[ the sky cracked ] [ eilina & vilkas ]
She should known it was He, for all the world seemed to conspire in that moment to alert her of the danger he contained in his sharp carnal shell. As the water settled into the rivulets of his pelt, it grew darker, as if shadowed and weighed down by night. The distant calls of wicked laughter from her river sisters served as the screech of ravens, those that signified death and blackness. But she did not heed the warnings, nor indeed piece them together for what they were. It was all a game. What were weapons to others were toys to Eilina, sharp objects within which she found her reflection or used to spread jam. She was a sweet wild thing, a monster masqueraded by the flowers in her hair.
He had no such flowers.
Some villains did not seek disguise.
The transition had been quicker than expected, and the face that arose a greater surprise. He was beautiful in the way that fire was. When he spoke, it seemed to be made clear that he was not made of flesh and bone, but rather had the whole dark forest inside him, set alight and burning from behind his eyes. If there was a time to be frightened, a time to smell the smoke emanating from his lips (for shortly after would the fire come) and run, it was now. Now, before he turned the whole forest into ashes.Â
But Eilina only laughed, a carefree creature who had convinced herself of her own immortality. Her only pause was the regret of upsetting what had proven to be an attractive man, when shed of his bristled skin. Perhaps she would save this trick for the Sikla.Â
"I decorate myself in many colours, Wolf, but I am not fond of the red that you have cloaked yourself in." She was not knavish enough to come within his reach, and instead vacillated in the water where she was. Finding herself clever - and immune, saved by the depths of her river - her words were blithe and taunting. Was this not another game, one that had predetermined she and the skinwalker on opposite ends of the board? "But how fine you look dressed in rage. And it suits so few."
If his teeth were daggers, her smile was a hook, curved in the shape of a taut bow. All of the above were weapons. Only one was deadly in this entanglement.
"Oh, come now." The timbre of her voice was level, paired with a faux-chastising shake of her head. "Have you a thorn in your paw, animal? Is that what has made you so distraught? I only sought to reprieve you from the spring’s warmth and clean your fur. After all, it is what you have arrived at my river for, isn’t it? I was but a quick aid to your task." Her laughter ricocheted over empty water. Had she allowed her attention to move astray from the man, she might have heard the echo of silence from downstream, realizing her sisters had slipped noiselessly away. Another missed warning. The current moved her slowly towards the man with a sharp chin and serrated tongue, but the careful manipulations of her tail prevented her from coming within reach. His words may have been an invitation, but she knew what his games would reap; namely, a swipe across her cheek.
"Mmm, but dead lips are so very cold, and with the passing of Isonade’s winter, this is a time for warmth. Though if you should wish to honor my loveliness, I will not protest." Wordplay was a favoured sport of Eilina, and perhaps it was this that kept the coating of denial fresh and thick.Â
The cost of a sudden revelation would be high.
Oh, how he longed for her to swim closer, for the currents to draw her near. She awoke such savage intensity inside of him; they all did, and though he could stand and face them in the shape of a man the form would not be true- it was still an animal that spoke, and it had little interest in donning the visage of the noble wolf.
He could not near her, so he was obliged to endure the feeling of the soaking wet fur around his shoulders and the droplets that trailed down his spine without the promise of more immediate retribution. The words were already trying to build upon his tongue, some remark to match her own- Well that's too bad, I was thinking of cloaking you in it myself; tell me, does that pretty white tail of yours reveal such a shade underneath?
He would swallow them. She was right, he did wear rage so well, and it was not in rags that mirrored his literal attire- it was something much finer, more well kept in spite of his nature. Slovenly and unsubtle threats of harm had little in common with it, and that was where the games of cat and mouse, so calculated in their carelessness and infamous amongst the river daughters, would begin.
Shaking his head, he downed the thickness in his throat, the laughter bubbling from within it in response accentuating his voice with a ragged quality, the sound harsh instead of mirthful. "Why ever would you think I would, when you've been nothing but helpful?" He wasn't still as he spoke; he had his head turned to her, and he paced slightly to the left right; he would stop for a moment, in mock consideration of the idea.
"I take that back, it would seem I do." As he spoke the watery blood ran to his lips and into his mouth, its taste and consistency a parody of the rich fluid that ran in veins, bursting to get out- and yet he would still hunger for more of it. "And you know, I think it's steadily burrowing its way in deeper. If only it were annoying someone else- they might intend to ease it out, whereas I'd rather get over and done with and simply rip it out."
Thoughts of her beauty, shredded and mauled filled his mind. Ripped to pieces. His heart flickered in its beating for the briefest of moments, even quicker than the imagery itself which was almost instantaneously repressed.
Her blonde hair had been stained with blood, and it would not wash out.
"But don't you realise you're contradicting yourself, fish? You say it's a time for warmth and yet you douse me with frigid waters." His grin had by now softened into a smirk, the edges of a libertine and almost jeering nature. "Come upon land and you needn't be bothered by them being cold, and I might still be able to honour your loveliness."
Indeed, he'd be tempted to honour her with the brilliant crimson prints that would be left around her throat when he took her, her allure only a transparent cover for her wretched being, same as all the rest.
It seemed a beautiful thought.
