"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
A girl. A girl. The mottled stallion huffs in thinly veiled anger. His mother had to go and make a sister for him. He hates her, but he knows he can’t do anything about it. In this world, there’s him and then there’s Astri (and now there’s Dacia, of course) so he has to remain true to the blood he knows. Doesn’t mean he has to appreciate it though. Lupei slinks with hunched shoulders and a lowered head, even though he’s not in his wolf body. He’s pouting, of course, but he’s still young. A boy who has yet to understand what it means to be a man, but already he’s committed so much sin. The weight of his crime is still painted in dull red from his chin to his widening breast, and he knows he must rid himself of the evidence as soon as possible. Astri had ushered him away for that very reason, and he knew better than to defy her order.
If anyone found out what had transpired at the beach, he’d be in a shitload of trouble.
The sun is already high in the sky, and the weather has turned rather pleasant so he trudges the long way around the edge of the meadow - hidden in the shadows of the treeline by the winding river - until he comes to the placid lake at the center of the gathering grounds. He looks around him, icy blue eyes making sure that he’s not been followed, and then he shifts into his other form. It felt comfortable to be a wolf, the thick, shaggy black hair and wide paws were more efficient than his prey body. He shakes his neck, happy to be free of the constraints of a horse, and bounds eagerly into the water, spraying it behind him in great waves of crystalline drops.
It’s a funny sight - this young, dark dog splashing about, but it’s one of the only moments he has left as a boy. Soon he’ll feel the change of nature and Lupei will know he can never return to this time. He’ll have to make his way without Astri, and he’ll have to find purpose. But for now, he washes the death of the sabino stallion from his coat and watches as the water turns a ruddy brown before clearing all evidence of his murder. It was almost too easy. He settles then, lapping at the surface for a moment before panting at the exertion of his efforts. A sound at the shore draws his attention, and the wolf bristles, turning back to see just who would be bold enough to approach.
I am not good enough. I never have been, I never will be. It’s carousal that never stops turning; a consistent loop of a song that hums mother and father didn’t want you, mother dropped you, father hurt you, brother replaced you. A beautiful song really on consistent replay that is literally the reason for my meandering here in the meadow, now.
See, if I had been loved and cherished and held tightly I wouldn’t be aimlessly wandering around the meadow looking homeless and dirty.
I feel dirty.
Blood means nothing to me. All blood has done is boil in my veins and keep my heart from stopping. Blood relatives have ruined me internally, I am forever in their grasp and yet forever in their debt. They gave me life, but they also didn’t care to watch me die. I hate them, I am haunted by them, but I am here because of them.
See what I mean by this carousal of doom?
The meadow has become my sanctuary in more ways than not. With the sun already at afternoon heights, the baking heat is putting a damper on my mood. However, the watering hole has been relaxing and soothing and is the only thing that seems to be removing the blood stains from my otherwise pristine white and brown coat. Scars still taint my frame and bruises still mark my legs but at least the blood is draining from my coat.
I feel Turkish glide around my belly, the only thing visible is his petite snout to allow him to breath oxygen. He loves the water, in fact it is the only thing that seems to make him tolerable.
I can hear you, is what he says at my inside comment on his aggressive character. He is a Burmese Python, something tells me he wasn’t meant to be gentle and loving.
It has been a full twenty-four hours at his side and Lord knows how badly I need space. Lord knows how much a long for some air of my own to breath without being accompanied by a reptile looped around my neck like some tacky necklace.
I pin my ears, a show of my irritation by his consistent meddling in my brain, before nuzzling at the water beneath me.
I begin to wade myself from the pool, feeling a very faint gust of air tickle at my sides providing a sense of cool relief. Turkish isn’t far behind me, slithering his ten-foot body along the sand and grass.
I just cleaned myself, let me on.
No, Turkish. You’re filthy.
I practically feel his frustrated energy waft over me, instantly giving me that same sort of belly aching anger.
I wish he didn’t have such effect on me.
I feel his skin wrap up my front left leg, pale albino tones complimenting my own pelt colour beautifully. He is slung around my neck, wrapped three times in a few short seconds. I feel his cold damp body sooth my withers.
Onward, trusty steed.
Shut up.
Meandering the meadow is far more entertaining than I can begin to admit. And unfortunately, Turkish’s commentary boosts my mood plenty. Sometimes, rarely, I find him useful and good company.
Especially when we agree on things.
I wish to be young again. I am young, but I mean child-young. I mean fresh out of the womb and damp from the placenta, young. I want to be naïve and perfect, cute and adorable. When I was young, my father thought of me like some sort of unexplainable present.
Until I started growing.
Until I started looking like her.
That is when my father became him. Because much like her, he abandoned me as well.
As soon as things began to struggle, I got dumped.
And then dumped again.
A newborn child is playing amongst the shadows and I want to bet her mother isn’t too far off.
I imagine transforming into my counter part, my own Burmese python boddess, and slinking over to the child stealthy and quiet. I imagine looping up her neck and watching the whites of her eyes show in a paralyzed fear. I imagine sinking my heavy fangs into her flesh, blood edging up from the pressure and feeling her body become weak. Feeling her legs begin to crumble at the weight of my own body. My long frame wrapping around her, contracting and suffocating her till her last breath escapes her flaming nostrils.
No sound.
No warning.
Just death.
If you would rather not have blood on your hands, I am happy to oblige. I haven’t eaten in a long time. I could go for a filly-steak.
I smirk at his gesture, Turkish, probably the only creature who yearns to kill as much as I do.
You need bigger prey.
Can I kill him to save him from a lifetime of embarrassment?
I follow his gaze. Puppy like actions splash about in the water like a child.
I adjust my stance and cock my head to the side in consideration.
You would get bit in the process.
Can we, at the very least, go mock him?
I always love a little game of mockery.
I walk up, bold and strong. I feel Turkish tighten around my neck as he uses muscles to raise his head from hanging by my shoulder. I stop, a courteous distance away from the panting mutt. My eyes follow his pelt, ignoring the feeling of Turkish gliding off my body.
In an instance, I am morphing to ground level. My body contracts and condenses till I am but a twin to Turkish, our only difference is our colours. He may be albino, but I am a mess of deep chocolate and black hues with subtle cream lines.
Two Burmese Pythons, perhaps not the best committee but I feel if he wishes to hide his equine identity, why can I not?
“Smother.” I say with a certain hiss floating off my tongue. I left my body, the front part, my tongue easing in and out of my mouth to sense his body.
She could not believe it had been 2 years now since her mighty escape from the clutches of her absolutely insane mother. The black feline mare had her share of family drama, absolutely mad whore mother, confused naive brother, it was complicated. Her "gift" was something sacred to her, but to her mother, it was a tool for treachery. She needed to get away, she knew it was no place for her, not her cup of tea; being used. So alas, she ran her young filly heart out until she reached the warm embrace of the jungle. Now she lives in peace, no longer worried about her now disowned, insane biological family. Naga was on a bit of a life hiatus, not really doing anything in the sisterhood for the past year, it was time for her to get back into gear and start....socializing. Now, was it mentioned that Naga was a mare of little words? Not often did she come out and talk to others, so her being in the meadow right now is quite a rarity indeed. The sleek black mare was not in her equine body, her black pelt shown and her green eyes gleaming.
She slinked through the brush, her eyes flickered to and fro, swiftly taking in her surroundings. As always in her large beautiful feline body, she is almost inaudible, her paws treading ever so lightly on the soft new ground. Her rounded ears pick up something interesting, as well as her nose. She can smell horse for sure, something she can't decipher, and......dog. A low rumble developed in her throat, pushing forward at a quicker pace. Our feline amazon leaps up into the trees, now lightly slipping and slinking through the branches overhead. Soon she comes up on a peculiar scene, slowly she slips down onto a lower branch, her her black tail flicked lightly. First she sees a dark wolf, bounding about in the water below, pink sprays came off from it...blood? Interesting. Then she notices the wolf turn to look another direction, she follows his gaze and sees two pythons slither into view. One is a striking albino, the other, earthy toned.
Her round ears hear the earthy python speak, "Smother" it says. well well well...shapeshifters...maybe it is worth showing myself.. she then lets out a deep loud growl to let her presence up in her tree known. Her green eyes gleam brightly, her mouth hung open just enough to show her sleek fangs. "Hmmm...what have we here. Two slinking snakes, and a blood tinged pup." She jumps down from her high perch, prowling forward slowly. "Snake, you said your name is Smother? Naga is the name. And you, pup...I am not going to ask you what you've done or why. Don't worry. Who are you?" Naga stands proudly, her amazonian tattoo now in view. It was true, she did not care or want to know what the pup did, she just wanted to know him. Same with the snake shifter. This is the first time she has ever come across others that can shift. Now for her to meet two at the same moment, quite curious indeed. The blood did not phase her, though the fact that she is uncomfortably close to water did. Her mother showed her her fair share of gore, killing, talking of killing, being in the presence of murder and death in general. A little blood on someone was nothing new to her eyes. Just as long as it was not her with innocent blood on her pelt.
And the Lord God said to the serpent: Because thou hast done this thing, thou art cursed among all cattle, and beasts of the earth: upon thy breast shalt thou go, and earth shalt thou eat all the days of thy life.
His eyes, hard and untrusting, watch the two slithering creatures approach the shore. It’s clear that the darker one wears the pants - that arrow-like head rising above the pale one to flicker out an introduction. He snarls, lip curling above his fully-grown canines in a thinly veiled threat. He can smell them, the legless fiends, and it irritates his nose. The wolf quivers, tongue flicking between his closed front teeth while his ears lay flat against his upturned fur. It’s understood that he’s not comfortable with them, either of them, and he shakes with the combined effort of controlling his fear and keeping them at bay.
“No closer.” He rumbles, tail low and sweeping over the water to disturb the calm surface. He doesn’t know why they came, or who sent them, but he won’t be the fool who so carelessly extends his name to them. He’s not sure how to continue, how to dance around what he’s doing out here or who exactly he is. He’s not ready to take a single step. Lupei only knows to hold his own and to fight until death, and he’ll do that if it comes to it. “Who sent you?” He snarls, the guttural noise escaping his gut in a ragged sentence.
Another noise causes his head to whip around, he snaps, taking a step back with wide eyes as the panther descends into view. Was this an ambush? Had they been sent to drag him back to their respective kingdoms so that he could face judgement? Just who had he slaughtered out there on the beach? She pads closer, the night-washed feline, and her silky voice echoes over the tepid lake. He huffs, finds his courage, and chooses to face them as a man and as his true self. His head dips, shakes to the side, and then his body contorts until he’s wholly horse. He’s back to his blue-green self, curling, wet mane clinging to his mint green neck as he inhales and stands his ground.
11-06-2015, 02:45 AM (This post was last modified: 11-06-2015, 02:46 AM by Smother.)
Smother
I watch him, a child, grow incredibly uncomfortably.
I feel my mouth watering at the thrill—foolish child, silly boy.
Turkish is feeding off my energy like a pig eating fresh slop. I watch how his emerald eyes flicker with a burst of enticement before sliding himself into the water—gone, practically invisible if not for his snout appearing every few seconds.
I know why he has done that, I appreciate his intellect.
“Oh my, oh my. What a paranoid little puppy,” I smile, my voice a mixture of cooing and mockery. Oh how I wish as a child I was gifted the art of paranoia and fear. Unfortunately I had to grow a pair(figuratively speaking). “Does mommy know you’re missing?”
The next to join is a bubbly little thing. A large black cat, smelling strong of feline odor. I half expected the dog to hate the cat more, after all are they not mortal enemies? Has anyone else not seen lady and the tramp? The Siamese cats?
And people say they hate snakes.
“I might ask what you did, but that would mean I care what you did. And let’s be honest in our triangle of three, I don’t give a rats ass what you did. Though clearly you do, if you’re letting it haunt you like a poltergeist in your closet of secrets.” I don’t go any closer, not edging myself by any means. I just slither to the left, slowly and quietly inching my way. My body expanding foot, by foot until all ten feet of me slinks out relaxed.
I have no patience for cowards. Whether he talked back to his mommy, or murdered four men and their dog, I don’t care. I admire those who are able to be honest about it, open up about it. I envy those who can be who they truly are, and make no excuses. I am that person. I will kill, have dreamt of killing, have imagined the art of torture and I am not hear trying to equalize my conscience.
I am here because something smelt tasty, and because children entice me.
“Is your poltergeist scary, puppy? Do you have nightmares, or hide in the meadow because you’re terrified of a little ghost in your closet of memoires? When the light goes out and the sun sets beyond our sight and the moon greets our existence… do you revisit your dark day? I do. I revisit it all the time.” I slither slightly closer, hardly enough for him to notice but yet maybe he is still being the paranoid cry baby I met five seconds ago.
One can hope that growing up happens quick.
“Let me tell you, little boy blue, that feeling doesn’t go away. The feeling of your angel conscience harping in your left ear, it doesn’t just dissipate. Or maybe you are lathering because you don’t feel any guilt.” I watch him, my voice part taunt and part soft.
“Maybe you are scared because you finally realized how much of a monster you truly are.”
Her green dinner plate eyes grow wider as she watches the pup go into panic mode. His words sound scared, she felt almost BAD for him...seemingly impossible yes? The day the cat and dog do not quarrel. But as Naga watches, she hears Smother speak. Her eyes begin to blaze as the snake spits darkness from her lips into the pups obviously troubled mind. She knows this isn't right.
Of course, as she sees the pup shift, her eyes grew wider. A mint and teal horse? Curiouser and curiouser indeed. She is debating whether or not to shift into her equine form or not now that he is this uncomfortable. But, there was Smother alone now, her albino counterpart no longer in her sights...her words kept spewing, like poison. She realizes that it was not her bite that was venomous, it was her words. This was cruel, and she knew what smother made her think of now....
Her mother.
Naga felt her fur bristling now, a low rumble grew in her throat. She was not a fan of dogs by any means...but this...this was something her mother would have done...and she was not going to sit back and watch. The large cat slinked slowly in between Smother and Lupei, her green eyes blazing ever so intensely with annoyance. Her voice was borderline yelling now. She can smell something very faintly familiar on the snake...that thick pine scent...the Valley. She knew it. Her mother had that scent, she could never forget that scent..
"I dont understand, I just cannot understand. Why do you get such enjoyment out of tormenting those with already tormented minds? It's sickening. You remind me of my mother. Why are you even here, why do you want to prod at him so persistently! You must have a pretty miserable life if doing this is the most entertaining thing you could be doing right now!"
Her tail is lashing back and forth violently, her burning glare locked onto the earth-toned snake. She waits a moment to let that sink in, then starts again.
"So, SNAKE...slither on back to your viper den....leave him be. Go find some other unfortunate creature to feed off of."
She glares a moment more, trying to make sure her green gaze will always be remembered by the snake girl. Then she turns her head to the pup.
"Are you going to be ok? Don't cower like that, get up, stand proud. I sure as hell am no spy nor has anyone sent me to "get you". I just saw a most curious scene and had to let myself in. But I believe I have let myself in too deep. No going back now right, Pup?"
She turns her head back to smother, her bones begin to morph and bend painfully as she shifts to her equine form. Her black compact body stood in a ready stance, in case Smother would decide to bite at her. Her ears flickered back and forth, listening, waiting...who would move first, or would all be still...
It takes him about five seconds to deduce that Smother is an idiot. He’d never been so close to an idiot before, it kind of throws him off for a moment - as if her stupidity was leaking into the air around her the more she wheezed that air bag of hers (now he understands the saying, “full of hot air”) until he felt himself dumbing down. He stares, and stares, and stares some more, wondering when she’ll finally wind down from this extended, pointless speech. He sees her companion slither uselessly into the water and treads casually back to shore, wondering if he could shut her up by trampling her to death. Maybe he’d be doing the world a favor.
In either case, he’s stopped listening to her halfway through, choosing instead to focus on the silky black feline. Naga is intently watching, fur bristling with almost as much irritation as Lupei is beginning to feel. He’s appreciative of the fact that he’s not the only one who’s tired of Smother's flapping mouth, but then to his disappointment she shifts and tries her best to mother him. He waits a moment, looking between them and deciding once and for all that mares were certainly the lesser of the sexes.
“Both of you shut up.” He snarls, pale green tail swinging behind him as water disperses from its tangled mass. His eyes pinpoint Smother first, narrowing for a moment in mock humor. “Do you ever stop talking or do you just enjoy the sound of your voice so much that you have to torture the rest of us with it?” A single ear flicks in mild irritation and he moves further up the shore, nose lowering to the earth so he can whuff the ground to search out the best spot to roll. He peers back, seeing that Naga has shifted into a rather eye-catching mare.
A smirk winds on his lips. “I’ve got one mother already, Naga, and she’s a useless whore. Don’t call me pup, and I won’t compare you to her.” He likes Naga, at least, she’s more tolerable than the fat snake. He returns to his business, finding that perfect spot and lowering himself to the earth so he can cover himself in dirt. When he’s done, he shakes, feeling especially better about the situation. He turns back to them, head tilting in mild curiosity. “It’s apparent to me that neither of you have come to claim the strange black sabino stallion that I ate on the beach, and so therefore I’ve got nothing to worry about.”
He smiles then, a genuine act, and a laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep in his gut. “Shifters. All three of us. How unusual.” He peers between them again, wondering if Smother will join them in the equine form. “Where are you from? He asks them, coming closer so the group can remain an intimate trio.
I am the kid at the playground who will push a child off the jungle gym.
I am the girl who cries wolf when the teacher didn’t actually touch me.
I am the boy who throws punches.
I am the teenager who shoots cocaine because I like the adrenaline.
The twenty year old who cooks meth because not only do I like the idea of balancing the line of death, but I like making other’s play the game too.
I am the grim reaper, I am Satan, I am the person who gets locked in solitary confinement only to walk down death row.
And this silly Panther, this compassionate emotional mess of a cat wants to play mommy?
I watch her react, I watch her poor her soul and turn into some overwhelming whiny runt. I watch her talk, and talk, and talk.
Does she ever shutup?
Easy, Turkish.
“My my, what a chatter box. Save the mommy story for someone who cares, dear.”
At least you know who your mother is.
It isn’t easy to threaten me, all her green eyes do is bore my attention span. I shift, morphing myself into my equine appearance, Turkish still looming in an eerie coil. I watch her, staring at her as she changes as well. She is annoying, she is nothingness. In my mind, she is not here.
I am, after all, here for the pup. The very naïve, damaged, vocal little pup.
“Awh, how sweet. You are such a motherly-love. Do you feel better now, doggy? Now that someone is protecting you?” It is a mock, of course. The stallion seems fully capable of handling himself. It should almost be an insult that he is mothered in such an obvious way.
I can tell they are both reactive. One is a meddling female suffering obvious mother issues (enough to randomly bring it up in daily conversation, I may add), and the second a babbling brook of aggression and animosity.
I wish I had chosen better company, but now it is all too entertaining and dramatic to leave.
Turkish, quietly with an aura of frustration floating from his air, slithers up my neck like a lace. Around my chiseled curves and well established muscles until he is back in the comfort of my neck, coiling himself around like a thick knitted scarf.
Imbeciles
Oh now, Turkish.
I would rather eat a frog.
Hush, Turkish.
I would rather pick slimy slimy worms, than risk the clearly contagious emotional imbalance they seem to wear.
You crotchety man.
I have good taste.
I don’t tell him where I am from. I don’t acknowledge his shift in state at all—suddenly blossoming from mad man to conversationalist. Instead, with the consistent bickering of Turkish floating in my mind, I nod to them both.
“Perhaps another time things can go smoother. Or not. I have my bet on not.”
