The Pinnacle
Ricochet | Ahlora
A brow arched slowly over one eye as the pirate regarded in silence what lay before him. The endlessly shifting sands grabbed and clawed at the jagged monolith that thrust itself from the earth. The deep brown and onyx hues of the craggy rocks and points contrasting violently against the pale tan of the loose grains of sand. On its own, it stood a curiosity. But from where Ryder stood there was far more to it than just that. The mount had a heartbeat. A vein. One that pulsed vibrant, pure white light. Truly something that held more interest than just a mountain that did not belong. All alone in the vast desert. This was more. It was as though the earth itself was feeding itself into this rock and offering it life.
Drawing a deep breath, the Captain tilted his head slightly to one side for a moment, allowing the thick braids that hung heavy on the port side of his neck to shift with the turn. Affected by gravity they fell free of the thick muscular body as the pirate watched this rock as though it might offer answers. But he knew all too well it was a rock. A rock that would not answer. At least, that was the case most everywhere one went. Who knew what the Rift might throw at you if it desired. What tricks and games it might play. Slowly he forced a breath from his lungs and straightened.
“I am fuckin’ starin’ at a fuckin’ rock…” He growled the words and turned sharply on his haunches in an attempt to remind himself that this was not some mythical curiosity but just another form of nature. While it might be different than he was used to it was still a fucking rock. Letting loose a thick, demonic growl like sound his ears laced themselves to his skull as per his typical nature, tail snapping against his muscled haunches. The heavy braid was something he was growing used to. Even the sting when it slammed to his sides in his agitation was becoming commonplace.
Most of the source of his ire these days was what was stolen from him. His life before now, his powers. His crew. The lack of memory. But there was something else on his mind. Or rather someone. And that only served to raise the fury in his soul. He had spoken ad nauseam about it with Arronax but it did little to rid himself of the frustration. Calhoun Ryder held a thick lack of trust for anyone who crossed his path and yet despite that he found himself dwelling on the black stallion often.
There was simply something about the male. Perhaps it was the fact Ryder had the ability to fluster him and infuriate him to the point of Ryder’s pure and utter amusement. Or perhaps it was that the male held much more akin to the pirate than Ricochet might care to admit. Or maybe it was the physical attraction. Who knew exactly what drove the thoughts. Ryder had never been one to want to study at length his thoughts and feelings. He was a man who chose action over thought.
Not to say he had no intelligence. Oh, that was so far from the truth. A man as infamous on the seas as Ryder had to have some intelligence. Especially in nautical strategy and battles at sea. But that did not mean he cared to focus on thoughts. It was something he did only when required. And much to his chagrin, as a Captain, it was required often.
But all too often he called on Arronax for advice. The man’s mind worked differently. And Ryder could not begin to count the times he was thankful for such a thing. There was certainly more than one way the man helped. One of which they were severely lacking since arriving here.
But what could Ryder say? This was not exactly the body he was used to. It was not the world he knew. And despite that, every day he went without the male it only caused more frustration and climbing lust. Another low growl from the throat of the demon hybrid. Truly he missed the act. The one that brought the kind of release and pleasure only such an intimate, primal action could. And especially when it involved Arronax.
True enough their relationship had been more one of convenience at first for Ryder. But it did not take long for him to accept he felt the same way Arronax always knew he had. Sighing, he shook his head as he drew a breath in. He knew the male was close. His scent was not far. But he never was far from the Captain. If only due to the temper than ran through him and the fact he was perhaps the only soul capable of calming the stallion. But there was also the affection and need for each other.
Though there had been more distance placed between them in recent weeks than was common for them. An adjustment period. And one Ryder did not enjoy. Certainly an awkward one. His mind told him one thing, his body another, while his heart screamed a third. A complex set of emotions he hated. Made even more convoluted by the black stallion who he had met in The Portal.
An ungodly roar of anger ripped the throat of the pirate.
An attempt to vent frustration from his soul.
With no one around he would willingly harm all was safe. A single hoof struck the sand only to follow by cutting a deep scar along the sand. One that the earth would attempt to fill back in but struggled to entirely. Throwing his weight into his haunches he pushed off the earth, rather effortlessly despite the thickness of the grains beneath him. He was used to traversing sand. It did little to drag him down. Powerful hinds balancing the full weight of the pirate, coiling and flexing as sinew twisted and worked.
Another scream of rage as the massive hooves cut through the clear morning air, clawing at nothing. It was nothing more than a way to release the tension building in his body. The same tension that pulled his muscles into tight knots and caused them to cramp and ache. Something needed to give.
But what?
Every Ryder didn’t know at the moment.
