"Kill the Sun"
64 Searing, 121
64 Searing, 121
The evening wind was crisp at this altitude, and it whipped Brenner's hair and clothes as he swooped through the clouds- the cool mist collecting into droplets on his face as he ploughed through their vapour. He felt as though his body was as light as that mist, though his blood pumped thunderously with the excitement of soaring the skies.
Aye, Brenner Dornkirk had devoted his life to the air, but not like this. He was accustomed to standing on the bow of a vast, cumbersome zeppelin as it wended its languid path through the firmament. It was majestic and, even with all the tours he'd done, it still swelled his heart, but it wasn't like this. This was novel- Piercing the air like a bullet, as the lights below seemed little more than a blur.
He hadn't felt this way since-... A memory intruded upon the experience, and suddenly Brenner realised he was not flying of his own volition at all. The arms he'd held outstretched withdrew to his body and he felt taut muscled arms wrapped about his slender waist. He gasped as it all came together, glancing over his shoulder and meeting those ethereal silvery eyes. He opened his mouth to let out a primal cry, but before any sound emerged from his throat all went black.
His eyes shot open and he was in bed, laying on his side as he typically slept, gasping for breath.
"Scheiße..." He sighed the word out in a quavering exhalation.
"Are you all right, dear one?" The whisper from behind Brenner was warm and soothing as the accompanying breath tickled the back of his neck. The Air Commander was instantly put at ease by the calming voice and, as he felt strong arms snake about his torso, he nestled back against the figure now drawing him into a comforting embrace.
"I'm fine..." Was Brenner's groggy reply, "I just... I was having a nice dream, and then it turned into a nightmare." He shuddered at the memory.
"I'm sorry." The voice consoled, "But now that you're up..." One of the hands on his belly slid down and he squirmed slightly under the ministrations of the fingers at his front, as he felt the telltale pressure of arousal at his rear. "I want you, Brenner."
The Air Commander smirked to himself and half into the pillow in which the left side of his face was mostly buried.
"Then take me." He said, feeling his own tide of desire on the wax as the strong figure to his rear made him feel revered and hungered for. He so relished the sensation of feeling wanted this way. It was such a rarity in his life.
His lips parted to gasp, but only a faint rasp of air escaped as Brenner was enveloped by his lover. He felt the welcome incursion as strong arms pulled his slim figure back against the warmth of a broad chest. His eyes rolled back as he was claimed by the larger figure.
"I am yours..." He whispered, as his eyes rolled back down where they caught the sight of a strange shadow in their periphery. His gaze darted sidelong to find no shadow at all, but rather the curve of a large, feathered wing that obscured the sunlight that poured through his bedroom window. His body tensed up and, where there had been pleasure, he felt the sting of pain- where there had been desire, he felt the roiling of revulsion bubbling in his stomach. He craned his neck to look behind him,
"Talon!" He hissed. Again! Again the fell creature had appeared unbidden to vex him. He pulled away, tearing the sheet from Talon's larger form as he scrambled from the bed and covered himself.
"Why are-... what is this?!" Brenner demanded of the creature, who gaped up at him with a sultry smirk and a look of conquest in its eye. "This is... trickery. Witchcraft! You didn't... You can't have..."
"You are mine." Talon replied in a voice that sounded like it was coming from everywhere. "You said so yourself, Brynn."
"Don't call me that!" Brenner snapped, stalking over to his desk to rifle through the drawers. "This is... Chicanery. You ensorcelled me. Violated me- again!" He produced a pistol, and whipped around to train it on the statuesque figure lounging in his bed ostensibly unbothered by the weapon aiming between his eyes.
"I guess I left a mark on you, didn't I?" Talon mused, "Did you like how it felt with my big arms around your slim waist when I took you into the skies that night? What a pity I was so concerned for my bondmate that evening... Otherwise I might have been able to better appreciate what I had in front of me."
"Silence, knave!" His left hand retreated from the gun held in the right, and he wiped at some of the sweat pouring from his foreheat. He pushed back the soaked hair that was starting to mat against his face. "How did you get here? Are you in league with her?!"
"I never left you, dear one." Talon tipped his head back and laughed unkindly, "Demigods are indelible."
Brenner bared his teeth,
"Then allow me to stain my bedding with one." Brenner pulled the trigger, heard the thunder of the shot, but ere he could see whether his bullet hit the mark...
Brenner Dornkirk shot up in his bed with a shriek. He instantly looked to his side, where Talon had been, and found it empty. Quivering hands reached out to feel the sheets where he'd lay, finding them cold to the touch. He sighed with relief, and ran his hands through his hair- the sweat, at least, had been real. When he withdrew his hands, he found them soaked- glistening with his sweat.
"Dreams..." He muttered aloud, "They were both... just dreams." He swung his legs around the edge of the bed and let the balls of his bare feet meet the cold tile beneath. He was wide awake now having burst through into consciousness as though it were as malleable as those clouds he'd been soaring through in his dream... in Talon's arms.
His heels met the tile as well, as he pushed himself to a standing position and padded over to his desk. He checked his drawer and found the gun, right where it usually was- Just as it had been in the dream. He checked the chamber, and found it was fully loaded. He put it back, and made his way over to his liquor cabinet to pour himself some peace of mind. There was a splash of the Preminger '56 left over, and so he poured those remnants into a tumbler and lifted it to his lips- halting it before his eyes and regarding the amber contents.
These hadn't been normal dreams. He rarely recalled his dreams at all, let alone being so affected by the happenings in one. Brenner wasn't one to take much stock in dreams or their meanings, but in this he suspected foul play. He hadn't dreamt of Talon ever before- Not even for those few weeks his work life rather revolved around the visiting pidge. But now- Only a day after the strange and vexing incursion of Venetia Childs, his night had been afflicted with these disturbing thoughts and images.
He took a swallow of the aged schnapps and headed back to his desk, taking a seat and another quick fortifying gulp of the Preminger. He placed down the tumbler and glanced over his shoulder toward the tussled sheets of his bed. He could almost still see Talon there, smirking up at him with his arrogant, Avialae pride and his come-hither silver stare. Brenner frowned, realising his body was reacting to the memory in a most unsavoury way. He tugged at the front of his pants, and resolved himself to seek out some means of distraction- If he was going to be cursed with fell nightmares that woke him at three in the morning, he could at least use those unbidden waking hours productively.
He reached for one of the old tomes he'd been endeavouring to translate with the aid of a Vallenor dictionary. The grammar was a complete mystery to him, but he was often able to garner the gist of a passage once he'd been able to suss out the meanings of all the words. He leafed through the pages until he found where he'd left off. His eyes scanned to the margins, where he'd been jotting down the translation as he went.
"...like the grasshopper is to the..." He looked to the Vallenor excerpt and regarded the last word of the sentence. "Hrm." He reached for the dictionary and skimmed through until he found the corresponding word and took note of its translation to Common, "...locust." He arched his brow and considered the implications, as he began to recite the complete thought aloud as he'd translated it.
"When assembled in great number and fed to surfeit, the entity is..." He sipped his schnapps, "...like the grasshopper is to the locust." He pursed his lips and turned the page, to get started on the next paragraph.
