"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
The water’s edge is where she finds most comfort nowadays.
Tephra was growing on her, and the thought of Ischia slowly faded into the background of her mind. And while she’d never forget her island abode, she was starting to feel content with the volcanic lands and its people. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and she could finally feel herself growing happy again. Like she cared again.
Water laps around her knees as high tide rolls in. The presence within her abdomen is hard to ignore, but unlike her first time, she is content with the stirring child within her belly. She talks to it, now and then, when she is alone (which is increasingly common now, with Durotan so busy around the kingdom). She hopes she can do better to protect this one from hurt than she was with her previous two.
The water is lukewarm as autumn wraps Tephra in a tight embrace. The changes are subtle, like they were in Ischia, only a slight drop in water temperature and a more crisp breeze. Fog billows atop the water, and for a moment, she’s hypnotized by it - how it taunts the water, barely touching it, how it moves in motion with the waves. She smiles, submerging herself a little deeper, unaware of the dangers that lurked beneath...
The river between Sylva and the forest easily brings him to Tephra. He could have easily walked on foot through the forest and into the land of the volcano, but Maugrim did not come bearing gifts of diplomacy or alliances. No, his intent is much more sinister than all that. The stallion allows himself to be whisked away by the brine-water of the current, flowing and ebbing with the natural flow instead of forcing himself through it. He enjoys the trip - it is free-flowing and natural, the way his liquified (and unidentifiable) self melts into the water. For a moment - when the freshwater turns to salt against his liquid form - he can feel the ocean call to him, pull him into its lulling embrace, and tempt him to the bottomless trenches and dark abyss that lies in wait.
Somehow, the predator is able to resist. The warmer current traces out the peninsula of Tephra, and though the sea begs for its lover’s return, the promise that Modicum had given him is much more satisfying than it would be to sleep dreamlessly and soundlessly beneath the deep. He drifts, watching the shoreline with an invisible eye, lackadaisical and calm beneath the dark waves filled with the tinge of ash and smoke. No anger burns in his retinas, no necessity for blood turns his eyes red with need.
Not yet.
He slips in undetected, unnoticed, and he is not worried. The last time he had been in Tephra (he had been barely a man, but he had come for Levi and got his attention by nearly drowning two foals) he had also gotten in quite easily, without any disturbance. He is not surprised to find it is the same now. He begins to feel the familiar thrum of adrenaline vibrate through him as he realizes he is much stronger than he had been since his last visit, and if Levi would be near the shore to greet him.
He did not come for Levi, but he would take him out if he was given the chance.
It did not take him long to find where the woman that Modicum seeks. She is wading in his arena, unworried and naive. They all were as such, to him, to carelessly venture so close to the water with no sense of caution - as if anyone is ever truly safe within its embrace. Within the rhythm of the seas, he now begins to propel himself forward with purpose, feeling the tethers on his leash loosening as he floats in closer, identifying her with ease. He slowly becomes solid, but only barely - he is just a watery outline of a stallion as his head parts from the frothing waves, a low chuckle bubbling terribly in his sea-made throat.
His presence would startle her, no doubt, but if she tries to move she would find that each one of her legs are pressed down into the soft sand, stuck to the bottom with the force of pressure he applies from the ocean. The riptide he will soon create will whisk her away, but he would enjoy seeing her realize this fact before doing so. “What brings you to the ocean today, Krone?” he taunts her, his voice dark and stirring like the ocean waves themselves. She would feel the water pulling at her legs and belly unnaturally as he allows himself to peruse her body without her permission, watery fingers tracing her buttocks and hips. The sun filters through his translucent frame, which disappears and reappears with the soft roll of every wave.
m a u g r i m.
@[Krone] please let me know if anything needs to be changed! <3
There is a fleeting moment of peace as she wades into the watery depths. She’d heard Warrick’s warnings (don’t go too far without a companion), but that didn’t much matter to her. She was an adult, she could handle herself. And besides, Sylva wouldn’t dare to come into the Tephran territory when they were still so much smaller.
Would they?
The earth is calm, the waves gently rolling back and forth. Her eyes are drawn to the horizon; the day is so gloomy, yet so beautiful. Rain clouds billow, threatening to spill their contents across Tephra’s ground. The black water shakes as thunder erupts. She couldn’t help but be entranced by it.
Her line of sight is interrupted by something. It is translucent, but the outline shapes into that of a horse. She’s seen many different powers, but nothing quite like this. He comes straight towards her - faster and faster. She pulls back to run away, but is stopped, hooves trapped within the thick sand beneath her. She pulls with all her strength, but it to no avail - she is helplessly stuck.
What brings you to the ocean today, Krone? He taunts, as water rushes beneath her stomach and tickles beneath the tender parts of her thighs. The pressure of the water is too great, she cannot get away from him (whoever he is).
“Get off me! Stop!” She screeches, but no one is around. No one can help. She’s alone, just her and the water demon.
It is simply too easy. It always has been though - to take, to control, to overpower. It’s second-nature to the Riverlord.
He laughs at her command, as if mere words would cease his intentions. He is still nothingness - merely the dark blue of the sea crinkling over the shape of horse, and so his laughter is warped and terrible. He can feel the quickening of her pulse as the water (an extension of himself) pours over her, running icy fingers along her supple skin where her veins pump with adrenaline. A single thread of seawater spirals upwards before her, a careful and skillful twirl, and cups her face almost gently as he glides closer - an ocean spectre, staring intently into her wide and terrified eyes.
The urge is almost too much. He’s already imagining her beneath the water (beneath him), struggling beneath his powerful grip, lungs screaming for air while muscles spasm in an attempt to save herself. His face becomes still and hungry, and all is motionless save for the natural current of the ocean itself. There is no laughter now in the demon’s eyes - only hunger and the need to satiate, especially since he had not killed the Forest King.
(Now. Kill.)
The water sings to him its siren’s song, begging him to use it to fill his desire and his needs. His lips ripple angrily, though it is barely seen in the translucent form he is in now. He must bring her back, to the stagnant lake and his dark cave, and keep her until she is no longer needed. Then, she will be his.
The riptide begins to pull at her angrily - no longer was he a devoted lover as the water wraps around her, but now the pull is rage-filled and purposeful. She has no choice as the water sweeps her off of her hooves, lowering her into the current with an ugly sound as it closes over her head. He would bring her to Sylva alive - all oceans lead to freshwater - but he could not be responsible for what she would endure along the way. Coral that protrude just outside of the calm oceans of Tephra await her, the rocks of the briny river, as well as Maugrim himself. She would survive in one piece, but just enough so that Modicum would deem his task successful.
The creature says nothing as it melts into the water below it, carrying and forcing the mare out into open sea. He made sure that he took no care of noticing any corals or sharp rocks along the way, not caring if the force would break bones. He would then make her swim, of course, and when exhaustion would set in he would allow her fall beneath the surface, watch as she creeps incredibly close to the edge, and then bring her back to gasp for air - just to repeat the process all over again. The riverlands were the most dark - he would stand over her in shallow water, fully solid now so she could lay eyes on the beast that is now her keeper, and keep her just below the water’s surface. Near enough that just a stretch forward she would be able to breathe, but forced to stay beneath salvation just because he willed it. She would float in and out of consciousness, but he would always bring her back.
Modicum wanted Krone for his own, but Maugrim would make it clear that it is he who owns her. Her captor, her rescuer, her salvation.
He did not smile, he did not laugh as he tortured her. His face is void of all emotion, save for the concentration and the rage that burns behind the darkness of his eyes.
m a u g r i m.
@[Krone]
Wrapping this up so that Krone can post in Sylva now <3
I'm sure she had fun getting there
