"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
02-27-2017, 01:56 AM (This post was last modified: 02-27-2017, 02:03 AM by Venom + Virus.)
you gotta see the artistry in tearing the place apart with me
They are growing bored.
The girls have remained quiet and dutiful since Potion brought them home, both perfect little obedient daughters (the perfect example of what Kirin looks for in his line).
But both have listened to Potion’s tales of the days of old, the stories of their god-like ancestors, of their grandfather’s time spent ruling over the Cove and the many feats he and the Covelings had accomplished during their time …
And they want to be a part of it.
They are young yet, but they are ambitious, and their blood runs truer than their birth mother (unknown to them now - they look on Potion as their mother) would have ever wanted for them. Despite their youth, the cruelty that had started with Khaos is already beginning to continue with them. And already they want the chance to prove themselves, the chance to bring glory to the bloodline of Khaos and Kirin.
]So, today, for the first time ever, they are not so dutiful. They wander from Potion’s side (and away from their normal brother), and dare to seek out the other creatures that call the forest home.
They do not find other horses at first (the part of the forest in which they live is remote after all) but they do find many other things to occupy themselves with. They particularly enjoy the nest of young rabbits they discover in a thicket … Venom telekinetically rips the mewling things out of the brambles for Virus to skewer on her horns, one by one, until a little pile of bloody bodies lies at their feet. Once they are finished they continue to wander (the purple fur on the crown of Virus’ head now stained a deep, dark red), dark eyes scanning for movement, ears attuned to the many sounds of the forest. They do not know exactly what they are looking for, but both are certain that, given time, they will find it.
Especially Kirin, it took a lot out of his patience and willpower to lay low. There were lives to ruin, tears to be shed, mared to be fucked. Little and less of that was to be had from the confines of the forest, the Covelings were tucked away in the deep of the wood, their own little nook. It was not enough, it was never enough for Kirin. He had tasted too much of the finer things of life to be appeased with a shadow hollow, hidden away with no one to look upon his radiant face.
Removing the three children from Kirke’s side had turned out to be even more convenient than he had anticipated. The girls, (always girl children, he knew where the strength in their lines truly was) were proving to be true descendants, perfectly bending to Potion and even looking to the mare as their own Mother. Tragic, how wonderfully tragic.
They were not for her though, not really, he had not meant them to be his daughter’s prize. Kirin was far too selfish of a being to let them simply slip into Potion’s doldrum existence. After all, it was he that ordered them spirited away, such as they had been. Potion was skilled at such tasks, the children always were taken with her ethereal beauty. They often treated her as some kind of fairy godmother and Potion did not seem perturbed by the fantasy association. She held her own darkness in her right but she was still a very odd child.
These two though, he knew they were the ideal set, watched them from afar perfectly poised, completely obedient at the hands of his silvered daughter. A puddle of gut and blood also told him all he needed to know, it reminded him of Kult and he did wonder when his little brother would show his ugly face.
“Girls,” he called, they had both wandered off, heading to the edge of the wood and nearing the border of the meadows. “We’ve been terribly naughty this morning,” he pranced around them, flicking his pastel tail. “And I could not be happier, how would you like to help me with my own brand of devastation?” A pause, his silky smooth voice falling quiet, silver eyes lingering on the stained horns that dripped in a delightful way.
He trailed behind them, the youngest of the three. A dark purple nose flairs its nostrils wide, looking for the smell of two other perfectly identical noses. Something Wicked this way comes.
He follows in pursuit of his sisters, escaping the old lady that demanded she call them Mother. But in the back of his mind, he knew she was not Mother. Mother was not nearly that old. And while his big sisters spent time reveling in their new found evil and wickedness—what does it mean to be wicked anyway?—he was a bit more perceptive, and had spent many long nights watching Potion work on her rather haphazard beauty routine. He had a feeling that under all that magic… she was as old as dirt.
The one time he’d been caught watching, she’d punished him and sent him along his way. Wicked little thing. And so he’d finally come to realize his name was Wicked. If he had been born with another name, he’d not remember it now.
Still, he followed his sisters, who now stood in the shadow of someone. Someone who really was wicked. He slows, crawling up beside the other, his cautious smile growing large when he sees the kill of the dead rabbits and digs into the carcass, smothering his face in blood and entrails. Despite his flat teeth, he had always had a taste for flesh and loved running about with his sisters tasting the local fauna from their kills. He flaps his tiny featherd wings, and shakes his black forlock around his horn nubs—the first real sign that perhaps, their normal little brother was not quite so normal. “You go off and leave me, you bad sisters. Mother will not be pleased. But the blood… is so worth it.” He hisses his pleasure at swallowing what little meat was available for him to eat, oozing up and sliding the rich red blood down his gullet, before turning up his head to make eyes with the lavender man, saying nothing, and hiding behind Venom. He may be the youngest, but he loves his sisters. They are the only family he’s ever known.. Because he knows that Potion is NOT Mother, even if he called her that.
Maybe he is too wicked for his real mother to love him.
YOUVE GOT TO SEE THE ARTISTRY IN TEARING THE PLACE APART WITH ME
Something rustles in the underbrush, and both girls pause, purple ears perked and alert. Perhaps there’s a little critter hiding in there, something they can have fun with, something they can play with. But the thing that comes out from the bushes is not a creature at all, and both girls stand up a little straighter, bowing their heads respectfully to their grandfather.
He tells them they’ve been naughty, and their heads bow even lower. While Potion had allowed them to wander, they’d wandered rather farther than allowed. They expect he’s going to tell them as much, and they lean against each other, waiting for the inevitable tongue lashing … but it does not come.
Instead Grandfather compliments them and offers them a proposition. Their heads pop up and their eyes widen in eagerness and excitement. “Yes!” Both girls cry out as one. This is all they’ve ever dreamed of - a chance to help Grandfather in his plans, a chance to prove themselves! “What can we do?”
Another rustle - the girls spin about, equally ready to pounce or defend. But a familiar purple shape slinks out of the bushes to join them, and they relax, their identical faces splitting into identical grins. “Brother!” They ignore his jibe as he steps forward to tuck into their leavings. Both girls giggle as his teeth close upon one of the dead baby rabbits - they like watching him clean up their work.
Venom steps forward, head dipping down to blow at her brother as he feasts. “Wicked, Grandfather has a job for us. A very important job.” Virus nips at her sister. “Wait!” The dark purple girl turns back to look at their Grandfather, bowing her head respectfully. “Could Wicked help us?” The girls might be as thick as thieves, but they love their brother. Together, the three of them could make a wonderful team.
They are certainly model students, a perfect pair and he could not have hoped for a better outcome. Potion had done excellent work grooming them. It was evident that his lines, khaos’ lines, ran strong in Kirke and he hoped that would bring her the misery she very much deserved. Denounce them, why, she was as bad as that good for nothing Tioga. An abomination to their kind, as if saying some words, ignoring them could make the truth go away. They were of his blood, something that could not be purified no matter how hard they wished it- they were not something to be cleansed. Briefly he closed his eyes, imagining her sorrows and a smile trailed across his lavender lips.
It was a satisfying and delicious thought.
Bowing their heads they greet him, and he is glad these two know him by sight. They should all be taught such things, he expected no less. At mere mention of assisting him, their excitement is palpable, springing forth as their small heads leap to attention. Yes!, What can we do?
“Perfect,” he praises, giving them a nod.
Before he can continue, the brush wriggles and another identical form emerges from its leafy cover. The boy dips his head to the fleshy bundle, stray bits of fur still decorate the pile but he takes no mind. A sloshing gulp accompanies his actions and Kirin, watches quietly as the girls are chastised and then thanked. Well, that was one way to participate.
“Of course he can,” Kirin assures them, spreading his wings and guiding them beneath their canopy. “We are going to take a new home, all of us, together.” His voice is hushed, whispering his secrets to them because children seemed to like secrets- especially if they were in on them. “I’ll need you to come with me, they’re going to have to make room for us but I’m sure we will be able to convince them.” Of course by convince them he meant force them, he didn’t really much care if they wanted to share. If he had his way they would not have much of a choice in the matter.
Wicked had barely finished his meal—baby rabbit always slides better with viscera and blood—when he is being preened and pushed underneath the side of massive wings. It has grown so dark suddenly, and his eyes look around for some sense of something, but as the red stained his mouth, and he licks his lips to pry the meat from between his teeth, he says nothing as he allows himself to be ushered forward in the opposite direction of where they have come from. He does not know where they are going—he does not care. He is without Mother for the time being, and perhaps new scenery will allow him the chance to see new lands and discover for himself where his real mother may be. Through the course of his meal, his little horn nubs had grown—almost overnight—into full springbok horns that matched his sisters, and he proudly tossed his head underneath the umbrella of Mister Kirin’s wings in order to understand the weight and feel of his new attachments.
He smiles like loon when he realizes that he is finally not a dull normal horse anymore.
![[Image: venom_zpszr2ocmmu.gif]](http://i1094.photobucket.com/albums/i448/lherten/venom_zpszr2ocmmu.gif)
![[Image: kandra_zpst9h5cubp.gif]](http://i1094.photobucket.com/albums/i448/lherten/kandra_zpst9h5cubp.gif)
