"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
Bruise had not arrived to the meeting at first—it had seemed unnecessary. Unless his father staked his claim, Pangea was a bore to him. Just a wasteland. Ruined potential.
That being said, he’d watched the pair who had arrived and sought to seek them out after. Each had struck his interest in their own ways, each had piqued his curiosity. The first for him to hunt down after the meeting had fizzled was the red-eyed stallion who had come with the questions and confusion. It was easy to manipulate someone when they were still disoriented, one simply had to strike when the iron was hot.
He found Waylan easily, his path smoother and faster than it had been for a while. He did not bother to move with enhanced speed—not now, at least. It was a waste when he had all the time in the world. Instead he walked slowly behind the dark chocolate stallion, circling around so that they could be face to face, his own dark eyes meeting the red gaze of the other, silence falling thick and heavy between them.
For several moments, he said nothing, just studied the other with a careful gaze.
Finally, he tilted his handsome head to the side, his smile cold. “You said that your invisibility had been vanquished,” his voice was oddly husky for being so young, the sound dark in his throat. “What if I told you that I could help you get it back.” He felt the temporary magic simmering in his blood alongside the speed, the Fear. It was a heady feeling to know that he could control the fates of others should he wish.
It was even headier to know that he could do so with limits of his own choosing.
The meeting is dull. Hardly anyone shows except him and Rhae, and that pitiful girl whom pleads to her so called "god". Hell if Waylan were in Carnage's position, he would ditch this place too.
In mid conversation he finds himself intercepted by another, craning his fine featured cranium the man eye balls the horned beast before him, circling him like a shark. "Can I help you?" His cold vocals break their deafening silence.
The horned brute before him speaks up, “You said that your invisibility had been vanquished....... What if I told you that I could help you get it back. What would something like that be worth to you?"
Waylan studies the man carefully, perplexed by his offer. Hell if he could get his invisibility back he could kill as he did before, killing could be his art again.
A roguish grin forms upon his lips, "Well shit. I'd kill for whoever returns my invisibility." He answers.
WAYLAN
-NORMAL PEOPLE SCARE ME-
OOC: This is shit. I'm so sorry Laura, it took forever because I've had a lot going on and I had a huge writing block.
@[Bruise]
It was the answer that he wanted to hear—exactly what he wanted to hear, in fact.
His smile cold and crocodile, mimicking the same one that he had seen his father wear all too often. For a moment, he considers the strange red-eyed creature, tilting his head to the side. “It would do you well to remember that,” he finally grumbles, his barely more than a low hiss. “I may call upon you soon.”
He had originally planned to utilize this gift to build an army to help his father ascend the throne, but it had not been necessary; taking Pangea had been much easier than anticipated. So, instead, Bruise curated favors with those who were dangerous, with eyes that were hungry, with the sharp blades in the night.
Waylan did not reek of magic, not in the way Violence did with her necromancy or Pollock with the Fear, but there was something strong about his gaze, a blood thirsty nature that Bruise could understand.
Perhaps he would be useful in the future.
So Bruise clucked his tongue against his teeth and took a step forward, dipping his heavy horned head to acknowledge the other. Without a word, he flicked his tail powerfully behind him so that it stung his haunched. The power coiled in his belly and then slung forward, flooding whatever gifts had been stripped from Waylan back to him. When it was done, Bruise felt just a little emptier.
For a moment, he considered the stallion before grunting, “Well, then, let’s see what you can do.”
Another pause before he followed that up.
“I would be remiss if I did not remind you that loyalty is not an option.”
For a moment, he played along the threads of the Fear—not enough to cause terror, but perhaps enough for Waylan to feel it in his bones. Bruise said nothing further though. His point had been made.
