, is both playful and dangerously soft. Harou pulls his head back gently, just enough to gaze into her mesmeric eyes. Oh, he feels so lost in her gaze. Like he's drowning all over again. Like he's losing control.

His last sentence is playful, too. It's dark and deep and breathlessly male. It's possessive and wanting and made just for her.

"Oh, I'm going to make you my wife," He growls, playfully, attempting to tackle-hug her into the earth, if he can bring their bodies close together.

I want to cherish you, forever.

I want to love you and nobody else.

you must fix your heart
and you must build an
altar where it swells

fairytales often go like this: the monster, softened by love and brought low by kisses; brought to heel by the gentle, fair maiden. but she is no innocent maiden and he is no mere monster to be shackled. still, the moments spent between them seem to say otherwise; here, she feels free — barefoot and soaring, unmade in his very image. she, who’s head had often been turned with tall tales and dreamy visions, now finds herself the star of one. a real one, not just one dreamed up in the cramped spaces of the church. real, because he makes it so, because he —

he loves her.

h̶̗͌é̶̘ ̶̩̃l̶͔̍o̶̲͝v̸͙̎e̶̳̕ș̶̀ ̶̡̈́h̷̋͜e̵͇͘r̸͕͗.̸͇̈́

something itches in her brain at his words, something that is capable of looking past the rose-colored haze that envelopes them and cuts them off from the rest of the world. what does bjorn know of love? says that voice, quiet but concerned but she does not listen. faolán never listens, not when these waking-dreams are so sweet. so much sweeter than the rest of her reality, ice-cold and shackled.

it’s so much easier to simply believe, to simply lean her neck backwards and offer her throat to him. to let him lavish such loving praise and searing kisses to her skin. his touch is soft here but she still feels as though she’s being devoured, his touch bringing her to life. a noise escapes her as he wrestles her into the ground, laying her down in the grass — a laugh, a whimper, a plea — as he continues to speak.

each word seems to be murmured into her fur, her flesh — each one paired with a biting kiss, a searing touch. his words are laden with import, maybe not poetic but certainly serious. a vow, she realizes belatedly, love-drunk with hunger stirring in her stomach. wanting, craving. her skin burns with it, a pleasant buzz racing through her veins — a sensation that she’s so addicted to, already. a vow such as this demands blood for its promise but there is none to be had here.

mismatched eyes flit to the roses he wears, delighting still in the dull red against the darkness of his hair. backlit by the moon, he seems almost angelic — even if his teeth are too sharp, even if his eyes are too dark. she grins to see it, a predatory edge to the previous softness; a moth to the flame. red roses, red blood… it’s all the same in their dreams, isn’t it?

silently, her hands encircle his neck, hoping to pull him down, down, down.

an answering promise; a vow, in itself.

fade?

postscript by aurora & lyrics by my chemical romance