"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
here comes a candle to light you to bed
here comes a chopper to chop off your head
They were made to hunt but even they were capable of mistakes. True, that they were few and far between. More mistakes had been made earlier when they had been learning what they were, but now they were utter perfection.
Except for this one small miscalculation.
They had been hunting some deer through the woods – their armored bodies surprisingly swift as they dashed through what had become their makeshift home for the last year or so while they waited for their master to take them somewhere else. The smaller one had just caught a doe and was slicing its throat with a deft flick of her tail while the larger one was chasing a pair of fawns who had taken a turn into some brambles.
A smaller feast, but sweeter. The meat more tender.
With a bleat of fear, the fawns had scrambled through a dense part in the forest and slipped through a pair of trees growing close together. Unfortunately for the hunter, she had been charging in an attempt to snatch the slowest fawn before it slipped through and the jaws snapped on empty air.
And then.
Stuck.
The armoured head of the hunter was wedged solidly about two feet off the ground where she had lowered it to snap at the fawn. The monster thrashed wildly in an attempt to get it un-stuck but it was no good. A roar of frustration escaped her, reaching her daughter elsewhere in the forest as the younger beast feasted upon her catch.
The daughter did not come to help, why would she? What could she do? That wicked tail tried to flick forward in an attempt to slice at the trees to chip out pieces of wood but it could not reach the right angel of the tree and only succeeded in chipping out small pieces of bark.
Seconds passed but they felt like ages, so violently did this creature reject the idea of failure. She was not built to fail – and certainly not in an embarrassing way like this.
The snap of a twig suggested someone was nearby, someone was coming closer, and deep eyes rolled with rage as she couldn't twist her head to see who approached.
yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene her purest of crystal and brightest of green
Although Isilya had lately become a little partial to the tropical forest around Tephra – there was just so much life possible on such rich, gorgeous soils! – that did not mean she did not adore the other forests and trees she had seen, that she did not still hope to see everything that Beqanna had to offer. The wonders that were surely left unseen!
It was dark out when she reached these woods, though the porcelain and gold mare knew no fear. She never had! Not once in her long, stretched out life had she ever had a reason to be afraid.
True, having magic would probably help but she had never been in a position to use it either!
So it was that when she heard a roar, heard something large thrashing around in the dark underbrush, Isilya did not think for a second ‘that might be something I should stay away from’. Instead, she moved to investigate. Even large creatures needed help sometimes.
And sure enough, there was something wedged between two trees – the great crown on its head was made out of something that looked like bone, only black, and was unyielding.
There was no doubt about what needed to be done. “Oh hey there! It’s going to be okay, don't worry.” Isilya’s presence only seemed to make the strange horse-creature thrash all the more violently, getting herself tangled up on some vines in the process.
She noticed, of course, those jaws of wickedly sharp silver teeth and they made her wary – but not enough to turn away. After all, this was someone who needed her help! With a blink, some of the leaves above them began to shine which illuminated the scene a little better for Isilya to see.
“Oh my dear, how stuck you are! We can fix that.” Her voice was soothing and the flowers along her back began to shift and change. No longer roses, they became lavender blooms – the scent supernaturally strong and blessed with some magic as she sent it on a sweet breeze towards her stuck friend. The intention was to make it easier to do the rescue, the thrashing and snarling was only causing more stress and making things so much worse (in other words: Isilya was not immediately thinking 'hey if I free her she might kill me' which should have been her thoughts)
After a moment of deep breathing, the stuck creature ceased the angry thrashing and its breathing began to mellow out.
Isilya took another step forward, reaching out without hesitation to brush her muzzle against the strange head of her new friend. It felt like stone! Apart from a rather youthful curiosity, the touch contained some more soothing magic and the strange creature was now completely relaxed.
“You’re beautiful, you know.” She commented as she stood back, turning her attention to the trees and sending her magic into them, so she might encourage them to shift just a little with their growth. A slight angle would not hurt. And meanwhile, she prattled on to the creature near her in an effort to distract it (her?) from this unfortunate situation. “I’ve never seen anyone else like you! I bet you never get bruises, I get them all the time…”
’twas not her soft magic of streamlet or rill oh! no, it was something more exquisite still
The shadowmare could feel Ripley’s torment.
Anaxerete was always connected to the creatures. She was bound to them. Ripley’s rage traveled through her like and electric current. In a swirl of shadows, Anaxarete appeared in the forest - wary of what she might find.
She was surprised to find a stranger - seemingly unperturbed by the truly terrifying sounds pouring from the monster held captive by the trees. The shadowmare watches for a moment, trying to understand what she’s seeing. This stranger approached the xenomorph without fear or reservation.
The pale mare was also imbued with magic, though the magic different from her own. She could feel it thrumming through the air around them. The shadowmare knew with little effort at all, this pale mare would see the bonds between herself and the magnificent monsters. Ana made no secret of this bond. But her icy eyes widened when the little mare reached out to touch the monster before her.
Foolish girl.
She didn’t even know how close she was to death. Once the monster took hold of her with her claws or jaws, it would not release her until the flesh had been stripped from her bones. No amount of magic could compensate for such an attack. She couldn’t imagine what the girl was thinking, and so the dark magician helped herself to the other woman’s thoughts.
What she found there was intriguing.
But it was at that very moment that the girl called upon the magic, moving the trees and allowing Ripley the inch she would need to free herself. Anaxarete had to act quickly, knowing that Ripley would turn on the little magician the moment she was free. The smell of lavender was thick in the air, but Anaxarete knew it would do nothing to those who only craved blood and flesh. It could provide only a moment of calm before the storm unfolded.
“CALM,” she spoke into the monster’s muddled mind. It was a demand - one rarely given by their master. She had no doubt that Ripley would heed the call. She removed the creature’s bloodlust to the degree she was capable - keeping her ever-loyal companion in check. The same was transmitted to the daughter, who the shadowmare knew to be nearby. The little magician was not to be harmed. That was her will. That was her order.
She knew they would not understand. How could they understand that this moment afforded Anaxarete an opportunity? Surely one so foolish as to intercede with her monsters without second thought or self preservation could be someone useful to the shadowmare. She was not in the habit of turning others gifted with magic against her - not when she had only just emerged from the shadows and into the bright light of Beqanna’s political scene. Perhaps there was an unlikely (unwilling?) ally to be found here.
“They are beautiful, aren’t they.” Her voice is cool as she steps nearer, her gaze lingering on Ripley. “Misunderstood creatures, really, born of another world.” she continued, moving next to the xenomorph and drawing to a halt facing the plant bender. “I’m Ana,” she gives her nickname - one she rarely uses - to keep things informal and unsuspicious. “These creatures are bonded to me, and I to them. Together, we keep each other safe.” It was, in some regard, the truth. Perhaps a perversion of the truth, but she did not speak falsehoods to the girl. She simply omitted details. Such as how these creatures had been born. And what they were truly capable of.
“Who are you?”
queen of the shadows.
welp. this blows. this is called nonsensical rambling after no sleep.
@[Isilya]
yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene her purest of crystal and brightest of green
The pulse of magic from Isilya had almost been enough. There was a fraction of a second when Ripley was free and her eyes went wild with malice and she would have lunged for Isilya if her master hadn’t stepped in. So, instead, the xenomorph straightened up, stretching out her neck after being stuck in such an uncomfortable position. And then, for the first time in a very long time, she simply stood.
It wasn’t like she could graze, or think, or really observe anything. She might as well have been turned to stone.
Isilya, of course, believed that it had been her own magic to affect the creature and likely would have stepped even closer and continued to blabber away if someone else did not appear in that same moment.
She could have seen the bond between the mare and this creature, she could have picked up on the extra magical interference, but Isilya was lazy with her magic. It coursed through her, it affected her more than she could ever truly understand, but it had become such a part of her that she just, didn’t think about it. She didn’t pay attention to most of the things it could tell her.
But she does pay attention to the cool voice that rises in the forest and her gold-green hazel eyes flick over to the dapple mare that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. “Hello Ana! Gosh that’s so sad that they’re misunderstood, they’re really quite wonderful.” The golden-skinned girl casts a smile over towards Ripley, who merely blinks in response.
Although she’d be happy to peer through the darkness towards the alien creature, she’s equally as fascinated by this Ana who is bonded to it. “I’m Isilya! I’m so glad you guys keep each other safe! Does she get stuck often?”
’twas not her soft magic of streamlet or rill oh! no, it was something more exquisite still
