<center><link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Playfair+Display+SC|Cinzel" rel="stylesheet"><div style="width: 500px; background: url('https://s1.postimg.cc/73x5q1cojz/Takei2.png'); padding-top: 5px; background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #000;box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000000;border-radius: 300px 300px 0 0;"><div style="width: 490px; background: url('https://s1.postimg.cc/73x5q1cojz/Takei2.png'); padding-top: 10px; background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #89312a; box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000000;border-radius: 300px 300px 0 0;"><div style="font-family: 'Playfair Display SC', cursive; font-size: 50px; color: #000;margin-top: 00px;padding-right:10px;text-shadow: 0 0 3px #000,1px 0px 1px #a94c31, 1px 1px 1px #7d352d, 1px 1px 1px #7d352d, 0 0 10px #000, 0 0 10px #7d352d;">Takei</div><div style="width:450px; margin-top: 380px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; padding: 10px; font-family: Times;color: #000;font-size: 13px; line-height: 140%; text-align: justify; text-shadow: .2px .2px 0px #000;">
They spend the entirety of the night searching for their ink and paper leader. With each unanswered call, a tight string of panic ties itself tighter around Takei’s heart. Morning blossoms on the ocean’s horizon to find the band of twelve searching diligently across the rocky expanse of the alpine terrain.The volcano seems more ominous, Takei regards, as though it is brewing with potential to cause havoc on the remaining souls below its stern face. Although none of them had seen it bubble with spite or puff smoke from its chimney, the loss of one of their own causes the thoughts to arrive.
By the evening of the second day, they are slowly unraveling. Takei burns with a deeper sort of worry, his red and white coat matted with cold sweat. Cancer and Phoenix bundle Lyra away whenever he tries to get close, he notices. Their brows wrinkle with concern, though they make no moves to rescue Takei from the feverish panic that curls through his bloodstream.
Despite his fatigue, the blood and ivory pushes on with a reckless fervor.
The others begin to complain. Lyra’s swollen womb slows her steps. At first, they all linger close to another, calling Orion’s name like the rhythm to a song of persistence. With each passing day, Lyra’s steps grow slower and Takei’s agitation grows larger. They all grow frustrated with one another yet their fear of being picked off one by one (perhaps by whatever might have taken Orion or perhaps by some other force of nature or perhaps simply by being left behind?) keeps them within eyesight of one another.
The snarky quips come in the heat of the third day. They are searching the corners of the desert-like portion of the island. The sand burns at the bottom of Takei’s feet, but there is no cool ocean in sight to take a break. The sun prods at his skin and he can only imagine what it might feel like for Draco and Cancer and Corvus and Hydra, the darker of their group.
The remarks between the twelve of them are hotter still than the day. By the time night falls, Takei’s muscles are spasming from exhaustion and his heart feels as though it has gone through a war zone. The constant worry and panic and terror link arms with the sadness and frustration and self-doubt from the day’s personal attacks. Takei sleeps painfully, caught between a world of sleepless fatigue and misty images of Orion kissing his tender muscles to soothe him.
He wakes to hear more crackling voices of panic. Phoenix is churning among the drowsy members of the band, his deep voice calling for them to wake. <i>“Ara, Hydra, Cassiopeia, and Corvus! They’re all gone.”</i> Takei counts rapidly, all the haze of sleep snapping away from his mind like ice shattering.
Scorpius, Draco, Andromeda, Cancer, Columbus, Lyra, and Phoenix.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
Eight out of thirteen.
Andromeda is swirling, tossing, dancing, careening. The emotions from the days past have boiled into a turning point for the daydreamy mare and Takei knows she is coping the only way her butterfly mind knows how. Her feet kick the sand in a pale arc against the dawning sky. Her body twists, petite curves winding like the top layer of sand on the dunes on a windy day.
Takei, in his delirium, finds the sight to be one of the most beautiful things he has seen.
Red, yellow, blue, purple, and orange.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
He shudders and suddenly the sand is reaching toward him with comforting arms and it is so cool against his sweaty skin.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
When Takei’s eyes open, it is darkness. His body aches all over (as though he had been dragged, or perhaps had walked with assistance but fallen many times) and he can feel the bruises evolving beneath his red and white coat. The quiet sound of water lapping against a shore draws his attention. He’s nestled alongside an oasis in the midst of the desert. Figures are sporadically spread in a semi-circle around the water.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
No one else had been taken over the course of his unconsciousness. Takei finds his feet, wincing as his muscles groan in protest. The ache he feels does not come from merely the bruises, but it is also found deep in his insides - more of a mental and emotional ache than a physical one. The dull pain nestled against his heart hurt perhaps more than the twinges against his skin.
Takei took a few steps forward to drink from the oasis. The coolness of the water brought him closer to his senses, but there was an unnatural savor to it. He drank it still, finding that with each gulp he felt more and more akin to his familiar self. Takei then circled around to each member of the remaining band, looking them over with hopeless eyes.
A shape in the near distance caught his gaze. It looked similar to a rock, but Takei noted that the figure seemed to closer resemble a horse on its side. Ears pricked forward, the stallion headed away from the oasis and into the open, sandy terrain. A bitter smell met Takei’s senses as he moved closer. Although the night was dark, the stars and moon illuminated the shape enough for the blood and ivory to pick out the curves and lines of a horse’s body.
It was burnt to a crisp.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
Despair lept from Takei’s throat in the form of a cry. Feet startled behind him, followed by sharp words of anger and confusion. Draco was the first to arrive (and for some reason Takei shifted away from the dark stallion with a critical expression) with a rough glance in Takei’s direction. <i>“What are you screaming about, sick-boy?”</i> The rest followed suit, gathering around the burnt body.
The crowding and the shouting and the deep, deep anguish sent Takei twisting back toward the oasis. The sand went churning from under his hooves as he careened into the still waters, yet it did not offer the comforts of the give-and-take the ocean granted him. As he wades deeper, Takei meets a different sort of density of liquid.
The moonlight again illuminated faint coloring to the water. Red. Deep, dark red. And something sitting atop a rock near the shoreline. Ears and a nose and lips curling mischievously. Immediately the blood and ivory is leaping from the oasis, legs splashing at the (red; deep, dark red) water. His nostrils quiver at the acrid smell reaching his senses now.
He recognizes her face. It had once been freckled with pretty gray spots, her mouth a gentle ivory to contrast her coffee eyes. Those delicate eyes are gone now, replaced with dark holes that are somehow still able to look at Takei. An icy tendril of terror drips through his whole body, spreading and spreading and spreading until it escapes past his lips in a screech that echos into the night.
Cassiopeia.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
They come careening, but each of them stop short at the sight of her head (unburnt, raggedly sawed off, uncomfortably malformed) perching atop the rock like a bloodied throne. Cancer is screaming to the stars. Columba is kicking at the water as though it were a rabid snake. Draco is deathly quiet (this Takei notes with another critical stare).
But it is Cassiopeia. It is not Orion.
He feels guilty for that small bit of relief that warms his tired bones.
Although they might have shot accusations at one another the past days, they curl against each other’s flanks like newborn kittens through the rest of the night. Takei barely sleeps, counting each of them over and over and remaining tense for possible danger.
<b>“One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.”</b>
He must have fallen asleep at some point because, when he wakes, they are all there. Before he opens his eyes, he feels his skin itch. There is a drag of a breath across his face. Takei’s belly drops with an uncomfortable feeling before he opens his eyes to see Scorpius standing nose to nose with him. Blood and ivory meets copper.
<b>“Scorpius? Wha-”</b> He is cut off from his sentence as he realizes all of them are standing practically nose to skin with some portion of his body. Takei tries to make eye contact, but that only increases his fear. Their eyes are glowing (he can’t tell what color - if any color) and he can feel the heat of their hatred. Even maternal little Lyra, with the gentle warmth of her pregnancy. Takei tries to take a step back, but he is met by the wide chest of Phoenix.
<b>“What the fuck is happening?”</b> Confusion mingles with terror as he watches all their mouths open as one. They seem to stretch further than normal, jaws unhinging to unleash a string of words all from one voice.
<i>“Whydidyoukillher?”</i> A chilly, quick pause. <i>“Wheredoyoucomefrom?”</i> Their glowing eyes roll into the backs of their sockets before returning to stare at him. <i>“Kill him. Killhim. Killhimkillhim. KILLHIM.”</i>
<i>One.</i>
Scorpius leaps first, blunt teeth aiming directly for Takei’s eyes. He dodges, but the copper stallion’s teeth land against his left eyebrow nonetheless. Blood oozes from the cut and it isn’t long before it drips into his eye.
<i>Two.</i>
Draco’s mouth stretches into a sadistic grin as he rises to rip his hooves into Takei’s right side. He uses the time Scorpius takes to recoil from his blow to race to the left. The dark stallion’s hooves slide down his once-companion’s right thigh. The skin shreds deep enough to expose connective tissue and bits of tendon. Blood instantly gushes and Takei’s mouth opens to scream his agony.
<i>Three.</i>
Takei stumbles as he jerks to the left. Adrenaline keeps the majority of the pain at bay, but he can’t help but moan at the white-hot anguish. He can hear their steps whirling behind him, but he is more gifted at racing across sands (thanks to all those years spent chasing the seagulls) than their clumsy legs.
<i>Four.</i>
<i>“Killhim. Killhim. Killhim. Killhim.”</i> It’s a different sort of rhythmic drum to a different sort of song. Where before they had been calling for their lost leader (<i>“Orion. Orion. Orion. Orion.”</i>), now they call for blood and destruction. The emotions swirling in Takei’s mind are fathomless. The most prominent is terror.
<i>Five.</i>
He barrels toward the tropics. Takei knows he will be able to slow them down among the fronds and trunks. Despite the constant movement of his right leg, the pain is kept at bay by the deep instinct to run instilled by those ancestors from so long ago.
<i>Six.</i>
The thunder of their steps behind him grow quieter once his bloodied frame kisses the treeline. He dodges and weaves through the underbrush and around the tangled vines. His ultimate goal is toward the ocean (always the ocean - where he first awoke, where he first loved the ink and paper man, where the waves would lull him to sleep with their siren song) but he must lose them first.
<i>Seven.</i>
Once their steps and shouting fades to only his own heartbeat and heavy breathing, he splashes into the ocean. The salty water stings his right thigh unlike any pain he had felt before and he bites his tongue to resist from screaming aloud. Blood pools in his mouth and he swallows it forcing himself to wade further until the waves dash against his back. He doesn’t know if they will brave the tide as he has done many times before but he is scared and he is tired and he is in pain.
</div><div style="font-family: 'Cinzel', serif; color: #000; font-size: 18px; text-align: center;font-weight:bold;padding-bottom: 10px;text-shadow: 0px 0px 6px #b45b3d;">watch the mind run far away, way ahead of us</div></center>
They spend the entirety of the night searching for their ink and paper leader. With each unanswered call, a tight string of panic ties itself tighter around Takei’s heart. Morning blossoms on the ocean’s horizon to find the band of twelve searching diligently across the rocky expanse of the alpine terrain.The volcano seems more ominous, Takei regards, as though it is brewing with potential to cause havoc on the remaining souls below its stern face. Although none of them had seen it bubble with spite or puff smoke from its chimney, the loss of one of their own causes the thoughts to arrive.
By the evening of the second day, they are slowly unraveling. Takei burns with a deeper sort of worry, his red and white coat matted with cold sweat. Cancer and Phoenix bundle Lyra away whenever he tries to get close, he notices. Their brows wrinkle with concern, though they make no moves to rescue Takei from the feverish panic that curls through his bloodstream.
Despite his fatigue, the blood and ivory pushes on with a reckless fervor.
The others begin to complain. Lyra’s swollen womb slows her steps. At first, they all linger close to another, calling Orion’s name like the rhythm to a song of persistence. With each passing day, Lyra’s steps grow slower and Takei’s agitation grows larger. They all grow frustrated with one another yet their fear of being picked off one by one (perhaps by whatever might have taken Orion or perhaps by some other force of nature or perhaps simply by being left behind?) keeps them within eyesight of one another.
The snarky quips come in the heat of the third day. They are searching the corners of the desert-like portion of the island. The sand burns at the bottom of Takei’s feet, but there is no cool ocean in sight to take a break. The sun prods at his skin and he can only imagine what it might feel like for Draco and Cancer and Corvus and Hydra, the darker of their group.
The remarks between the twelve of them are hotter still than the day. By the time night falls, Takei’s muscles are spasming from exhaustion and his heart feels as though it has gone through a war zone. The constant worry and panic and terror link arms with the sadness and frustration and self-doubt from the day’s personal attacks. Takei sleeps painfully, caught between a world of sleepless fatigue and misty images of Orion kissing his tender muscles to soothe him.
He wakes to hear more crackling voices of panic. Phoenix is churning among the drowsy members of the band, his deep voice calling for them to wake. <i>“Ara, Hydra, Cassiopeia, and Corvus! They’re all gone.”</i> Takei counts rapidly, all the haze of sleep snapping away from his mind like ice shattering.
Scorpius, Draco, Andromeda, Cancer, Columbus, Lyra, and Phoenix.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
Eight out of thirteen.
Andromeda is swirling, tossing, dancing, careening. The emotions from the days past have boiled into a turning point for the daydreamy mare and Takei knows she is coping the only way her butterfly mind knows how. Her feet kick the sand in a pale arc against the dawning sky. Her body twists, petite curves winding like the top layer of sand on the dunes on a windy day.
Takei, in his delirium, finds the sight to be one of the most beautiful things he has seen.
Red, yellow, blue, purple, and orange.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
He shudders and suddenly the sand is reaching toward him with comforting arms and it is so cool against his sweaty skin.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
When Takei’s eyes open, it is darkness. His body aches all over (as though he had been dragged, or perhaps had walked with assistance but fallen many times) and he can feel the bruises evolving beneath his red and white coat. The quiet sound of water lapping against a shore draws his attention. He’s nestled alongside an oasis in the midst of the desert. Figures are sporadically spread in a semi-circle around the water.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
No one else had been taken over the course of his unconsciousness. Takei finds his feet, wincing as his muscles groan in protest. The ache he feels does not come from merely the bruises, but it is also found deep in his insides - more of a mental and emotional ache than a physical one. The dull pain nestled against his heart hurt perhaps more than the twinges against his skin.
Takei took a few steps forward to drink from the oasis. The coolness of the water brought him closer to his senses, but there was an unnatural savor to it. He drank it still, finding that with each gulp he felt more and more akin to his familiar self. Takei then circled around to each member of the remaining band, looking them over with hopeless eyes.
A shape in the near distance caught his gaze. It looked similar to a rock, but Takei noted that the figure seemed to closer resemble a horse on its side. Ears pricked forward, the stallion headed away from the oasis and into the open, sandy terrain. A bitter smell met Takei’s senses as he moved closer. Although the night was dark, the stars and moon illuminated the shape enough for the blood and ivory to pick out the curves and lines of a horse’s body.
It was burnt to a crisp.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
Despair lept from Takei’s throat in the form of a cry. Feet startled behind him, followed by sharp words of anger and confusion. Draco was the first to arrive (and for some reason Takei shifted away from the dark stallion with a critical expression) with a rough glance in Takei’s direction. <i>“What are you screaming about, sick-boy?”</i> The rest followed suit, gathering around the burnt body.
The crowding and the shouting and the deep, deep anguish sent Takei twisting back toward the oasis. The sand went churning from under his hooves as he careened into the still waters, yet it did not offer the comforts of the give-and-take the ocean granted him. As he wades deeper, Takei meets a different sort of density of liquid.
The moonlight again illuminated faint coloring to the water. Red. Deep, dark red. And something sitting atop a rock near the shoreline. Ears and a nose and lips curling mischievously. Immediately the blood and ivory is leaping from the oasis, legs splashing at the (red; deep, dark red) water. His nostrils quiver at the acrid smell reaching his senses now.
He recognizes her face. It had once been freckled with pretty gray spots, her mouth a gentle ivory to contrast her coffee eyes. Those delicate eyes are gone now, replaced with dark holes that are somehow still able to look at Takei. An icy tendril of terror drips through his whole body, spreading and spreading and spreading until it escapes past his lips in a screech that echos into the night.
Cassiopeia.
One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.
They come careening, but each of them stop short at the sight of her head (unburnt, raggedly sawed off, uncomfortably malformed) perching atop the rock like a bloodied throne. Cancer is screaming to the stars. Columba is kicking at the water as though it were a rabid snake. Draco is deathly quiet (this Takei notes with another critical stare).
But it is Cassiopeia. It is not Orion.
He feels guilty for that small bit of relief that warms his tired bones.
Although they might have shot accusations at one another the past days, they curl against each other’s flanks like newborn kittens through the rest of the night. Takei barely sleeps, counting each of them over and over and remaining tense for possible danger.
<b>“One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.”</b>
He must have fallen asleep at some point because, when he wakes, they are all there. Before he opens his eyes, he feels his skin itch. There is a drag of a breath across his face. Takei’s belly drops with an uncomfortable feeling before he opens his eyes to see Scorpius standing nose to nose with him. Blood and ivory meets copper.
<b>“Scorpius? Wha-”</b> He is cut off from his sentence as he realizes all of them are standing practically nose to skin with some portion of his body. Takei tries to make eye contact, but that only increases his fear. Their eyes are glowing (he can’t tell what color - if any color) and he can feel the heat of their hatred. Even maternal little Lyra, with the gentle warmth of her pregnancy. Takei tries to take a step back, but he is met by the wide chest of Phoenix.
<b>“What the fuck is happening?”</b> Confusion mingles with terror as he watches all their mouths open as one. They seem to stretch further than normal, jaws unhinging to unleash a string of words all from one voice.
<i>“Whydidyoukillher?”</i> A chilly, quick pause. <i>“Wheredoyoucomefrom?”</i> Their glowing eyes roll into the backs of their sockets before returning to stare at him. <i>“Kill him. Killhim. Killhimkillhim. KILLHIM.”</i>
<i>One.</i>
Scorpius leaps first, blunt teeth aiming directly for Takei’s eyes. He dodges, but the copper stallion’s teeth land against his left eyebrow nonetheless. Blood oozes from the cut and it isn’t long before it drips into his eye.
<i>Two.</i>
Draco’s mouth stretches into a sadistic grin as he rises to rip his hooves into Takei’s right side. He uses the time Scorpius takes to recoil from his blow to race to the left. The dark stallion’s hooves slide down his once-companion’s right thigh. The skin shreds deep enough to expose connective tissue and bits of tendon. Blood instantly gushes and Takei’s mouth opens to scream his agony.
<i>Three.</i>
Takei stumbles as he jerks to the left. Adrenaline keeps the majority of the pain at bay, but he can’t help but moan at the white-hot anguish. He can hear their steps whirling behind him, but he is more gifted at racing across sands (thanks to all those years spent chasing the seagulls) than their clumsy legs.
<i>Four.</i>
<i>“Killhim. Killhim. Killhim. Killhim.”</i> It’s a different sort of rhythmic drum to a different sort of song. Where before they had been calling for their lost leader (<i>“Orion. Orion. Orion. Orion.”</i>), now they call for blood and destruction. The emotions swirling in Takei’s mind are fathomless. The most prominent is terror.
<i>Five.</i>
He barrels toward the tropics. Takei knows he will be able to slow them down among the fronds and trunks. Despite the constant movement of his right leg, the pain is kept at bay by the deep instinct to run instilled by those ancestors from so long ago.
<i>Six.</i>
The thunder of their steps behind him grow quieter once his bloodied frame kisses the treeline. He dodges and weaves through the underbrush and around the tangled vines. His ultimate goal is toward the ocean (always the ocean - where he first awoke, where he first loved the ink and paper man, where the waves would lull him to sleep with their siren song) but he must lose them first.
<i>Seven.</i>
Once their steps and shouting fades to only his own heartbeat and heavy breathing, he splashes into the ocean. The salty water stings his right thigh unlike any pain he had felt before and he bites his tongue to resist from screaming aloud. Blood pools in his mouth and he swallows it forcing himself to wade further until the waves dash against his back. He doesn’t know if they will brave the tide as he has done many times before but he is scared and he is tired and he is in pain.
</div><div style="font-family: 'Cinzel', serif; color: #000; font-size: 18px; text-align: center;font-weight:bold;padding-bottom: 10px;text-shadow: 0px 0px 6px #b45b3d;">watch the mind run far away, way ahead of us</div></center>