Dima wasn't wrong: it's rare that Yuri fully gives himself over to frivolity such as this, and his younger brother's presence is a wonderful excuse to shrug out of his lordly role for a while and to simply let himself be. The marble floors of his halls clatter underfoot until they give way to stone, to pale moon-grass, to the dark of the Vale of the Dead — a curiously ominous name given to a sprawling forest of silver shades and starlight.
It comes with the territory, Yuri supposes. The mortals wouldn't accept knowing that the Lord of the Dead's realm is as much a place of illusion and light than anything else.
He can feel Dima's prowling presence as he slips between the trees, the prickle at the back of his neck pure animal alertness as he zig-zags deeper into the forest. The rumbling growl of his voice is a spectral thing all in itself: Yuri shivers, his laughter echoing back to his brother as he goads him further into the hunt. )
I may be your prey, brother, but it is not some weak animal you chase. The rules are different in my domain.
( Yuri slows to a trot, satisfied with the amount of distance he's put between himself and Dima for the time being. Almond-shaped ears prick suddenly upright at a steady rushing up ahead: good, that means he must have reached the river, and he can rest a while on its banks as his pulse slows to normal again.
Nimble as ever, Yuri picks his way through the feathery undergrowth to the crystal-cool waters beyond. The strange light that hangs in the trees glances off his pelt as he lowers his head to the water, his eyes alert and his ears swivelling this way and that as he tries to gauge where Dimia might be. )
... But it is only you who gets to bend them, beloved.
( Only Dima who will ever get to chase Yuri like this. )
I've missed what you allow me to be when we're together. Your strength, your claws, your bite ...
( He's closer, now. Yuri's tail quivers with anticipation as his muscles twitch, getting ready to run. )
no subject
( It's good to run like this.
Dima wasn't wrong: it's rare that Yuri fully gives himself over to frivolity such as this, and his younger brother's presence is a wonderful excuse to shrug out of his lordly role for a while and to simply let himself be. The marble floors of his halls clatter underfoot until they give way to stone, to pale moon-grass, to the dark of the Vale of the Dead — a curiously ominous name given to a sprawling forest of silver shades and starlight.
It comes with the territory, Yuri supposes. The mortals wouldn't accept knowing that the Lord of the Dead's realm is as much a place of illusion and light than anything else.
He can feel Dima's prowling presence as he slips between the trees, the prickle at the back of his neck pure animal alertness as he zig-zags deeper into the forest. The rumbling growl of his voice is a spectral thing all in itself: Yuri shivers, his laughter echoing back to his brother as he goads him further into the hunt. )
I may be your prey, brother, but it is not some weak animal you chase. The rules are different in my domain.
( Yuri slows to a trot, satisfied with the amount of distance he's put between himself and Dima for the time being. Almond-shaped ears prick suddenly upright at a steady rushing up ahead: good, that means he must have reached the river, and he can rest a while on its banks as his pulse slows to normal again.
Nimble as ever, Yuri picks his way through the feathery undergrowth to the crystal-cool waters beyond. The strange light that hangs in the trees glances off his pelt as he lowers his head to the water, his eyes alert and his ears swivelling this way and that as he tries to gauge where Dimia might be. )
... But it is only you who gets to bend them, beloved.
( Only Dima who will ever get to chase Yuri like this. )
I've missed what you allow me to be when we're together. Your strength, your claws, your bite ...
( He's closer, now. Yuri's tail quivers with anticipation as his muscles twitch, getting ready to run. )
Yes. I have missed playing like this.