A Sixth Sense [Samson]

[attr="class","post"] Well, his decision to stick around this neck of the woods was turning out to be quite eventful. There were so many wanderers just dying to bump into him, he felt like a celebrity. It felt like so very long since he’d last been here, and the island had shifted in his absence, revealing new space as it split itself in two. Terrestrial mitosis. Quite the feat really, but the island had always been wily like that. It had so many tricks up its sleeve, an infinite amount, all it needed was for them to be realised.

Samson found that he liked the stretch of land between Xisyn and the desert. It reminded him of home without being home, which was, of course, the worst thing about home. It had all of the imitations of Vor’asa with none of the reality. A perfect simulation. Or was it a simulacrum? Reality could be slippery sometimes.

Today, like most days, the sun was hot and high. The skies tended to be cloudless here, forcing the albino to seek the shelter when he could. Late afternoon heat was bearable, however, and as the day wore on, he decided to go for a scroll rather than ruminate. Samson had adopted a huge, low-hanging tree as his dozing spot, and it had suited him perfectly. The weather was perfect for dozing, and as he had nowhere to go and nothing to do, he didn’t see a reason not to acquiesce to its desires.

Stretching his heavy body, Samson cracked each of his joints with a satisfying crunch and hummed quietly under his breath at the sensation. Apathy was only beneficial for a short while. It didn’t take long to lose its value, and Samson had no intention of letting mind and body rot away in the pleasures of doing fuck all. Instead, he channelled his energy into exploration.

Adit was not as protective as Adar had been, and the foliage here was much sparser. The sun, however, was just as harsh, as he soon found out, and he felt glad of his decision to pass much of the afternoon in a slumber. The landscape was predominantly craggy though, and the rock beneath his paws was only just starting to dip in temperature. He imagined that in the morning, when it had cooled sufficiently, it would make a sweet relief from the morning rays.

It didn’t take the brute too long to find fresh water, especially not when the sound of heated but one-sided chatter drew him closer to the site. How delightful of the world to throw another companion his way. He wondered if this one would be more interesting that the other two females.

Samson skirted around the thick, strangely shaped trees to find an easier way to access the lake, during which time he was treated to the stranger’s ramblings. For the moment, he ignored it, intent on quenching his thirst first and foremost. Through snatches between the tree trunks, he could see the water’s surface shimmering in the light of the descending sun. Bronze and orange tones flickered amidst the clear blue liquid, the undulating surface changing colour with every flick of movement. The beauty of it stirred the spirit within him, and soon Samael’s lithe, immaterial shape was stretching out against him.

Good morning, sleepyhead.

Samael pointedly ignored him, as he was wont to do.

It was no matter. Pushing through the foliage finally, Samson arrived at the edge of the oasis. He waited to drink until he was closer to the female, close enough for her to notice his arrival if she hadn’t already. Samson lowered his maw to drink, his sickly eyes locked on her as he did so. Everything she was saying was hilarious; he could not help but laugh once he’d gulped down his fill of the clear water. It dribbled down his chin as he chuckled at her.

“Perfect spot for a hallucination,” he greeted, voice low and dangerous despite the amicable tone.

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Word count: 667
Tags: Yara
Notes: boop



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[attr="class","post"] Her dream? Well, this was just too much fun already. It was delicious. The girl thought that he was a figment of her imagination, too, just another nightmare apparition. Perhaps he was. Samson knew how to play that particular part already; he had been practicing for a long time.

Yara screwed her face up, her voice twisting into a growl as she demanded to know why he was here. “It’s your dream,” he responded, without missing a beat, “you tell me what I’m doing here.” Samson moved closer to her, padding into the shallow water. “What role am I to play?” There was something predatory about his movements, if only because he was so physically imposing. Samson had no intention of hurting her, but he didn’t feel any need to communicate that. It was no concern of his how she felt. He already had to deal with his own feelings, and then some.

Samael swirled languidly across his vision, less of a shape and more of a feeling.

When his eyes refocussed, he was staring at his reflection in the water.

For a moment, he didn’t recognise himself. He expected to see anything other than those pink eyes and that ungodly white fur. It was the same face he’d seen for years though, in glimpses and side glances. He didn’t like to look into his own eyes for too long. It felt wrong.

Attention returning slowly to the scene at hand, Samson looked up. The stranger was still there, waiting. They were like actors, waiting for their prompt. Samael supplied his from the wings, after Samson’s mind blanked for a moment.

“Is this a dream about your daddy issues, then? How quaint.” Sometimes he wondered what it would’ve been like to have a father in his life, but he doubted Goliath would have done much to change him. Samson had been set on a course out of his control since Samael sunk his claws into him.

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Word count: 326
Tags: Yara
Notes: this sucks so much



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[attr="class","post"] Samson watched mildly as his words riled her up, her face twisting with disdain. Fathers were so often a sensitive subject. They all tended to be disappointing, not realising that raising a pup entailed more than rutting into a female. The whole process, rutting included, was foreign and strange to the male, who had thus far been uninterested in the allure of women – or men, for that matter. There were far, far more important issues on his mind. And around his mind, in his mind, beneath his mind. Samael was everywhere at once, even now; permeated through him. They were one, sometimes. Samson felt Samael in every atom of his self. 

The thought made him shudder, and his eyes went dark as he watched the female in front of him. She was so insignificant, and so furious. There was so much hurt that swam behind her eyes, and Samson cared nothing for it. He had always been empathetic, and even now he felt her sadness with her. It meant nothing, though. It never did. His own feelings were hard enough to muster a thought for, let alone someone else’s. Just because he felt them, didn’t mean he cared.

When she lowered her body, Samson moved only in the form of lowering his head. If she wanted to attack, so be it. He would welcome the thrill of a fight, perhaps he would even let her win, let her leave him lying in the dirt, gargling his own blood. Wouldn’t that be a twist. Wouldn’t that show Samael who was in control.

No.

It was a whisper, a wisp of consciousness that whistled through him.

But Yara had already changed her mind. Samson did not hide the disappointment on his face, childish pettiness creeping onto his expression. “An astute observation, little girl. I get it from my father, you see. Asshole genes, through and through.” In response to her question, he echoed, “What’s it to me? Well, I’m here, aren’t I? I want to know what to expect.”

A beat passed before he continued with his previous line of thought as though she had not spoken. “So, my father gave me asshole genes, what did you father give to you? A black eye, perhaps? A few broken ribs? If so, you got off lucky. I hope you killed him for it. He’d deserve it. Is that what this dream is about? Do you feel guilty?” The sentences poured from his mouth like he was choking up blood, unable to stop himself. It was just too easy. “Oh, come on. Give me something. I want the juicy details. Maybe it was something worse, hm? Something unutterable.” Samson inched closer, enormous white body encroaching like a deadly disease. “Why don’t you whisper it in my ear.” He titled his ear toward her slightly, still sliding toward her. “I won’t tell anyone."

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Word count: 478
Tags: Yara
Notes: bad boy



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