He stood watching her from the corner of his eye. Uncertain as he was with why she drew him with her but did not speak, he still found that he loved being around her. It felt...
He didn't know how it felt, but it wasn't bad. He didn't think it was bad.
And then she finally turned around and addressed him. For the first time since they were brought into this existence, she addressed him. It was difficult not to smile at the fact.
He took her words as invitation, and sat down beside her, dropping his legs over the edge the way she did. But he didn't sit too close.
Staring down into the forming world, he said shortly, "You draw me. It is not the other way around. Darkness does not need Night."
He left the rest, "Night needs Darkness," unspoken. She didn't seem to want to hear that.
Nyx's face registered intense displeasure at his assertion that she was drawing him. She didn't want him there at all! She wanted to... dance, she was certain of that, and think about the universe, and be quiet, and allow riotousness to burgeon and climax and fade out within her. He didn't need her? And what did that mean? That she needed him?
At the same time, his proximity affected her somehow; made her aware of many more things than she seemed to be when he wasn't close. He wasn't looking at her, and she found she didn't like that either, and she didn't like that she didn't like it.
This was all very disconcerting.
"Why in the Universe would I draw you?" she frowned.
"I don't need you. I'm just trying to go about my business," she said almost haughtily.
Erebos said nothing at her assertion. He checked his fingernails, then dropped his hands back into his lap.
Perhaps she was right. But he remembered his mother’s words, a scant breath before he rose from where he was created, a scant breath before Nyx herself was spun into this new life - “This one will be for you. And you are for her. You will not separate from her, nor she from you. You need each other. Do not forget it.”
Perhaps it was she whom he needed after all. Determined to test this, he leaned back on his hands, and stared up into the ether.
"As you say," he commented. And then he started drawing away from everywhere that he had been, allowing light and brightness to pervade every part of the forming world, and every part of the rest of existence. He sat like a black hole on the edge of the world, his entire being turning dark with the power he withheld.
Standing from the edge, he began to walk away from her, stoically ignoring the strong pull he felt from her. "Carry on," he said over his shoulder.
She felt his withdrawal, and blinked, content for a moment. This light, this brightness, felt foreign and strange to her, produced only by his absence. Khaos had created her, but time had arranged her, and all the things inside of her refused to come out in such a cruel open space. She watched him go, taking his Darkness with him, incarnating it in his black form
( ... )
He felt a pang of ... how to name it ... when she frowned at him. He heard how he sounded and he didn't mean to sound like that, he really didn't, but she was pushing him and he...
But before he could finish making excuses in his head, she was moving away, and something crinkled up inside him and shuddered. Why did she have to do that?
Again, before he could find an answer in his head, she was speaking again. This time, her words were laced with lightbursts of jealousy.
Jealousy? Yes, he was certain that she was jealous.... but over Mother?! He cast a glare over toward Nyx. First she hated him. Then she worried over him. And now she was jealous of their own mother?!
He said nothing to her after that. He just scowled down into the world, moving jerkily over the land when he needed to, shadowing and darkening and covering and lifting. All the while, he scowled.
And then he glared at her. Glared. At her. And he scowled. Scowled!
The expression, and the silence, that dreadful, empty, unknown silence, cut her to the quick. She resented that cut, and the way it made her feel, so very much!
She rose from where she sat. His essence would be everywhere she was, and that was well enough. But they had these bodies, too, and his body was what could make a face at her, what could be cross with her. If she were on earth, he would be there, but at least it wouldn't matter if he were being cold.
And why should it matter anyway? She couldn't allow that thought to trouble her. No. Not at all.
"Well, I should like to go down to the world and get some work done. Then you won't have to suffer my presence."
Her frown deepened as he turned away from her, and yet she remained for a moment - just a moment - after he did so. He was maddening, was what he was! God of Maddening Silences and Coldness
( ... )
And then he quite easily broke away from her grasp, only to wrap his arms up around her in an undeniable embrace.... but he wasn't done yet. Oh no.
He threw himself (and Nyx) into the ocean, releasing her as soon as they were underwater, and then surfacing quickly and returning to the beach... Then he started running, and fast, and hard, down the shoreline.
Nyx didn't have time to squeal or shriek as she might have, or to enjoy having his arms around her, which was undeniably... nice. The true word for it couldn't exist yet, and given more time, she'd have thought of one, but then she was underwater, out of his arms, and shooting up to the surface
( ... )
He felt her gaining on him, and then her wings cast their shadow over him... He braced himself just in time, and then they both went down onto the sand in a heap of wet deity mirth.
Dramatically, he spread his arms out wide and dropped his head to the side, in a pose of exhausted surrender.
"I was a fool," he cried, "A fool to have ever believed I could get away with it!"
He'd have done anything to see her smile like that. At him.
Nyx nodded sagely, graciously accepting his concession, but not moving. No need for that just yet.
"It's all right," she reassured him. "But let's note it for the future."
Having enjoyed her victory, she collapsed forward, her face not very far from his own, her hands on his shoulders, her forearms on his chest. Her wings folded up and neatly disappeared, and now they were touching. And this was Good.
"You mustn't ever look at me badly again," her tone was quite serious. "I don't like it at all."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was a struggle, a true struggle, not to tell her to shove off, after that. He felt...
It wasn't good, whatever it was. It turned his stomach into rock and it tainted the pleasure he had found with her a few breaths ago. She did not like him. She spoke with him only because he was the only one available.
When The Others came -- and there would be others, he knew -- would she want to kiss with them, too? He realized he would have to watch that, for wherever she went, he was there too. The thought of it was nearly enough for him to push her off his body and leave, just leave, without a word.
But after another fight with himself (because he seemed to understand that if he messed up this time with her, there may not be another time for a while), he dropped his hands from her face and did his best not to make his words cold when they came out.
Young Nyx blinked twice, and a hot blush suffused her cheeks.
"Oh," she said softly. She looked away from his face, suddenly very aware of how close they were, and that He was troubled - hurt? - and that she had made him so. She felt... like her chest was constricting, and that her insides had dropped out. Ashamed, she was sure. Should she not have kissed him?
Lightly, softly, she slid off of him, to the side, still close enough to touch, but respectful of any space he might want. She looked at him, lying on her side.
"I didn't mean to," she said. "I mean, you wouldn't talk to me. Or smile at me. And you kept being there, because I made you, I suppose, but you didn't seem to like me. And... I don't know. It seemed like I should be able to be alone, but I wasn't."
There was a pause. She wasn't sure that she was even making sense to him.
"I don't dislike you now, though, if I ever really did," she said in a very small voice.
The hand that she could not see, the hand that was on the opposite side of her, dug deep into the sand. He did not want her to leave. And there was... pain? Pain in her voice, and pain in her eyes, and he could not abide it.
Against his better judgment, he turned to her after a moment, the struggle within manifesting in his expression. It was new to see Erebos looking ... upset ... when typically he was as cool and unemotional.
"You cannot be without me," he said, not really wanting to say it. "I am sorry for that." It came out bitter.
But then she said...
He looked at her sharply. "You say you do *not* dislike me?" he asked. He had heard her the first time, but he wanted to hear her say it again. And he wanted to hear her say it again while he was glaring at her.
When he looked at her, and she saw feelings on his face, not-so-very-good feelings, that she knew she had put there, she tensed and looked down at the sand, burying the fingers of her free hand deep in it. That she wanted... had wanted? to be alone had hurt him. And she wanted to touch him, because she was certain that it would make him feel better, because she didn't want to be alone now - not if it meant she had to be without him.
But then he spoke again, and repeated what she'd said about not disliking him, and she looked back up at him.
He was looking at her like that again. Glaring at her. And she most definitely did not like that. She frowned at him unconsciously, and looked down at the sand again.
"Of course I don't dislike you," she mumbled. Her voice was a bit clearer and firmer when she said, "but I don't like it when you look at me badly. I asked you not to. Nicely."
He let out a long, slow hiss when her mouth started exploring his body, following the path her fingers had left before. Burying his hand in her hair, he gently drew her closer. He loved to feel her against him, but those whisper-kisses were maddening. If he were to feel, he wanted to truly feel, and she must recognize this.
She called him 'beautiful' but that word seemed better reserved for her. He couldn't fit it to himself. And he couldn't understand why he was wearing a shirt. Shirt? He didn't want a shirt!
He thought shirts were stupid. Especially when you were around Nyx. A Nyx who wanted to pet you and tease you and kiss you...
... and then he wasn't wearing his shirt anymore, and it was better like this... and he could feel her more, the warmth of her body, and the softness of her palms...
"I want to go wherever you do," he said, between breaths. It was the first thing he'd ever said that even hinted at the way he felt inside about her.
They were closer, still closer, than they'd ever been before, and the hiss of air he released made her smile against his flesh. He wanted more, she was sure of it, and then his shirt was gone, and she smiled again
( ... )
Comments 56
He didn't know how it felt, but it wasn't bad. He didn't think it was bad.
And then she finally turned around and addressed him. For the first time since they were brought into this existence, she addressed him. It was difficult not to smile at the fact.
He took her words as invitation, and sat down beside her, dropping his legs over the edge the way she did. But he didn't sit too close.
Staring down into the forming world, he said shortly, "You draw me. It is not the other way around. Darkness does not need Night."
He left the rest, "Night needs Darkness," unspoken. She didn't seem to want to hear that.
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At the same time, his proximity affected her somehow; made her aware of many more things than she seemed to be when he wasn't close. He wasn't looking at her, and she found she didn't like that either, and she didn't like that she didn't like it.
This was all very disconcerting.
"Why in the Universe would I draw you?" she frowned.
"I don't need you. I'm just trying to go about my business," she said almost haughtily.
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Perhaps she was right. But he remembered his mother’s words, a scant breath before he rose from where he was created, a scant breath before Nyx herself was spun into this new life - “This one will be for you. And you are for her. You will not separate from her, nor she from you. You need each other. Do not forget it.”
Perhaps it was she whom he needed after all. Determined to test this, he leaned back on his hands, and stared up into the ether.
"As you say," he commented. And then he started drawing away from everywhere that he had been, allowing light and brightness to pervade every part of the forming world, and every part of the rest of existence. He sat like a black hole on the edge of the world, his entire being turning dark with the power he withheld.
Standing from the edge, he began to walk away from her, stoically ignoring the strong pull he felt from her. "Carry on," he said over his shoulder.
And walked.
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But before he could finish making excuses in his head, she was moving away, and something crinkled up inside him and shuddered. Why did she have to do that?
Again, before he could find an answer in his head, she was speaking again. This time, her words were laced with lightbursts of jealousy.
Jealousy? Yes, he was certain that she was jealous.... but over Mother?! He cast a glare over toward Nyx. First she hated him. Then she worried over him. And now she was jealous of their own mother?!
He said nothing to her after that. He just scowled down into the world, moving jerkily over the land when he needed to, shadowing and darkening and covering and lifting. All the while, he scowled.
He didn't understand Nyx at all!
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The expression, and the silence, that dreadful, empty, unknown silence, cut her to the quick. She resented that cut, and the way it made her feel, so very much!
She rose from where she sat. His essence would be everywhere she was, and that was well enough. But they had these bodies, too, and his body was what could make a face at her, what could be cross with her. If she were on earth, he would be there, but at least it wouldn't matter if he were being cold.
And why should it matter anyway? She couldn't allow that thought to trouble her. No. Not at all.
"Well, I should like to go down to the world and get some work done. Then you won't have to suffer my presence."
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He looked in the other direction, out toward the vast stretch of sky. Away from Night. He scowled again, but she wouldn't have seen it this time.
He was well aware that he was acting foolish, but he couldn't make himself stop.
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"Don't mind if I do!"
And then he quite easily broke away from her grasp, only to wrap his arms up around her in an undeniable embrace.... but he wasn't done yet. Oh no.
He threw himself (and Nyx) into the ocean, releasing her as soon as they were underwater, and then surfacing quickly and returning to the beach... Then he started running, and fast, and hard, down the shoreline.
Just let her catch him, HA!
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Dramatically, he spread his arms out wide and dropped his head to the side, in a pose of exhausted surrender.
"I was a fool," he cried, "A fool to have ever believed I could get away with it!"
He'd have done anything to see her smile like that. At him.
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"It's all right," she reassured him. "But let's note it for the future."
Having enjoyed her victory, she collapsed forward, her face not very far from his own, her hands on his shoulders, her forearms on his chest. Her wings folded up and neatly disappeared, and now they were touching. And this was Good.
"You mustn't ever look at me badly again," her tone was quite serious. "I don't like it at all."
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It wasn't good, whatever it was. It turned his stomach into rock and it tainted the pleasure he had found with her a few breaths ago. She did not like him. She spoke with him only because he was the only one available.
When The Others came -- and there would be others, he knew -- would she want to kiss with them, too? He realized he would have to watch that, for wherever she went, he was there too. The thought of it was nearly enough for him to push her off his body and leave, just leave, without a word.
But after another fight with himself (because he seemed to understand that if he messed up this time with her, there may not be another time for a while), he dropped his hands from her face and did his best not to make his words cold when they came out.
"You dislike me."
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"Oh," she said softly. She looked away from his face, suddenly very aware of how close they were, and that He was troubled - hurt? - and that she had made him so. She felt... like her chest was constricting, and that her insides had dropped out. Ashamed, she was sure. Should she not have kissed him?
Lightly, softly, she slid off of him, to the side, still close enough to touch, but respectful of any space he might want. She looked at him, lying on her side.
"I didn't mean to," she said. "I mean, you wouldn't talk to me. Or smile at me. And you kept being there, because I made you, I suppose, but you didn't seem to like me. And... I don't know. It seemed like I should be able to be alone, but I wasn't."
There was a pause. She wasn't sure that she was even making sense to him.
"I don't dislike you now, though, if I ever really did," she said in a very small voice.
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Against his better judgment, he turned to her after a moment, the struggle within manifesting in his expression. It was new to see Erebos looking ... upset ... when typically he was as cool and unemotional.
"You cannot be without me," he said, not really wanting to say it. "I am sorry for that." It came out bitter.
But then she said...
He looked at her sharply. "You say you do *not* dislike me?" he asked. He had heard her the first time, but he wanted to hear her say it again. And he wanted to hear her say it again while he was glaring at her.
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But then he spoke again, and repeated what she'd said about not disliking him, and she looked back up at him.
He was looking at her like that again. Glaring at her. And she most definitely did not like that. She frowned at him unconsciously, and looked down at the sand again.
"Of course I don't dislike you," she mumbled. Her voice was a bit clearer and firmer when she said, "but I don't like it when you look at me badly. I asked you not to. Nicely."
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She called him 'beautiful' but that word seemed better reserved for her. He couldn't fit it to himself. And he couldn't understand why he was wearing a shirt. Shirt? He didn't want a shirt!
He thought shirts were stupid. Especially when you were around Nyx. A Nyx who wanted to pet you and tease you and kiss you...
... and then he wasn't wearing his shirt anymore, and it was better like this... and he could feel her more, the warmth of her body, and the softness of her palms...
"I want to go wherever you do," he said, between breaths. It was the first thing he'd ever said that even hinted at the way he felt inside about her.
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