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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    And there was you [Femur]
    #1
    Valensia
    Her world changes, literally turning itself upside down. It’s quite an upsetting experience, and something that the young filly isn’t going to let the world get away with. The bleat that bellies in her throat builds and smolders until enough air fills her lungs that she can let it out. It echoes her woes far enough that she is startled by the sounds of her voice. It takes a long moment for her to adjust to the burning sun, and slashes of orange that paint the sky. That’s not all that overwhelms her though. It’s so cold, wet, and just plain nasty out here. Maybe not to the rest of the world, but for Val it’s not something that she is taking in stride. She fills her lungs once more moaning her complaint enough times that the mare behind her nuzzles her clean.

    The figure is blurry, and she can’t see the scars that are carved into the mares hide. If only the filly could understand the effort it took for her to stay long enough to give the girl a fighting chance in the world. She wanted nothing to do with the reminder of the monster that had filled her with this. She wanted to escape from this place as soon and as fast as possible. She would feed and clean the foal, but after that… The filly was nothing to her.

    The filly blinks up, belly full, skin dry, and her vision somewhat reliant. As her amber gaze darts around looking for the figure that had just nuzzled her into comfort she finds only empty space, and birthing fluids on the grasses near her. This time her nicker is more of a weak question than a complaint. Ears flip around taking in the sounds of the wildlife around her.

    As she has a moment to think, things begin to seem a little more sinister, like that bush over there. It grows and sways shivering with a thirst for filly. And the branch that lengthens its claws, grasping to snag her coat so that it can devour her. Or the birds flying from their nest to alert the predators their next meal is available, and oh isn’t she just a tasty morsel. Val tries to brace herself using every muscle in her body to struggle to her hooves. When she does make it, her wings flap at her sides steadying her steps.

    Eyes widen, and nares flare in surprise. The additional limbs were not there before… were they? She flares them out fanning herself with them. One is sharp, pointed, and ugly to look at, and the other? Beautiful full feathers black as the deepest night. Her ears warble in confusion as the stump of a tail thumps her hindquarters. What to make of this new development she isn’t sure. What the hell would she do with them anyways? Maybe she could find someone that could tell her.

    “And there was you - your fair self,
    always delicately dressed,
    with white firm fingers sure of touch
    in delicate true work.
    I loved you then.”
    - Charlotte Gilman


    @[Femur]
    Reply
    #2
    I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
    Femur is on the prowl.
    She felt trapped in her own skin, left too big for it after her mate had climbed off her back and she had come back down from amongst the galaxies and euphoria of their coupling. Because of it, she had scoured the dark shore for hours until fording the sea with a grim set of her head held up above the waves that threatened to beat her back towards Tephra. She refused to let the sea overtake her and she pushed onward with swift strokes of her legs until she gained the other shore and the trail that took her into the Meadow.

    The little mare shook the seawater from her fur as best as she could and felt the balm of a land freed from the grip of ice and cold first touch her. It was more bearable here, not quite as humid as Tephra could get but she could almost taste the green of new growth on her tongue. It seemed far more palpable here now that winter loosened her chokehold on the land and Femur almost smiled. Almost, because there was no smile to see as she drew her cloak of invisibility about her and went amongst them unseen. All that could foretell of her coming or going, was tracks in the mud on the trail and the shallow indentations of her passage are filled up fast with the wintry runoff of snowmelt.

    Femur looks at little, sniffs the air every now and then, and then deviates from the known trail. She picks her way through the bushes, sampling a berry here and there. The juices stain her fanged mouth, rendering it visible though the rest of her is a sight unseen. Popping the plump little berries between her teeth reminds her of her mate, and she can think of better things she’d rather be doing now than inhaling berry after berry until her stomach hurts. Too much sweetness and Femur is not by any stretch of the imagination, a sweet mare. She is tricksy and sly as the fanged grin on her now visible face suggests as she pokes it out of a bush, the branches of which scratch at her neck in twiggy little claws that seek to draw blood.

    Still, all she can think of is him as she discovers that she is looking down on a foal - a filly, by the looks and the smell of it - that is all on her own. That’s odd, she thinks as the grin falls from her face. Femur is not the motherly kind either - she’s barely a mare that has just left the knock-kneed gangliness behind for lusher curves that accentuate her slim thin shape. She cocks her head to the side, that part of her is still visible enough as she sniffs the air. Sure enough, there is the scent of afterbirth and baby but the scent of the mother has fast begun to fade. It is a good assumption that the foal is now an orphan and Femur can feel her heart crack open just a smidgen.

    Her bloodline cannot stomach leaving babies behind and apparently Femur is cut from that same feral cloth. Some instinct rises in her and makes her completely visible as she breaks from the bush that housed her with little more than a flinch and a few pale hairs of her tail left behind. “Hello, little one.” she calls with a soft murmur as she sidles to the foal’s side, mindful of the wings that flap much like the fuzzy ears atop the babe’s head do - loose and unlearned. One wing is the rich black of a night lacking any star, the feathers thick in their glossy newness. The other is hard and gleaming, has the look of bone and is confirmed to be no more than a skeletal assemblage of what the other would look like if stripped of feathers and membrane.

    Of its own accord, her nose has drifted down to touch the top of the babe’s head in a comforting gesture as she coos wordlessly at it.
    Femur
    Reply
    #3
    Valensia
    One second she could swear that the vegetation is going to eat her, and the next a pale head is popping from the shuffling bush. Her own head rises from its interest in her wings; with a snort of surprise, her feathers and coat ruffle at the presence of an unknown. Cocking her head, the filly gazes at the new comer from one of her honeyed eye. She takes the mare’s scent deep into her lungs, the taste on her breath seems salty, and a thick musk clings to her; this particular scent puzzles the filly for a moment before her thoughts are interrupted.

    Hellluu Her lips slide around the syllables dramatically mimicking what she saw the other do. It is decidedly a very interesting development for her, and something snaps inside her. She can’t understand the hunger for knowledge or the curiosity that burns through her bones, only that these urges to pay closer attention, and the quickening of her heart tell her to expect more from where that came from. At the touch she relaxes, sighing in comfort. She cranes her neck bumping the mare with her whiskery muzzle in return.

    Something clicks and her fears of the world seem to settle. The bush looks more like a bush, and doesn’t seem quite so foal thirsty anymore. The tree draws back seemingly slightly smaller than before this pale creature came. The slashes of orange bleed back into calm filaments of meandering light. The birds have settled, and they no longer pay any mind to the filly who had just believed them to be calling out for something to harm her. Val’s uncertain steps bring her closer to the creamy hide, and the warmth that it offers. She pauses for a second looking up to the others gaze, wondering if she would stop her from seeking this comfort. Brushing her muzzle along the thick neck of muscle her shoulder twitches, reactively she flaps her wings again. What are these? Attentively she’s been listening to the conversations around them, gathering a few words as she does. Understanding is coming slow but each moment that she focuses on learning brings her closer to satisfying this new thirst.

    “And there was you - your fair self,
    always delicately dressed,
    with white firm fingers sure of touch
    in delicate true work.
    I loved you then.”
    - Charlotte Gilman
    Reply
    #4
    Femur flicks her ears at the snort of surprise.
    She had forgotten that she tends to have that effect on others when she appears out of thin air. It is something that she excels at and spares little thought to how it might look to them or how they’ll respond. Still, her lips comb the smallest whorl of hair upon that babe’s brow for a moment more before the little one attempts to talk. Progress! Femur feels an odd sensation inside her - pride, it inflates like the insides of a corpse full of gases and she smiles down upon the girl.

    She can feel the foal start to relax beneath her motherly ministrations before the girl bumps her whiskery muzzle along Femur’s skin. This too, is progress, she thinks. Showing a more decided interest in the babe as the pride continues to build in her like a hot gas that is close to igniting into something fierce and unstoppable. Uh oh! Femur is enamored once again by a child seemingly orphaned, left to fend for itself against the cruelties of the world of which Femur just happened to get to the foal first before something more dastardly could.

    The foal presses closer and Femur does not stop her.
    Their gazes meet for a moment before the little muzzle ghosts along her flesh and then the wings flap in a bid for attention. Curious, the girl redirects her attention to the wings and Femur follows her with her black eyes. Proud that the girl is smart enough to ask about these extra appendages. “Wings,” she breathes in one short quiet breath before continuing on with her explanation and directing her own muzzle to touch first the feathered wing than the bony one.

    “These are feathers,” as her lips touch against the soft short feathers that still have lots of growing to do. “This is bone,” she iterates as her lips slide along the smoothness of the gleaming skeleton. “With them you should be able to fly but mayhap not with that one,” she gestures to the bone-wing with her nose, a flippant gesture because Femur has no experience with flight - fright, yes but not the act of taking to the skies like she’s seen others do but the new Overseer could explain the mechanics of flight better to this one than Femur could. She could get the girl an introduction with the new king though to further her knowledge of wings and flight.

    Her lips touch down upon that little head again with one more singular utterance, “Come with me.”

    @[Valensia]
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