[mature] Cacophony | Bruja

[Indivar]

The night air was cold, and few noises bothered him on his stroll. He often came here when he deigned to sleep, though he usually enjoyed the challenge of keeping himself awake. He used the time to travel, it was the only thing he liked to do. Conversations bored him, romance was lost on him, and reproduction was of no interest to him.

The dried, dead ferns and twigs below him cracked with each step, though he wasn’t too concerned with keeping quiet. If a passerby heard him wandering then so be it, they wouldn’t get much from him aside from a huff and a turned back.

His gaze shifted upwards, peering through the tall trees above him to see what little of the sky and stars peeked through the thick foliage. He drew in a long breath, the chilled night air filled
his lungs and he allowed himself to settle on the ground, eyes heavy and coat dusty from his long journey.

—

@[Bruja]

[Sabra]

It's difficult learning to move this way. I am nearer to a hippogryph in this shape, quadripedal still, but with talon and ragged feather and shearing beak in place of what once were delicate features. This is a shape for violence, for trauma, and it quivers around me like a seperate thing. I am me. And I am watching me. 

Watching as I pace stumbling from the grove I met her, my mind split between present and past. The fragments of truth weave deftly together into a greater lie. 

That I am being hunted, pursued, and in turn I am pursuing. The time has come for these tables to turn. How long has it been that I have been running? Too long, I think. It has worn me thin and cracked at my edges. They know. They know I'm coming. Every night bird mumbling from its roost, every shuffling hedgehog and yelping fox, they are all distractions. Cover ups for what I can sense at the very edges of my awareness. 

The cruel curve of my half-formed beak clicks against itself. I have not sorted out talking yet, or even if it is possible with the shape of this mouth. No matter. This is not a talking night. This is a night for action, for decision. My wings hang by my sides, the draping of an outdated gown. Unwieldy claws gouge the earth with every halting step. What will they do to flesh? 

I am pierced. Even in this monstrous form, my breast clings to the shaft of wood that has become so much of me. Rooted and twisted into the ragged beating of my heart. It points my way as I go, an arrow pulling me on. Faster now. 

There is a rustling, heavy stepped and unconcerned, and I prick my ears to track it. A rumbling coo emits from my throat, intrigued and uncertain. There is violence and there is pain in this world. There can be no pleasure without it. I have learned this lesson, learned it well. 

And while I am rarely the one who directly plays into the dance of pleasure and pain anymore, tonight feels different. 

He's standing there, careless, depressed sort of expression on his dimly lit face. I am a gleaming horror as I emerge from the shadowy trees. A monster wrought of gemstones and lightning and held together with the finest threads of malice. 

It is like watching from the outside, like these things are happening to someone else, and I am merely here to enjoy the show while it lasts. They are actors playing scenes from my life. I am smiling bitterly to myself as they do. As the wretched bird-like harpy glides forward, only to strike with wild abandon, no grace yet in her unfamiliar limbs. No need for grace when power is enough, but I think she would be disappointed. 

Beauty and terror ought to go hand in hand. For now though, it is terror that suffices when a grasping fistful of talons reaches for his throat. I have had my throat torn before. It is intriguing to see it from the other side. 

@[Indivar]

[Indivar]

There is a strange rustle, the sound of feathers, and then there is terror. His ears had swiveled back at the sound, and he'd turned his head to see the strange being behind him, but the attack was already in motion Indivar reared onto his back legs, backing up as fast as possible, but not quite in time to avoid the attack completely. A gruff hiss escaped his teeth as his neck was scraped, and he quickly turned tail to kick at the monster. 

The rest of the forest felt like a blur now, the sound of his heart pounding and the sight of the being behind him being his only focus. His eyes narrowed at his assailant, lips pulled into a scowl. He would have asked the purpose of this attack had his tongue not felt like it was caught in his throat, his thoughts racing too fast to string together a single sentence. Instead, he did his best to kick harshly behind him, in hopes of knocking them back so he could run.

@[Sabra]

[Sabra]

My awkward limbs are too slow. An ear splitting shriek of disappointment emits from my razored maw, the stumbling creature bleeding ever so slightly from the rake on his neck. Not enough. I want the forest floor to stink with his blood, I want to see the spark of life extinguished from his eyes. 

They were dull and glazed when I first came upon him, now they shine with terror. Two steps down, one to go. His sharply angled hooves are a heavy impact on my shoulder, one clipping the staff in my chest. The shriek becomes a guttural scream of pain and rage. 

If there had been mercy in me before, it is gone now. He is several paces away, and my talons score the earth with the force I use to begin pursuit. Blood stained feathers litter the ground as I canter painfully after him, murder in my scar-tissue heart. 

Every few paces I beat my wings, wherever the trees allow for such expansive motion. Anything to gain a few lengths, to close the gap between us. To bring my talons within catching distance of his vicious legs, so I can feel them snap in my grip. 

@[Indivar]