Set
When Set was born, magic in Beqanna was still relatively rare. Once it had been the traited and the traitless; they lived in kingdom counterparts, good and evil and all the in-between. Beqannans could never be satisfied with black and white, though, not when the gray area purred and beckoned. Mixed and mingled, their world has evolved - they have evolved. It renders the odd macabre puppet theater not nearly as entertaining as it had been when he was young. Sowbug-Set yawns and stretches (felines know how to stretch the best), arching his armored back. The rabbit pauses, nose twitching, hazy eyes jumping from one observer to another. Its head whips around with a loud snapping sound, pupils wide and dilated as it locks on the creature peering down from above. It stares him down accusingly before crouching down to hop closer, - once, twice, standing up every few bounds or so, its intestines trailing behind like little bloody snakes, nose and whiskers twitching wildly as it studies him.
Woodlouse-Set can feel it when Dreamscar’s magic flies downhill past him. It is different from the love-me smog that hangs around the beaked youngling. He watches it until it disappears into the demon mimic’s chest, then turns his attention back to the perpetrator with a curious tilt to his head.
Dreamscar’s fur is teeming with lovesick insects. When he slips into the beetle’s body, tucked warm along the stallion’s crest, it is like slamming into a noxious wall. Beetle-Set’s stomach turns with the adoration of it. Absently, he reaches out to the mindreader, Dreamscar’s target. It’s the stomach-eater, Set thinks, wrestling with the now indignant and flailing beetle. It rears and bucks, desperate to get even closer to its addiction, resistant to Set’s grasp. Disgusted, Set withdraws, flinging the beetle to the ground as he cracks back into his own body, materializing next to the wolf-girl. With a crooked grin and a wink in her direction, he turns to see how the attacked will counter. Opposites … he muses from behind a well-fortified wall. Fear and love … or the same? He glances sideways at Meilyn. “Where’s home?”
Woodlouse-Set can feel it when Dreamscar’s magic flies downhill past him. It is different from the love-me smog that hangs around the beaked youngling. He watches it until it disappears into the demon mimic’s chest, then turns his attention back to the perpetrator with a curious tilt to his head.
Dreamscar’s fur is teeming with lovesick insects. When he slips into the beetle’s body, tucked warm along the stallion’s crest, it is like slamming into a noxious wall. Beetle-Set’s stomach turns with the adoration of it. Absently, he reaches out to the mindreader, Dreamscar’s target. It’s the stomach-eater, Set thinks, wrestling with the now indignant and flailing beetle. It rears and bucks, desperate to get even closer to its addiction, resistant to Set’s grasp. Disgusted, Set withdraws, flinging the beetle to the ground as he cracks back into his own body, materializing next to the wolf-girl. With a crooked grin and a wink in her direction, he turns to see how the attacked will counter. Opposites … he muses from behind a well-fortified wall. Fear and love … or the same? He glances sideways at Meilyn. “Where’s home?”
@[draco]