"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
04-05-2021, 09:08 PM (This post was last modified: 04-05-2021, 09:30 PM by Obscene.)
Kiss me again Kiss me until I am sick of it
Darkness had swallowed Beqanna whole, monsters ruled the land, and almost as quickly as it begun the Light had burst back through and restored magic and peace to the lands. Everyone had been affected, had suffered in some way, had struggled. Everyone except for him. Obscene could give two shits about the world around him and had chosen to spend most of his time hazed out on whatever hallucinogenic plants he could find or whatever amber nectar that the fairies had leftover from trying to deal with fixing all the drama at the time. He kept his head low, out of it for most of it, and therefore really couldn’t remember much of the events that had taken place recently.. or over the past few years honestly.
There’s a headache forming between his glowing crimson eyes and he squints in the brightness, wishing they would just go turn all the lights back off again. Long tendrils of raven forelock fall across his face. He’s beautiful, unscarred and pristine, and he knows it. Stumbling slightly in the open field, a snarl turning his perfect face into something cruel and ugly as he snaps at someone just passing through, sending out a back hoof in a nasty kick as an afterthought. ”Watch it.” He warns while already heading into the opposite direction, seeking shade and possibly some water. Hydrating helps a hangover right?
He hadn’t always been like this. The perfect son born to well respected parents. Tantalize and Offspring had wanted him, loved him. But his father wasn’t around nearly as often as he should have been. And his mother apparently had always been unsure about raising her children, taking a more hands off approach when it came to parenting. They gave him everything he could dream of: a good lineage, a home, even a purpose if he wanted it. The blood of rulers thrummed in his veins. But what he had needed was affection and attention, not left by himself with only the local fauna for company. It had been lonely. The few times he had encountered anyone his own age, he was met with cruelty for his awkwardness and natural loner abilities. He also had not been blessed with any of the traits his family held, another target for teasing for being so..normal. So he learned to grow cruel too. And kept his emotions locked tightly in a box deep within him. Turned to hobbies that kept him in a constant state of inebriation when possible instead of dealing with his trauma. And this was the result, this was where he was now.
A deep sigh escapes him as he finally throws himself beneath the shade of a tree near the waterfall, shoving his face in the cool water until it’s submerged completely. He does this a few times before finally pulling back, shaking droplets of water from his curls and glancing around him with disdain. This place sucked but he had nothing better to do and he was sick of lounging around listlessly in a cave. Perhaps this place would provide some better entertainment.
We stood on the cusp of dawn, and none of us knew it until we were blinded by the light. It makes my head ache, and for a day I could only snarl from the depths of my forest. It has, at least, been long enough that my locks are grown long again, and I am shocked but not displeased to see my request was answered after all.
Vibrant, shimmering strands of rosy pink line my neck and croup. Bouncing with health, it's enough to break my sour mood. The sun is back. Fine. Now I can be admired properly again.
Where better than the field, where lonely lost souls are already looking? It's not an awful long walk to that open space, but it feels like an eternity with the sun revealing all the violence darkness hid. Death is everywhere, in every facet of our world. Vegetation lies brown and rotted beneath my hooves, squelching with every step. There's a bloated young deer carcass lying by the way. Starved, most likely, and too weak to wait out the sun. My lips curl as I walk past it, eyes catching on the wriggling worms now occupying it's eyes. Calavera would love the pathetic thing, the odd girl.
There's more decay in the field. A year or more of darkness will do that, you know. I tsk softly. "Couldn't leave a good thing be, could they?" I murmur to myself, broad wings drooping relaxedly by my flanks. There's precious few out in the open today. The darkness still has its hold, it seems, even if the sun has taken back his power. Still, the field isn't empty, not quite.
My eyes set on a scowling beast, dark and apparently glued to the shadows of the stoney edge. A beatific smile illuminates my delicately carved features, the narrow lines of my face forming a jewel-toned portrait. Framed, of course, with rosy tresses that I toss lightly as I approach.
"Awfully fucking bright out, isn't it?" I chime pleasantly. Too pleasantly, really, for a bone thin mare with a staff of wood splintering her breast. Funny how you get used to things, given enough time.
04-07-2021, 04:53 PM (This post was last modified: 04-07-2021, 05:51 PM by Obscene.)
Kiss me again Kiss me until I am sick of it
The rotted vegetation and decomposing carcasses left from the monsters wrath hadn’t even been a blip on his radar. While death was certainly ugly (and depending on the type of death as well), he found that there was also a strange sick beauty in it. Sometimes he wonders if this is normal thinking, if anyone else ever thinks like he does. Maybe that’s his super power to offset his completely physical normalcy. Water still streams down the curved features of his face, the brightness of his fiery iris’s revealed as he can now completely open his eyes despite the continued sting of the returned sun. They land on her as she speaks and a retort is already on his lips (“What an astute observation”) but something different rolls out instead.
He might have noticed what she considered beautiful about herself if he was a normal or happier creature, the wings, pearly skin, pastel beauty that most would be drawn to. However, she was old. Much older than him at least. Some might be into that but it wasn’t exactly his kink. He’s not exactly sure what his kinks are but as nothing stirs in his loins at the thought of hooking up with a much older chick… So it’s probably not that. Second, traits have never interested him, mostly because there’s a deep rooted jealousy at his own shortcomings in that department. Bright colors that might attract a mate in other species didn’t really call to him either. He wasn’t quite sure what he was drawn to but for all her inward preening and “standard” beauty, there’s no surge of lust when his darkened gaze lands on her. However, his eyes do wander to a spot directly on her breast. ”What the fuck is that?” His voice flat and pointed. If she was seeking admiration and adoration, she had picked the wrong guy but to be fair... she did have a large stick jutting out of her chest. It was kind of hard to miss.
Oh dear, I'm rather out of practice, aren't I? My smile is sugary sweet and it slips only the tiniest fraction when his eyes drop to my chest. Yes, yes, alright, let's get this over with. You'd think it was a lodestone I carried with me, instead of this splinter.
My teeth are bared, a smile maybe, but a warning as well. "That, my dear," I began with a sharp note. "That is my reminder that it doesn't pay to look out for anyone but myself. A hard lesson, but a lesson learned nonetheless." A drop of blood fell wet and heavy at that moment, underscoring my words. Everything I say and do has blood marring it in some way. It's getting difficult to remember a time when that wasn't true.
My eyes wander, in the way of one who cannot hold still, ever. It's manic, the way some part of me must always be twitching, jostling, swaying, but it's a tic I've yet to overcome. Indeed, it's only gotten worse with age. That's the cost of having electricity running through your veins.
"What are you looking for?" I ask, distracted and then sharp again. Like a camera lense refocusing, I make myself anchor to the moment. To why I'm here. My eyes glint in the hard light, a vivid, fractured blue. I want him. Want him. In my woods, beneath my trees. There's a current that arcs inside my brain, hot and cold and alive. "I can help you find it. I know just where to start looking," and my mouth curls into a knowing grin.
He's surly and rude, and that's all very annoying. But those things can be smoothed over, with time and care.
@[Obscene] She's attempting to Enthrall him into following her to Sylva, he'll have to make eye contact for that effect to work!
She’s prickly about the stake in her chest. He supposes he can’t really blame her. It’s quite the awkward conversation starter. The fae in his Meadow home would perhaps chastise him on such a rude opener but cmon… LOOK AT IT. Was he suppose to ignore the elephant in the room? His crimson gaze follows the trajectory of the blood that falls to the ground before her, watches as it stains the brown thin strands of grass at her hooves. He misses the tic of her eyes, the way she looks him over with her reckless gaze, assessing. Thoughtful. Prying.
What are you looking for? Such a loaded question. He’s not sure he’s looking for anything. He’s not sure he’s not constantly looking for something. Why was he in the Field? Boredom really, a change in scenery. He wasn’t expecting to be recruited. Or kidnapped. What are you looking for? The question seems to ring in his ears as he raises his head and looks directly into the fractured blue of her eyes. It’s like he’s drunk again but drunker then he has been in a long time. Slightly confused, dizzy. There’s more words, that voice in his head. His tongue suddenly feels thick and dry, the red of his once blazing iris’s become slightly glossy.
Help him find it… Find what? Was he searching for something? Yes.. Perhaps he was. His fae family were always scolding him for his lack of purpose, his shitty attitude, his blasé disregard for everyone around him but most of all himself. He was always going to be different in his normality and that was the worst kind of different. Standing out for all the wrong reasons. Some might crave power for security, some might want respect or titles. He had once been a Tephra prince, if that’s what he had craved… He could have surely taken it. But that’s not what his dark little heart wants, not really. What he wants is to not feel so useless. What he wants is the love that’s always been out of reach, that he doesn’t deserve. What he wants is to not be so powerless. What he wants… What he wants…What he wants is to not be so god damn different.
I can help you find it… A soft song in his curved ears, a dazed grin on his lips. There’s a warning somewhere in the back of his head. Something about a thicket in the Meadow, familiar to him. Little fae people with their thin wings and no nonsense care, always hard in their truths because they cannot lie. That was home wasn’t it? Yet there’s a song in his ears that speak of dark woods and darker trees and some pull on his withered heart of finding a path to what he truly desired.
There’s a mare with a stick in her chest and she’s the start of the path. That’s what the fog says in his head, that he needs to follow her to find it all. Stumbling all over again, he does.
Obscene
@[Sabra] Since he's partying in Icicle Isle I figured this could happen after that timeline wise lol.
I'm fine if you want to continue this in Sylva <3
