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  • Beqanna

    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


    rendez-vous and I'm through with you [anyone <3]
    #1
    jackel
    The kindness of the water draws me in.  The blood stains and mud imbedded into my once bright coat are just screaming to be let free.  And who am I to keep them captive?  They yearn to be free of my slender frame and bestowed back upon the soil from where it came.  Except for the dried crimson of my blood, I suppose, since that came from me.  But nonetheless, it’s time that my tawny coat returned back to its previous golden glory.

    My movements are still far from their usually grace, but at least I can walk further than two horse lengths without passing out.  There is still pain within my body, but I do not mind.  In fact I would be just a mess if something didn’t hurt somewhere.  It helps to keep me sane, you know, the pain and whatnot.  Pain demands the audience of focus, and focus is something that I normally desperately lack (or so I’m told), so that focus helps give me clarity and yadda yadda yadda.  Anyways, I love the pain of it all.  It’s simply addicting and I cannot resist its beckoning call.  My red lady, if you will.  And my red lady was there in all her crimson glory when I watched my demon rip my heart from my unwilling chest.

    The memory sends shivers down my spinal cord and I giggle gleefully as I kick my walk into a ragged trot.  Speaking of my heart, it would seem as though I just passed it by, but I don’t pay it much attention right now—I have a new one ripe for the taking and other audiences within the fire forest to entertain.

    I slow just before the stagnant water’s edge; the placidity is misguiding I know.  The kind water always hides secrets somewhere within.  There are dangers all over Sylva now.  My king has brought the dangers with his wake. I’m practically oozing with excitement to be able to meet all the pretty dangers!  And now I stare at my own face, my head twisting sideways to better stare at my own reflection, “Hello Jack,” I coo softly to myself and the dangers within as my impish grin grows brighter on my face.


    all this joy, I've got some to share
    devin's∇designs
    Reply
    #2
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    He smells her on the cold air long before he sees her.

    The beast hides beneath the shadow of the cave that overlooks the calm and dark lake, standing silently on damp moss-covered stone. Behind him he can hear the tiny drip drop of stalactites splashing against rock - a sound that he has grown used to and rather fond of. But soon the scent of a woman draws his attention, and his pale nostrils quiver at the delectable smell. There is blood in the air - dried and old, but enough to pique Maugrim’s interest even further. The darkness of the cave croons to him, curling around his muscled legs and chest, covering him with their shadowy kisses. The darkness is kind to him, but it is nothing like the way the water makes him feel; the way killing with it made him feel. 

    The woman appears, golden within the dying light of Sylva’s winter. Snow had not yet fallen, but the air quivers with anticipation. She stares into the water stupidly while the beast watches from his haven across the lake, vapor rising from his nostrils as the warmth of his bated breath meets the frigid air. Her voice is sing-songy and light in the dimness of the shadowed forest, and nearly echoes in the silence that surrounds them. Maugrim does not move towards her yet, but allows the water before her that holds her reflection to warp curiously, swirling and spinning before her as if alive - a warning sign, perhaps; or an invitation. 

    But the puppeteer is there, hidden beneath darkness and shadow, a fire burning in the depths of his abysmal gaze. She would take the bait, he knows, and once it is too late she will come to know his face.
    m a u g r i m.


    @[Jackel]
    Reply
    #3
    jackel
    Kindness is merely a facade.

    I stare at the water Jack longer than necessary, but really I have nothing better to do just now, and I'm truly a patient person if I will myself to be.  So after I'm done blinking at myself and waiting a whole minute, I begin to move my dial back towards the blue dome above me.  But a subtle growth of twisting movement draws my gaze back down to the water; the pattern of its swirls almost hypnotizing.  I giggle softly in child-like delight as my reflection distorts to odd proportions--the solid lines of my face becoming wavy and blurred is all too wonderful to not appreciate.  And my fore limb draws upward then downward, wanting to make my own masterpiece on the liquid surface, but before my pretty little hoof manages to break the plane between air and water I pause mid-descent.  My body freezes while my downcast head tilts unnaturally sideways.  Water Jack stares back at me brightly, the white of her eyes showing dazzlingly wild and a cheshire grin draws the corners of her lips drastically higher.  I like this Water Jack--she seems like a devilishly good time.  The eyes in her skull roll upward and my gaze follows hers to a darkness beyond the pond; darkness is always watching.  I can feel my twisted lips mimic Water Jack's seductive smile as I finally move my previously frozen bodice a step back from the water's edge.

    Quickly, I turn completely away from the pond, continuing away from the body with a langorous trot, hummimg a tune I had picked up from another child somewhere along the way.  The fall of a golden tear drops downward to meet its fallen comrades and upon impact I take it as my cue.  Skidding to a halt, my hindquardters find purchase under me as my body simultaneously twists back in the direction of the pond.  Pushing my limbs into a gallop I rapidly close the distance I had drawn from the pond.  At the waters edge where I stood moments before, I collect myself before vaulting my dirt and blood stained tawny hide into the air.   It feels like ages pass before the climax of my leap is finally reached and I am finally able to angle myself into an equine dive before my body impales the stagnant plane of fluid.  The sharp chill sends my nerve endings on edge as I become submerged.  

    I don't know what type of darkness lurks in and around the water yet, but I am well acquainted with some of her mysterious children.  What offspring does she harbor amongst water?  I'll be damned if I don't find out.

    Hello darkness, my old friend.


    all this joy, I've got some to share
    devin's∇designs


    @[Maugrim]
    Reply
    #4
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    The way she carries herself along with her reaction of his presence has him slightly confused.

    Slightly confused, and majorly enraged.

    He is calculating and refined, master of the water and puppeteer of his ability. She, however, seems to be the exact opposite; the way she giggles and coos to the water below her, mesmerized. At first he is alright with that kind of response - that is something he can work with, her curiosity. The rippling and bubbling intensifies beneath her mouth, but it is not enough to captivate her attention like he had hoped. The beast’s jaw clenches unhappily, his teeth grinding together within his skull. It’s then that her eyes - rolling with madness - look up from the water and stare directly at him, despite his the darkness covering him within the cave.

    Maugrim’s ears pin to his neck, anger seeping through his skin. She plays the game well, as if she had been the master of it before. When she is leaping into the water - a floating goddess for one single moment as air suspends her - the creature steps out from the shadows, pearlescent skin shimmering in the dim sunlight, while the dark evergreen of his body matches the deep murk of the water. He allows his water to catch her as she submerges, cradling her beneath its depths with a mother’s hand. She is interesting, although infuriating, and Maugrim does not wish to see her depart into the bottom of the pit just yet.

    He pulls her to the surface quickly, the dark tendrils damp against her golden face. She breaches the water with him standing before her, staring down at her with an expressionless face, his pink tongue running over his dry and cracked lips. “What are you doing,” he asks, his voice low and monotone. The water around her grasps at her tightly, ensuring that swimming away from him would not be an option. Below her chin, a single spiral of black water rises beautifully, and much like a finger would, touches her chin and pushes up, so that he may stare into her eyes clearly.
    m a u g r i m.


    @[Jackel]
    WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY SWAMP
    maugrim is totally shrek -_-
    Reply
    #5
    The winter kissed water practically chills me to the bone.  Whatever air that I had held in my lungs is quickly released and I watch as the air bubbles early flee from my body.  With no air left in me I quickly begin to descend to the depths, but I do not even have time to allow myself to inhale the murky fluid before I find my body lifting back upward. Attempting to move my legs, I find that whatever force moves me has me embraced snuggly enough that I cannot resist. How interesting.

    Breaking the surface once more, my dark forelock comes to rest across a single eye.  Blinking rapidly to clear the green water from my sight, wild eyes finally come to land on the silhouette of someone in front of me.  Again I try to raise a fore leg, but it resists any attempt at motion and instead I'm met with the sensation of my head turning upward to meet the rather hard gaze of the water master staring down at me.  I suppose he leaves me no choice in the matter but to answer his question.  Admittedly, I am a bit perturbed by the interruption of my deadly swim, but perhaps this swamp creature is the darkness I had so eagerly sought out. There is only one way to find out for sure.

    Dark lips draw upward into a cheshire grin, meeting his gaze as well as I can manage from my viewpoint, "Well I was taking the most dramatic bath ever before I was so unkindly interrupted. And now I suppose I'm staring at you."  Perhaps I should have introduced myself?  No, that's no fun.  My movement is still non existant for the time being, leaving me not much else to do, so I guess I'll just have to talk for now.  Poor fellow.  "What are you doing?"

    [OOC: I'm so sorry I felt like this should have been a much more epic reply but it did not turnout that way DX]

    @[Maugrim]
    Reply
    #6
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    She stares at him idly, no trace of fear or concern in her cold eyes. Maugrim snorts, pale lips crinkling into a snarl; she should be afraid, but no matter - he will get her there eventually. This one will just make him work for it. The dark water is frothing around his fetlocks, kissing his evergreen and pearl legs wantonly as he stares into soulless eyes. Their depths remind him of a time gone by - there had been one who had quivered at his majesty and subjected him to herself, not afraid of him but aware of what he is capable of. The longing for destruction and uncivility, but in the buckskin’s gaze, there is a glimmer of something else too. She is not one with the darkness like he is, but perhaps she is a friend.

    He is still inspecting her, mildly curious at her little sour expression that riddles her slender face, pale lashes narrowing around the abysmal black of his eyes. There is sarcasm in her voice as it flows freely from charcoal lips, but Maugrim is unphased by her small act of defiance. She is childlike (though maybe on purpose - a way to draw others in) and though obviously bothered that he had interrupted ‘bathtime’, there is a sense of humor she is using to defend herself. A silver tongue, perhaps.

    The nameless woman has asked him a question but he has long since forgotten to answer it. The dark and murky lake water is gentle in the way it holds her beautiful chin, turning her this way and that as his hungry eyes rove her head and neck. The rest of her body is still beneath the darkening depths, kept suspended there by his will alone. With a curious grunt, the spiral of water traces her jawline, whimsical and ethereal as it dances by itself down her golden cheek. Then there is sudden movement, and the string of water firmly wraps around her neck, just behind her jawbone. It tightens quickly, more water flowing from the lake to supply it with a larger girth, and more strength.

    “Finding my next meal,” he answers with finality, his jaw clenching as the cold water begins to constrict her windpipe.
    m a u g r i m.


    @[Jackel]
    Reply
    #7
    jackel
    Water Jack has become quite the nuisance.  We've become one now that I'm in the water and at first it was fun but not so much anymore.  Not if I can't move.  All I can do is watch him.  And he's watching me.  And I'm watching him watch me.  While he's watching me watching him watching me.  The pattern could continue but I'll leave it at that.

    The cool snake holding my chin upwards shifts to follow the path of my jaw towards my cheek.  I take the small opportunity to allow my head to drop a degree, but no sooner does the snake shifts then the boa's around my neck, slowly constricting my airway.  Ah.  He's one of those.  There's a pain growing around my jaw bone and the crimson lady begins to work her way into my side vision.  Haide is there waiting.  She's always seeking never hiding.  Seeking to come out and revel in the pain and misery of it all.  And there she sits grinning at me, goading me into working the influences out.  

    I've been strangled before.  Not quite the way you might expect a horse to be strangled exactly.  Nonetheless it's not in my top five favorite ways to die.  There's no thrill to it.  But that's not my point.  My point is that I know I've got limited time before my airway closes completely and I won't be able to talk at all.  And we can't have that.  So instead of nature taking its course, I manage to resist the urge to allow my eyes to begin bulging out of their sockets and instead narrow them inquisitively.  Of course I'm smiling.  Surely you've caught onto that by now.

    "Well, let me tell you, Swampy, I'm told I'm quite delicious."

    Haide shifts as his boa coils tighter, "What shall it be then?  Continue drawn out and quiet-like, or does the blood upon your lips taste sweeter if there's resistance.  I can be whatever victim you want me to be.  Just know that I'm not so eternally disposed of," I manage to whisper as the noose tightens further. My head would casually tilt to the side now of course, but you know. Circumstances.


    all this joy, I've got some to share
    devin's∇designs
    Reply
    #8
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    Swampy.

    A laugh emerges from his throat, dry and chalky against cracked lips. His grip tightens then, the laugh fading into nothingness as his teeth grind together. Sometimes, he wishes they would all

    stop

    talking.

    Normally, the constricting pressure on their windpipe stopped them and he would soon hear the satisfying gurgle in the backs of their throats as they strain for one more wheezing breath, eyes wide with terror or panic. This one, however, calls him names like her life isn’t only just moments from ending. She continues to prattle on and quite quickly he realizes that the curiosity in him has faded and no longer does his blooddlust run rampant. If anything, he is mildly annoyed by her efforts, not willing to partake in the taste of her death if she is such a willing victim.
    Even if she did offer to play the part.

    His grip around her throat loosens as he tosses her away from him, a bored expression on his shadowed face as the water ripples around her body. The spiral of water he had created now loses its ability to maintain structure and falls with a plop into the dark lake. His lips ripple into a snarl, ears flattened against his muscular neck. “I’m sure you are,” he murmurs in response to how she would taste, “but feigned fear has never been my cup of tea.”

    Why is it that Modicum always brought the ones who crave chaos into the forest? It made it that much harder for Maugrim to kill them. 

    “Though I’m sure you’re a brilliant actress.”
    m a u g r i m.


    @[Jackel]
    Reply
    #9
    jackel
    I’m pretty sure I’m only seconds away from passing out; the red flickering in the corners of my eyes is quickly being consumed by black, nearly overtaking my vision once and for all.  The consumption snaps backwards simultaneously with the pressure being released from my neck and body.  Immortality doesn’t mean I’m impervious, so naturally as my windpipe widens I am quick to inhale a large gasping breath.  My breathing remains ragged momentarily, turning into panting before moving into a wild laugh.  Oh, these games these Sylvans played!  How wonderfully exhilarating!

    “Of course it’s not your cup of tea, sweetling.”

    I drag myself onto the bank near where he stands finally, making a great show of shaking out my golden frame, not caring whether the droplets splatter against him or not.  (I’m sure the water master can handle some stray water drops.)  Peering back at my barrel, I make a pleased sound at the back of my throat, having verified that I am no longer marred with blood and grit.  Perhaps it was a rather dramatic back after all.

    I offer a gentle shrug of my shoulder at his last response, ”I can be, if it means I get what I want.”

    Wild eyes roll back to meet his before shifting towards the cavern from which I assume he crawled out of.  I grin wickedly as I brush past him, only to stop within the mouth of the cave, gazing into the void.  ”Hello!” I shout into its depth, immediately pleased at the echoing sentiment mirrored back to my own ears.  Laughing girlishly, maybe even immaturely, I yell again, ”Fuck you!” My laugh grows in grandeur as the voice curses back at me.  I nearly crumple from the fresh strain on my lungs and windpipe, it hurts, but I absolutely don’t care.  This was way too much fun!

    I turn to face him, as my echoing laugh dies off, seemingly contented  and at home in the hellish pit that he presided over, ”Well this is cozy. So, Swampy, have you ever shoved enough water down someone’s throat and into their stomach that their whole insides exploded?”



    all this joy, I've got some to share
    devin's∇designs


    @[Maugrim] I tried to make this Donkey-esque XD
    Reply
    #10
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    Cold, dark water kisses his skin as it sheds from her, dampening his pelt. A rumbling thrum of pleasantry resounds in his chest, turning his dark gaze towards her as she comes up beside him. Her own sound hums in her throat as she turns to look at herself, but the stallion has already pressed his damp lips to her smooth, wet skin, lipping at the droplets that still cling to her. It is a subconscious gesture - not in anyway sexual yet - but one that he cannot help, a primal instinct and urge to lick away the priceless water that dampens each curve of her golden flesh, sampling it by sucking gently and urgently, lips rippling in a snarl.

    He decides her company is rather soothing, but that thought quickly dissipates as her shoulder rolls and a loud shout shudders from red and burning vocal cords, a sneer finding his face as he pulls his chin to himself, ears falling into his damp mane. She is at the mouth of his cavern, a black mouth yawning over her head, and he slowly draws himself up beside her, wondering if she could even fathom what rests inside its catacombs. He’s reaching for her again, already dismissing the fact that she’s yelled once more into an empty cave, a smile coyly finding the pale of his cracked lips. “Only your own voice will answer you in there,” he murmurs darkly, knowing that only bones and corpses haunt the bowels of the cave, no living breath but his own find their way out. “...sweetling.” He adds her verbiage with a grin, her next words stop him, shifting his head slightly so that the blackness of his eyes stare into her own.

    “I could tell you,” Maugrim purrs, brushing past her so that the sound of his hooves begin to click onto the smooth stone. “But I have a feeling you like to be shown things.” He then turns and disappears into the darkness, an ear tipped back to listen to the sound of her hooves following him into the nothingness.
    m a u g r i m.


    @[Jackel]
    Big Grin
    Reply




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