welcome to your new hell, Welcome to the Menagerie. Or as we like to call it, Dome Sweet Dome! We are an eight-year strong futuristic shapeshifter and sci-fi creature roleplay, dedicated to bringing you a world unlike any other; a world in which your character has become an experiment and must fight for survival in a domed city, cut off from the rest of the world. Choose to be any animal in your fight for survival in an artificial world built by the Keepers as they subject you to experiments beyond your control. Choose to wander the world inside the walls alone, as a Rogue, or find safety in numbers in one of the groups known as Rings. How will you survive?
60 - 65 ºF
blustery with scattered showers spotty sunshine
YEAR 2309
shift bans.
» Cougars (aka Puma, Mountain Lion, Panther)
» All Tiger Species
» All Lion Species
» All Wolf Species
» African Leopards
group bans.
none.
encouraged !
FEMALE CHARACTERS! create a RETRO or ANTHRO and get 250 CP + a free skill! read me for more info!
last updated: april 19th, 2016
Click on each Ring or Retro group image to view their ranks!
GROUP UPDATES
CARNARING
Jocelyn Edelwolfe is the new Alpha! Seija Mulviene is the new Beta, and Grey is the new Delta. Lead Hunter is now Boone Haywood, Head of Border Patrol is now Noelle Ndango!
FALLENRING
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FULSIRING
Fulsi has a standing treaty with the Nakoma, granting limited access to their fresh water.
NAKOMA TRIBE
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ANALOYA PRIDE
a while back, the Analoya suffered a suspicious poisoning of their river, luckily with few casualties; the Bellator are suspected of having taken part in it, and there are whispers that Pride leader Wanderer is talking alliance with the Nilda for access to their clean water.
BELLATOR HERD
As new leader of the Bellator, Loril has instituted some rank changes. See this thread for more information!
LAWAII FLOCK
no updates!
NILDA PACK
no updates!
CARNARING QUICK STATS
ALPHA -- Jocelyn Edelwolfe, Clouded Leopard, played by IronChild
BETA -- Seija Mulviene, Spotted Hyena, played by Seija-chan
DELTA --Grey, Mackenzie Valley Wolf, played by Kriss
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The train carriage was dark and mostly empty, save the shifter girl lying on the bed. It was midday but after a night of trekking through the wilderness and hunting for food, the Fallen girl deserved her rest. The bed was a simply a thin mattress – which she’d been lucky to find at all – in the corner with one sheet for warmth and a jacket folded up as a pillow. It was all she would ever get but at least she had something. The peasant life was new for the girl, who had been brought up a princess in France, but she had adjusted relatively well in the past few years. The Menagerie was her new kingdom after all and here everyone was equal in their shares when they started out. Each creature had to gain his or her wealth on merit and skill only and wealth was never in the form of money. Possession were power; clothes, water, food, weapons. Friends were weakness. Perhaps that was why she was alone in her little carriage; the girl hadn’t exactly made an abundance of friends during her time. Yes, she was charismatic and probably had the capability, but she knew what it was like to trust. Any enemy could use it against her.
A sudden banging against the door shook the entire carriage and Queenie awoke with a start. “This had better be good!” She yelled out, sitting up and quickly putting on her jacket and boots. ”Carna at the border, we need backup,” the voice called back. It was male but Queenie didn’t recognise it. As soon as she heard the message, her pace quickened and she was up and out of the train in no time at all, grabbing her knife as she went. The messenger was already running off into the distance.
Shifting into her more agile form, the wolf ran across the sands towards the Fallen and Carna border, where she knew the action would be. Carna were stupid if they thought they could succeed at whatever they were trying to do. Perhaps it was a simple raid, but at least now Fallen knew their scouts were doing a good job if an alert had been posted so quickly. Queenie hadn’t been fully rested and as a result she was still relatively fatigued. The girl tapped into her energy reserves, forcing her legs forward, determined to reach her comrades before anyone was seriously hurt.
There were a small number of hunters and scouts already in the fray, but Carna seemed to be more heavily numbered. As Queenie approached she let out a loud howl, alerting everyone to her presence; it was both a warning for the Carna and an encouragement for the Fallen. One particular Carna caught her eye; a lanky blonde woman. She was currently sparring with a Fallen, but she had a companion helping. Running up, Queenie snarled a challenge at the girl. “Two against one is hardly fair,” she growled, raising her head to glare at the Carna. The Carna made no response other than to turn her attention to Queenie and lunge.
Queenie jumped back, turned around and headed across the fence line, out further into desert area. A quick glance behind her revealed the blonde girl followed. She thought she could sense another enemy nearby but Queenie’s focus was purely on the blonde. If they were fighting deeper in the desert, she would have the home field advantage and that was exactly what she wanted. So after a solid minute of sprinting, during which the blonde had shifted into coyote form, Queenie skidded to a halt and spun around.
Both creatures growled warnings at the other before the coyote sprinted forwards. Queenie was still panting from her run and she managed to move so that the coyote only caught her front leg. The creature bit down and Queenie yelped in pain, feeling blood fall from the torn skin. Snarling, she knocked her head sideways against the Carna’s causing them both to tumble onto their sides. The Carna lost her grip and Queenie promptly bit down on the coyote’s neck. Her hold was broken as the coyote scratched at Queenie’s side and she was forced to release and retreat.
Breathing heavily, they eyed each other, trying to work out their partner’s next move. Once again the Carna made the first move, lunging forwards. This time Queenie was ready and dodge to the left, turning to sink her teeth into the coyote’s neck again. This time she bit down hard and held her grip, even as she felt sharp pains from scratches in her side. As a predator would, Queenie shook her prey until she felt its breathing come to a halt and its body go limp. Dropping the Carna, Queenie was about to run back when a figure caught her eye. Turning, she saw a man who seemed to appear out of thin air. Her breath caught in her throat and she found herself unable to move. Her wounds continued to throb, blood staining her already intricately coloured pelt. She wanted to turn and lick them but all she could do was continue to stare at the figure before her.
OOC: I did the thing mo money! I suspect Domino won't recognise her because of her mutations? So it'll be interesting... lemme know if you want me to make changes, coz I wasn't entirely sure how to start this with Queenie and get Domino into it...
Last Edit: May 31, 2016 11:19:03 GMT -5 by mo money
twenty-three - arctic wolf + bumblebee mutation - fallen hunter - straight - still in love with her ex
The air was thick and hot, heavy with blood and sweat--but he didn't mind much. He kept his eyes and every muscle trained on the Fallen in front of him, knuckles white and tight around the hilt of a knife. The way he held it spoke of skill, but his eyes were red and rimmed, lips pulled tight over his teeth in a snarl. Afraid, then. Dominic waited him out, a stoic mass of muscle and bone with dark eyes that only challenged. His own lips were pressed into an inexpressive line, eyes narrowed with concentration--pupils dilated with adrenaline so that his eyes appeared black. They brought him along because he looked the part of the big, bad Carna. That and he could break through defenses fairly well. A howl rang out, and a clamber of noise followed as reinforcements arrived. Damn. The Carna raid party had been surprised by a Fallen patrol, and it looked as though they'd sent for reinforcements. Dominic had just about given this guy enough time to do something--though only a matter of seconds had passed--his grip tightening around the handle of his hammer.
The man moved then, just a twitch of his fingers and the beginnings of a step--Dominic lunged, swung his arm back and over his shoulder and brought it down hard. A mist of blood splattered his face as his hammer connected with the Fallen's skull, and he thought it might cool his face a bit as the wind kicked up. But the blood was warm and sticky, providing no relief. He sighed and watched as the Fallen man stumbled blindly forward, dazed by the blow, reaching out to Dominic as if to keep himself from falling; a step to the side and Dominic watched for a brief moment as the man crumpled to the ground beside two more of his comrade's bodies Dominic had already taken down. A glance was all he gave the man to ensure he was well and truly grounded, and moved on to the next target. His eyes flickered around the frenzied scene, gauging where he was needed most.
Angus and Agnes were fine, the duo of fox shifters darting in and out and taunting their prey. His eyes skimmed over Erin and Laurence, also teaming up against a Fallen. And then there was Benni and Tamra, fighting side by side against a literal swarm of Fallen. Dominic let out a shrill whistle, signaling his fellow Scouts. Benni, who was sparring with a Fallen nodded, but did not break combat. Tamra just kept fighting but he could read her body language and knew she was listening for him. Dominic set his jaw and rolled his shoulders, dropped his hammer and in one quick lunge hit the ground running as a ram. Cloven hooves dug into the cracked, parched desert earth and he gained speed and momentum until his legs seemed to move beneath him in a seamless blur. His breath came in short, hard chuffs from his nostrils. But even above the roar of battle and adrenaline, he could hear his father's words echoing in his skull. You are not the prey. They are the prey. They think you weak, because you have not claw nor fang. Another breath, another step, and he lowered his head. But you are stronger. They are weak. He let out a short, sharp bleat and Tamra and Benni each stepped to the side, and a second later Dominic exploded through the small gap his Carna had left. Crush them. Head lowered, curled horns gleaming, painted with blood and ash as they connected with a woman's ribcage. Break them. The shattering of bones met his ears but he did not stop, tucking his forelegs as he rose up on his hindquarters, bringing his heavy head swiftly down upon the next Fallen. His horns collided with a head this time, and another body hit the ground, stunned.
Break them.
A woman was screaming, running at him with an axe. Dominic turned, lowered his head and prepared to charge again--but she fell flat to the ground before she reached him, Tamra's knife planted in her back. Tamra took to the skies, darting back into the fray as a falcon--Benni followed suit, trotting briskly forward as a boar, tusks glinting red in the hazy afternoon light. Dominic turned as a Hunter, Turner, loped up and tossed Dominic the sledgehammer he'd dropped. Dom shifted, fluidly catching his weapon with an outstretched hand. "Jackie's dead, wolf got her. I got hit pretty bad, can't fight. Should I go for reinforcements?" Dominic eyed the Hunter, who was clutching his right arm against his side. It was obviously cut up pretty bad. Dominic gave him a curt nod, simultaneously turning on heel to survey the fight. He felt uncomfortable giving the orders. But they were without leaders, and decisions had to be made. Manic and Crash dead. Even Adison missing.
No time to think, though. Only to fight.
He could feel eyes on him, as if they were burning into his skin. He turned, eyes connected with those of a strangely colored wolf. Black and yellow, like a bumble bee. He assessed it, noting the blood dripping from its maw, and the blood oozing from its wounds. Easy target. He hefted his sledgehammer and charged, quickly closing the gap between he and his prey.
Evkav I DID THE THING let me know if okay LOL ik half the post isn't even about her omg ;3; isorry
The entire world seemed to pause as Queenie kept her eyes fixed on the dark figure before her. He had barely changed in appearance save the marks of hard times across his face. He seemed more stoic than he used to and he was clearly built for war now. A Carna. He was a Carna. Every inch of Queenie knew they were the enemy; she had to kill the Carna. But there was a part of her that knew she was incapable of killing the man in front of her. For some reason it didn’t quite click in her mind that he wouldn’t recognise her. She was still a wolf, but of course her pelt had changed so dramatically. And she held herself a little differently. Her years of keeping herself high and straight had worn away in respect for her own Fallen leaders. She was no longer a princess and he was no longer her prince. Then again, Dominic had never been her prince. He had stolen her away in every sense of the word and she had put up no fight. She was Cleo then, but she was Cleo no more.
When their eyes connected, she felt her heart pause for a moment. They were the same eyes; there was no denying such a fact. Her head raised slightly and she made a soft whimpering noise, trying to soothe him. Of course that wouldn’t work though. He didn’t know who she was and all Dominic was interested in was the fact that he needed to kill her. The coyote’s body still lay off to the side and Queenie could still taste its blood on her tongue. She was a murdered, but so was he. There had been casualties on both sides but Carna had started it. It was a childish notion but Queenie felt she had a right to think it. Fallen were simply defending themselves; Carna were the real killers. And Dominic was one of them.
Before she had a chance to speak she saw hammer raise and he was speeding towards her. Eyes widened, the wolf took a few steps backwards before shifting back. Holding her hands up in front of her – a sort of surrendering notion – and continuing to run backwards, she stumbled and found herself on the ground. “Dominic no!” The girl screamed, her eyes closing, ready for impact. “C’est moi! C’est moi!” One hand stayed in front of herself while the other reached into her boot and secured itself on the hilt of her knife. Her heart was pounding as she prepared for the attack, while she silently readied herself for retaliation. She didn’t want to have to fight him, but he was leaving her with no choice. Her whole body ached for him to stop his attack, to recognise her, to embrace her. But she knew they had both changed. She loved him still, there was no doubt in her mind of that. He was Carna though. That made for more complications than she thought she could handle. Besides, there was the chance he murdered her now, his love for her consumed by his Carna conditioning. “C’est moi,” she whispered one final time, before she snapped her eyes open, prepared for the worst.
Translations | C'est moi = It's me
OOC | such drama. wow. much sad. it'd be so awkward if he killed her though... poor babies <3
twenty-three - arctic wolf + bumblebee mutation - fallen hunter - straight - still in love with her ex
He thought he heard the Fallen wolf whine, but in the din of battle and wind he couldn’t be sure; but it wasn’t as if it mattered. He had been trained since youth to take down any and all threats, and the Carna had only repeated what his father had ingrained in him long ago. He was efficient, not a killing machine per se but rather a means to stun or knock out opponents quickly and skillfully; being the literal battering ram that he was, he was good at his job. Even if the wolf whined and begged for mercy he would still have knocked it out, to ensure it did not pose a threat to anyone else in his Ring.
So he raised his hammer and was almost upon the wolf when it shifted into a young blond woman who stumbled backward. He was upon her, just a foot away, his weapon held aloft and ready to strike down when she screamed his name. The sound of her voice more than what she’d said brought him to a skidding halt, his feet kicking up dirt and dust as he pulled up just short of her. He knew that voice, though he had heard such terror in it only once; the day he’d been captured.
C’est moi! C’est moi!
She spoke in fear and terror, as if he would not recognize her. His fingers flexed around the shaft of the hammer as he stared down at her, breaths coming in heaving but silent pants. His eyes skimmed over the features of her face, taking her in. Every inch of it familiar, every soft line and angle he knew so well—how could he forget her?
Cleo.
She was still holding her hand out to stop him, as if he would hurt her. His face, though splattered with blood and marred with an oozing cut bespoke nothing as he watched her. He tucked the hammer into his back belt loop and slowly lowered himself into a crouch before her. His lips moved as if he were going to speak but no whisper of sound escaped. What could he say to her, after all this time? The sudden realization that they who had been bound to each other body and soul were now supposed to be enemies. His lips hung slightly parted as he slowly reached a blood-spattered hand out to her, as if he were some wild creature who had known no touch before. It was a cautious, curious reach that tremored slightly; but then his eyes darted down to the subtle movement at her ankle and he saw the hilt of a blade.
His outstretched hand snaked down to her wrist, fingers digging into her skin as he grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm up and away from the weapon; a low grunt of warning rumbled in his chest as he ripped the blade from its hiding spot and tossed it away. His eyes did not leave hers even as the blade thunked into the sand a few yards away, but his grip slowly slackened around her wrist until his fingers were a feather light touch as he trailed down the bottom of her forearm to her palm, slowly twining his fingers with hers. His lips parted again, as if to speak—but just then he heard the familiar coughing roar of a leopard, and the sharp scree of Tamra’s reply as the Carna reinforcements arrived. Turner had done his job, then, and must have managed to find a returning hunting party near the border to have arrived so quickly.
Dominic’s grip tightened instinctively around Cleo’s hand and a brief flash of worry creased his brow. He licked his lips as he tried to decide what to do. His eyes darted to some scattered buildings on the outskirts of the border about 100 yards away, just beyond Cleo's shoulder. “Run,” he said, his voice coming out in a gravelly rasp. He hadn’t spoken more than a few words in as many months. He jerked his chin towards the buildings before grabbing her wrist and hauling her to her feet. “Run.” He repeated, giving her a rough shove towards the buildings, keeping himself squarely between Cleo and the onslaught of Carna as he pursued her.
Evkav I hope the minimal PP is okay? let me know if it isn't and I can change!
Last Edit: Jan 9, 2015 21:08:20 GMT -5 by mo money
There was no point in trying to reason with the man, she thought, her eyes locking on his. They were dark and almost unrecognisable, though she thought she saw a flicker of the man she once knew. Then his hand was on hers, and Queenie forced her face into a cold glare as she felt the pain. She wanted to tell him he was hurting her but she knew better. This wasn’t Dominic; not anymore. This man was a Carna and therefore the enemy and she was letting him just toss her only weapon away. But surely he didn’t really want to hurt her? His hammer would’ve connected with her skull if he really wanted her dead. So he didn’t trust her then. And why should he? She was his enemy too and his was a natural reaction for a born fighter. But he was a prince too and his composure was less than pleasant. He had been so charming when they had first met. Now it was as if she was meeting an entirely different person for the very first time. Was it like that for him then? Queenie’s mind was running too much, her breath still rapid as she stared into his dark eyes.
The softness of his next touch was a complete change from the hardness of his grip. Her expression softened as she watched his lips part, but then her eyes clouded over once again as he failed to speak. What was wrong with him? Had he been turned mute since they had last seen one another? Queenie couldn’t straighten her thoughts out enough to properly assess what was wrong with him; her main thought was locked on whether or not he would hurt her. It was taking every ounce of courage to not look at where her knife had fallen and calculate if she could grab it if necessary.
Her focus was distracted as she heard a roar, her eyes turning to work out where it had come from. She assumed it was Carna as Dominic didn’t look to be surprised. Then again, his expression hadn’t changed at all in the past few moments. As his grip tightened she turned her gaze back to him and saw the worry in his face. There it was, that was the Dominic she recognised. But he was only there for a moment before he was back to the calculative Carna she wished she didn’t fear. As he looked behind her, Cleo guessed he was looking at the abandoned building. It was highly dilapidated but it had been the scene of some of their Fallen gatherings. Telling the omegas and tenderfeet it was haunted was just one of the tricks they liked to play on their Ringmates. It was almost like a rite of passage to spend a night alone in the building, the likely threat of enemies creating much tension. Most of them survived though and it made them stronger. It had made Queenie stronger.
Run. It was the first word he had spoken to her in years. Not exactly what she was expecting but she was glad enough to hear his voice. It wasn’t how she remembered it, surely an effect of his life in the dome. The Menagerie changed people in many ways and it was something no one could escape. Queenie’s changes just happened to be more visible than most. She looked over at the buildings as she was pulled onto her feet, noting the fact her dagger lay in her easiest path to safety. Convenient.
She was pushed, and stumbled a little before righting herself and breaking into a run. She had just enough time to kick her boot underneath the sand and flick her dagger up into her hand. Those years of shifter training in the castle had truly paid off. Even before being captured she was more than capable of keeping herself safe. She noted that Dominic kept himself behind her, possibly for safety. She was unsure what his motives were but she was beginning to understand he didn’t want to kill her. He was a dangerous and strong man; if he wanted her dead she wouldn’t be sprinting towards the buildings.
Bursting through the door, Queenie instinctively made her way through to the back of the building. She had been in there more times than she would have liked but it gave her the advantage. The far corner of the building held an easily fortifiable room – just the one she wanted. The door was open only a crack, a bookcase still pushed up against the other side. She squeezed through and then moved the bookcase as much as she could, widening the gap just enough for Dominic to follow. The bookcase was pushed all the way back in place, and Queenie moved to push another cupboard in front. There was one window at the back of the room but it was heavily concealed from the outside so she assumed the other Carna wouldn’t know about it. At least if they made it into the room through the door Queenie and Dominic would have another escape route.
Walking to the opposite end of the room, Queenie let her heart rate slow a little before whipping around to face the prince. “Courir?” She screamed, her eyes widening as she shook her head, her grip instinctively tightening around the knife in her hand. Though she wouldn’t dare use it on him, it kept her a little more calm than she otherwise would have been. “Those are the first words you say to me?” She was breathing heavily, both from the run and the fact that everything was finally beginning to sink in. She was with Dominic. He had almost killed her. He was Carna – the enemy. And now his little Carna friends were running after them and also trying to kill her. And she was stuck in a f***ing room alone with him and he couldn’t even speak to her.
“Que sommes-nous censés faire maintenant?” She yelled at him again, her expression clearly one of anger. She remained planted in the same position, her gaze fixed on him. This wasn’t her Dominic. Not anymore. Whatever he expected from her, he sure as hell wasn’t getting it. “Allez-vous me livrer?” Cleo’s voice cracked over the last word and she pushed back tears, wanting to appear strong. A princess doesn’t cry. “Do you even understand me?” Her voice softened finally as she gave in to defeat. Did he even speak French anymore? Queenie had always been determined to not let her native language become another thing the Keepers had taken from her. It was the one thing she couldn’t let them destroy. France was her home, not the horrid dome.
Stepping backwards, she let herself hit the wall, and she slowly slid down it, dropping her knife to the ground in the process. Crouched, she looked up at him, trying to find some kind of recognition in his eyes. As she searched she wondered if perhaps Dominic was gone forever. Maybe it would be easier that way. They could part ways and next time they met he would kill her. Would it all be that simple though? She supposed not but her heart broke anyway. Cleo had finally grasped the possibility of everyone being dead, and yet here he was, another complication in her already complicated life. And what were they to do now?
Translations | Courir = run Que sommes-nous censés faire maintenant? = What are we meant to do now? Allez-vous me livrer? = Are you going to hand me over?
OOC | this got long... lemme know if my little bit of PP is not okay
Last Edit: Jan 13, 2015 23:13:29 GMT -5 by Queenie
twenty-three - arctic wolf + bumblebee mutation - fallen hunter - straight - still in love with her ex
He didn’t want to think what his ringmates would do to her if they were caught, and even as he followed her into the shadowed building, he knew they wouldn’t have long. Tamra and Benni would come looking for him once the dust settled, and with the reinforcements Turner had brought Dominic knew that wouldn’t be long. He saw her kick up her knife and catch it, a small smile threatening to tug at his lips. She had always been skilled. Quick, intelligent, confident; she was indeed Cleo, as ever. He felt a long-forgotten ache start to settle itself heavy and sure in his chest.
He swallowed the tight knot rising in his throat and ran after her, keeping up the best he could. But she was fast, and in the dim light he almost lost her as she rounded a corner. But no, there she was pushing her way into a room at the very back of the building. He squeezed his way in after her and stared absently at her as she pushed the bookshelf and cupboard against the door. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to help. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure what they were going to do now. They had bought themselves some time, something he almost regretted as she whirled around to face him.
Her voice was loud and sharp in the small, dusty room, but even as she yelled her questions he stood in stoic silence. It wasn’t a cruel or menacing silence, nor one that threatened; it was a silence that merely observed her, with calm eyes that bespoke nothing. He kept his eyes locked onto hers, except when he saw her knuckles tighten around the hilt of her knife. His brow creased for a moment, pupils dilating as he registered the threat. Would she try to use it on him? He knew without a doubt that she knew how to use the blade, and well. It troubled him that she might want to hurt him, a swell of frustration gnarling in his ribcage. He had made sure to make his life in the dome as simple as possible. There were to be no tough decisions that questioned his loyalty, his morality, his humanity. He lived as simple a life as he could, kept his head down and followed orders. Lived, breathed, ate, slept, talked only if it was strictly necessary. There was no room for anything else. And as he watched Cleo from behind unyielding eyes of dark slate, he knew that there was no room for Cleo in this world. Not for him.
He let her speak, silent and still even as she slowly slid down the wall and crouched there, looking up at him and waiting for him to speak, to blink, to move, to do anything. But he simply watched her, drawing slow, even breaths through his nose in controlled breaths. His heart was beating harsh and loud and he felt, suddenly and unexpectedly, like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. Her words slowly started to sink in, and the way she looked at him made him hum with a clawing desperation that made him feel hollow and heavy all at once. She looked at him like he was something to be questioned, something to be feared and untrusted. Her eyes bored into him, accusing him as if he were a stranger to her every sense. He felt his pulse rising as he swallowed hard against the rising truth that threatened to engulf him in unforgiving flames. He had to tell her that there was no room for her. There couldn’t be, not in the dome. He had moved beyond the world outside the walls, left her safe and sound in the past where there was a quiet happiness that had thrived despite it. He knew there was no possibility of this happiness again, so it would stay in the past where it had bloomed, and was sacred. Seeing her, here and now, tore that hard-won balance asunder, and he knew that there would be no peace for him now.
“No.” The words fell from his lips, a soft mumble and iota above a whisper. It was all he said, after silence had hung heavy and stale about them in the dim room, and for another long moment it seemed that he would give her nothing more than that. “I will not.” The words came quick and sharp, answering only one of her questions. He would not hand her over to the Carna. He would not let them hurt her, nor ever find her. She would be safe in the Fallen, safe from the Carna and safe from him. But he didn’t know how to tell her, how to form the words that alternately thrummed and roared in his mind. He wanted to be with her, he wanted to love her as he had loved her before the walls; and then the unrelenting truth that he knew to be inescapable—there was no going back.
Before the dome Cleo had revelled in the silence that drifted between the pair. It had been an unspoken attraction for so long, especially after that first night. Though they had always exchanged words when they were alone they didn’t have that commodity in the company of others. That’s when his silence meant the most to her. The way Dominic would watch her just crossing a room or reading a book; that was a look of love. The look she found in his eyes now was something alien. She thought maybe there was a hint of that beauty and kindness but it was clouded by pain and betrayal. Cleo wished she could make him look at her the way he used to, and not the way he had looked at her sister. That’s what his stare in that room reminded her of; the way he had looked at his wife.
The thick walls muffled the sounds of the desert but Cleo tried to focus on them, all the while her eyes continued to search his. Dominic was so tall now, perhaps he had grown but she was unsure. It had been such a long time since she had last been with him and now, reunited, she wished she had thought him dead. That would’ve made everything so much simpler. She could remain in Fallen without questioning everything. She could go back to her life as a hunter and continue to survive one day at a time. Dominic would one day fade from her memory and remain only in dreams, his touch still soft and loving and his gaze still full of wonder and joy. This burning gaze caused Cleo physical pain; all she wanted was to remove it from her memory.
Another monosyllabic answer filled the room. Cleo rolled her eyes, clenching her jaw as she stared him down. Would he even speak again? Could he even speak? She was starting to wonder if he had decided to become a selective mute in the years they had been apart. Whatever the cause he was far from excused. Cleo reigned in her anger, trying to loosen the grip on her knife. Somehow, she couldn’t, her mind screaming at her to fight. Because she wasn’t Cleo anymore. She was Queenie and Queenie would fight. She would tear the monster apart limb from limb, smiling at his screams and claiming victory over Fallen’s enemies. Cleo was incapable of such a thing, especially the murder of her love.
Dominic had still only managed to answer one of her questions but at least it was a start. She felt herself shaking her head, eyes closed as she soaked in the words. His voice was different too. Everything was different, even her own soul had changed. But the Cleo within Queenie knew that some things had not changed. Regardless of her name she still loved him; she had never stopped loving him. The only immediate problem was whether or not he still loved her. Surely if they had loved without Marie discovering their betrayal they could love without the Rings ever knowing. The Dome was different, yes, but it was also somewhat similar.
Once more Queenie looked up at the prince. He had always been her prince. “I've missed you,” she whispered, unsure if he could even hear her. It didn’t really matter though. She figured he wouldn’t care. Lifting her knife, she kept her eyes locked on Dominic’s as she threw it to his feet. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you. But right now I don’t trust you to not hurt me.” Harsh, yes, but Queenie thought it necessary to let him know exactly how she felt. He needed to realise he was both scaring her and hurting her. She fought back tears as she dropped her gaze back to the floor. There was only one thing she wanted to say to him but she knew it was better to remain silent.
He waited, listened, so unsure of what to do; his eyes as blank as canvas, the only sign he was not just an incredibly life-like statue was the heavy rise and fall of his chest, and his calloused fingers as they curled and uncurled at his side. She mirrored his silence as he waited for whatever would come next.
“I’ve missed you.”
It came suddenly, and unexpectedly. It hit him harder than he thought possible after his time behind the Walls. Her voice was soft, quiet, delicate yet steady with an unyielding strength; but more importantly, her words, her voice, they were just for him. They were not platitude or small talk from a fellow Carna, or an order. No, her words were meant for him; they were his alone. Such a simple phrase, yet so entirely personal to a man who had spent years making sure that nothing in his life could penetrate further than the unforgiving and altogether unyielding façade that had become, in essence, who he truly was. He had always been lonely, even before the dome. Cleo was the only one to ever make him feel as if he would never be alone again. Marie had never understood him like she did, she had never given him the warmth of friendship and love that Cleo had. When she had spoken to him, the words were not for him. They were hers, for her; hollow words she used to feel as if their life, their marriage, was real.
But Cleo’s words had always been for him.
He felt his lips parting as he unwillingly began to speak, some vague involuntary utterance managing to slip from behind his numb lips. The words he could speak, would speak, roiled in his mind until everything was a turbid jumble of confusion and he could feel his inscrutable mask slipping. He covered his mouth with his hand, fingers digging lightly into the skin of his jaw to try to keep her from seeing his lips pulled into a smile, that painfully strange mix of happiness and desperation—until he heard the knife clatter at his feet. He stared down at it, disturbed by the fact he had not even seen her hand move. He hadn’t been watching closely enough, too engrossed was he in the vicious thrall of emotion. He kept his eyes glued to that knife even as she spoke, too afraid to meet her eyes.
“Cleo,” he said, eyes still rigid upon the blade, hand falling to his side.
“Cleo,” he breathed, and there—the smallest etching of a smile as he breathed her name, and his eyes drifted up to meet hers. He held her gaze, took a faltering step forward, swallowing hard. “Je ne te ferais jamais de mal.”I could never hurt you.
Ooc: Evkav Dominic has weird feelings sometimes xD Also apologies to French speakers if the translation is wrong. I used teh Googs.
Last Edit: May 31, 2015 17:12:52 GMT -5 by mo money
Silence once again filled the room and Cleo became intensely aware that she disliked it. She always had disliked silence, but usually with Dominic it was bearable. What had changed? Both of them she supposed but it scared her that their changes could affect something so simple as her comfort in silence. And it seemed as though Dominic had turned into an incredibly silent man. Perhaps she would never get her Dominic back, but Queenie decided that wasn’t all bad. Dominic would never get his Cleo back, not the way she was before all of this. She would never be a princess in her French fairy-tale again. The Menagerie had warped all of their lives forever.
He seemed almost moved by her words, and Cleo felt hope slowly return to her heart. She thought for an instant he was going to speak too, but he paused, and she kept her gaze fixed on him, searching his face for any sign of recognition. Was that a smile? No, she didn’t think he would smile for her so soon after their reunion. His hand covered his mouth and Cleo sighed softly. So close, she thought, he had been so close to reaching back to me. It was then that she realised she had to be the one who held on to that hope. Dominic was not the same prince he was before, perhaps he had given up on their love. If so, Queenie would never be so pessimistic. Dominic was hers, her love, her prince, her saviour and her soul mate. That was all she needed.
Queenie refused to let her speculate what would have happened had they never met again. Yes, she would have had her memory of the strong, handsome, smiling man, their touches, and their kisses. She would never have known what he had become, this killer, this silent monster. Was that better or worse? Queenie wouldn’t let herself answer the question. They had found each other now. If they never saw each other again after this moment this Dominic would be the memory burned into her heart.
Following Dominic’s gaze, she found her eyes fixed upon her knife. Dominic seemed to be watching it intently, and Queenie found herself wandering why. In her wonderings she almost missed his quiet word. The name was strange to hear but she remembered it as her own. As soon as she picked up on it, Queenie’s gaze instantly snapped up to Dominic’s face, trying to force his eyes to hers. Her breathing quickened, her heart thumping almost audibly. She couldn’t tell if it was nerves or pure excitement. Dominic had not forgotten her.
Their eyes met and Cleo remembered instantly how beautiful he truly was. She had always loved his eyes, the way they could hold so many emotions all at once. She couldn’t help but smile a little, her expression softening as she found more similarities between this Dominic and her own. As he took a step forward, her hand reached back to the wall and she pushed herself up, keeping her eyes locked on his.
“Je sais, je sais,” she murmured, taking a few small steps towards him. She came close enough to reach out and touch him, but she was still hesitant, unsure about what his reaction would be. So instead she continued to look up at him, smiling, searching his expression for a sign that he perhaps still loved her. She realised how simple it would be to reach up and stroke his face, his lips, embrace him, kiss him. But still she hesitated. Cleo knew he was a changed man, and her training had taught her to be wary of danger. So instead she remained where she was, letting Dominic choose his next move.
Translations | Je sais = I know
ooc | sorry for the insane wait mo money! haven't written in ages so apologies for general lameness of this post...
twenty-three - arctic wolf + bumblebee mutation - fallen hunter - straight - still in love with her ex
The faint smile on his lips faded, almost as if it had never existed, as she spoke. Dominic had long since mastered fear and other such emotions. He was able to easily sort them and focus on what had to be done. There was no fear of death in him, nor of injury and pain. He had learned it young, the fear beaten out of him by the hollowed man of a father who had never raised a hand to him. It was the constant threat of violence, of death, and he had long since grown numb to it. His pulse still quickened when he met the eyes of an enemy, his skin still rippled with chills and electricity when a fight was at hand; but it was not fear that kept him on his feet, it was some nameless, intangible thing. He had known fear since the day he'd taken his first breath, his first shrill cry, as all living creatures are wont to do. But it seemed foreign to him now.
Yet as she moved closer, so close he could lean down and kiss her, he felt it rising in him, sudden and sharp, a raw and guttural fear. He couldn't tamp it down as it rushed him all at once, pulling him under like a riptide dragging a body to sea. He couldn't source it, the fear, as the calm fog of apathy in which he experienced the world burnt off from the sheer fire and heat of it. He stared into the quiet pools of her eyes and saw, perhaps, this same feeling reflected in them. She was silent as he was now, simply staring up and him and waiting, as still and hushed as the primal hunter with its quarry in sight. It was a strange and powerful force, this untamable fear, yet it drove him closer to her. He took the last step, closed the final gap between them. His breath shuddered in soft, almost inaudible gasps as he dragged his hand to her face, feeling as if it were weighted down by the world itself. Shaking, he couldn't bring himself to touch her cheek. He felt as if she would burn away, part of some waking nightmare, or dream, or hallucination. But she overwhelmed his senses in every imaginable way and he knew, he knew she was reality.
His fingers flitted against her cheek, trailing down to stop at the edge of her lips. His eyes had followed the path of his hand, but flitted back up to hers. His hand still trembled and he willed himself to be still, but finding he could not he dropped his hand. But his hands found hers, scarred fingers enveloping her own. He willed himself to speak, but he did not want to be a mouthpiece to his unwavering fear roiling within him. He knew suddenly why it had come upon him again, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. Cleo. Part of him he had long since thought withered and dark suddenly ached with light. Part of him still loved her, he realized. And with that love came the fear that love itself entailed.
He couldn't find the words to speak any of this, not after so many years of silence. He shook his head, breath still coming out a shuddering wreck. His hands seemed to move of their own volition as he pulled her hands up, lifting them with the gentlest touch. He had a sudden flash of the first day they'd met, their eyes meeting across the room, waiting with bated breath to be introduced by their parents. And he'd taken her hands as he did now, leaned down, as he did now, and pressed his lips to the top of her hand - as he did now. And he had felt, as he did now, that it was truly the beginning of his life.
ooc | Evkav I haven't posted in months either so I hope it's okay/gives you enough to go off of ... it hard 'cause he don't talk LOL lemme know if i gatta edit also Fuleao IT COUNTS AS THE MISTLETOE AHAHAA
Last Edit: Jan 14, 2016 20:10:20 GMT -5 by mo money
It was tantalising, waiting to see what Dominic would do next. Queenie willed herself to remain still, her eyes still locked upon his. For some reason she couldn’t quite force herself to look away. They were almost the only part of him that she didn’t quite recognise anymore. His physique was still as it always had been, his face still that perfect shape but his eyes – they weren’t quite his anymore. They held a darkness within him that Cleo almost feared. They betrayed his façade too though and she thought she glimpsed fear within them. But what did Dominic have to fear? He had the upper hand in all of this. Queenie’s weapon was discarded and he would win if it came down to brute strength.
All of her questioning and fear did not deter the woman though. Deep within her she knew Dom would not attack. He had never laid a hand on her and he never would, she was confident of that somewhere in her heart. Despite this, as he took a step forward, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes flickering for a second to the knife. It was too far but Dominic’s stance was not one of aggression. He had softened somehow, and Cleo felt herself to the same.
As Dominic’s hand moved upwards, Cleo found herself flinching again, as a sort of force of habit. It was only for a second and then her eyes were on that hand, watching it in her peripheries as it moved up and then paused. A deep breath coursed through her body and she longed for that touch. It had been so long since they had held each other, since she had soaked in his scent, been stroked by him and loved by him. It took all her strength not to move her cheek into his hand but she knew he needed to do this for himself and on his own.
When he finally touched her cheek, Cleo felt herself smile and she gazed into his eyes, tears beginning to well up. She wouldn’t let herself cry but the emotions were beginning to overwhelm her. She never would have dreamed of such a reunion. To her the dome was it, she was trapped in their all on her own. But now here was the only man she had ever truly loved, his hand caressing her once more as it had so long ago. It seemed like an entirely different life, a life that was no longer hers or that perhaps she no longer deserved.
Cleo found her hand rising slightly, wanting to hold his, but she checked herself and it dropped back to her side. A second later and Dominic had found that hand on his own, bringing it up. Still silent, she kept searching his eyes, trying to work out what he was feeling. As he kissed her hand, so soft but rough too, Cleo blinked, a small tear escaping and falling down her cheek. It was then that she remembered the world they were in.
Pulling her hand away, Cleo turned from Dominic, brushing the tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her head shaking both in disbelief and annoyance at herself for breaking the moment. “I just… I can’t see a way that this works out,” her voice trailed off at the end and she forced herself to turn around and look back at him.
“Before this place we were forced into secrecy and it almost destroyed us both. Our Rings would never allow this.” Cleo’s voice was shaking again and she cursed herself for being so weak but for some reason she just couldn’t help it this time. Her cynicism took over and her brain was filled with all the ways it could end badly. She couldn’t bring herself to hurt Dom again despite how badly she wanted to be with him.
“I still love you, but I can’t see you get hurt because of me.” Cleo’s gaze dropped, her breath jagged and uneven and her hands shaking at her side. This was the only solution she could find; it was best for both of them. So why did it hurt so much? Perhaps it would have been better if they had never run into each other, or even if she had died that night UNIT found them. At least then she wouldn’t have had to endure this heartbreak all over again. Queenie couldn’t decide which scenario was worse.
ooc |mo money whaaaat it didn't take me like years to reply? that's new... also soz but queenie is the biggest pessimist...
twenty-three - arctic wolf + bumblebee mutation - fallen hunter - straight - still in love with her ex
She had awakened more than fear in him, and he realized that the moment his lips touched her skin. She had long since been a daydream’s daydream, hidden so far in his mind and heart that he dare only dream of her in the quickest of moments, the pause before each breath left and a new one came. It had worked, and day by day, second by second, iota by iota, her absence became less and less felt because he would not allow it trespass upon him. He could not function if he did not remove himself, utterly and absolutely, from his life before the walls. He didn’t let anything get to him. But now she was here, impossibly here, in his hands … And then gone again.
She pulled her hands from his grip, and he did not fight it. He straightened slowly, eyes trailing upwards to meet hers after a moments’ pause. Her words came tumbling out in such an onrush that his pulse quickened with each of her word, feeling the tremor in her voice in his very bones, skin prickling as if her words had brushed his skin. Overwhelmed by her quiet, shaken words, he felt his limbs begin to tremble. Confused by the tumultuous churning in his mind on how he felt, he weighed what to say. He knew he had to say something, after all. His instincts to stay quiet and leave before they got in too deep fought him tooth and nail. But he loved her still, unendingly. He found himself straining towards her even though she gave him the way out. He wanted to be with her, his sanctum. Yet she was the past, mixing with the ever more violent present. It would only put them both in danger.
“I love you,” he said, at long last, his deep baritone voice rasping from his cracked lips. He glanced down at her hands, noticed where some of the blood from his lips, the Fallen man’s blood, had smudged off on her skin. “And maybe you are right. Maybe who we were is best left in the past.” He looked at her again, but she still did not meet his eyes. His own slate grey eyes yearned for hers. “But I am different now. You are different. I knew that the moment I saw you out there in the fight.” He paused, drawing in a breath. “The walls have hardened us, made us strong. We are not who we were.”
He wanted to make her look at him, willed it so with every fiber of his being. “Cleo,” he breathed, relishing the sound of her name on his lips. “We have been kept apart by foolish loyalty for so long, nearly destroyed as you said.” He shook his head, his voice shaky from disuse. He had not strung this many words together for too long. “I cannot bear to let history repeat and repeat and repeat. Devereux, DuBois, Carna, Fallen. It does not matter, Cleo.” He shook his head, letting out a soft sigh. “It doesn’t matter, in the end.”
ooc | Evkav WHOA I ALSO DIDN'T TAKE A MILLION YEARS TO REPLY ? I HOPE IT"S OK Dom is like 'how do say romantical-like tings so she wont leav me? \_(ツ)_/¯'
Nothing had ever felt as bittersweet as that moment that she was stuck in, there in the tortuous Menagerie. Her every breath had yearned for Dominic for so many years but now that he was there in front of her she didn’t know what to do. She almost wished she were dead, or he were dead, anything but this uncertainty, this divide that stood between them like a gaping chasm. They had betrayed so many with their love and Cleo was unsure if she could bear to betray anyone else. The Fallen had given her a home and they were her family now.
Dominic’s voice crossed that gap and Cleo looked up, almost caught by surprise by the words. She had never thought she would hear those words fall from his lips again. He had uttered them in her ear so many times, and each time it was like chocolate, oozing through her entire body and causing such sweet ecstasy. Now it was almost jagged, like a knife cutting into her chest. It was different somehow but also the same. She loved the sound but it hurt too much.
Everything he said was true. Cleo’s mind tumbled back to only minutes ago when she had killed that Carna without a second thought. It was kill or be killed and Cleo recognised that instinct within her as though it was as much part of her as the wolf. Perhaps it was the wolf that created that feeling within her, the feeling that made her lust after the kill. Training within the castle had never specifically been about killing, it had been about surviving and now the lines were blurred for her and she imagined they were blurred for Dominic too. That’s what the dome did to them. It turned innocent children into murderers.
“They can’t find out though. It must still always be a secret,” she replied, holding his gaze and taking a step towards him. She was torn but everything within her told her to go to him, to be with him, and to love him beyond all doubt or fear. “Je t’aime,” she nodded, closing the gap completely. They were just millimetres apart and she could feel his breath on her face, she could see the blood that marked him, just as she knew he could see the blood on her. Some of it was hers and some was that poor coyote’s.
“Je veux ceci,” she murmured, her hand reaching up to stroke his face softly. His skin was slightly rough probably through years of fighting, but it was still his skin and it was beautifully warm to the touch. Her other hand reached out and took his, softly, allowing him to pull away if he felt he needed to. “I’m loyal to you Dominic, and only you. I won’t let them keep us apart this time.” This time she allowed her eyes to well up, a few tears escaping and falling down her cheeks. He had seen her cry before; there was no point in stopping it now.
Closing her eyes, Cleo let go of everything that had previously held her away from him. She pushed out of her mind all thoughts of her sister, of Alec, of her parents and of Fallen and Carna and the Keepers. Tilting her head up she leaned towards him, allowing her lips to brush his. It was such a familiar feeling, his lips upon hers, but it also felt different this time. It was strange but somewhat liberating. For the first time ever she didn’t feel guilty about kissing him, instead she only felt joy.
translations | Je t'aime = I love you Je veux ceci = I want this
ooc |mo money we are on a roll! also Cleo totes defies gender stereotypes and doesn't mind making a move on her man lol. Let me know if that tad of PP isn't okay but I figured that was where it was going...
twenty-three - arctic wolf + bumblebee mutation - fallen hunter - straight - still in love with her ex
Her words shook him and for a moment he felt his heart pull away from her. He didn't want her to be secret, not again. It meant hurt and heartache, not just for them but for her friends and Ringmates. He felt a brief flash of concern for Beni, Angus, Agnes, even Tamra. They weren’t friends, but they were his Ringmates. And some part of him cared if they lived or died. And in the dome, it could very well mean death. Not for his Carna mates perhaps, but there was no telling the punishment the Carna could deal if they were discovered. She could be captured, maybe drilled for information, possibly tortured if the right Carna got their way. He might be blacklisted a traitor, a spy, hung up by his heels and left for the birds.
But as he looked into her teary eyes, heard the desire and the strength trembling in her voice as she spoke, I love you. I want this, everything came flooding back, the words he had spoken only moments ago to echo and echo. His breath hitched hearing those words drip like honey from her lips, his skin rippling with goosebumps as he leaned heavily into her soft touch. His eyes fluttered closed at the feather-light brush of her fingers, every tense muscle in his body easing into even that lightest touch. He caught her other hand in his, twining their fingers together as he pulled her closer in the slightest as the light struggled to be seen between them. He could only grunt softly in reply, finding himself incapable of words.
Dominic knew then that he would try with everything he had in him to be there for her, to be the man she had fallen in love with and not the hardened shell he existed as today. He trusted her, trusted that together they could overcome whatever the universe would cast upon them. They had survived everything thus far, after all. They had been torn apart time and time again, and still they had found each other again. He could live with keeping their love a secret if it meant they could be together at all. Now that she was within his reality, even if it was not an every-day reality, he could not continue on with his emotionless existence. It would not be enough to sustain him now that she was within his reach. "A secret," he rasped at last with a slow nod.
He was about to speak when she leaned in to kiss him, stealing his breath and his words. It was a slow, hesitant kiss. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her like he used to. But still he was scared, so it was soft and questioning, lingering but yielding. His free hand slipped around her waist as it had so many times before, and pulled her against him those last few millimeters. “For me, there is only you,” He breathed, trailing kisses along her cheek, brushing his lips against her ear. He wanted to promise her that he’d leave the Carna right here, right now. He’d come to the Fallen with her and they could be together. But it wasn’t that easy. “Seulement toi,” Only you.
The coldness of reality invaded their warm, rosy world as a voice rang out from the hallway outside their room. “Queenie,” they called. He didn’t recognize the voice as one of his Ring. His muscles tensed and he snapped back into the Domino she had seen on the bloodied desert sands. He moved so that he was between her and the door, hand reaching for his sledge hammer as the voice called out again with that strange name. He glanced back to her in question.
The kiss made her whole head throb with a longing desire to remain in that world within the room. In that room it was only them; there was no Fallen or Carna and that meant no one to keep them apart. But that room would only exist for a small moment in the vastness of their lives and Cleo knew that. As much as she tried to deny it, she knew that there would inevitably be some kind of complication. There was always something to tear them apart but for then and there they were fine and safe and together. Perhaps they would last together for a while longer than before but perhaps not. Whichever it was, Cleo was ready to take the risk again just as she had been back when she was so much younger and so naïve. She made the call then and even in her newfound wisdom she made the call again. Dominic was what she wanted and she would pursue him even if it meant her death.
Her head tilted back and she murmured softly as his kisses moved along her cheek to her ear. Eyes closed, she was lost in the moment, her breathing deep and soft. His words were so familiar and his voice, though different now, still seemed to hold the same feeling they had before all of this. He may have changed but it was probably for the better. Within the dome princes would be slaughtered. Dominic had become the warrior he needed to be in order to survive and find his way back to her, just as Cleo was no longer the princess he had met in France.
Cleo’s eyes snapped open as she heard the cry from just outside the room. “Merde,” she gasped, feeling Dominic tense beside her. She recognised the voice as one of her hunter friends, Blake. He was skilled and just as bulky as Dominic but she had no desire for them to get in a row. Dominic blocked her from the door as Blake called out again. Picking up her knife, she slipped it into her boot again and placed her hand between Dominic’s shoulder blades. He turned to her, and she could read the question in his eyes.
Looking over at the door, Cleo called out in response. “I’m fine Blake. I thought I saw one of them come in here, don’t worry. I’ll be out in a sec.” She turned back to Dominic, an apology within her eyes but unable to quite voice what she was thinking. “You have to go, now,” she pleaded in a dull whisper, moving towards the window in the corner of the room. She beckoned him towards it, glancing back at the door every few seconds to make sure Blake wouldn’t force his way in to get to her.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured to Dominic, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “If you go out here you should come out close enough to the border to make it through.” Cleo grasped at his hands, searching again for the warmth he gave off, something to let her know they would still be okay. The intrusion into their room made her realise just how risky their love still was. She needed to know he was still in this. “I love you,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak again but Blake’s voice rang out, calling for Queenie once more. “I’m coming!”
He relaxed for a moment when she placed her hand on his back. She was Queenie, then. It seemed she'd gotten a nickname in the dome too. If an enemy hadn't been just outside and coming towards them, he probably would have smiled a bit. As it stood, there was an enemy outside and rather calmly looking for Cleo. By the sounds of it the Carna had likely been routed, a turn of events he found mildly surprising. When he'd left reinforcements had arrived, but the Fallen were notoriously good scrappers, especially on their own turf.
You have to go, now. Dominic gave one curt nod and followed as she urged him towards the window, dropping his sledge hammer into its loop on his belt. The blood pounded in his ears as he tried to pry the window open as quietly as he could, muscles straining against the stuck wood. He knew where to meet up as they always planned a rendezvous after raids to regroup and make headcounts. It was a bit of a hike up the ridge and into the forested cliff sides, but once he was clear he'd be safe. The window groaned in protest, but he finally managed to lift it open. Dominic stared out at the swirling sands in the small courtyard just outside, steeling himself, before he turned back to her.
He met her eyes after a brief hesitation, fingers curling around hers as she grabbed his hands. Hearing those three precious, sacred words again, wanted relish in everything that was Cleo, every breath and word and movement. He wanted to engrave it in his memory so he could see her even when he closed his eyes. Who was to know how long it would be before he could see her again After thinking she was gone from his life forever and finally coming to terms with that, she was here again. How could he so easily latch back onto what his life had become, when mere moments with her brought him so much more? He leaned in and kissed her again, lingering for but a moment as he stooped and slid his legs out the window. He looked back to Cleo, his eyes alight with an almost desperate fervor. He still held her hand, but slowly let her fingers slide from his grip. "Nous ne serons jamais séparés à nouveau," We will never be parted again. He said before he slid the rest of the way out the window and into the courtyard a few feet below.
He cast one last look over his shoulder, before drawing in a deep breath and focusing on getting himself back to the Carna alive.