"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
IT ALL ADDS UP TO THIS: THE HOLLOW CHEST, THE BRUISED NECK, THE SHAKING HANDS.
YOUR BODY, THE TRIUMVIRATE OF UNHOLY THINGS
The sun burns orange through the autumn leaves. Dawn finds him squinting into the horizon, his mane a tangled mess of ink black over a broad gray neck. He runs his tongue over pointed teeth and sighs as he rises from the ground. Vulgaris never remembers his dreams but he knows they leave him nervous and thinking in crimson. Oh well, he’s not one to dwell on the storm of emotions circling his mind. Instead, he elects to drift back toward the common lands and find a way to kill more time. More than once he’s thought of joining some group or another but he never quite gets around to it.
His eyes are the color of dust-covered emeralds and they scour the faces around him for one that stands out or just barely fails to blend in – something, anything to put this boredom on pause for a while. Pond has been off doing who knows what and he doesn’t feel the need to drag her back just yet. She needs to be guided without being smothered, he knows. (Or maybe he doesn’t want to feel smothered.) Still, he doesn’t want another plaything to occupy too much of his time so something temporary would suit him fine right now.
Too bad everyone’s pregnant.
Vulgaris wanders forward and realizes too late that he’s in the field, where everyone goes to get recruited. A frown twitches across his lips. It’s not too late to turn and slink back into the forests but a thought occurs to him. A kingdom would certainly keep him busy without requiring him to dedicate time to any one person. He could work with that. Probably. Maybe. The scaled boy shrugs his strong shoulders and continues forward into the field. At the very least, he could hang around and socialize for a while.
VULGARIS
THERE WAS NOTHING MORE DIVINE THAN HAVING SINNED WITH YOU.
Any kingdom would suit him, really, so feel free to toss whomever at him. <3
06-28-2018, 09:03 AM (This post was last modified: 06-28-2018, 09:03 AM by Khaedrik.)
He is fleeing again.
He looked to the trees, the stars, the moon, anything that would give him an answer. But none came and his anguish became more. It became his shadow and it trailed after him in the moonlight and like the others it told him he was wasting his time, that he should go back where he belonged. And he listened.
Khaedrik; who wears his darkness like a courtesan´s swathe of silk, wanders through the morning world without destination and meaning. The boy and his shadows wandered through the sun´s rays, as they leapt through a beech´s branch or a pine´s outstretched arms. This day, Khaedrik has the face of defeat (grim, tired, worn beyond time), and he wears it well with a thin smile that means nothing, to the eyes of bush or bramble. What do they care, if this Khaedrik, who has met a girl like a burning sunset and accidentally tried to kill her, is different from yesterday´s? They know only love at the brush of his heels; and offer burr kisses and thorn caress. An even trade; for Khaedrik gives them something rare and truer, if not wholly truth, than the homage he pays to all other living, breathing things: a smile, serene and tranquil and horrible, on his broken face – a dying man´s grin.
After one such smile, the boy of shadows and nightmare and failure turned to find that unbeknownst to him – he had wandered into the Field. And there – before his turgid shadow-eyes stood another lonely creature; this one a study in war-torn grey and not swaddled in shadows. The brume and shadow-mist at his heels cautioned him, against guileless smile and meaningless greeting of this stranger – “Run Khaedrik, run run run”” – and then recoiled their wisping fingers from his legs. Danger only brought delight, unseen, to Khaedrik´s mouth; and he sipped it, coyly, in dawn´s pink light. Disobeying the call of distant waving pines (who have always wished him near, with their stabbing scent and sticky embrace), he turned to the grey stranger.
A nod, and then an echoed “Morning”
There is a void in Khaedrik´s eternity-eyes, a world of self-hate and doubt to contradict the strange smile on his golden lips. He is an aberration, and he has no business here in the field among the other horses.
Nevertheless.
Nevertheless it is company that the boy of shadow and darkness craves, something to take his mind off the death and destruction he brings to all those around him.
All good things come to an end, which leads me to leave the comfort and protection of a growing Loess for the monotony and familiarity of the Field. “A change of scenery is necessary.” I convince myself, both crystal-like wings at my side flapping against a bitter updraft of air that sends me careening over the Forest treetops. Some have already begun to change in color and soon they’ll shed altogether for winter’s kiss.
Inspired, I begin to use my powers to change the color of my coat from drab grey to a vibrant orange, completing the picture by fading to butter yellow along my belly and legs, and adorning myself with a velvet red mane and tail. I feel like a palette set on fire, an ember drifting towards the earth on invisible strings.
Landing soundly, the clear appendages ruffling closed and perching tightly over my back to warm me up, I set off for the nearest bodies. Both stallions (what luck,) one a smudge of gold in an otherwise vibrant world, the other an eerie patterned gray, like Arthas but nix the obvious scales.
“And I’m Rey.” I follow smoothly behind Khaedrik, coasting in on the wave of introductions all around, “Three’s company, isn’t that what they say?” I jest lightly, knowing good and well it’s two’s company, three’s a crowd. They don’t look like the type to care anyways, and I’m not really the type to explain.
IT ALL ADDS UP TO THIS: THE HOLLOW CHEST, THE BRUISED NECK, THE SHAKING HANDS.
YOUR BODY, THE TRIUMVIRATE OF UNHOLY THINGS
Vulgaris used to think of himself as a monster, back when the curse first took up residence in him and covered his body in scales. He was just a child back then. The little colt cried out for his father and tried to chew the hideous flesh from his own legs, but they grew back every time. When he finally saw through the haze of his own self-loathing and felt something like love (but not quite love, not so genuine and sincere), he wanted to crush it between his teeth. He’s always wanted to destroy the things he could never truly have for himself. No one can ever take what’s his if it shatters into a hundred little pieces. No one can take what he devours.
But he’s grown since then. He’s learned to stop wanting quite so much. There’s restraint in his demands these days and he’s found a half-hearted tranquility in his adulthood they youth never afforded him. He turns his head when the younger one greets him, listens to his introduction. Khaedrik. The serpent turns to fully face the stranger and tilts his head a moment as he examines him. There’s something so hollow and forlorn in his smile but Vulgaris isn’t one to pry secrets from another’s mouth. Not today.
“Hello, Khaedrik,” he says, and his words are all campfire – warm, controlled, safe. “Where do you come from?”
Vulgaris assumes he means to recruit him to whatever lands he ventured here from. If not, though, it’s a decent conversation starter. Maybe he just wants to talk about something meaningless for a while instead. Somehow, idle talk always soothed his troubled mind and carried him away from his worries.
But then another stranger approaches and he can’t help but notice how vibrant she is, even among all the other odd colors around them. There is a tinge of jealousy budding in his heart. As if being cursed was not enough, the gods saw fit to make him a boring shade of gray on top of everything else they hurled his way. Merciless, truly. She’s saying her name and he quickly brushes the covetous thoughts from his mind. Better not make the lady repeat herself, he thinks.
“A pleasure to meet you, Rey,” he says with an easy smile spreading over his face. Despite the rows of sharp teeth, he’s charming. Many would even dare to call him handsome. “My name is Vulgaris.”
The pretty one makes a joke, though it nearly goes right over the serpent’s head. He offers a light laugh and shifts his weight as he grows more comfortable with them.
“And what about you, Rey of sunshine, where do you call home?” It’s probably too soon to flirt but he figures he’s not getting any younger. He turns his eyes to Khaedrik, though, examining his expression and searching his strange smile. In truth, he’s equally interested in what either has to say. They’re both so fascinating in such different ways.
VULGARIS
THERE WAS NOTHING MORE DIVINE THAN HAVING SINNED WITH YOU.
07-02-2018, 06:37 PM (This post was last modified: 07-02-2018, 06:37 PM by Jackel.)
Something drew me from the lonesome embrace of the fire forest today. Something, something, something. I was going to find whatever that somethingwas that my little heart so readily desired. Oops, scratch that. I forgot my heart still hung from the clutches of the vengeful giants, just out of my reach it sat upon its lackluster pedestal for all too see. A trophy for my absentee demon, who’d done a marvelously wonderful job of decorating, I thought. His taste was so gorey, so macabre, so Beqannian year 197. So thankful I am, to reside in a kingdom so hip to the current times.
My golden bodice soars fluidly through the slumbering forest giants of Taiga, and through the massive forest of…well, The Forest, I think to myself with a nonchalant shrug of my lanky shoulder.
When the obstacles begin to thin, I quicken my pace, zeroing in upon a small gathering mingling in the openness of the Field. I make no attempt to hide my presence, nor do I make any attempt to hear whatever sentences that are currently falling from their lips. I don’t care in that present moment, no, not really.
But I do care enough to offer them my most brilliant smile, Haide taking it upon herself to refrain from letting my psychosis from flowing freely over the brim of my glass just yet.
”Buck up, Chuck,” I say casually to the palomino fellow amidst the gathering. ”You look like you’re taking life wayyy too seriously, sweetling.” I giggle impishly before turning to the Flame mare, ”You,” I pause momentarily, assessing her features with a subtle tilt of my head, “are beautiful. Whatever you’re doing, its working for you!” I offer in my most encouraging voice. “And you,” I say as the black voids of my eyes roll towards the serpent stallion, “have this whole dangerous aura thing going on.” My characteristic grin grows larger then, practically trembling with giddy excitement “And I fucking love it!”
“I’m Jackel, of Sylva.”
None of them had asked for my opinion, but you know what? I will always gladly give it anyway. Silly things.
@[vulgaris] @[Khaedrik] @[Rey]
-casually tosses Jack into the mix- I'm sorry I couldn't resist. :|
