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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


    She sells seashells by the sea shore // Laura pony
    #1
    Come down to river
    Let it bring you to the sea
    Come down to the river
    Come on down
    Back to me

    She sang as she bathed, water coursing over and around the generous curves of her. Bubbles darted too and fro, between her legs and river's banks. The dainty sea mare liked the river, the way it never flowed too far from the sea. It was a comfort to know all water belonged only to itself. She was a water nymph, and belonged only to herself too. It only made sense. 

    Once I was a dreamer
    My boat she carried me
    I rode her down the river
    And she took me to the sea

    She crooned to herself, splashing in the shallows where little fish would swim in the summer. Now it was cold, the edges of the water crusted in ice. Frigid, except where she touched it. The water answered her, even so far from the sea. They were all connected, anyway. So the water here was warm as a hot spring, a perfect bath that swirled and whirled in a most pleasing way. The world was going mad all around her. So much fear and anger filled the air. Why not push it away for a while, and simply take a bath? 

    Mama had a baby
    She was pretty as could be
    She loved me like a lady
    But my heart lived in the sea
    Come down to the river...
    She hummed, silver winter sun gleaming on her wet scales. 

    Let it bring you to the sea...

    Her finned crest hung sleeky down her shoulders, tail fanned out on the rippling surface of the water. 

    Come down to the river...

    Her purple eyes lifted, dewy in the light. 

    "Hello," Her song broke off to greet the newcomer.

    @[laura
    Reply
    #2

    hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

    Atrox likes exploring these places that he does not know well.

    There’s something enjoyable about finding places of Beqanna that are younger than himself—learning the  paths that twist and the fauna that grows as thick as his waist in places. The river is one of those places, although it is not so new as some of the other lands that he has wandered through. Still, it is not a place that he can think of from his previous life, and he finds there’s something nearly exciting about it.

    Not that he gets excited about much these days.

    Still, he finds himself wandering through the land as a panther, without his soul guardians today. It is only when he hears the crooning of the creature in the water that he pauses, his yellow eyes snapping to the river. He is in a particularly foul mood today—it is a rare day when he can really process what his last journey to the afterlife had meant to him—and he finds that his temper flares, low and hot in his belly.

    He manages to rein it in though, walking closer to the water to see the guppy bathing. For a moment, he just watches her, before she catches him and glances up. He doesn’t react to her greeting at first, instead lifting a heavy paw and rubbing it against his head. When he drops it back down, his tail twitches behind him. He just angles a head to study her, his face impassive. “Do you always screech when bathing?”

    Perhaps not the most accurate word for a nereid’s song, but Atrox always has been contrary.

    ATROX | THE PANTHER KING
    [Image: atrox.png]

    now be defiant, the lion, give them the fight that will open their eyes

    Reply
    #3
    It is a cat that watches her, though unlike any cat she'd ever seen before. There had been lynx tracks once, in the snowy Taiga, and she knew whoever owned them was no small creature. Compared to the ebon feline who lurked on the bank however, they must be hardly anything at all. 

    Her greeting had been light, offhanded. It had been said carelessly before she turned to see exactly who or what had come upon her. She had not expected much, and yet managed to be surprised anyway. Her ears flicked back to see his massive paws, the saber teeth she knew must be hiding behind the midnight velvet of his lips. That he spoke took a moment to register. Oh. A shifter, then, like Aodhán on the beach. A cat hiding a horse at it's heart. That's what she hoped, and what made the most sense to the sea mare. 

    And just like Aodhán, this shifter seemed to make no concession for manners. Perhaps that was simply the way with such creatures. The pearly woman grinned sardonic at the lazing creature, eyes glinting through the steam of her bath. "Well, if you can't do something well, it should at least be done with enthusiasm." She shrugged, a little amused. Shrieking? That was a first, perhaps such big cats had especially sensitive ears. That, or he was just a trigger fish, apt to strike just for the sake of striking. She was finding she had little patience for the type.

    With her swimming gait, the nereid walked to the edge of the river. It was cold away from the water she had warmed, crystal droplets falling away from her scales in a soft dripdripdripping. Steam rose from her back as she climbed the bank, eyes never leaving the black cat perched on the clay. 

    A feisty grin split her pink lips as she neared, only to pause feet away. With no further warning, her body twisted and quaked with abandon, shaking vigorously and sending a spray of glittering droplets up and out to fall back to the earth. If a few managed to make it so far as her voyeur, well, perhaps it served him right. 

    A sigh of satisfaction exhaled in a puff of mist, her expression daring as she looked the huge feline closer. He was a lovely thing, from an aesthetic point of view. All steely muscle cloaked in rich black fur. His slit pupiled eyes almost glowed from within. Those heavy paws, she knew instinctively, hid claws of enormous power. A perfect predator. And he dared to disturb her bath. 

    "You know it's not very nice to spy on ladies when they're bathing. One might think you were up to no good." She scolded, throaty voice hardly higher than a whisper. If he had such sensitive hearing, then surely he'd have no trouble hearing her now. Not when she stood so close. 

    @[atrox]
    Reply
    #4

    hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

    He is mostly silent, for once, as she swims closer, giving her a cavalier grin when she says that she simply sings with enthusiam. At this, he guffaws lightly, not bothering to outright deny it or confirm it. To be honest, he has little interest in discussing her singing or her other vocal activities. He is much more interested in the way that she moves through the water toward him, curious at the way she boldly makes her way his way. His eyebrows rise just a little as she makes her way to the edge and then shakes, the water flecking across his forehead. There is an instinct buried within him to fly backward, hissing, but over the years, Atrox has exercised a steely hand over such instincts. It’s a self-control that is difficult to see underneath the languid drawl and apathetic approach to all things, but it lives there all the same.

    So his only reaction to the assault of water that drips down his broad face is a sharpening of his eyes, his lips pulling back over his large teeth to reveal the sharp edges and pink tongue in a lazy grin. “You’re bold for being fishfood,” his speech is characteristically slow, practically dripping with all the things that go unsaid with him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his strange companions make their way down the bank of the river. They are silent, as always, their blue eyes glowing and their bodies whole and yet showing that strange feeling of decay—that feeling of death that always hangs heavy on their shoulders.

    He says nothing, does not acknowledge them, and they stand several yards behind—just watching.

    His attention returns fully to her, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed. “You will find that I am always up to no good,” his toothy smile grows again, eyes flashing, “and I am not very nice.”

    ATROX | THE PANTHER KING
    [Image: atrox.png]

    now be defiant, the lion, give them the fight that will open their eyes

    Reply
    #5
    She moves like a dancer, every muscle choreographed and supple as the water parted to let her pass. Wide eyed as a doe, the nereid smiled in a mockery of innocence when she felt his yellow gaze follow her motion. There was magic in her bones, in her skin. In the very air she exhaled. Magic that she was only just beginning to take an active participation in. She enjoyed the feeling of being looked at. Of being desired. 

    And for all that he had not said much of anything, she could feel the hunger in those golden eyes. He does not react as strongly to her scattering of water as she had hoped he would, simply peeling the lips from his teeth in a humorless smile. She returned it, all glittering carapace with no hint of tender heart behind it. The pale woman was learning, and it growing wiser with each new creature she encountered. This was not a one who would appreciate the softness that she hid inside. 

    Her head dipped in acknowledgment of the black creature's brief assessment, the words dripping like viscous sap from his tongue. It was the voice you would expect a big cat to have. "Yes. But better bold than a scaredy cat." Amusement shone in the amethystine depths of her eyes. Another step carried her within his reach, should he choose to stretch out with a velvet pad. Brave or stupid, it was a fine line, one she frequently walked both sides of. 

    It was dim behind him, the riverside vegetation casting shadows across the water and cloaking the incongruous pair with dappled light. She blinked as he spoke, gaze focused on the midnight pelt that covered him. Was it as soft as it looked? Not very nice, always up to no good. He was her antithesis, and it struck a curious chord in the sea mare. 

    She had a response primed, something clever and biting. The words died on her tongue. Figures, incorporeal whisps of shadow made real. They emerged from the gloom without a sound, eyes like blue flames meeting hers over top the panther's broad head. Confidence drained through her feet, mouth suddenly dry and not for any pleasant reason. Mere feet from the water's edge, her gift reacted sporadically to the sudden racing of her heart. 

    The river bubbled at her back, splashing softly against her heels. It was there for her, foolish girl that she was. If there was water near, she was not alone. "You should know," she began, voice low and hardly tremoring. "That there are...things behind you. I can attack, give you time to move out of the way." If her gift even worked on shadow-horse-demon-spirit-things. It was a big if, she worried. But these things were only coming nearer, and watching this stranger be torn to sheds seemed like an awful possibility at the moment. 

    @[atrox]
    Reply
    #6

    hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

    He doesn’t say much more, even as she does. At her implication that he is afraid, he angles his head, some kind of amusement playing around his features and then sinking into the midnight of his coat once more. Atrox has been called many things in his life—murderer, warmonger, General, King—but afraid is not one of them. Were he a lesser man, perhaps his hackle would rise at the insinuation, but he has always been confident—arrogant, even. A flaw, perhaps, but he’s never sought to change his ways.

    So he instead enjoys being silent, watching her, not reacting in anyway.

    He studies her, curious about the way she moves as though she is irresistible—and, perhaps, to most she would be. She certainly was not the most hideous thing he had ever seen, but he had never been one to feel heat pool his belly at the sight of fins. Still, he had an appetite that was never quite sated and she did not completely fold beneath his barbs, so he at least gave her the benefit of the doubt and his attention.

    When she reacts to the souls behind him, he finally makes a noise and it is low, smoky laughter. His yellow eyes dance with amusement as he angles a head to see the two. They were more of the foreboding ones he had called forth so far, but he had seen worse in both this life and the one behind the veil.

    Turning his head back to her, he drawls lazily, “I doubt you could do much damage, seeing as they are dead.” Yawning, he stretches out, clawed paws digging into the earth, before he shifts into his more natural equine form. He shakes when the transition is complete, the tangled, matted mane falling heavy on both sides of a naturally curved neck, his wide-jawed head angled as his yellow eyes remain on her.

    “I would love to see you try though.”

    ATROX | THE PANTHER KING
    [Image: atrox.png]

    now be defiant, the lion, give them the fight that will open their eyes

    Reply
    #7
    He seemed unconcerned by the ghouls at his back. Unconcerned and perhaps even bored. So they were not a surprise to him. Even as they stalked closer, as silent as sharks, she could see that the black cat's focus was far more concerned with the mare in front of him. Her heart quaked a moment, the dawning realization that she had stumbled upon more than she'd bargained for coming to the forefront of her mind. 

    She watched him stretch luxuriously before the cat's form rippled and grew. The black velvet feline was gone, and in his place a feral looking stallion held her gaze. He was every bit as predatory now as he had been when teeth and claws had been there to underscore the message. This turn of events gave her pause, the fine shells of her ears tipping back as her confidence slipped. 

    Her amethyst gaze met the striking yellow of the unknown stallion's, a crease of temper marring her brow. "Are you threatening me?" She asked, incredulous. The absolute nerve of the fellow! She had been minding her own business perfectly fine before he had arrived, and now he was casually brandishing the undead at her as though he owned the place. 

    Well let him try. The ornery black stallion could summon as many zombies as he wanted to, she wasn't budging. He had ruined her bath and she was gearing up to ruin his day. She'd tried to be nice and had gotten nothing but apathetic vitriol in return. "I think it's time you left, whoever you are. Before I make you go." Her teeth bared, the beauty of her face twisting into something warlike. 

    A sheet of icy water crept up the bank to huddle at her heels like an adoring dog. She was not without her own weapons. Hers just happened to be much prettier than his.

    @[atrox]
    Reply
    #8

    hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

    For all of his temper and rage, Atrox had always been a surprisingly mild-mannered warmonger. It wasn’t that he was actually mealy-mouthed or afraid to speak his mind, but rather that he took great pleasure in the extent and strength of his own self-control. He did not often indulge his first reaction and rather was content to watch at the short fuse of others—at the way they jumped the gun, finger on the trigger.

    He snorts lightly, at which the souls behind him stop their forward motion, and just angles his wide-jawed face at the girl, a brow raising at the temper. “I wasn’t threatening you,” he says mildly, his voice slipping into his characteristic drawl, each syllable pronounced and dripping with a lazy and nearly apathetic amusement. “I would rather enjoy watching you try to stop them. They are rather stubborn things.”

    As she bares her teeth, his smile widens, the teeth only shifting into his panther form, long and only slightly yellowed, the edges pressing against the thick velvet of his lips. “I would also love to see you make me go,” he casts a glance toward the water that rises up around her. “Or make me bathe, as it were.”

    Amused, curious about what gifts might lie beneath the otherwise unassuming face of a pretty girl, he flicks his gaze back up to study her, lips pressing together again. It was strange, this new world, where so many harnessed magic that was unthinkable back in the early days of his youth. Back then, a pair of wings practically made you a god and not it made you as ineffectual as a robin fluttering around a nest.

    How strange indeed that the most innocent of women bathing may control the rivers that wash them.

    “My name is Atrox,” he finally offers, sniffing and rolling a shoulder.

    As if the undead did not rest at his sides and as if she had not just threatened to drown him.

    Death threats did not exactly shake the confidence of one who had been dead so many times before.

    ATROX | THE PANTHER KING
    [Image: atrox.png]

    now be defiant, the lion, give them the fight that will open their eyes

    Reply
    #9
    aquaria
    - THE TIDE IS HIGH, IT'S SINK OR SWIM -

    Her mistrust of the situation only grew as the seconds ticked by. She was still standing just beneath the stallion who had so recently worn the guise of an inky cat. The predation hadn't left his eyes, the hunger that sang just beneath the surface. 

    He reminded her of sharks. They swam in lazy paths most of the time, never ceasing the movement that kept them alive and subtle in most ways. Beautiful to look at. Harmless, except for when hunting. Or threatened. Different teeth than the great fish bore grinned back at her from the shaggy black horse's mouth, but they were still too jagged to promise anything good. Those were teeth that had drawn blood before. Drank it down and wanted more. Strange against the equine jaw, but she had seen stranger things in the deep. 

    With a slow, sliding feeling, the nereid realized she was being played with. He was a cat toying with some new scrap of life, hoping it would keep him entertained for a minute or two. The realization irked her. 

    She blinked coolly, voice flat now that the easy joy was gone from her day. "And if I don't?" She asked, nodding to the chilling specters that were so hard to pin down with her gaze. "Will you set them on me even if I don't attack them first? Your entertainment is hardly my first priority at the moment." She took a single step closer, a defiant flintiness in her eyes now. 

    Eva often teased her about her predilection for starfish, something that had become a bit of a joke between them. But it was as much a joke as a reminder that Aquaria was not the pacifist her herdmate was. If Eva was calm seas and safe harbors, then maybe that made Aquaria the tempest, the punishing storm that took back what was taken from the water. 

    Whatever she was, it was with effort that she reined it in. Her temper had a way of making trouble for her, and there was none near enough to bail her out this time around. She laughed harshly, a short bark that belied no humor. "Much as you might need it, I'm not the one who will force a bath on you. You may find that your friends here are not the only stubborn things present." She saw no reason to give her name in answer to his own. Names were a power that she wouldn't give him. 

    Atrox. The way he said it was as if he expected she might recognize it. And perhaps she should. But the sea mare had not grown up on tales of life above the waters, no stories of equine heroes and villains had put her to bed. His name meant nothing except that it gave her a label for the creeping man. All that she had was cold water to lap at her, a shield as of yet untested against tooth, claw or spirit. She would not throw the first blow, but she would not bow down to a bully either.    

    - MY ONLY RIVAL IS WITHIN -


    @[atrox]
    Reply
    #10

    hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

    What had started as something interesting quickly turns sour, and Atrox finds himself growing more and more bored by the moment. She grows defiant and bites back and he yawns in response, rolling his shoulders and dismissing the souls at his side. They fade slowly into the ether where he had first pulled them, leaving nothing but smoke in their wake. When they are gone, he turns his sharp yellow gaze back to the nereid in the water. “You don’t listen very well,” he drawls. “I have no interest in watching them tear you apart today, as entertaining as it would be.” He watches the water beneath her cooly.

    The moment continues to stretch between them and while the tension would once perhaps spike his interest, he finds that it is a dry thing now. She offer little to whet his appetite or do anything other than just stare and he finds that it is an odd kind of stalemate. So he shrugs and begins to take a step backward.

    “It is been an entertaining interlude, fish food,” he smiles, grabbing the first nickname to come to mind in the absence of an actual name. Perhaps once he would have attacked, like she was so intent on believing that he would, and perhaps he would again in the future. But today his mind is on other things and his stomach full of the morning’s hunt and he has no desire to find out what lies beneath her scales.

    So he shrugs and turns, shifting back into his familiar feline form.

    Glancing back over his shoulder, her gives her a slow, lazy smile.

    “Until next time,” and then he bounds forward, disappearing into the shadows once more.

    ATROX | THE PANTHER KING
    [Image: atrox.png]

    now be defiant, the lion, give them the fight that will open their eyes

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