Private First Riders Turned Survivors

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

He was hot and the sensation he felt couldn’t be conceived. He was lost in Adalee. His hands held her, as if she was some kitten, but that comparison was pathetic, for she wasn’t so weak. He gripped her in that manner, however, wanting to crush her into his fingers as much as show her how much she meant to him in this moment. How much he burned for her.

Did that make sense? Probably not. From this man’s perspective, however, that was the point of it. He had no voice to conjure words of worth for his emotions. No sentences, no lyrics, no lexicon could describe that fire within him rising like a tide. That blaze of Drane. There was no description for this. Any attempt of it would be madness, like the maddened hunger turning him mad, as his hands turned and his fingers curved over her.

There was yet no deception either.

He kissed, and she kissed him too.

This wasn’t about control but two souls on an island where fate had taken control of Adalee and Drane.

Affection.

Let the universe burn. If that was the penalty of his affection for her then to hell with destiny.

His eyes were open one moment, closed the next, as if he was in some deep slumber within darkness, only to be woken in a chamber of pitch blackness.

“Did you hear that?”

Adalee asked, just after their lips broke, a delicate click, separated for a moment that Drane didn’t want to give into, didn’t want to beckon. He just wanted to replace this silence with another kiss all over again.

“I hear only you. Never mind this island. This tomb.”

Despite her words, as Drane gazed into Adalee’s eyes from only inches away, he saw no fool, no crazy woman; save for the insanity that plagued both souls on this island. If their passion was madness then so be it. He wasn’t embarrassed. If she was? Perfect. That just made her all the more adorable in his opinion.

"I'm not a Witch!"

Adalee screamed out just as Drane lifted his lips toward hers the next moment.

“Witch?”

A bit perplexed, offering it on his visage, a brow arced, Drane shifted his fingers over Adalee’s chin, pinching it in the gentlest grip.

“Shhhhh...”

He beckoned, whispered, leaning his lips into hers once again. It was but a moment, however, for he offered her the opportunity to end this right there and then if she wanted it.

“You are no witch.”

And, his hand on her back, he cradled her downward into the sand, the way one lays a blade of grass downward if the comparison was apt amid this uncertain island. Yet she was no blade of grass to Drane. She was a flower that he would shower with rain.

“You are Adalee Thorne.”

His lips found her neck unless interrupted just then.

“I am Drane T’keen.”

His lips found her nose, the edge of it, like pressing a button.

“Two survivors on an island.”

Finally to her lips.

“So let’s just exist.”

Two hearts.

Carved apart.

Love blooms.

Truth does too.

Like blood.

Trust.

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

​

Outer Rim, Unknown Regions - Starship Vessel - On Course To: Classified.

“Shhhh..”

Drane tried to calm her nerves. It was kind of him to attempt, but not trusting her gut was against everything she knew. It was the very thing she had acted on since her sixteenth birthday. She couldn’t ignore it now, not in the heat of a compassionate moment. If this twisted puzzle piece didn’t rip her away from reality, Adalee may have given in. She resisted, but for a moment; until he reminded her of who she was.

“You are Adalee Thorne.” Drane’s words were soft and embolden by his desire for her. She could tell he was lustful. She was lying to herself that she wasn’t the same, but she was. She wanted to take him into her, wrap him up, body to body. Then, he mentioned his own name. Her body softly laying on the sand beneath them. Carried to the earthly grains like a delicate petal from a flower. He looked into her bursting suns for eyes, solar flares looking back at him. She wanted him.

“Two survivors on an Island. So, let’s just exist.”

Drane’s lips parted before touching her own. She returned the favor, kissing back. Still, the lingering of dread hit her. Her eyes closed as the two became one, once more. She could feel all his intention, pure affection being poured over her as he embraced her.

The moment made her more calm. The hushing whispers that taunted her, were no longer. Under her skin she could still feel the swirling surge of passing blood. From one channel in her body to the next. She could hear it now, swooshing through her arteries, back through the core deposit of her veins to complete its cycle.

This was strange. It didn’t feel natural, like what she felt before with the stemming pinpricks of lust and love. No, something grew beneath her. A small powerful swell crashing throughout her entire being. The force must have greeted her here, for the first time in years. Aggressively, she kissed back, tormented by her own thoughts.

Is it him? Doing this to me? Why do I feel so…

Her thought was interrupted by Drane. His caressing almost made her want to forget what was happening to her. She almost did, but then she felt the burning grip of darkness. It washed over her, as if greeting her for a second time.

She knew this unknown. Adalee had merged with this power before. Had taken every drip of it in a distant past, that now felt so close. Her hands went numb, as if asleep by some long duration of pressure that never happened. The tingles in her fingertips began to spread out like a small unwinding thread. It dissolved and dispersed into a sea of nothing, a core hidden and buried deep within her.

A well of infinite.

Unhampered and swayed by the petty emotions she had felt through the whole experience with Drane, she now sensed emptiness. Her whole being was engulfed deep in the nothing that lingered inside. Adalee couldn't touch this void though, her sight blind to what was happening around her. Not because her eyes were still closed in a moment of passion, but within herself. Empty, she was empty here. Nothing meant anything in this newly renovated phenomenon erupting within her. Adalee's mind was twisted as more firing communications raced to remind her what this cold dark place was.

Her mind expanded and so too did this new chamber within her soul. A fictitious room crafted in the form of pure cold stone. Reality was broken now, this was her new home, a new reality subliminally created in the deepest parts of her mind and soul. The two cohesively began to morph the missing parts of this dark well. She now stood at the bottom of it. More stones shifted, locking into perfectly defined areas that required the structure before her to be built. The height of the ceilings towered above her.

What is this place?

Loud grinding began to echo throughout the newly formed chamber inside of her. Little light pierced through to reveal the center of the wide room. Scriptures splattered across the floor. The thick aroma of rotten flesh tickled her sense of smell. Hints of iron knocking on her taste buds with a nefarious distaste. She deduced it quickly.

Blood?

Adalee's eyes shifted to the heightened platform at the very center surrounded by the crimson lettering around it. Deep groves for funnels led the bloody streams into the platform. A perfect circle of tablets edged the outside of the outermost circumfirance to the core of the center. She was amazed at it's intricacy, it's depth of geometric function. This place was more ancient than that of some temples on Dathomir she had been in. The only thing she could muster from her frame of mind were two things.

What is this place?

Adalee could still feel everything with Drane. The temptation to continue taking her over as she embraced him more. Only, she wasn't there. She was here, in this temple that defied all logic. The thick echoes of whispering voices stabbed at her now. This place wasn't normal, nor did it's temple like structure bring her any comfort. Drowning out the voices, loud clicking and grinding continued again as the center of the room began to move. The pillar at the center rose higher as she approached it.

How did I get here?

The grinding came to an abrupt halt and the flowing blood in the proper channels began to gush with overflowing force. Stained red seeped across every nook and cranny the wine colored liquid could find. Passing over guts of whatever sacrifical thing had caused the ceremonious action to unfold. Adalee could finally see a small speckle of color. Dark red waves began to pulse throughout the entirety of the room, showing brief silhouette moving towards her.

In a moment of shock, the voices became one. Cloaked figures sequestered with golden ropes began to slowly move to the outer most part of the circle. Adalee tried to scream out to them, but nothing. The words continued and she was lost to this new world. Drane and the island almost vanished, part of her knew what was happening on the surface.

That didn't matter now as the voices took her.

Trapped inside,
the hissing taunts of ancestors beckon.
A Thorne to draw blood, upon the pillar of dirge.
Surges of power, no longer fraught with tainted blood.
Love is the key, to bend it.
Hate is the key, to will it.
Anger is the key, to fuel it.
Truth is the key, to hide it.
Whispers of a daunting task, reignite the burning embers of the dead,
So that they live on to haunt the living with unmatched might.
Untold tales of the dangers marked for this fate.
Lingering doubt, chosen to be dismayed.
One....not two.
One....not many.
ONE.....
NO LONGER.
​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Witch, she mentioned, and he did not forget the comment. Yet, a witch was not what he saw at that moment. Yes, he was curious as to what she meant. Witch in very real sense? Sorceress? Sith, even? Like him? Perhaps. In retrospect, it probably was not a coincidence that this man and woman had bonded. The color of their eyes drawn in, maybe, and maybe this really was fate.

Maybe the ship had crashed on this island, other souls be damned and burn, simply for this woman and this man to meet one another. Maybe that was stupid because they could have talked while the ship was still in the stars. Then again, maybe not, because they sat far apart. Drane had not even glimpsed her face until the island. The Force, the very fabrics of the universe, were funny in that way. Fate played a dangerous game.

Now, on this island, in this moment, he did not glimpse her face. He cradled it in his grip, featherweight despite his pain and rage, in spite of his strength. He could twist her chin, snap her neck in an instant, penetrate her breast with his blade, but he felt no such desire. No such hunger for violence or thirst for blood. No, he saw no witch. He simply saw Adalee, and never mind the House of Thorne. Forget the House of T'keen. He was simply Drane. Their surnames defined their families. Their first names defined their identities. They were victims of their parents as much as two persons on an island.

So, as lips clicked, as delicate as a raindrop on a pond, as gently as a bead of sweat sliding alongside skin, Drane wasted no moment on hesitation, but neither was he violent. Between momentary bursts of aggression by both man and woman, as heartbeats quickened to the drum of blood and the thrum of lust, the thunder within him was contained like the clouds swirling around the welkin. Lightning inside of him, and she better believe it’s turbulent. Fire inside of him, high as a tide in the ocean by this island; vehement, characteristic of a wild savage, but all the while this fierce power is contained by Drane, endured within the tips of his fingers; not yet wet by a shower of rain.

On this island, only two individuals exist. He could cradle every inhabitant in a fistful of forgetfulness, for no one else existed. They were just two strangers on an island, and what they did was further hidden by the rock and the bush, there on the beach that edged closer to the overgrowth of a forest amid the ebb and flow of the ocean.

Two survivors on an island. For Drane, as he gazed into Adalee’s eyes, lying on top of her to provide comfort, not crush her, he saw this island as a prison as much as freedom. It was something in between. Surrounded by the sea, it was a circle so round. Sure, their ship had been turned upside down, but now everything seemed to be turned right side up all over again. Tall as he was, he felt as small as a three-leaf clover, though maybe Adalee gave him the fourth leaf, stole his breath, made his soul whole now as it was then.

There was no vision within him. His black gold irises were open to the moment. As his thumb grazed over her chin like some elk in a forest, there was no well, there was no abyss. As his fingers curved over her cheek, stroked the strands of her hair, her heartbeat slipping into his like waves coming together, her lips tasted as sweet as a strawberry, and her eyes were the feast of fruits unseen. Witch? It didn’t matter. Neither that he was Sith. Yet, he had to admit, it can’t be dismissed, how she cast a spell on him.

A spell of infinite.

“Adalee…”

The sound of her name was like the breeze, like the rain; three syllables of bliss that should not exist; six letters of mirth that should not be. They kissed. He shifted his arm underneath her shoulder, cradled the back of her head in his hand, not his fist; slow were his movements, offering her a pillow. His other hand shifted, delicate as the wind, curving over the curvature of her cheekbone, down her shoulder, trailing a song down her arm like the gong of their hearts. Finally, his fingers shifted to her hip, simply held, squeezed in firmly but gently.

Look away from her face, Drane. A voice inside his mind beckoned. Do not give in. You must escape this island. Sooner rather than later. Before it’s too late.

No. Maybe this was a warning from the Force, but he had already opened the door, and he wanted to step through the doorway. It was more than a beautiful face inches away from his own. Adalee Thorne, whether a thorn in the Force, was a being whose skin he wanted to explore every inch of, inside and out.

That didn’t matter now as the voices took him.

Taken within,
the misgiving wants of ancient aggressors.
A thorn to draw blood, upon the pillars of the earth.
Hate is the key, to bend it.
Love is the key, to will it.
Truth is the key, to fuel it.
Anger is the key, to hide it.
Murmurs of a haunting mask, rekindle the yearning embers of the living,
So that they live on to taunt the dead with unmatched might.
Unveiled souls of the strangers marked for this fate.
Whispering shrouds, chosen to be displaced.
One....not two.
One....not many.
ONE.....
NO LONGER.

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

All in unison, the figures stepped closer. All perfectly aligned, waiting for Adalee to take her rightful place in the empty gap of the stone circle. Again, in unison the cloaked figures lifted their heads, faces barely visible as casting shadows hid their faces. Slowly, each of them lifted their arms, pointing directly at Adalee. Her heart skipped a beat and the sudden cold of this place reminded her of Lorrd’s winter.

Hesitant to step forward, Adalee tried to close her eyes and snap them open in an effort to make the dream go away. She figured this place was fiction. That maybe, without her rightful knowing, Drane had sent her here. For a moment, she considered him as her captor, a master of illusions. Only, when her eyes opened the illusion…or rather, the ancient stone temple remained. Her reluctance to fill in the missing portion of the circle caused another shift of the stones, only this time above.

Bright light split into the darkness, a shifting grind opening the core tip of the enclosed room. A sky door sliding out of view before a blood red moon revealed itself above. With more light, Adalee could make out the symbols on the floor, scriptures of Dirge. Markings were engraved into everything around her. They brightened with red, the crimson liquid seeping into them as she began to read.

“As one…” Adalee’s voice cracked into a whisper, her nervousness stumbling through the remainder of the scripture. “Emotion. Then two. Before long the inherent gift of our rightful brothers and sisters are taken by them. Each cascading emotion. Only the strongest of feelings can stir the red tendrils of life. Only the rightful heirs can be bestowed. For blood not tainted, strength. For blood not given, weak. For blood taken, power. For blood united. Life.”

Adalee didn’t remember this from the Dirge book. This place, these words, everything about it revealed the very things she was scared to admit. She could feel her blood pumping, seeking and traveling through her body. She was hot, trying to catch her breath from the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. She had been standing only a few minutes and yet, she felt like she ran for miles. Heart thrumming to the course of her blood flow. A light pound slammed into her mind, the pain splintering to every nerve way it could reach. She felt lightheaded now, careful to keep her balance she stepped forward to even herself out.

She now stood on the last remaining tablet of the temple. Hums from the onlookers crescendo-ed into the chamber like a cacophony of music. Each pitch tantalized her mind, the pounding headache that ensued began to compound. The pinprick of stabs in her mind began to needle their way into the core of her thoughts. Abruptly, the humming stopped and she could feel herself lift from the ground. Stabbing pain reached her hand now, blood dripping from it as she continued to rise in the air. Her blood splattered onto the cold floor below and her body reacted immediately from the impact.

Violently, her back arched upward arms falling gingerly to her side without control. A burst of formulating strings of red blood began to morph around her. A perfect bubble encapsulating her entire body. She remembered everything she was feeling now. Everything here and everything with Drane. Her eyes glazed over with a burning red. Adalee could touch the inside of her new shelter, the bloody sheen bound together like a thick metal. Warm to the touch, it reacted to her, almost liquefying and moving towards her.

She retracted her arm in fascination.

The realization of her floating in the center of the room didn’t come till a few minutes passed. A surge of unexplainable mass began to form around the outside of the bloody globe that coveted her and the pain that drummed in her head was finally expunged. As new blood began to mix into the tendrils of symbiotic liquid, her eyes shifted to the figures beneath her. Each of them tethered to her and the red glob of protective blood around her.

What…is this…

In Milli-seconds she felt a full connection to the intangible forces that evaded her, her whole life.. In the same fraction of a second, the figures vanished, their dark robes hitting the ground with absence of all. It was almost as if all their bodily fluids were completely drained of them, coagulating with her own blood, to create a thicker wholesome barrier of blood around her.

Then as if a burning sun peeked over the horizon, her eyes reformed back to her original lineage of the Thorne bloodline. Her mind was empty, her heart steady and with a massive burst of energy the barrier between her and reality exploded.

Adalee’s eyes shot open, the island and breeze reforming back into view. Everything was normal…

Except her.
​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

All in unison. It was a statement, a phrase that Drane may echo during his duration on Thyrsus, as a warrior, as a student, as a son, as a man. To be of one mind was their shared essence. That’s what his parents taught him. These were the words of the warrior’s creed. He never doubted it. As a figure within this memory, he stepped closer toward Adalee.

All perfectly aligned, waiting for Drane to take his rightful place in the empty gap of the stone circle. Again, in unison the cloaked figures lifted their heads, faces barely visible as casting shadows hid their faces. Slowly, each of them lifted their arms, pointing directly at Drane. His heart skipped a beat and the sudden heat of this place reminded him of the Lord’s summer.

The Lord of Light, that was, if ever this Thyrsian was a warrior of the light, the sun of sunlight, as the red sun shines and the man relinquishes his ears to its quiet cries. He wasn’t hesitant, however. He remembered, but memories burned quieter than his passion. He had no mercy, yet he had compassion. He burned his enemies, but his feelings burned for her at this moment.

And who are you? A voice in his head beckoned. He had a choice, but voices were a void like his history; forgotten and forsaken. She is Adalee Thorne. She is your woman if ever you have one in this moment. Do not abandon her. He didn’t. He listened. Despite the cries of a dying past, at present, he burned for her. She was his life. His vigor. So he kissed her.

Master of illusions. Kriff it if he is this. He would paint an image for both of them on this island, man and woman, to take them away, let them escape, and exchange in the bliss of one another’s passion. Let their bodies intertwine, realign beside this mindless island, and never mind that it might deny them their happiness. Its desires did not matter. Only theirs did. Only hers. Only his.

Blood. Life. Firelight. Mud. Rock. It didn’t matter to him. Drane was ready to burn civilizations, to break empires, to bring kings and queens to their knees, if it meant just another moment with Adalee. Just another kiss. Just another touch of her lips. Just another brush of her skin with his.

She was a beauty, in more ways than one, because despite her comely countenance she had a fiery energy within her. It burned. A notion of hardness. A token of darkness. It hearkened back to his past. She was a mirror image of him; similar if different. That’s what made her so damnably tantalizing. Her flesh so tingling. Bringing him into this illusion, so maybe she was the illusionist, for Drane T’keen wanted nothing less than to be at her breast, to be with her flesh, to press himself against her and forget the universe.

Red tendrils. Let the vision be of his fingers, red as the red sun, this Thyrsian, as he cradled her. Oh, he won’t let go. Her blood pumped. So did his. Coursing through his body, stirring in his loins, that haunting if wonderful voice. He was hot, trying to catch his breath, lips on lips, beckoning her to him, daring her to resist, for she would have to use such force so as to drive him into the dirt, because he had no mind to resist his urge. Not with her. Not with Adalee Thorne.

A cacophony of music. Bliss, they called this. Each pitch tantalized to the movements. He planted a kiss on her forehead. A pinprick of passion. His kiss on her skin as delicate as the hum of a hummingbird. A lost song, but not so distant. His fingers cradled her fingers, filled the spaces in between, hand in hand.

His hand shifted behind her neck, held the back of her head, her hair like feathers wrapping around his fingers, pleasant as an ocean breeze, the kind of current that currently surrounded this island. She was a flower in his grip if he was a mountain. His other hand gripped her hip, slid up her back, embraced the middle of her back, a perfect bubble of caressing energy.

Her back arched upward, as if in response to the spontaneous expression, but Drane wasn’t fazed. His fingers were like the kisses of his lips. His eyes did not glaze over but grew wide. He wanted her. He needed her. He won’t let her go. She was his. He was hers. This was their island. Their moment.

He caressed her. He kissed her neck. Then, as a burning sun peeked over the horizon, he sought her lips all over again, sweet as cherries, and would not relinquish the flame he had since ignited within her chest.

What…is this…

Perhaps neither man nor woman had an answer to this question. Perhaps it did not matter, like the mystery of this island, as long as they were on it. As long as they had each other. Bloodlines no longer mattered. Minds were empty, hearts steady, as Drane closed his eyes, pictured her skin, and kissed Adalee all over again.

Your death.

Drane’s eyes shot open, wide as the waves that had taken the ocean only moments ago, as he gazed into the eyes of Adalee, and all was not normal.

“Adalee…” He whispered, pinching her chin between his fingers. “Don’t look away from me…” He was one to beckon a stare like hers. “Tell me…” He kissed her cheek. Wanted to kiss her lips but thought better of it. He kept his distance the next instant. “What is it?”

Adalee Thorne