Alive in the Dark, we will burn...

"He gets into the head. Consumes. Like Darkness spreading. To me he spoke of desire, passion. I wanted it."

Soft words. Confessed whispers. Hushed as if the walls might listen.

The covers had been drawn back, black silk spilling in a puddle to the floor as it had so many times before. With the past adorations. Her eyes closed and her eyelids were painted with visions. The Hunter. Cal. The Rex. The Rain Dancer. The Guardian. Those that had shared beds and warmed nights.

Flesh warm would slide under sheets, intimate form brushed by egyptian cotton until it was brushed with something more. A touch that would quicken that smooth burn that would spill warmth in that life-giving womb.

Molten heat. Something coveted.

The Panther watched out of the Egyptian's eyes as the Rain Dancer joined her bed. Hunger and Passion. Desire and Love. These were the things known.

Another light to regard the Rain Dancer then. Always there that sensation, that emotion had been but here at the risk of life and death... it ignited.

Burned a bright flame.

Comfort in touch, a touch that became more then comfort invoking.

Fingers curled in the Rain Dancer's hair, drawing her intimately close as those words were spoken. A curling smile. Knowing of an Engima wrought Sphinx.

There were secrets in her smile.

The Egyptian body parted in offering. Legs and lips.

Salvation and survival came with strength in numbers. Strength in a bond.

No turning back.

The heat of a kiss pressed to the Rain Dancer's mouth. Pouring heat into a soul that must have been so cold. For so long.

A river of passion to drown in to wash away the pain, the tears, the sorrow.

Purr rumbled in indulged surprise, sweet indulgement as the body of a Rain Dancer became territory, a canvas for desert heat of lips to paint upon.

"Yes."

Answer to a question, husky response to that folk dark bit of laughter as the sheets hid their secrets of a passion born night.

A bond strengthened by unity. Soul. Heart. Final chapter of bodies.

This was not Heaven but something else, something better then facing the Hell they would soon enough.

Sun on the horizon. Another day to face. Her voice a thick purr, body coated in sweat like a mirage of pleasure.

Desert warm lips found clavicle, mouth slipped to breast with a murmur, desert paint of fingers stroking between thighs.

"Say what needs to be said. No turning back. You hold the power now... to break the spell... set me free."

There was a love unspoken in that moment, it needed to be voiced to bring them their salvation. To awaken a slumbering Sphinx. Three words that would hold power over heart and soul. Waiting to be spoken. Wanting to be heard.

Fingers moved. Release she offered to the Rain Dancer. Now in so many more ways then just one. Ever patient the Sphinx lurked on the edges waiting to burst free.

We're on the Dark Side of the Sun...

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She belonged here. Belonged there at his side. Forbidden territory that she could not surpass. Some curses you could not escape. The black velvet offering of a panther stretching long and lean in the bed beside the Archer as he stroked her head and whispered his soothing words to the feline in his bed. Fingertips stroked the obsidian and gold collar even as his mind touched her own.

Alone they had been. Now companions and the beast that was truly nothing more then a cursed woman... loved him. Learning well then that it was just the start. The beginning of the end and the end of the beginning. Ever to love those that would never belong. A beast could not love a man in the ways a woman could.

Yet the game was played. He embraced her in the night, fingers curling into her thick fur, like she was a lover of human flesh rather then fur. Did he hold on to her in hopes that a curse would shatter and she'd be the woman he knew was cursed?

He held her still...

She tossed and turned, tears in her eyes and a cry out in the night lost in nightmares that once had been dreams. Once those visions would comfort her, now they brought such torment. Fingers curled in the sheets of an empty bed. Fever sweat and nightmares yet still the Egyptian would not awaken.

A whisper in her mind. Was it make believe? Something created to comfort that part of her that was as dark as the river Styx? Or did the Nameless remain with her still. Sharing his secret temptations of whispers in her mind just as once in her life the Archer had spoken in whispers of soothing adoration.

Her nails clawed at the bed sheets and the dreams carried her... mind crawling after them when she had no choice but to go where they would lead.

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Black silk and Ebon feathers. This was the darkness her body was pulled from. Somewhere the sun of her soul was setting within that dark passion ignited within the shadow of a raven's wing and a hunter's soul.

She stepped away but never turned away. She would always go back to them. Soul Drawn. Clandestine.

Past that wardrobe of ink night desire the veil parted to the frozen tundra. A step out on to ice as molten golds found the landscape of snow covered mountains. Undisturbed beauty of winter.

From Shadow Lands to Frozen lands had she moved.

A chapter just written in the North. Quill dipped into the ink of the Sphinx's soul and the lines were drawn.

From here to here.

Soul to Soul.

Walking that tundra. Arms outstretched and head thrown back.

The cold never felt so good.

She wanted that chill.

Wanted a frozen shard to pierce the molten heat of everything within.

Offering.

Over and over. Again and again. Soul drawn lines.

Desert Heat never meant to find the Frozen but they all would fall... and she wanted to be cold within her soul. Give him the warm of her...

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Sweat dappled, clenching sheets. Cheek pressed to her pillow and the black river of her hair that had become soaked ink on the fabric of the sheets.

The Egyptian craved the whisper of the Nameless. Missed it even.

The Rain Dancer had unleashed her.

Awakened the Sphinx and left her ever bound to the Devil's Wishbone.

Goldmine.

The lines were being drawn.

Soul to Soul.

Sometimes it was just about finding a place to burrow away and hide. Other times about the want, the need, the yearn for a touch. And often times it came down to the question of the kindred heart and the mate of souls.

There could be more then one.

And the lines were being drawn like a web over her heart, a snare on her heart, a shackle on her ankle.

She would be damned ...

She would be damned and she no longer cared

The price was far more heavy then the payment.

She would be damned... and she was a Goldmine.

My bones are tired...

Lovely evenings.

Lonely evenings.

How long had the Egyptian wandered the night. Long enough that the branches of the trees in moonlight began to look like skeleton arms and angry teeth.

She was told she shouldn't be out on her own. That even if the Egyptian could well take care of herself she should not be alone.

Not in the Dark Hours.

Shadowlands.

A grim smile even as once more she found herself walking them. Death patterns.

Somewhere the sun would die and yet Ba'shara burned on.

Defiant in the Darkness.

Wanting and waiting.

Needing and searching.

But the long road was empty and there was no one to guard the roads she walked.