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Beqanna
Assailant -- Year 226
"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
(anyone) but you
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05-30-2020, 06:18 PM
it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased He had become water. He had melted into nothingness, into molecules that have a definite volume but no shape, twisting and turning into the churning, black waters of Pangea. He had succumbed to the depths of the ocean, black as pitch, and more never-ending than the expanse of the sky. Here there is something much more than silence; it’s so silent, that it is loud and thrumming, enough to pierce eardrums. But the ocean does not harm him; it never would. Down here where the current and sunlight fails to reach, haunting and eerie invertebrates float, barely moving and almost as still as stone. He flickers in between the eyeless worms and the glowing giant squids, brushes past the anglers and other ghostly creatures. He is barely felt by them, for he is purely water, his presence unnoticed. He flourishes in his solitude, leaving the stillness of his lake for the endless expanse of the ocean. He arises from the angry sea with kelp knotted in his mane and tail, the seawater kissing the pearlescent and evergreen of his muscled body, splitting the waves away from him with a single thought. For a moment he is translucent; half-ocean, half stallion, until he materializes completely. The sun stings his eyes, burns at the water-logged suppleness of his skin. He keeps the moisture with him as his hooves touch the sand, his body dripping eternally with his precious sea. Even as he enters the meadow - with eyes as dark as the abyss he had secluded himself in - water spills across his coat, slickening him to where the springtime sun caused him to nearly sparkle beneath its rays. Too long had he been beneath the surface; he did not come to the meadow for casual conversation or to enjoy the springtime sweetness on the wind. He craved something else entirely; something feral, something dastardly. The scent of blood, small but noticeable, brings him to a halt; his dark green eyes are sparkling with eagerness. She stands out amongst the soft green of the flowing grasses, her onyx body shining in the sunlight. He watches her for a long time, merely content with taking in the sight of her, long lost memories coming to the surface. There is a rumbling of a growl in his chest - the sound is bubbling and terrible as his dark eyes rake across the hard, black armor of her skin. He comes to her from the side, noticing the sweeping way her head turns to and fro; confused, maybe. He eyes that swinging tail - like a feline, agitated and unsettled - and finds a curl of a smile sprouting across his mouth. The wetness of his lips - tinged with saltwater - do not hesitate to pucker and brush sweetly across the curve of her nape the moment she comes to a halt, his eyes still unused to the brightness of the sun, but his hunger leading him blindly. He exhales raggedly, pulling away from her with a quick upward draw of his neck, the smell of salt and the tide on his flesh. “You are...” his voice, rough and grating from disuse and unused to the dryness of air that pours over his vocal cords, slipping from his mouth like poison. “...lovely.” Mine. m a u g r i m. @[Fiorina]
05-30-2020, 08:23 PM
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@[Maugrim] you already get a reply because I couldn't help myself
06-01-2020, 02:26 PM
it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased She falls still beneath his greedy, grubby touch and the breathlessness in her throat (from disgust, he muses) causes the semblance of a smile to crawl onto the worn edges of his pearled lips. He expects retaliation immediately, especially one of her kind, so there is no attempt to move away as her mouth snaps towards him in warning, her sharp teeth scraping his damp coat from his water-logged skin. Blood pools to the surface and into the divots that her teeth had left, just beneath a hungry, near-black eye. The sensation of the thick liquid rolling across his skin sends a shiver down his spine, so tantalizing. Her sharp tail comes within inches of his throat like a warning and he wonders what stops her from forcing it through his skin. Half of him debates pressing himself into its blade just to see how she would react, but he decides against it for now. She is like Nexus, though in the same breath, she is not at all like her. Some kind of kin, to be sure, with that slick black armor and prehensile tail; but there is the ability to form words, a sort of surprise to the stallion that causes him to snort quizzically, the smile on his mouth fading for a moment as he studies her. Maugrim doesn’t move towards her - not yet, anyway - and respects the distance between them that she so quickly established. His abysmal gaze floats to meet hers, hungry. “So quick to throw threats,” comes the reply, gurgling like fluid in his throat. The blood from his wound begins to tickle at the corner of his mouth as it runs and instinctively his pink tongue licks to moisten, staining his mouth a ruby-red. He isn’t surprised that her threats of ruining his manhood spew from her mouth; only a precious few have found themselves willingly beneath him. He watches her eyes and how they are seeing straight past him, her ears and nostrils keeping her aware of his movements. Maugrim’s brows crease curiously, side-stepping cautiously as if attempting to make a wide berth around her and to give her more space, his eyes flicking to her perfectly poised tail. He doesn’t know where this conversation will end, but the not-knowing spikes his adrenaline, making him bolder and more ambitious. “Oh, so confident, too.” A pause as he draws a rattling breath, “how are you so sure you can even find me?” The stallion’s voice is thinly veiled with his intentions, hungry and predatorial as they leak from his bloody lips. He moves quickly to test her range of sight, snaking his head forward to snap at her threatening tail. He knows that his dull teeth - if they find purchase - will do little against the armor shielding her body, but as it is, he has always been more interested in mental warfare than physical. Knowing she’d sense his movement he leaps backwards, the front of his body melting into translucence. If she were to attack, she’d be met with the dissatisfaction of only slicing through water. m a u g r i m. @[Fiorina] ![]()
@[Maugrim] it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased She rises to his challenge as he suspected a predator like herself would do. She crashes through him, the form of a horse he had created from the moisture in the air falling away as her heavily armored body shatters him with ease. He pieces himself back together just behind her, the water pulling into some kind of epicenter that is invisible, until he becomes an equine shape once again. The translucence he had adorned moments ago quickly fades into solidity; the deep green and pearl of his tobiano coat becomes visible once again, and that terrible wicked smile watches her from behind. The transformation had allowed him to heal the wound on his face from her tail, but the stallion was not done. Pulling water from the grass below her hooves, she is met with water running up her legs. The upwards running rivulets criss and cross to meet across her shoulders and hips, intimate despite the way they move like snakes across her armored hide. He does nothing to hold her in place, not yet, and watches her blind face to see the realization of who she has come encountered with. “That wasn’t fair,” comes his liquid-sounding voice, gurgling sinisterly behind her. He knows speaking will easily give away his position, but that was precisely why he did so. “No more tricks, I promise.” She is sure not to take him at his promise, so the drowned god plants himself firmly, awaiting her next attack. He wonders if there are fangs behind the deep onyx of her lips (oh what he would give to be able to slice through flesh himself) that ripple with anger. Only one way to find out. The dark predator does not speak to him but he finds that the vibration of her angry growl is more than enough for him, and is more than enough to keep him here. She is powerful and deadly, but even without a body of water beside him, he could find enough moisture in the air to drown her. Maugrim smiles wickedly, snorting sharply. Of course, he would rather not kill such a beautiful beast and the stallion almost hopes that she is the one who wins today. “I stand by what I said.” A deep, gurgling laugh. “You are lovely.” m a u g r i m. @[fiorina] she is so fun! i love her also please let me know if him touching her with the water is something you'd like changed! <3
07-27-2020, 04:27 PM
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@[Maugrim] <33 sorry it took so long!
08-02-2020, 07:10 PM
it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased Maugrim watches carefully as her head sways like a snake, listening to anything that might give him away. He grins because it didn’t matter if she was able to locate him or not. It was all a game, like it’s always been, and he had readily accepted this fact from the moment he laid eyes on the shining obsidian of her armored skin. Their dance is mouthwatering and he finds his tongue wettening his parched lips, near-black eyes sparkling devilishly. The green and pearlescent stallion sees himself a god - unkillable, unsinkable - and because of this, is unafraid as he teases with the very predator before him like a plaything. Too long had he been hidden beneath the bowels of the earth, floating aimlessly with the creatures with no eyes at the bottom of the sea; the tantalizing and sweet scent of vulnerability and ferocity that seeps from her shining armor rouses the stagnant beast inside him. For Fiorina, fortunately, of all the things he can be described as, he is a man of his word. Her teeth meet the algae green of his neck and there is a gasp leaving his pale mouth as his flesh tears. Blood swells from the gaping wound, the scent of it metallic and raw as it spews down into the crevices of his solid chest, dripping like an iron river down his pale legs and staining the soft-green grass of the meadow with ruby. The man shivers at the sensation - the burning and searing of his skin being ripped apart, the scent that now makes his heart race all the more and, of course, the chilling way she has seemed to have forgotten all sense of self. There is a grumble low in his throat as he lunges at her, the water that had been exploring her body now falling away into nothingness. His momentary pause to relish had easily left her time to lunge at him again, with either teeth or tail, or her brute strength. He knows colliding with her would do nothing but add bruises to himself, so as his body should meet hers, he materializes. Droplets coat her armor as he passes through her, easily reforming on the other side. When he solidifies, each droplet pulls from her to create his opaque form, the wound she had just inflicted on him already beginning to clot and heal, leaving the poseidon with a dark grin on his pearled lips. He remains still, knowing that his movement from one side to the other would leave her confused only for a split second. A thick spiral of water then materializes from the water vapor around them and with a gentle tip of his chin, it twists upward with a rushing sound to make a grasp at her beautiful throat. m a u g r i m. @[Fiorina]
09-03-2020, 02:38 PM
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@[Maugrim]
09-06-2020, 10:14 AM
it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased Her cry of frustration is met with a smug grin that cracks across the pearl of his lips. He realizes that he is quite lucky to have found such a creature in a compromising position - he is powerful, of course, but surely her lack of sight remains the only reason he is not torn to pieces beneath her fangs and swiping tail. He almost wishes she had use of her eyes; how frustrated would she become to know that each time she finds purchase on his waterlogged skin that he was simply healing himself? There is a low laugh of delight as his grip wraps around her throat, a delectable shiver traversing down his spine. He cannot remember the last time he held a life like this and it intoxicates him like no other. The stallion brings himself to her, unable to keep his distance, wanting to hear the sound of her gasping breath as she finds it harder and harder to breathe with each inhale. In a moment he could easily force water to rush into her flaring nostrils and mouth (he’s done it before) and drown her where she stands. But he doesn’t. Instead, he continues to tighten like a snake, intentional and almost artistic in the way he expertly applies pressure to her windpipe. He holds her there, on the cusp of darkness and death, his warm breath fogging against the shining armor of her skin. He wants to tell her to quit struggling, to stop fighting him and give in, but part of him is entertained by her determination and he finds her sheer will to gut him even with his hands around her throat simply awe-inspiring. He’s wondering if she’s killed before - has she held that power as he does now? Does she relish in it, as he does? The thoughts bring another haunting smile to his lips that only widens as a choking laugh escapes her onyx mouth. Maugrim assumes her answer would have been ‘yes’. “I believe I’ve won, dearie,” he chides her with a near singsong in his watery voice, now holding her so tightly that it is a wonder she is still standing at all. “Perhaps next time I won’t be so lucky.” He’s close enough now that he could nearly kiss her brow, but he is only listening to her ragged breath and imagining the sound of a racing, frightened heart. Though he doubts that fear could slip into the cracks of her shining armor. With a disappointed sigh, the tendril of water that held her tosses her away from him as it releases. In the same movement, he turns away to move onward towards his final destination, already making plans to ensure they meet again. m a u g r i m. @[Fiorina] | ||||||||||||||||||||
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