Chapter One: We all know, the Fire melts the Snow.
Summoner x Highblood ship! (Matesprit)
Rated T For Language and Blood.
-*-
The land stretched calmly under its new blanket. The softest "fabric" nature could ever conjure up. Simplicity and tranquility shot through whoever had seen it, but as you know, good things don't last forever. He could stand there and watch the snow shift between the trees as the wind blew it off gently, hadn't he been running from the one thing to ruin anything.
His heart pumped the brown blood quickly, as his wings fluttered as though they were on fire. The mere color of them would leave the allusion they had been. The thoughts that buzzed through his head were ones of disbelief and fear. He had never felt so... So defenseless. Winter had certainly not granted him best during brawls.
With no creature awake to aid him in running from the monstrous purple blooded beast, he fluttered hastily, the breath leaving him more times than he could count, if he had been required to. He hadn't dared turn back, in fear his horns will catch on a branch, or he'll run into a low hung tree. Sure, he has wings to fly and disappear into the sky, but escape around these parts, were anything but easy.
The thick woods surrounding them, only made his thoughts more ravenous and fearful, of the branches, of the beast following him, and the fear that he could be lost with this monster.
'Get a fucking hold of yourself, Nitram! For the sake of the fucking rebellion you led, MAN UP!'
Of course that was easy for anyone to say, had you a weapon or SOMETHING other than petty stones and branches, would certainly work "wonders" on the Highblood. Yeah, right. Child's theories. Makara had long took care of his weapon, snapping and twisting it to the point of no use; not even the tip had been sharp.
Twists and turns beckoned short cuts for the heaving purple tyrant. His breath ragged and manic. The only thing on his twisted, bloodlust filled mind, were the pretty wings he so desperately wanted to rip from that Faeries being. The way they glinted, and shined in whatever setting made his mind buzz with the light sound they made as the brown blood flew. He fucking hated it.
This time, Makara made sure to disarm him of everything. The sylladex he so carefully, quickly cut off his belt, slung across his broad shoulder. He cackled and cut through some trees as the Faerie turned, the club colliding with trees and bushes. Branches slicing and splinters causing him to bleed. Like that would stop him.
"I see no way in running... MY LITTLE FAERIE!"
The way he spoke, soft but menacing, then loud and fearful, was enough to put even the famed brown blood in fits of cold sweats at night. Makara had never seen Nitram weak, at any point of his meets with him, and even before that.
Yes, they had met multiple times. Not for what you may think, but the more you know...
It was a month prior to this event, and Makara had spoke to Dualscar for information on the rust blooded troll. A mutual feeling of curiosity, he says. All Makara found was he led the rebellion that was being 'secretly' formed right under his nose. The nonsense idiots spew. He had know for far too long the idiotic low bloods plot against his tyranny. As if the Grand Highblood feared a few low bloods and there minuscule weapons.
Never had Makara feared those imbeciles. Or anyone for that matter. Their meets had consisted of Nitram trying, pitifully, to have Makara change his mind so he wouldn't have to kill him in cold blood; explaining that there was no real... Intentions, of killing him. Nitram couldn't.
"What do you take me for, Nitram? ONE OF YOUR PATHETIC LOW BLOODS?"
"Do NOT disrespect my men! I swear, I'll not regret stabbing your pump right now." That's when he showed said lance and aimed it at his chest. Makara didn't give a shit what petty 'threats' Nitram had. He simply chuckled and leaned against the lance, the sharp tip pressed between his chest. He leaned over the lance inches from Nitrams face.
"I'd like to see you MOTHERFUCKIN TRY!"
But then... The meets got a bit personal, Nitram spoke of the conflicting feelings, and misinterpreted actions; he honestly didn't want any harm to come to Makara, let alone he be the one to cause it. Even though Makara was more of a rock when it came to them, as Nitram spoke of his feelings more and more often, Makara found himself with the curiosity that fueled his own thoughts.
The one thing Makara didn't want, for sure he knew, was a Matespritship. Those were for those who didn't care about the spontaneous way of the Red quadrant, 'DISGUSTING'. Always full of hate, Makara was, is, will always be. Nitram couldn't ever figure out why during their meets. The fact that Makara could never be more than a husk of a singular emotion, never knowing anything but pain, anger, and apathy. Nitram tried in their meets to change him, to find a way through his husk, to the heart he knows Makara has.
"I've nothing to hide. I DON'T EVEN HIDE THE PAINED SCREAMS OF THE WRIGGLERS I KILL."
"No... I know you aren't always like this! You may be whatever the Fuck those idiotic, drooling subfucks think of you as. But... But I think more of you, whether you want to see it or not! I want to-"
"/What would YOU POSSIBLY DO?!" He stormed from his bedside to the balcony, where the faerie stood. He stood frightful above Nitram, strength and dominance leave his eyes like daggers. "You could never do anything to change me. NOT EVEN THAT RIDICULOUS EXCUSE FOR A MOTHERFUCKIN REBELLION."
Nitram stared up at him. How had he figured that out? There must've been something to discover him so quickly. "I haven't an idea what your claiming."
/Don't act so MOTHERFUCKIN COY."
Nitram could barely feel his wings by the time he had turned again. His heaving and panting was loud and ragged; the taste of iron already at the back of his throat. He could still hear Makaras feet, loud and heavy against the snowed over pavement. How they got into this forest, he won't remember if he doesn't get out before Makara clobbers him.
Nitram got an idea and decided he'd put it to action. The next tree was rather large and it looked like it had space between its heavy snowed on leaves and branches, and his horns wouldn't be too much of a problem with a little maneuvering.
Right?
Makara watched as he sped ahead, the speed making his wings almost invisible. He grinned with admiration and hate. This new found fear he felt from Nitram was unlike any other he'd felt around him. It excited him. It made him needy, and he wanted him.
He slowed his pace to glance around, Nitram seemed to have poofed in thin air. This enraged the Highblood, for no one got off so easily. He stalked to the trees and bashed at their trunks, if he were hiding here, there'd be no escape; he'd make well sure of it.
The loud thudding disturbed him. Makara really had a set mind. He feared he'd be discovered.
'I can't let him find me...' Shifting across the branch to the trunk of the tree, he heard a laugh. Not a simple laugh that comes from hearing a funny joke, though. This was a near successful, and dominant laugh, and it made Nitram shake.
When he tried taking another step, the whirling sound of something fast and heavy broke the branch, the club colliding into wood right before his eyes.
"Ahhh!" He plummeted through the leaves and branches. The branches tearing at his clothes, his body and wings, his horns snapping other branches along the way. With a hard, almost hollow thud, he hit the ground. Writhing and gasping for the air that was knocked out, he heard that cackling again. This made him frantic and scared.
He saw him squirm, fighting gravity to get up and away from his inevitable fate.
"No way to run, Nitram." He stepped heavily over the fallen branches to him, causing Nitram to shuffle further across the ground. "CAN'T MOTHERFUCKIN HIDE NOW, CAN YA?"
"Shut the fuck up! Don't come any closer, Maka-"
"You've no right to say my name. I'VE TOLD YOU THIS BEFORE, FAERIE." He reached for his arm as Nitram jolted up and pulled him down. "Aww... DO YOU WANT YOUR LUSUS?"
"Let me go! Get off!" He struggled to free his arm from Makaras grip, but the thought seemed unlikely. The pulling of his elbow bone and his wrist... They popped slowly as he pulled away. His claws digging just under his skin. "Just... Just let me go..!"
He saw the fear in his eyes and he was eating it up as he pulled down harder on his arm. His tongue uncurling and his eyes narrow with dominance. In that 10-second frame, however, something made him change... The soft whimpering, the hard breathing, the frequent and fat brown tears streaming down his face.
He broke him.
He made Nitram feel the fear he claimed to never have known. The truth was too much and Nitram couldn't keep stalwart; he wasn't okay. His body went limp and defeated, sitting on the snow beneath him, the pain in his arm well visible. Makara noticed Nitram weakening before him. The solemn and defeat leaking, literally, from his eyes.
Makara didnt like it. Why didn't he like it? He yearned for this, and now...?
He sat there, knowing the Highbloods gaze was fixed on him. He just wanted this to be over, for him to end it so he wouldn't be a complete disgrace to his people; he failed them. He mentally beat himself up over the fact he'd shown this level of defeat, especially to Makara. Nitram was a leader. A role model. A hero to the low bloods. Now, he's a lump of fear, defeat, sadness and anger. Not even capable to lead himself from this beast... Not from the very start had he gotten even a /bit/ of fucking courage to end him before this started. Before any of it had.
He hadn't felt his blood pusher stop and wondered why he hadn't died yet, but still too scared to see why. Makara simply stared at him, the voices that screamed for Nitrams death no longer wished it. He was confused, he was so close and now... Now it was gone. He had loosened his grip, and moved his hands to Nitrams. He held them hesitantly, in fear Nitram would escape. But he didn't. By now, the sniffling had calmed and his breathing was a bit normal, but the tears were still making its way to the snow below. His shirt was torn the same as his wings; the same as his spirit, and Makara hated it.
"What good is a toy that gets old...?"
"... What...?"
"I... I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU LIKE THIS. It's motherfuckin embarrassing."
The seriousness melted to something sweeter; bitter sweet, and Nitram couldn't tell why. He sneered snatching his hands from Makaras.
"You didn't care early this month how I fucking felt! Don't try and help yourself for my sake."
He looked at his empty hands and felt a twinge of fear. Highblood? Fear? What could be the cause of this new emotion?
"DON'T TAKE YOUR FUCKING HANDS FROM MINE. If I feel like holding you... YOU'LL MOTHERFUCKIN LET ME." He grabbed for his arms and brought him to his face. "Understand... FAERIE?"
"... Go to hell..." He knew this wasn't going to last. Makara would surely snap him in half. He was surprised when he hadn't felt the hot rush of blood surging through the cracked bones under his skin, and instead, found the pleasant cold pressed against his lips.
He didn't like it. It was almost like kissing death itself. He panicked and tried pushing away from Makara, to no avail. Makara had full force on his arms, making true he wouldn't let him go. The only thing Nitram could think of was, 'to just give in.'
It's funny how things had changed so suddenly... The leader of the famed rebellion, weak to his knees because of a kiss. The Grand Highblood, succumbed to kissing this fool. Though both were kissing back, it felt surreal, not true, a dream; considering those two. You could say there was a hatred in the kiss, a disgusting and dirty truth.
But neither of them moved for a while. Still held in each others embrace, heated bodies warming each other in the cold. The tears had stopped long after and so did the voices, all because of the kiss that changed who they were to each other.
The color rising in there cheeks, the small pants and moans... They were enjoying their little make out, but Makara pulled away in realization. The bright purple laced his cheeks like a thick fabric, Nitram looking similar with his light bronzed cheeks.
"I..."
"..." Nitram couldn't say anything, though his mind was racing with thoughts of asking for a Matespritship, even a Moirailigence. But something in how Makara spoke, told the complete opposite and it frightened him.
"I have to go... DON'T YOU FUCKING FOLLOW ME. I... I'll kill you..." Makara got up to leave Nitram the way he was, bloodied, winded, powerless, lost. Nitram was filled with hatred. He was used, for the ever seemingly long moment they just had, and was now being treated like a poor wife, up and left because Makara wasn't satisfied.
"Makara! What the fuck? Why would... Why would you just leave?! Explain yourself!" Nitram crawled hastily to Makara, thin lines of brown blood spilling from the cuts and tears along his body and wings, more than determined to get some things straight.
"I've nothing to explain, Nitram. STOP FOLLOWING ME YOU WYRM*." He blinked his eyes tightly and continued to walk, a bit quicker each second. He couldn't stay. What had he just done? Had he confused him? 'I... Just wanted him to be happy...'
{{A/N:: *Wyrm is a term for a 'worm' like creature in Final Fantasy I think x3}}
"Tell me why you kissed me!" He picked himself up and limped to Makaras side, grabbing his shoulder and turning him face-to-face.
"You must have a really HARD MOTHERFUCKIN TIME HEARING. Get off me, Nitram. OR SO HELP M-"
"Maybe if you let me help you, we'd GET somewhere!"
"Im a motherfuckin monster... IF YOU HADNT DAMN WELL NOTICED!" He pointed to Nitrams arm and wings, snarling. His face softened and he shook his head, turning away from him. "I... Don't know why I kissed you. ALRIGHT?"
"..." He looked himself over and half lidded his eyes. He had been damaged, bruised and worn out... But it didn't mean he would just leave the one person who had meant much more to him. Oh? Mindfang, you ask? ... Let's just say Nitram regrets it terribly. Right here and now, though, Nitram knew it was now, or NEVER.
"Makara..."
"I DON'T -"
Nitram was so glad he had shut him up. His own cold lips pressed against Makaras, hands entwined behind his head, keeping himself up against him.
Makara couldn't process this quick enough and he stood completely awe-struck, confused and nervous. He felt how serious Nitram was, making him wonder himself if all of this Quadrant business was a game, reality. A nightmare even. He couldn't, wait no, /wouldn't process this. He just let it happen, giving in, he wrapped his arms around Nitram and helped him up as well, the soft grunt from Nitram shocked him and he pulled away, Nitrams knee bending slightly.
"We... should get back..." He blushed lightly as Nitram leaned against him, his knee not exactly helping him stand.
"... We should." He smiled up at Makara, causing both Trolls to equally and similarly blush.
[ Short and not as detailed ending, i know... (Sue me) but writers block is such a good guest! Seriously! If you ever need to finish a chap/story and don't know how to end, WRITERS BLOCK will be there to help! *raaaaage*]