"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
01-02-2017, 09:09 PM (This post was last modified: 01-02-2017, 09:28 PM by Khameleon.)
khameleon
Like the tick of a speedometer, she turns over under the new moon back into the breathtakingly gorgeous creature. Her skin is flawless, the tawny buckskin and black of her chimera coat lush and gleaming under the moon light. Gone are the tears and wrinkles. Her teeth return, the milky eyes clear and bright. Khameleon wakes to find herself nestled deep in a pile of thick pine needles like a pretty little bundle of horse flesh.
Just a bit away, outside the reach of shielding for limbs, is white glinting snow. "Oooh!" She practically squeals with bright green eyes. Slender limbs move her into the fluff, crashing in the most delicate manner that crashing is, into the snow drift. Lips bite gleefully at the wetness in between giggles as the snowfall begins from the gray cotton of sky. Emerald eyes look up at she gates stupidly, the flakes falling in her eyes and mane, sneezing and laughing.
The time of year had come once again when Khameleon resets. No longer does a wretched, filthy witch occupy the duo toned mare. The curse had removed the ugly self awareness of her existence and replaced it with tragically pretty, tragically stupid mare that currently lay in the cold snow and staring at a sky as though she had never seen snowflakes before.
Blood oozed from his body where shards of bone protruded out from beneath his skin. They were placed symmetrically along his body; from his shoulder blades, his ribs, his hips, across his chest. Only about an inch and a half tall. For now. The most grotesque display of bone erupted from the flesh between his nostrils, angling upward as though it would one day cover his face like a mask. He was still too young for that just yet, but they were continually growing. Painfully growing. His sides were sunken in, as though he had no muscle mass despite his surprising strength. His mentor had made sure he had plenty of power within his body. His master.
The brand on his flank displayed his standing as a possession. A thing. An underling to do His bidding. And he followed His orders without hesitation. It was the least he would do for all He'd taught him. All He'd given him. The scarred motif of an Ash tree on his rump was the first thing he could remember. There had been a reason he'd sought out the magician, but it'd been wiped from his mind and replaced with superior knowledge. Superior skills. He asked the man once what it had been that made Dovev submit to him, but he'd swiftly learned never to ask again.
He didn't have a task this day. He simply saw an opportunity and took it.
She wiggled down in the snow like a child; a devastatingly beautiful thing. It almost reminded him of something.. And she was eating it too, lapping at it. Giggling in foolish joy. Sharp black eyes stared hard at her as he approached calmly. Drops of blood trickled in his wake, claiming the land, marking his passing. I have walked here, it said. I have hunted here. He stopped close to her, towering over her and casting the beauty into his bleak shadow.
It looked like he was about to say something, but instead his mouth closed and he only stared down at her. Then he reached for her, his muzzle pressed to her cheek without askance and he breathed her in. It was... nice. A good smell. Yet somehow wrong. Not quite right. But nice. He rumbled low in his throat and straightened.
Oblivious and happy. She is stupidly gentle and sweet like the taffy that gets stuck in your teeth. The buckskin and black mare is content with pushing the snow, digging and nipping as it.
But the cold of an icky sticky shadow dampens her pretty little hide. Eyes blink up as he stands blocking the sun and haloed like a mother fucking god.
"Hi!" Kham chirps brightly, delicately carved featured a blank canvas that her delight appears on. She see the big beastie with his blood and bone but the feeble minded mare takes no notice. A friend is a friend. The wide smile that dances across her lips fades when he commands her to stand. Confusion and shame clouds her features and she downcasts her eyes like a scolded child. "Fine fine fine." Lips pursed, brow furrow as she gives the prettiest damn glare. "What do you want, you big baddie?" A delicate sniff following. She looks at his wounds, the way his darkness stains her pretty snow. He was dropping all over her pretty pretty snow. Icky icky boogie man.
"Shoo shoo!" He was getting in the way of her fun and she was sure going to let her know how she felt.
At first, she greeted him with oblivious joy. A violently pleased Hi! had his eyes narrowing just a bit. He couldn't remember anyone reacting that way to him before. Sometimes, after seeing the bone piercing out of him like gory spikes, they avoided him altogether. He sort of liked when they did that. It was powerful that just the look of him could turn them away. They hadn't even known all the things he could do, thanks to His teachings.
The glee was wiped from her face at his command to stand. Yes, that was much better. A delicate glare painted her lovely face instead. His face hardened in response. She was not supposed to glare back. She would learn a new look, a more fragile look. Not this foolish defiance. Although, sometimes a little rebellion could be fun. Mmm...
"What do you want, you big baddie?"
She sniffed haughtily at him, looked over his wounds. He watched her intently, hungry for her reaction. But he was disappointed, her feeble mind was only concerned with her play. She tried to shoo him off, remove his bloody presence from the perfectly white snow. Well, white where he hadn't touched it or bled into it.
He ignored her, studying her and trying to puzzle out what was so off about her. She was like a giant, gloriously beautiful child. And yet she was a grown woman. He found that he ached to touch her again, but was oddly unwelcome to the thought of staining her with his blood. He wouldn't normally care... She was just so perfectly beautiful.
He continued to stare at her in silence, puzzling that out as well: his odd reaction to her. She was probably so warm, so soft. Had he ever felt those things before? He thought he might, but.. his mind couldn't grasp when. Or who. Or how. It was infuriating, and he wanted to know what he was missing in his mind, in his life.
Come here, he commanded her again, his voice gentle this time. There was almost a plea in it, his voice and bottomless black eyes, except that he had the power to take what he wanted if he wished. And so he'd never have to beg anyone. Never.
Touch me.. he whispered, his eyes softer somehow and locked on her in a cool shade of hope.
