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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


    [private]  i used to say i was free; virgo
    #1
    When the monsters came to claim his sister, he found himself unable to move; his muscles pulled taut, his golden eyes grew wide in his white face, his sharp teeth felt like useless little accessories inside his small mouth. Something warm and wet ran down his leg, and while later on he’d come to realize he had pissed himself, it didn’t even register to him at the time that such a thing had even happened. The last thing she’d ever say would be his name and all Scorpio could do was cower in the bushes. He couldn’t move until they left, one after the other—first the daughter and then her sire.

    It felt like the world was closing in on him.

    Tears streaked down his cheeks, his lungs didn’t seem able to suck in the air he needed anymore. It hurt. Everything hurt.

    Their mothers found them some time later, as they always did.

    Scorpio was still shivering in his hiding spot, terrified and feeling as if he was unable to truly breathe; Caw shook him, Caw screamed at him, she begged him for answers and all he could do was stare at her and tremble. Virgo was shattered.

    He would never get those screams out of his head.

    Caw took them back to Ischia, regardless of protest—”Fuck the plague,” she’d told them, emptier than he’d ever seen her.
    She buried Quiet’s mangled little body near Ea while the rest of them looked on in solemn silence.

    His older brother, Plague, spent the majority of his time reversing illnesses just in case one of them contracted something and Caw went hunting. He didn’t think she’d ever stop. Not until she found whoever or whatever was responsible for Quiet’s death. Virgo stayed behind to care for him.

    Scorpio never knew a night afterward when she didn’t come to him sobbing and asking questions; he would open his mouth, trying to answer, and all she would get would be his silent tears. His throat would close and he’d start to hyperventilate and then she would pull him close, tell him how sorry she was, how she wasn’t going to ask anymore—it happened every night, destroying him all over again.

    They moved around several times, mostly when Caw thought she picked up on leads.

    It’d been a year now since they settled near The River.

    Caw still went on her hunts, though not as frequently; lately, she’d spent the majority of her time cozied up to Virgo away from the family and Scorpio felt a guilty sense of relief each time they went away. Plague seemed entirely disinterested or disgusted with him. Often, he’d catch his brindle brother glaring at him from across the clearing and then pretend he didn’t notice how the older stallion forced his face to soften.

    “Did you kill her?” Plague asked him once, utterly upsetting him.

    ‘No,’ he wanted to growl, but only trembled in response.

    Flicking his ears back, Scorpio ran his tongue along his pointed teeth. It was a tick he noticed he shared with his mother one day when she was deep in thought. There weren’t many souls lingering around the river, just a few sad-eyed women who were burnt out from rutting—the realization slowly setting in that the fathers of their would-be children were not coming back now that the fun was over. His tail twitched behind him, long and whip-like, his stinger thudded dully against the dirt to some tune he couldn’t quite get out of his head. He couldn’t help thinking that if he left now, before the sunset, he might be able to leave them behind and her ghost would stay with them.

    @[Jassal]
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    #2
    there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands - hands that map
    a communion in the cradle of your hips. hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
    She dreams in shades of red and blurs of black. Her world came to a halt and she let it crumble between her limp fingers the day she found her baby’s corpse there in the playground. Virgo wakes up every morning dreading her existence and regretting ever letting them out of her sight now. Scorpio has grown up, strong but silent with eyes that weep with terror. Normally she would rebuild her strength in the warmth of Caw’s embrace but their marriage bed has been as empty as she’s felt the past year. She’s alone with her thoughts and the image of her daughter’s innards splayed across the grass every time she closes her eyes.

    Virgo eats only for the sake of the tiny life wriggling within her womb, occasionally kicking with its soft hooves. She loves this baby already but she’s terrified of giving birth again. What if this one dies too? How could she possibly keep both her children safe? She swallows hard and tries to brush the fears from her mind as Scorpio comes into view. Her skin changes to a soft golden color and her torso fills out to look healthier. She forces some shine into her coat so he won’t notice how hollow she feels.

    She lightly touches her face to his cheek and kisses his forelock from his face with gentle lips. Her touch lingers there, lightly leaning against him as she closes her eyes and exhales weakly. In another life, maybe another time, she would be a good mother to him.

    We’re going to have another baby,” she whispers to him like some precious secret meant only for them. Her voice is strained but the tired smile on her face is sincere all the same. “I love you more than anything, Scorpio. And I know you tried.

    Her eyes go all dewy and she blinks to keep herself from crying.

    I know you tried.
    Virgo
    he confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship
    and, oh, you put him on his knees.
    @[Scorpio]
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