[open] You give me something to talk about [Nocturnal/Ashley/Any]

[No Crosses Count]

you give me something to think about that's not the shit in my head.

They are fighting for their lives. The tentacled monster slaps it’s slimy arms at him. He dips and dodges but he is no match for such a beast. The dragon has taken to the air and she takes most of the brunt but there are so many arms, so many suckers trying to grab at them and pull them back down to hell. He bucks and avoids but there’s only so long he can keep this up.

Surely being dead meant he could go on forever. Yet there’s still a sense of fatigue, a tiredness he hasn’t experienced in centuries. Rays of light stream through the tear in time, calling to them to come through. They both take off, his legs protesting beneath him as he gallops towards the exit. A sudden crash as a long slippery appendage throws itself in front of him, blocking the way. He skids, sending up black dirt into the sucking circles that threaten to steal his very soul. Looking for another way but he has become trapped, closed in at all sides. Until her teeth grab around his barrel and with a roar of pain he is thrown towards the light. Hot whispers of white tether on to him in the air, pulling him towards his freedom and anchoring him so he can’t be pulled back down towards the darkness. Now he sees who pulls the strings behind the magic that holds him. It's fucking Ashley. Despite the chaos of his situation, he is nearly howling with laughter because you have got to be kidding me, of all the magicians. The only thing worse could be Deimos. It's the last thought he has before the light explodes around him.

It blinds him, he can’t see, can’t think, can’t feel. Whiteness surrounds him. And then there is only darkness, nothing as he falls into unconsciousness.

Beneath gray strains of sands, bleached bones begin to turn to ash. The skeleton of a horse whose carcass had long decayed and been forgotten. The bones deteriorate quickly until they cease to exist. They cannot be here any longer if they are to return to their former owner.

The sound of gulls and the gentle caress of the tide slowly wakes him. His body aches, pinpricks of dragon teeth stinging with the touch of saltwater. Groaning slightly, he rolls off his side as water crashes against his belly. Shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the ringing in his ears. Nostrils flare as he inhales the fresh briny air, it fills his lungs and he can’t help but grin. He still looks exactly the same. Same scar that trails over his left eye, scars that run white hot over his dark coat from many battles past. Battles he no longer recalls. He is younger, fitter, the way he looked in his youth. No point in being reborn to only just die off again.

A voice calls out to him and he sees a roan mare pulling herself from the ocean. He forces himself to his hooves, unsteady and unsure in the soft delicate sand. A red eye looks her over as he grins lightly at her. ”You look rather different.”

He remembers the dragon. Being locked up in darkness and being far away somewhere for so long. He remembers a creature trying to prevent their escape, a stallion screaming at them to be free. Then nothing but light. And that’s where it ends. For when they escaped, they had to pay a price. Everything cost something. For Nocturnal it was her powers. But Cross had no powers to give. So they took his memories instead. The gods weren’t entirely unkind. They let him remember his escape that would fade with time till it was nothing more than a forgotten dream. They let him keep his knowledge of Nocturnal. They let him keep his name. How interesting that will be, they think.

”Where are we?” He asks as he stands by her side, the ocean rushing around their hooves. Red eyes looking about him with interest, unaware of the stories this place alone told about him. Oblivious to what he had returned to, a cruel joke. Fitting for someone who had just escaped from hell. There’s movement further down the coast and he turns his head to see another body flailing in the sand. Trying to stand. His muzzle gently bumps against the curve of Nocturnal’s cheek to draw her attention to him. The old man (he seems so frail) that’s coughing and sputtering, looking at him with brazen recognition. Cross grows quiet, becoming wary for he has never seen that stallion before in his life.

no crosses count

the reborn

[Taren]

taren

you're a real firecracker, aren't you sparky?

He stood and coughed, his eyes blinking sand out from underneath his lashes, salt water spluttering out of his nose.

He gets up easily enough, lithe and nimble, blinking around the beach. Oh yes.. This strength and power. It felt good. He was back to normal. Or so… He thought.

He had an urge for milk. Milkies. He wants milkies, dammit!

And so a small, infantile whinny escapes his mouth—which he immediately clamps shut, before looking down at himself. Black. Like Charcoal. Flipped around, he falls down the sand dunes, but a flash of yellow plays on his bum and on the back of his neck. This is decidedly NOT what he remembers.

He’s a red magician.
Or at least he was.

He rolls. His tiny tummy round and plump as he rights himself again, the world seeming much much shorter than it did before. And he still wanted milkies.

DAMMIT

And just then, a red flash emanates from him as he jumps up in the air. Towards a red… dun male laying in the dirt.

He rushes over. “Are you okay?” He does not recognize the man, and his mind is unable to read it. And the voice that speaks. It is not his. It is a child’s voice.

And then suddenly, the red man stirs…“I think I’ve been knocked for a loop”. And looks at the small boy. The small boy looks back… looking up and familiarity sets in.

“YOU’RE ME!” they declare at the same time.
***
Together, and yet very infinitely separated. Ashley’s mind finally settled. He stood up, shook out his mane, and stared down at the boy, before raking his gaze to where Cross and the other mare had landed in the sand.

This, cannot, be fucking possible.

The small black child that stood at his feet with an expression of disgust that was FAR older than his years… A physical manifestion of… himself. His hair was charred black, but his yellow hair stood up on end as if he’d been caught in an electric current, and the red flash of lightning that he had seen the boy emanate…

Simply, it could not be possible.

Except. Here he was. This child bore power and strength that Ashley no longer possessed. The old red king was angry, as his new reality came down to settle upon him. He was alive, but it came with a price.

And it seemed that this child was the result of that. The boy looked as if he was ready to eat a pinecone. “What the hell happened to you?” He says. And Ashley stops to think. What the hell did happen?

Here on the beach, they were exposed. And he was weak, still without his magic… a reality that was quickly realizing… that this was going to be a permanent change. “Come” says the old man, taking a step towards where Cross, his old rival, and the other mare were. The black boy that was peculiarly shaped like her….

And then it hits Ashley….

FUCK.

***

The small child heard the old red ginger say Come and instinctively, he followed him. Though it was with a snort and a drag that the boy did so. He saw the world through eyes that were not his own, images and flashes of great power and wild light. Ashley’s memories were his own, this much he knew, but this new take on life…

It could go die in whatever hole it came out of.

And so, they get up to where The other two are… The man looks familiar, but his name is not familiar… but the woman… automatically the small child instinctively recognizes her as if he’d been birthed from her loins. The fact that he had not, well.. was inconsequential. He saw her, and knew Milkies were abundant. He stops, tilts his little black fuzzy head, and turns to the mare.

“Mother, my name is Taren. I hope you’re cool with this. But I need milkies” and says nothing more, but draws up, and decides to eat.

Ashley blinks, his weak body longing to get out of the beach, knowing that perhaps he’d turn to some semblance of normal if he could just get out of this place of death.

His eyes drag from the small child and up to Cross, an angry, grim smile set upon his face. “Well hello, you old motherfucker. Been shagging anyone else’s mother lately, or is that just me?”

Taren could care less. He’s just had a long day. A very surprised Mother, to be sure… but at least the little charred fuzz was getting what he came down here for.

Food.

[No Crosses Count]

you give me something to think about that's not the shit in my head.

His newfound bestie may have some serious issues. She’s staring at him with squinty eyes and he cocks his head ever so slightly, red eyes glowing with vague amusement. ”Got a headache do you?” He had a small migraine himself and hopes he didn’t look nearly as constipated as she did. It must be a bad one, now she’s cursing at him and he casts her another bemused glance. ”Must have bumped your head somehow, can’t be blaming all your problems on me sweetheart.” His muzzle brushes her forelock from her face, dark lips placing the lightest of kisses on the top of her head. ”Feel better?” He jokes before withdrawing with a faint grin. Somethings never change, memory lost or not.

He glances at the rotting corpses and sun bleached bones with vague interest as she answers his question before a hard eye lands on her once more, questioning. ”Do I not look very much alive to you?’ He can feel his heart beating in his chest, the breeze that runs cool fingers through course ebony tendrils. No he is very much not dead thank you very much. ”Never been here in my life…” He finishes, only vaguely confused. A small whisper of something ... Ah it's gone. Must not have been that important.

He hadn’t spotted the child, just the murderous looks the old man was sending. The lightening though is hard to miss. Or the old man and the child arguing at each other. Cross gives a roll of his shoulders, this place is fucking weird. The two are no longer distant figures, the boy is demanding something called Milkies from his very attractive partner, to be honest he's not really paying attention. It's the grumpy old man… His ears splay slightly in annoyance, lifting his head and meeting Ashley’s angry demeanor with his own stern one. ”I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of shagging your mother but perhaps I can find the time.” He snorts and tosses his head, what a prick. Ignorance truly is bliss.

”I’m No Crosses Count.” He adds behind Nocturnal’s greeting, eyeing Ashley again with distaste before looking back at his dragon lady and the colt…That was eagerly suckling from her. ”When the hell were you pregnant?” He glances at the kid with a thoughtful look. Hmmm pretty sure it’s not mine. Would have remembered that…

no crosses count

the reborn