"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
I can't believe, in this place and time;
that we failed to read the simple signs.
At some point, the two mares had found each other. Both had been quiet creatures, herd mares, and had lived happily in herds for a long while. But Beqanna had changed – and herds were no longer the normal, and without Kingdoms to owe allegiance to, they were homeless and welcomed the company of each other.
And then Beqanna had changed again, the magic leached from the land, and they had watched with worried eyes and heavy hearts. The dark girl with the creamy mane and tail was from lands beyond the borders of Beqanna, but she could not return home. She’d never been magical, but she could see the anxiety and anger roiling beneath the surface of the world after so many lost so much. And the green girl had been born here, raised here, but she too was of relatively little magical consequence beyond her green pelt.
Now, there were no herds. Too many of the Beqanna residents preferred Kingdom life, and they were stranded. So they lived in the Meadow, the Forest, on the outskirts of society, and they roamed alone. Usually, someone is on watch. One of them watches for danger while the other eats, or sleeps; but today they are both grazing, feeling safe beneath the sheltering trees just at the edge of where the Meadow meets the Forest.
AYSTYR & KHAMAEL
@[Dovev] ooc; these are the two I was hoping Dovev would maybe kill, as per our conversation in plots?. :| And since I'm just doing one thread with them I didn't want to make them an account lol. Feel free to just attack or talk or whatever I am not picky. <3
He would take it the only way he knew how, force the blackness to consume him. Battle and push himself until his mind lost grip, until unconsciousness claimed him and exhaustion overwhelmed his body. Fight until he collapsed.
He tucked Atrani away in the meadow. Just for now, just for long enough and then he would return for her. As quickly as he could. She was all he had left. She was his greatest treasure now. This would have to be quick, just a short rest. A nap, really. Until they were home, huddled in the darkness of his den in Ischia. The one where -no, don't think of her. He pushed his thoughts away, focused on what he needed to do. Just a little sleep. Just a little.
He walked to the forest, away from the sightless eyes of his child. She would know soon enough the darkness that was within him. He would get her safely home first.
Deep within the trees was a clearing, two mares grazing and not a soul else. Their gender was nothing to him, their innocence was nothing. He was ruthless, merciless. They were a means to an end, and nothing more. He needed sleep, needed the fight to force the blackness over him. Needed the energy from rest to take his daughter home. One would not be enough, he would take them both.
Black form prowled forward, lethal purpose in every line of his body. An eager light flared to life in his bloodshot eyes and his nostrils flared. He was sunken in, skin and bones with an ivory armor erupting out of him, but he had hidden strength in that frail body. A force of power forged and trained into him by his master, the magician. And today he would use it.
His blood pumped to his limbs, heated and warmed them into fluid movement despite his weariness. He approached them without a word or cry of warning, only the sound of his hoofbeats as he tore between them, lashing out violently with teeth to a dark shoulder covered in hair of cream. The emerald mare immediately came to her defense, and he let her kicks rail against him as he dug his teeth deeper into the dark one.
He broke the contact and drove out of them. He could have killed them swiftly, was trained to. But he needed the fight, needed the blackness to drag him under. So he extended their suffering. Let them chase him as he circled the green. The pale mane of the other slowly dripped red as it swept over the gaping wound. That one would be first, he decided, and he would keep the other healthy. Keep her able to fight back and push him under.
A snarl curled his lips as he cut his path suddenly, angling for the injured one again. The green moved to block him and he plowed into her without hesitation, gripped her mane and jerked her to the ground. The wounded dark kicked at his bare ribs, cracking one as he lunged instead for her. His jaws met only air, but he gave chase until he was able to snatch her shoulder and yank her off-balance. Before she could catch herself, he was on her again, bearing down and forcing her beneath him. He gripped her throat like a feral beast and tore it out.
The force of a cannon shot through his head, and he was knocked to the side at the emerald mare's kick to his face. But she was too late, there would be no rescue now. He shook the blur from his eyes, only to see her escaping from him. He lurched forward, the Arabian in his blood lending him the speed and agility necessary to overcome her. He chased, toyed with her, nipped at her flanks and drove her harder. Like a hound, he herded her back toward the other lying prone and bleeding out. It was only right that they die together. Probably.
Fatigue bled into him, and he knew it was time. He pushed himself to his limits, throwing himself against her with the full force of his strength. He had no care for his own health, and only just then realized his face was draining blood swiftly from her kick, spraying it all over her as they tumbled to the ground. Teeth sank into his neck where bone plates were missing and he hissed. He jerked from her hold and began to rise. Her head followed, aiming for another bite as he thought she might, and he kicked out straight for her temple. Her skull shattered beneath his power and she sank to the ground.
He stood between them, breathing heavily and bleeding. Pain tore through him but he felt none of it as he studied them, made sure they would not be rising to finish him as he lay vulnerable. But it was done. They were dead. He took a deep breath, filled with the metallic tang of blood and salty sweat, and his face smoothed, suddenly peaceful.
Unconsciousness finally came for him. The deep black rolled in to replace the weariness, and he collapsed in a pool of their mingled blood. A warm, wet blanket with a scent as familiar to him as his own. Peace. Rest.
