[mature] once upon a time, when the sun still used to shine

[Mazikeen]

It was difficult to say for sure because everything looked the same right now but Mazikeen’s pretty sure she had been in Hyaline a second ago and now she was somewhere completely different. Sure there was still grass beneath her hooves and some of the scents were the same but she’s aware of trees around her that had not been there a moment ago. She had taken a step and it had felt like she was falling and then poof. She was here. Compared to the lack of sunlight, and compared to the dark shapes she has seen moving around that are definitely not animals, she honestly cannot say where this ranks on her list of “Weird Things That Have Happened Lately”. On the plus side, with all this weird shit happening, she hasn’t really had time to be angry - and it’s nice to not feel like she might spontaneously combust at any given moment. Her equine eyes have been swapped out for those of a mountain lion so she can see a little better in the near-blackness. The air is heavy with a general sense of confusion and an undercurrent of fear. Mazikeen has heard of attacks, of shadows and monsters, and though she’s sure she’s glimpsed a few from the corner of her eye she has not yet had the chance to test her mettle against any of them. Her ears twitch at the sound of movement nearby and her head turns. Even with her feline eyes, here in the woods there’s only so much light to be picked up and it is difficult to have a clear sense of who (or what) it might be. “Who’s there?” There’s no fear in her voice but there is a scowl. Since the world went dark, she’s been trying very hard to not remember the night when she had been attacked in this very forest and left for dead.

image by Reitro

for Wishbone

Monsters- do your thing with Mazikeen's teleportation, please!

[Random Event]

@[Mazikeen] your teleportation has mutated down into shadow wings. You're welcome.

[Wishbone]

take my soul & make it undone

be the one, be the one to take me home and show me the sun. i know, i know you can bring the fire, i can bring the bones. i know, i know you'll make the fire, my bones will make it grow.

Like the many people who call Beqanna home, Wishbone hasn’t experienced a night this long. The Afterlife had been gray, but there had been days and nights (though they had blurred together until she was spinning deeper into time) and the darkness had never been this dark. Even during cloudy nights in Tephra as a child — where the shadows might have felt darker than they truly were — she had felt safe with the molten glow of the lava streams to drive away the monsters.

This unfathomable, heavy, endless night is unlike anything she has known in life or in death.

Wishbone travels anyway, striding purposefully along the familiar routes that guide her out of Tephra. She is clothed in the shadows herself; her body is wrapped in a starless night with only golden lines across her face to serve as sunlight. As she walks, she hears the scratching of claws against wood and the skittering of an unfortunate animal struggling for its final breaths. The sounds of unfamiliar creatures cascade into her ears throughout her entire trip, and by the time she reaches the shadows of the Forest she is gritting her teeth against the grating noises.

None of the animals have attacked her yet, but Wishbone is prepared for when they do. Her metaphorical fingers trace the outlines of the bones beneath her feet with every step she takes, prepared to arm herself with the weapons of the Dead. So when she hears a voice call out, the tusk of an ancient mammoth crawls from the soil and drifts in the air at Wishbone’s shoulder.

The onyx mare steps forward easily and confidently, amber eyes peering into the eternal night until she picks out a pale shape. “I’m Wishbone.” Her voice is unwavering, despite the bone that lingers alongside her midnight-clad shoulder. “Who are you?”

credit to eliza of adoxography.


@[Mazikeen]
@[The Monsters] Roll for Wishbone's light beam emission, please?
TEGteg [-BONE-BENDING-][-REGENERATION-][LIGHT BEAM EMISSION][IMMORTALITY][wings]

[Random Event]

@[Wishbone] your light beam emission has mutated into light aura (but still does not physically express). You're welcome.

[Mazikeen]

Mazikeen tells herself that the way her heart races as she watches a form separate from the black backdrop is not fear. It must be something else - anticipation, maybe. She narrows those orange, feline eyes and her body tenses. She’s already beginning to wonder how she came to this forest instead of the one she had been expecting. That’s something she can contemplate on another day. Something moves across her skin, leaving a chill, and she’s thinking it must be the wind. She relaxes when it seems like the body that moves towards her through the darkness is made of flesh and blood. And if that wasn’t enough to convince her - because she’s suddenly not sure if the other things are made of blood at all or just shadow - Maze feels pretty confident that those creatures aren’t walking around introducing themselves. A little more of the pressure eases out of her, a spark of curiosity lightening her tone. “Mazikeen.” She offers before nodding her head in the direction of the impressive bone that is hovering near Wishbone. In the shadows, a grin that matches the feline eyes she’s temporarily using grows. “I hope that’s not for me.” She comments with a note of humour before asking. “You’ve seen any of them yet?” She cannot shake the idea that Wishbone isn't who she had seen move in the woods, that there is something else here with them, but for now she keeps most of her attention on the other mare until the shadows give more clues.

image by Reitro

@[Wishbone]

[Wishbone]

take my soul & make it undone

be the one, be the one to take me home and show me the sun. i know, i know you can bring the fire, i can bring the bones. i know, i know you'll make the fire, my bones will make it grow.

The darkness is unsettling, and it makes Wishbone’s heart quicken from within her chest, but, like Mazikeen, she is too stubborn to say she is afraid. Despite their zeal for life and the way they tempt Fate and Death with carelessness, the instincts of their ancestors hold their bones to tendons and remind their lungs to breathe. Even the spirited cannot deny that the shadows are eerie, and something in their blood whispers that this endless night is not right.

But Wishbone cannot bring herself to say she is afraid. To admit exactly why she pulls the bone from the soil would be a disgrace to all she has overcome in life so far. She has seen Death’s face, an underwater tumble of coral and air bubbles that suddenly brought her into a gray world. She has pulled herself back to Life, sacrificing a father she thought was dead and comforting an ancient legend of their world. She has traveled into the worlds Beyond, striding confidently past their borders while the crown of Nerine was left hanging in the weather-worn trees for a spotted confidant. These experiences and more have sharpened and weakened her, forging her like metal in red-hot flames until she becomes a fierce sword.

And swords are rarely afraid.

The stranger becomes a stranger with a name, which suits Wishbone well enough to lower the mammoth tusk. It floats down until it drops softly on the snow at her feet, nearly disappearing into the darkness that clings to their heels. She wishes for Tephra’s molten lava here. It could then scare the shadows from their ankles, where she feels as vulnerable as a newborn mouse. A chilly sensation traces its fingers up her spine, and Wishbone visibly shivers. She wonders for a moment how a breeze could reach the thick of the woods, but Mazikeen’s question draws her attention away.

“There are many things it could be for, but you’re not one of them.” Her amber eyes are bright with humor, even while her skin crawls with the feeling of being watched. It could be a stranger watching them from the shadows, hesitant to join in their conversation but comforted by the closeness of an alike creature. Despite Wishbone’s desire to believe this, she can’t bring herself to trust the idea entirely. “I’ve heard them, but I haven’t seen any.” Neither of them knows what or who the them are, but they both understand that there are things out in the heavy darkness, whatever they might be. “Have you?”

credit to eliza of adoxography.

@[Mazikeen]

[Mazikeen]

Although she is incredibly curious about Wishbone - Mazikeen cannot shake the idea that someone - or something - else is nearby. She wishes they could spend this freaky night teasing one another - she likes the spark of humour she sees in the other mare’s amber eyes. It is good not to be threatened with that giant fossil but she can’t shake the urge to tell Wishbone to pick it up again. They might need it. “Just glimpses, haven’t seen one up close yet.” Mazikeen hopes the disappointment in her voice is a little more obvious than the worry. She does want to see one, wants to fight one even, but she hates the feeling of being stalked in the darkness. Like she's nothing more than a piece of meat waiting for a set of jaws. “I think there’s one close. Or something is close. I thought it was you but…” There’s a rustling in the trees off to the side and Mazikeen tenses. Both fear and excitement are pumping wildly through her veins and she isn’t sure which is stronger. She can see reasonably well already in the dark with the lion eyes she is sporting but even they can only do so much when there is so little light. So she calls forth her fire aura to surround herself with a thin arch of flame, careful not to let it get too close to Wishbone as her gaze watches the branches that are moving visibly now and she is sure that it’s no breeze. Wishbone’s presence emboldens her and she calls out “Alright whatever you are, enough of this spooky game crap. Come on out.” Her tail twitches behind her and she considers shifting into a bear and just dragging whatever it is out into the open - that’s a good plan if it doesn’t show its face soon.

image by Reitro

@[Wishbone]

[Wishbone]

it's a mystery to me

we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.

Are they being hunted?

Wishbone has felt like this before — the prickling feeling of eyes on her back and the way her skin feels paper-thin. It isn’t a feeling she will ever be comfortable with, but she can tolerate it now. She can tell herself it is a stranger in the darkness, hesitant to join them, even while her belly flip-flops and tells her something is wrong. Those instincts encourage her to arm herself, to pull the mammoth tusk off the ground and aim it into the shadows.

She does just that when there is rustling in the branches, but the ancient bone does little to force the shadows away from her and Mazikeen. The obsidian mare feels naked in the darkness like a newborn still struggling to climb onto its wet, clumsy legs. Her amber eyes dart into the shadows, attempting to trace the route of the something that lies just past her vision. Mazikeen’s fire warms her dark side, and it illuminates the world a few feet past their noses, but it does not provide Wishbone enough light to see what crackles through the woods.

As Mazikeen feels strengthened by Wishbone, so too does Wishbone feel strengthened by Mazikeen. “That’s right, asshole. Show yourself, or we’ll make sure no one sees you again.” Her dark ears pin into the tangled mess of her mane, and the voices of her ancestors collide with the passion of her heart. Has she ever fled from danger? Perhaps only with Wolfbane, when they scrambled through the underbrush to hide from Longclaw. But once she grew larger (maybe not large enough to successfully win against danger, but large enough to feel like she might stand a chance), Wishbone hadn’t run away from a threat.

The blue-white-gold face of a man she hoped she would never see again peels himself from the darkness. He seems to be borne from it, whisps of the shadows curling against his scaled body until he comes into full view. Wishbone hardly notices this fact, her eyes caught on the face she has seen in her nightmares for twelve years. Even sleeping in the Afterlife had been marred by his taunting gold eyes.

When she speaks, her voice is a snarl. “How dare you come here, you filthy piece of shit?” The mammoth tusk whistles through the air, stopping just shy of Ivar’s throat. Mazikeen’s fire seems to burn within the midnight-clad mare; the embers of her anger that have simmered for years now spark into a wildfire. The kelpie had taken from Wishbone — her twin daughters, her life — and her body quivers with a desire to rip everything away from him. She imagines peeling back the scales from his skin and pushing the mammoth tusk deep into his chest, right into the chambers of his heart. Wishbone almost wonders where this sick idea comes from, but she is too full of red-hot anger to question it.

Instead, she spits into his face and stares at him with eyes so cold and sharp they might just cut his skin all by themselves. “I ought to kill you right now, in a far worse way you killed me.”

credit to eliza of adoxography.

@[Mazikeen]
@[Ivar] tagged for honorable mentions as a monster

[Mazikeen]

Wishbone collects her weapon from the ground and Mazikeen is grateful she does - though she doesn’t understand the power that enables the other mare to wield it, depending on what steps out of the woods and faces them. She likes the other mare, she’s quickly deciding. There’s a thrill to be standing next to someone who seems just as bold as she is, facing an unknown danger. Mazikeen sees blue and her heart picks up for a moment when she thinks it’s Gale - she hadn’t been expecting to see him so soon after her day on Islandres. Her fire aura flickers a little in her surprise and she tightens her grip on it just as she's trying to get a grip on herself. Of course, she was obviously going to have to kill him now for scaring her and Wishbone so bad. But the shadow-strewn figure continues to step out and she sees that the blue does not extend past the head and oh! It is Barrow! There's something off about him, but she brushes it off as the contrast between the firelight and the immense darkness around them. The warmth that had been pooling in her stomach changes and she feels herself relax. She’s already smiling, opening her mouth to tell him off in the kindest possible way, when the mare next to her snarls out words that shock Mazikeen to her core. Did she just say that about Barrow? Turns-into-a-puppy Barrow? A horrified roar escapes her when the tusk moves through the air towards Barrow’s throat and in a fluid movement, Mazikeen is the bear she had pictured moments ago - bristling with white fur as she tries to bat the tusk away and push herself between Wishbone and her friend. Her eyes are blazing as they focus on the mare - fury radiating from her. The words Wishbone says are incredibly confusing and she does not waste time in pointing that out in a blunt fashion. “What the fuck are you talking about? He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Mazikeen knew that death didn’t always stick here in Beqanna but this wasn’t making any sense. She’s not about to stand back and volley questions, however - not after Wishbone just threatened her oldest friend. “You're obviously crazy so I’ll give you one warning. If you touch him, I’ll kill you.” In the heat of the moment, Mazikeen believes she would - she'd do anything to protect her friends.

image by Reitro

@[Wishbone]

[Wishbone]

it's a mystery to me

we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.

While she didn’t think everyone hated Ivar the same way she did, Wishbone is unashamedly surprised at Mazikeen’s reaction. Her grasp on the tusk slips when the white bear pushes in front of Ivar’s taunting face, and it careens out of their hazy circle of light into the shadows. Wishbone doesn’t move to pick it up again, though she itches to arm herself with a bigger weapon now that she seems to have two enemies. For a moment, she is shocked at how Mazikeen had shifted so quickly, but there are much more pressing matters. A rough snort leaves the midnight woman, and her ears twist into the knotted tangles that lie like a crown upon her head.

The rage that flickers within her reflects in Mazikeen’s face, and they stand facing each other like twin pyres of flame. Wishbone’s amber eyes dance between the bear’s face and Ivar’s, trying to pick out what type of facade the kelpie must have put on to make Mazikeen believe he wasn’t capable of inflicting pain. “You must know an entirely different kelpie then,” she sneers, and her voice is bitter yet warm with an undercurrent of pity. “If you’re not careful, he’ll drown you too.”

The gold-faced mare takes a few steps back, creating distance between Mazikeen. Wishbone doesn’t want to fight the white mare (bear?), and she has no reason to. Her anger is directed solely on Ivar, and her amber eyes find his face from beyond Mazikeen’s furry shoulders. She opens her mouth to hurl another insult (probably something about conning young, unknowing women) when Ivar’s face wavers. The seconds it takes to blink twice, his scaled face melts into shadow, still formed to the kelpie’s structure yet entirely made of the darkness that twists around them. By the time Wishbone recognizes it, Ivar looks perfectly normal.

Confusion blurs the sharp lines of anger on Wishbone’s face, and she feels something lodge in her throat (fear, she might realize later, but she has never been one to admit to fear). “Mazikeen, he’s dangerous.” She is pleading this time, and she finds the tusk from where she had tossed it in the undergrowth. The bone whistles to her side, but she doesn’t point it at Mazikeen or Ivar. Wishbone shifts her weight to distribute it evenly between her legs, prepared to fight if either of them sprang for her. “He’s not… There’s something wrong.”

credit to eliza of adoxography.

@[Mazikeen]