"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
11-20-2016, 07:04 PM (This post was last modified: 11-20-2016, 07:06 PM by Raeg'n.)
-Raeg'n-
She'd recently come to the conclusion that she must be the child of an angel. Her mother was certainly beautiful enough to be one, and was absolutely kind enough. When she had vanished after Raeg'n was old enough to graze on her own, her suspicion grew. When she didn't return to her again, it grew. It only faltered when the dark stallion was allowed to treat her unkindly, with brutal force. If her mother looked down on her as an angel, surely she would not allow her innocent daughter to be abused.
Raeg'n had instead come to see the experience as a lesson. Her mother must have silently sent her to the beast to teach her what was at stake if she did not fulfill the sense of purpose that was steadily growing within her. She needed to know the darkness in the heart of others, what they could do with it, how they could wield it. And now she had. She knew firsthand, and she was better for it.
Slowly, she became aware of eyes on her. Silent and still. Digging into her skin, into her soul. Like a hunter stalking its prey. She made a slow turn, bright amber eyes scanning and analyzing her surroundings.
Come out, come out, wherever you are, she drawled slow and quiet. She felt the natural sensation of fear prickling at her, fear of the unknown and unseen. It was a reaction of instinct, and she'd already taught herself to ignore it until she gathered more information on the possible threat.
11-30-2016, 06:39 AM (This post was last modified: 11-30-2016, 06:40 AM by Deimos.)
She beckoned.
And so he slithered out, a snake on his belly, tongue hissing between hooked teeth toward his victim. He knew her; he knew her lineage--hated her instantly. She was a daughter of Carnage. That bastard. And the taste of her self-indulgent blood made him want to taste her as soon as his slit eyes peered over her form. He was dragging his tail behind him as he slid his body between the long grass blades. He saw her mind, that entitled little bitch, and smiled darkly as his thoughts pressed into hers. Your mother was no angel, and your father had no love for either of you. You are a plaything. Like a cat to a dying mouse and nothing more. That is all you will ever be. And when you heal yourself, it will happen again. It is perfect. The perfect little chew toy.
She does not see him. But she can sense him, and there he gives her credit. He knows what she wants, and he smiles. He can use the practice; and he could use her strength. The snake approaches her right side hindflank, and a roar takes place--the first audible sound the snake makes as he opens his mouth, fangs outward, venom dripping. "Lesson one..." he screams as he reaches her flesh, intent to take her blood; her strength.
The snake is indeed venomous. It can kill... it can paralyze.
Each passing moment raised the hair along her spine, fueled her natural instincts to bolt from unseen danger. With surprising control despite her young age, she forced the sensations back. She was a rock in a snow storm, gold eyes scanning slowly; hunting the hunter. She knew he was their. Could feel it in the erratic pace of her heart. A gentle breeze passed through her, swept around the trees and shuffled the leaves about her feet.
And then a voice. Foreign and sick, penetrating her mind with its vile claims. It told her vicious lies; that her mother had not been an angel. That her father hadn't loved either of them. It called her a toy, and said something else that struck her as odd. And when you heal yourself, it will happen again.
It was only nonsensical ramblings of a villain, and so was dismissed. But it lodged in the back of her mind and settled in.
A sudden roar shattered the tension in a blast. Her eyes swiveled around, but her movement was too slow to avoid the attack. "Lesson one," the virulent creature screamed, soaring through the air and piercing her flank. Something flashed within her, like a bolt of light. It crackled and fizzled out, a wild sense of energy lingering in its wake. She saw the fangs break the skin, cutting in deep.
But she felt nothing.
Confused, she silently thanked her angel mother for healing her, protecting her, and continued. Her blood burned as though fighting off a fever. And then nothing. Only a foreign energy electrifying her and a cold-blooded leech at her navy hip. She turned to glare at him, teeth bared. I will show you how a toy plays! She dropped her weight suddenly, throwing her hip to the ground with as much force as her small frame could put behind it in an attempt to crush the snake.
12-15-2016, 09:00 AM (This post was last modified: 12-15-2016, 09:06 AM by Deimos.)
He sees she is not going to take the hint. He bites in deeper as she flails. His acidic venom is working its way through her circulatory system. And then, she drops her hip, shifting her weight. He’s no fool—he’s seen this move before, so as her hoof slides forward and she attempts to hit the ground with her hind flank, the snake retracts, pulling his fangs back into a black smoke, swirling as he shifts from the viper into himself again. She screams, her voice insistent—
—innocent.
I will show you how a toy plays!
A dark laughter sounds then, and he speaks for the first time. “Awh, I’m touched that you think that putting me in a corner would work, you insolent child” he sneers, cackling with a dark glee. Just then, a pair black hooves appearing out of the smoke, blocking out the sun with a pair of big black dragon wings that follow them. “But you are in the wrong league. I will take you to hell, because you are no angel.” She sits; he is above her, reeling. He stares down at her, his entire body re-forms as the smoke dissipates and he is rearing. Those black, jagged feet push down on her head—intent on smothering her beneath him. She is a tiny thing when compared to him. And yet, her blood; he smiles.
She cannot die.
He laughs darkly again—having found his new amusement. He has not had a tussle in years. And so, from her place in the dirt, he walks over her, kicking up his back legs over her head back in her direction—he knows she will attempt to get up and so has to essentially hop over her, her head rising after her removes his hooves from her body. His hooves kicking back; they could have the potential to kick her in the head, sending her back into the dirt, or any portion of her body as she scrambles to right herself again. He smirks, but does not turn around. He knows that she is not through with him…
The sound of his laughter seeped into her bones like a poison.
But it was nothing compared to his true voice. Her blood chilled, her eyes widening of their own accord. Her hip slammed to the ground and her entire body fought to enter her natural flight instincts. She trembled in that battle with herself, forcing herself to hold steady on the earth. His dark mass towered over her, threatening and deadly. Huge wings splayed from either side of him, like a legendary beast of nightmare.
Oh, shit.
In the next moment, her head was shoved to the ground. His weight bore down on her, pressing her further into the dirt. She grit her teeth, wondering if he would crack her skull open, crying out in frustrated helplessness. Let me go! Release me! she roared, dirt clinging to unshed tears, stinging her eye. He laughed again, amused. Pleased at what he had found in her. Someone he could abuse, and she'd never show physical damage from it. She would never truly break under his mighty fist.
He shifted off her. She wasn't fool enough to think it was because of her demand, he merely had his own plans. His dark laughter still echoed in her mind, haunting her. She quickly shuffled to right herself, but it was a mistake. He'd expected it. Solid weights struck her neck and cheek like cannons fired, instantly shattering bone. With an inward flash, it was righted again, completely healed, but she was thrown back. Tossed like a ragdoll, like she was nothing.
So she could heal; but she was not invulnerable.
She cried out, expecting pain as she was slammed back to the ground. None came, only a silent mending of wounds she didn't feel, wasn't even aware of receiving. She had an odd thought slip in. Lauchlan.. What would he think to see her so vulnerable? She was supposed to be a great warrior, a smiter of such evils as this one. She was the child of an angel no matter what lies the demon claimed. And she was failing. Lauchlan would never know how badly she was failing and still she felt the disappoint of letting him down. Letting them all down, everyone she was meant to protect.
Climbing to her feet, she swayed then steadied. Heated amber eyes locked on his impenetrable darkness, disgusting attraction luring her in. Vile beast! She shot towards him, crying out in rage. She was meant for this! There must be another power within her to help her rid the world of this demon. She threw her body, trying to ram into him, knock him down. Her teeth snapped out in an attempt to grip him, anywhere she could land them, she didn't care. Just rip into his flesh and call on magic she didn't have, demand that it send him to hell where he belongs.
He stops his assault. There was nothing else he could do. Deimos, son of Mars, had been called out by a child. He turns, his muscles moving of their own accord, and he reins in his wings so that they are settled neatly on his back. He takes a step, then two. And he turns to face her—
And he laughs.
A thick, raspy laugh that comes from his gut, tickling the jugular vein, until his whole body is shaking with it. For such a man as he to laugh—it was rare. It may have even been a first. The sound is foreign, even to his own ears, but it soon turns dark, and he lowers his head, his read eyes leveling her with a coldness that belied the heat that lay beneath their color, boiling underneath his very skin.
“You—“ He spits the word out, as if it were a burnt piece of food. Or something rotten that had no business being anywhere near him. “—are not even fit to tend my wounds, much less inflict them upon me.” He walks up to the girl, exhaling audibly, his bones creaking under the weight of his own body, as if it would collapse on him at any moment.
“Do you hear that, Child?” He emphasizes the word, pushing into her brain, invading her thoughts, taking up her space. “I am the stuff of nightmares, you foolish thing. And your dear mother threw herself off a cliff to avoid your father. You want to belong to heaven… but you have one foot in the bowels of hell.”
He smiles darkly at her, pushing his weight to the right as he comes within striking distance. His left wing reaches out, grabbing her by the neck and drawing her in close. Deimos pulls back his head to reveal a hefty set of yellow fangs—and like a lovers embrace, he reaches in, sinking into the flesh on the side of her neck, to be buried underneath her mane. He drinks from her, bearing himself into her soul, boring memories and images of what a true warrior must endure; the death. The dismemberment. The blood. The stench.
He pulls back, the smell of her on his lips. He does not smile, but he makes sure Raeg’n knows his smugness. “Your mother is dead. And your father is the Devil himself. Shatter your illusions, Raeg’n, before they destroy you. If you wish that, please feel free to find me any time. I would be more than willing to do so for you—any time you wish.”
“And yes, I know you think of me with lust, you dirty little girl. Do yourself a favor. Give into the darkness. We have cookies.”
