"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
There were only so many times he could play with his boy before his boy's gotta play with some kids his own age. It was damn hard leaving him, too. What if some idiot saw Dovev, recognized him for the terrible things he did, and stole his kid right outta here while he was gone? It made him glare at everyone he passed, scaring the living fuck outta most of them, daring the rest to even fucking think about it.
"Here you are, baby," he told him quietly when he'd found a place that seemed safe enough, softening right up for him and coming to a stop. He wiped his bloody nose on his shoulder before reaching out to nuzzle his boy, brushing over his little forehead and nudging his cute little cheek.
Gorgeous little thing.
And look at them wings trying to grow out and everything.
Fuck, man.
"You try not to bring any chicks home yet, alright? Momma's not ready to start runnin them off."
He kissed his little brow, and fuck it, this was his baby. He tugged him in against him with a foreleg over his small back, careful not to crush those delicate wings. Was gonna fuckin miss him so much. "Momma's gonna come get you soon, so you stay outta trouble 'til she gets here, okay? I gotta go for a while again. But I'll be back when I can."
He snuggled him real good, sucking in his cute baby smells to take with him while he was gone. Then he left Defy to play and beat up some other little punks.
Defy was NOT sold on the whole siblings thing. Momma and Daddy were his and he was not inclined to share them. He made the mistake of saying so out loud once though and now Momma thought he needed to meet other dumb kids his age and make friends. Which was stupid, he didn’t need anybody but HIS Momma and HIS Daddy anyhow.
He sulked all the way to the stupid playground, or tried to, he really did. But it was hard to grumble and stomp and be grumpy when he was hangin’ out with Daddy. Instead he ended up scampering right alongside him, glancing down at their matching starry feet with a big ol’ grin, and his stomps turned into pretend jumping and splashing in puddles of starlight that splashed all over their legs and up onto their faces and he maybe forgot about where they were going and why, and just played with his Daddy.
Or next to. Which was not the same thing at all, Daddy was WAY too good at playing for it to be the same, but still lots of fun anyhow.
Until they got to where they were going though, and Daddy started fussing goodbye over him. Defy wilted a little and nuzzled him back, rubbing his face against Daddy’s and looking up at him with big, sad eyes. “Alright, but do you gotta go? You could stay and play with me insteada some dumb kids.” But yes, he really did gotta go. Pulled him in for a hug, and Defy snuggled right up against him and nestled in close and hugged him back, holding on tight for as long as he could.
“Love you, Daddy,” he said sadly, and watched ‘til Daddy was gone before adding, “miss you already,” with a trembly lower lip. But he wasn’t gonna cry or nothin’, not when there was people to see it an’ shit. So he sniffled softly and pulled himself together, took a deep breath and rubbed his foreleg against his face to wipe away any sneaky stray not-tears that definitely didn’t manage to escape, and rustled his little baby ducklingy wings and resettled them against his back. Pasted a scowl on his face to wipe away the sad eyes, and turned to go find some-dumb-body to play with or whatever.
(( @[Decimate] okay you can show up now but you don’t get to see nothin’ before the scowl at the end, you got it, jerkface? ))
"Are you seriously crying?" he smirked, his young voice dripping with cruel taunt and contempt.
What an idiot.
Look at those pathetic wing-flaps too. "You got some nasty-ass growths on your back, did you know?" He circled around the side of the kid, about equal height to each other, and the more he saw, the more he despised. His scowl was buried deep in his little brows and his golden-green eyes flashed with a growing hatred. This boy looked suspiciously like him with his star-sprayed blue but mottled with a disgusting black painted over the more desirable color of indigo. Like some jerk with a sharpie thought it was cool to scribble all over it.
"What's your mother's name!?" he barked harshly, lips curled. Deci would be her only son. He fucking hated the rest, wanted her children dead but for him and his twin. Atria gets a pass for being useful and nice to look at. It was also impossible to kill her. Each time he'd tried, she'd just turned incorporeal and his attacks passed right through her uselessly. He'd stopped trying. It was getting embarrassing. She just wouldn't die. He couldn't attack her fast enough to catch her off guard, she always seemed to know it was coming even with his super-speed.
It was usually better for him to sleep during the day, and in this early morning, he was running a little late on that. Not that he was at all tired yet and the cloudy, sleepy day was not draining him much so far. He and Atria had been searching for a nice dark place for him to rest and hide away from the daylight when he'd seen this boy. Atria was useful. She always found the best places for him to sleep, and as far as he knew, stayed near to guard him while he was so vulnerable.
She was somewhere nearby still searching, he figured.
But it would not be surprising if she showed up suddenly.
Predictably, some jackass showed up to make everything worse. Defy scowled at the stupid jerk’s voice and turned to look at him. And the first thing he saw was the stupid fucker had his stars on his legs just like Dad, which instantly pissed him off more. Those were HIS. And DADDY’S. And not for sharing with some stupid bastard with a dumb voice and a dumb face and a dumb sneer.
“No,” he lied, his scowl deepening. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”
The douchebag circled around him, and Defy pinned his little ears, glaring over his shoulder. “Fuck off, they’re wings, dumbass. The feathers just gotta grow in.” Which Mom had promised him they would, even if it felt like it was taking forEVER. Ugh god what if they never did and he just had stupid, useless little wings his whole dumb life?
“It’s none of your goddamn business who my mom is,” he growled back, for fucking sure not about to tell this angry, ugly bastard who his mom was. She had enough problems without him accidentally siccing dumb jerks on her. And he’d just be mean and tease her for her still growing back hair after the Bad Thing that happened when he was born.
“No fuckin’ reason why I’d tell you, either. Why? Yours leave you here? Can’t say I’d blame her, with a face like that. Somebody beat you with an ugly stick when you were born or what?”
"No," the black boy snapped, "Don't be fucking stupid."
Decimate smirked, enjoying how easily he affected him. So easy to get a rise out of this one that was so defensive. His comment on the flappy wings earned him another pathetic glare and snipped response, but he was growing bored already. Where the hell was Atria and his damn spot to sleep? His energy would be draining soon as the sun began to rise higher.
"It's none of your goddamn business who my mom is. No fuckin' reason why I'd tell you, either. Why? Yours leave you here? Can't say I'd blame her, with a face like that. Somebody beat you with an ugly stick when you were born or what?"
He flashed close in an instant, getting in the kid's face with a violent scowl and his lips curled. Normally, he wouldn't bother with explaining himself, but this was important. He would kill every last one of her goddamn children so that he was all she had because he was all she needed. He'd show her he was the strongest, the best. She didn't need any others.
"I'm just making sure you're not my brother," he ground out, nearly choking on the disgusting familial word. There was no way this idiot's mom was good enough for his father anyway, and his father wasn't exactly picky. Surely, she was complete trash and worthless and this kid's color was some sort of mishap of some other thoughtless mistake.
"Because if you are, I'll fucking kill you." He spoke it so smoothly, and he wouldn't hesitate. He'd snap this boy's neck so swiftly before he could even beg for mercy, rip his body to shreds and drop the bloody heap at his mother's feet. A gift, or a reminder never to bother making another because he'd kill them all.
Defy’s eyes widened, then narrowed in irritation as the dumbass kid got all up in his face. What the fuck was wrong with him? Clearly he was lacking all notion of personal space, not to fuckin’ mention emotional self-control. Plus, he just looked like an asshole. Defy scowled right back, though obviously Defy’s scowl was on a much handsomer face.
“Gross. No fucking way. My mom has better taste than to touch whatever gutter rat is responsible for THAT ugly mug,” he snorted with a nod at the jerk’s face. “And better sense than to let something as hideous as you live. If you’d crawled your way out of her, she’d have had the decency to put you out of your misery before you could stand. So no. I’m not your fucking brother, you creep.”
Probably he should’ve stopped there. But his blood was up, and he was right in the middle of mouthin’ off and hadn’t run out of steam yet. Or learned when to quit while he was ahead. “Good thing, too. I wouldn’t want to have to see your sorry ass every day, ‘cause fuck knows you’re too much of a pussy to pull off that pathetic death threat. What were you gonna do, snarl at me 'til I died of boredom? Real fucking scary.”
Boredom. That was the thing about Eight - he always grew bored. Bored of ruling, bored of fighting, bored of fucking, bored of fading away into the space outside of Beqanna. Boredom was the cat twining between his legs. Boredom was the mites that grew in his mind. He never stuck around long enough anymore for anything real to happen. He came, he conquered, he left. He was always vaguely intrigued, and then fabulously unimpressed. But such is life.
He was born here, eons ago, and perhaps that is why he can never truly leave, why he’s never all that gone from this land. She is a ball and chain like no other, for some reason. There is no land for him to covet, no woman for him to bed, no children for him to father to - he leaves all that behind each and every time. He does not return for power or glory, for love or lust, for land or lore. He returns because that is just the way the world turns. “Why not?” He says, stepping from the air, his interest piqued. “Why not a little spar?” He comes closer, his eyes scaling you two small colts beneath him. Strange, you both bear the resemblance to a galaxy- stars spiderwebbing your bodies like god Herself came down to kiss you.
The smell of rot permeates, the clashing voices of you two; too young to know much of most anything, the garish glaze of galaxy over your bodies - this, this is what Beqanna was now. “Haven’t you ever wanted to see a bit of blood?” His voice is not menacing nor malice - his voice is light, lilting, an inflected question to pique your interest, a slight suggestion of thought (though he has yet to use the pull of magic to truly plant the seed in your head). Hasn’t everyone always had that twinge of desire to see a bit of blood?
∞
and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
