"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
07-02-2017, 11:20 AM (This post was last modified: 07-02-2017, 01:40 PM by Pazuzu.)
"Evil requires no reason."
How long had it been? so long…
It remembers the yanking of what was such an integral part of it, as it was taken away. It remembers the absence of everything, except the jerk of pain.
It remembers… pain, pain, so much pain.
It remembers that it had once had a life, those that it had loved, protected. It cannot remember their faces, their voices. It remembers nothing that brings it pain.
It remembers finding a dark cave, hidden beneath the Mountain that rose from the sky. It crawled down into the dark, darkest parts to hide itself away. It remembered everything and nothing from the time in the dark.
It remembers… no one.
It had been nothing for so long, just a breath of air in and out of it’s lungs. It’s body curled in and around on itself until it wasn’t sure what was rock and what was his. It remembers having dreams, or visions. Hurtling through time lost and time yet to come.
Today it expected no less.
Until….what’s that?
The world stills, enough that it swims closer to being awake. It’s mind waking up as the world does and it begins to pay attention. It starts to listen, it’s mind searching…for what exactly?
Then it feels it. magic.
It cracks open eyes sealed with dirt and dust, it’s body cracking as it feels magic sweep out from the Mountain above it. It feels it seep into it’s bones, it’s blood, into it’s very cells. Magic merges with it and it breathes a sigh without pain.
…so good…
It’s body creaks as it moves, its heart thumping again in his chest. It’s legs stretching out and it’s body standing.
it’s been so long
It takes it’s first steps in a long time beneath the Mountain, weak as a newborn foal. It’s sides heave with the exertion, muscles aching with the movement it hasn’t done since magic was ripped from it. Just as quickly, magic surges through it’s body, healing the pain, strengthening it.
It laughs.
Sudden it finds itself amongst the woods. The Forest calling to it in ways it barely remembers. It finds it’s way amongst the woods, it’s black eyes and black body becoming insubstantial until it is the shadows that it lingers amongst. The moon beckons to it. A glance towards the half full moon that it hasn't seen in so long.
..then, a rustle among the brush
It's dark eyes turn towards the noise. It sees her there. It knows nothing but the sudden thirst that makes it’s throat ache.
It’s over before it begins really. It’s fangs hang past bloodied lips that curl upwards in a chilling smile. It feasts on the dead mare, uncaring as to who she might have been, only that it had been too long since it had last ate.
pazuzu
**Disclaimer, posting to Pazuzu can result in maiming, torturing, and all kinds of nasty things possibly happening to your pony. If you do not agree, do not post to him or if you do not want your pony horribly maimed, please say so. Most of the time he will just leave some nice new scars, either mental or physical.
07-02-2017, 11:39 AM (This post was last modified: 07-02-2017, 11:46 AM by Spink.)
There is a laugh and a rumble that stirs even the soul inside the dark one that awoke so long ago. He trembles, hides his face. Refuses to show the sense of momentary fear that crosses his face.
He is no longer alone.
Harmonia exists... His daughter. There are others too... But none like him, not until today. This day.
The mountain falls and the world as they knew it comes to an end, and Deimos has withdrawn from the inner workings of the forest to see the shadow of power that has not been seen in an age. It came after him... But that makes it no less potent.
Another shudder, and the son of Mars opens a rift into the void. He laughs darkly, feeling a new surge of power now that the fairies have gone.
Magic will reign once again.
But as it casts shadows across the world, Deimos stares at it with a focused look, determined to not show. He puts up a barrier so the other cannot see... Cannot look into his heart or mind.
There was not another like him.
Until today.
"What beings dragged you out of the bowels of Hell? You look terrible."
He does not know it, and yet he knows it. For all like him have an innate camaraderie.
The return of Pazuzu, and the tipping point of dark magic.
07-02-2017, 12:01 PM (This post was last modified: 07-02-2017, 12:33 PM by Drow.)
Everything had fallen the fuck apart. Always seemed to, didn’t it? There’d been no sign of Mom, not since that fucking magician had taken them both, had torn him apart to get to her and put him back together when she’d caved. When she’d given up everything to keep him safe, to keep them all safe. Drow had watched her tear herself apart, carve away everything that had ever mattered to her, just so they’d be out of his reach. Just so they’d have a fucking chance. He’d seen goodbye in her eyes in that last moment, right before the world had turned to hell.
And then he was home. And then home was fucking gone, and everyone with it. All she’d done, all she’d given up, and it was for nothing. The world had collapsed around him, devouring itself and spitting up something new and strange and empty, and he’d been fucking alone.
No Zur. No Rys. No Zu. No kids. No goddamn sign of Mom, but of course not. She’d given herself over to the devil to keep his filthy hands off the rest of them, and what good had it done?
They were gone.
He had, perhaps, gone a little mad. Just a bit. Tiny, tiny bit crazy, and who could blame him? Everything he’d ever known was gone in the blink of an eye. Everyone he’d ever loved, lost in a heartbeat. He’d scoured the edges of the world that was left, but there was no sign, no scent, no trail to follow. They were just fucking gone. So he had lost himself in the wild, killing the pain by throwing away the part of himself that was anything other than a feral beast, anything other than the moment he was living in, anything other than his heartbeat and his breath and his senses, the motion of his body and an intense awareness of the world around him.
And that was all he was, for years. The present moment, and nothing else. His body, and nothing else. Until a stray scent tickled at something more. Dark and rich and dripping blood, but glorious in its hint of familiarity. He followed the smell of death and darkness, a delicious shiver rushing across his skin when mismatched eyes landed on black lips stained red with blood. The wrong blood, it should always be his blood on those lips. He walked forward, past the corpse of a dead woman who didn’t matter, past another man who had gotten to him first. A wicked grin curled his lips for the first time in years, and a bit of his old self glinted in the silver and burnished gold of his eyes.
It hisses as it turns, it’s body rippling with magic that it had not had in years. First it’s legs resemble a cat, long and lean, covered in black fur with claws you couldn’t help but notice. A blink and it’s legs were something else, equally as ferocious. Each breath, each thump of the blood through it’s heart it shifts into something else. Until it’s form resembles more of a large hell hound, scaly legs with long claws on the end. It’s face angling until it was nothing more than skin covering bone as it’s eyes find the one that lurks. It tilts its head into the wind and smiles.
It smells him, even if he hides amongst magic of his own. Even if It cannot see him or find him, it can smell him. It laughs, a small little laugh of amusement. “Come out….come out….” It hisses, a long tongue slipping past it’s lips as it dragged it across the blood there. “Plenty…to go around.”
Shadows slip from it’s body, until there was no way that anyone could have found the rest of him amongst the dark. Camaraderie indeed, It would rip the flesh from it’s bones should he appear. Maybe It from before would have laughed, smirked and tested. It now was interested in little else than reveling in power that it had not felt in so long.
The front half of his starts to slip back into the shadows, too willing to play some hide and go seek until, until another comes.
It pauses, it’s clawed feet slipping from the shadows and it’s head tilting towards the tantalizing smell that the other had. The stallion was massive and it let it’s teeth shine in the moonlight as it circled him. A gravelly sound of pleasure rumbling from it’s throat. “Yessss…” It touches it’s lips to his shoulder. “Your blood…” It says, plucking his thoughts from his mind like apples from a tree. It leaves a trail of blood across, where ever he is touched until with a small hiss, it finds the place that it wants and sinks it’s fangs deep into his flesh.
”Yessss.” A hiss of pleasure from the same lips of the stallion it had its fangs sunk into. Memories of long ago.
It pauses as it savors the taste of his blood in it’s mouth before with a jerk of it’s head, it rips the flesh from his shoulder.
pain and pleasure mingling until it was indescribable
It tilts its head back and swallows the flesh whole, the blood dripping down it’s neck. It comes back to the hole on his shoulder, it’s tongue sliding across it with a purr. “Mine…” It claims him, sending just a tickling of healing magic into the wound, just enough to clot the blood vessels.
It remembered no one. Not even It’s own name.
It just was.
There is something about magic that draws him. He has basically none (though it lingers deep in his genes, throbbing within red cells but unable to express). Like a sixth sense he can usually find their hosts with little effort. Mostly he just has good luck, being in the right place at the right time. There is something sinister about this forest that he has started to call home. It’s almost like the underworld of Beqanna, harboring all sorts of riffraff and undesirables. They have nowhere else to go you see now that their lands have been taken from them. Like moths to a flame, they are drawn to the trees with skeleton arms that reach up to the skies. Asking why they had been forsaken, when will their dark gods return to power? And while they wait for an answer, they stick close to the heart of the woods for this place has a tendency for spitting out surprises from the shadows.
As powers are quickly restored, a crackling surge runs through the world. Static is in the air, frizzing his mane and pricking at his flesh. If there is ever a time that something might awaken, might stir back to life, it would be now. It doesn’t take long, he won’t be disappointed.
The wraith weaves through the shrouded woods easily, letting himself follow the invisible fingers that slither towards him and beckons him forward. The air is cold, his breath misting as he expels hot breath in anticipation of what he might be discovering. The snow barely touches the ground here, blocked by the thick canopy above so it is easy to be quiet, his hooves muffled by damp dirt. Soon the scene is revealed before smoldering iris’s. Of course he is amongst like minded companions.
The familiar voice of Deimos, not in the least surprised that he’s lurking here. He is more interested on the dismal figure, one that is almost as black as night itself. There’s a hint of a moon, it’s pale light barely able to cling to them as it fights to make it’s way into their shadow world. It barely makes out the creature before him, vague features and shape. Fur, claws, scales, fangs, bone… and yet equine in a way. It’s feeding on another, it’s body mingled within the shadows. It was hard to decipher where it began or ended, blurring into the blackness as if they were one.
There is no point in hiding from them, the stark white of his body and the glowing red of his eyes makes it impossible for him to camouflage himself. There is no magic to hide behind. He wouldn’t use it even if he had it, what kind of impression would that make? No, he stands exposed with a look of solemn interest, the look of the scientist. Now here is a rare specimen. His magic was similar to that of the one hidden nearby and yet…. Different. Where Deimos was wild and reckless, this one has an air of restraint. To him, that makes him quite more dangerous. Fascinating.
Tilting his skull slightly, dirty white tendrils slipping to the side, he gives a nod of appreciation as the soft hiss of Mine slips into the air, a ghost of a smile on his pale lips. He says nothing, merely watches. Observing. Wondering what exactly it would take to align this magician to their side.
The darkness wrapped around Drow with a flash of teeth, a gravelly, rumbling purr, a sibilant “yesss” that hissed through shadowy canine lips and snaked out to stroke along his spine, sending a delicious shiver running through him. For the first time in far too goddamn long, those bloodstained lips touched his shoulder. Fire burned in his belly, roared to life in his veins, as the darkness crooned, “Your blood…” He angled his head away, baring his neck, offering himself, his eyes drifting closed at that hungry hiss.
Teeth sank into his flesh, and the whole world narrowed to the lips on his shoulder, the blood flowing free, the white hot agony as those teeth ripped a piece of him free and the darkness swallowed it down. A low, hungry moan tore out of his throat, and again as its tongue slicked over the wound, as that familiar voice declared him “Mine” for all to hear.
Or at least, all who were present. Drow opened his eyes just enough to meet the red ones watching the scene with solemn curiosity. A lazy smirk slowly spread across his lips, and he blew the stranger a kiss. And that was all the attention he had for anyone but the wicked, glorious darkness. “Mine” was right, and the gods knew the feeling was fucking mutual.
His teeth were far too dull to have any impact on that thick hellhound hide, but he trailed his muzzle along its neck and bit down anyhow, staking his claim in return. He couldn’t draw blood, couldn’t tear off a chunk of that magnificent flesh and swallow it down, not as shrouded in magic as it was. But he could damn well bite, and chase it with a stroke of his tongue against scaly skin.
Another one joins the fray and It smiled, amused. Sides? It did not play sides. It would play with whoever it wanted to, whenever it wanted too. It moves closer to the new male, shadows flickering from its body and reaching out to touch the pale skin. Wouldn’t it look so much better with splatters of red across that white canvas? It smiles, clacking its fangs together as it nears him. The look on his face, the one that said he was studying him, gave it just a moment of pause.
”Come on Tycho, there is so much more to learn about.”
It shakes its head, chasing away the memories it didn’t want to remember. It focused on the pain along its neck, throbbing in rhythm with its heartbeat where the silver black had returned the claim.
a shiver of apprehension slides down its back
Shadows, darkness so deep it could drive someone insane, curled around it again. It drags its teeth across the silver black one more time just before it steps out of range. Then it smiles, curling the corners of its lips up, its fangs poking out past them. “More than you could give me…”
It drags its lips along the pale white of his coat, smiling in satisfaction at the trail of blood that it left there. The shadows along its coat reaching out to touch and taste, the cold of them burning lightly where ever that he touched leaving small spots here and there all over the white’s body.
“Mmm.” Its tongue sliding out to drag itself along the thin skin along his ribs. “You taste…like shadows.” It laughs, spine tingling with the hint of all things not nice that lingered there. It circles him, shadow wings curling from the edges of what seems to be its back and one of them reaches out to touch him, dragging razor blade wings lightly across his side. It purred when it saw the thin, red lines of blood dripping down the white of his barrel.
“Better.”
pazuzu
ooc: going to keep posting and spink will have to catch up with deimos when she gets back <3
**Disclaimer, posting to Pazuzu can result in maiming, torturing, and all kinds of nasty things possibly happening to your pony. If you do not agree, do not post to him or if you do not want your pony horribly maimed, please say so. Most of the time he will just leave some nice new scars, either mental or physical.
Most might be embarrassed, ashamed even, to witness the sensual blood spectacle before him. He isn’t most. As Drow blows him a kiss, his lips twitch in the hint of a smile, amusement glittering in the depths of red. Interesting, yes this was very interesting. The way the two claim each other, familiarity in the way their bodies seem to anticipate the other’s movement, he assumes that they know each other. They do and they don’t but that is a story unknown to him.
The cool fingers of shadows caress his pale hide, probing and searching. He doesn’t flinch. His gaze still cool as the magician turns his attention his way, fangs clicking and yet the stallion seems to hesitate. The academic in him focuses on this, his brow furrowing as he considers the other. It’s only for a second, so quick most might not have noticed. But he has, that brief moment of clarity before his darkness claims him back. There’s a story here, somewhere. A quick toss of the creature’s head and he’s focused on him once more with shadows swirling around him, it’s teeth grazing along the back of his “claimed man”.
"More than you can give me…" The words slide towards him as contact is made. Muscles tense beneath his pale hide but he does not recoil from the sharp hot pain as fangs slide across his skin. ”Everyone has a price.” Stained plumage snaps across his haunches, responding through gritted teeth as his ears fall back into a mass of tangled hair. It’s a mix of pain and pleasure and he can’t help but let his red eyes follow the movements of the thing scouring his flesh.
The shadows burn like frostbite and his body spasms in response. Thick droplets of blood bead along the wounds, seeping into alabaster fur. The wet slender tongue that probes his ribs, tasting him. Not disagreeing with the statement, how could he taste of anything else? Glancing at Drow with a thin smirk, looking for signs of jealousy. He had always thought he would be repelled by a member of the opposite sex touching him in such a way and yet it’s not unpleasant. Hmm. We are learning all sorts of things today.
His studious mind still can’t delve away from the fascination of what he has come across. Despite the pain that jolts his body, the way teeth and magic ravage his flesh, his features read of intense scrutiny. Like a man hunched over his notebook, writing furiously away... He is unable to stop analyzing everything about him. Such is the mind of the mad scientist. Black tendrils in the shape of wings reach for him and instead of the cool soft mist of shadow, it feels like razorblades crisscross against his side. A sharp inhale followed by the sweet sigh of release. He doesn’t turn to look at the marks, the hot sticky mess that drips from the wounds. He gets no pleasure in the sight of his own blood despite the tingling pleasure that lingers.
There are many questions he wishes to ask, answers he wants to pull from this dark brain that prowls around him. He settles on one, simple to start with. ”Your price?”
The darkness was toying with the red-eyed stranger, giving him just a sweet little taste of the places they two had gone together so many, many times. The stranger wasn’t entirely immune, but there was a cool calculation in those red eyes, a familiar studious fervor that told Drow quite clearly what kind of man this was. How well he knew that look, though the eyes that had always shone with that knowledge-hungry glint were dark brown verging on the black of his father’s, of the darkness standing between and playing so idly with the red-eyed man.
Curiosity. Not heat, not passion, not hunger burning inside him, flaring to life with every slice of his skin, every drip of his blood trickling down his skin, every flash of those exquisite white fangs, every piercing bite into his flesh. No, this one might play, but he wouldn’t revel in it the way they did.
Drow caught the hint of a smirk and returned it, unthreatened by the darkness’s brief, passing interest in a stranger. It wouldn’t be long before those endless black eyes made their way back to him, roved his body, lingered where teeth longed to sink in, where lips longed to touch. Red Eyes was asking the wrong questions, the boring questions, and it was only a matter of time ‘til the fun part started.
Wouldn't kill him to be patient. And meanwhile, he could let his mind wander on back, and think those memories good and loud for the darkness to hear. Because why the hell not?
black and silver, their hair mingling together, their chests heaving
It hisses as memories slide from the silver black stallion. Its attention wavering from the pale white stallion as it turns back to look at the massive stallion that stood so patiently. Its eyes narrow and it clacks its fangs in annoyance. It didn’t want to remember before when now was so delightful.
the familiar way the lines of their bodies fit together
It shakes its head, the shadows swallowing it whole until there was nothing left of it anymore. It floats, a part of the darkness around them, its black eyes trained on the one that knew it before. It slides closer, a thick creeping darkness that wraps Drow up. Slice by slice it opens up his skin, and with each touch of its shadows across his body he bleeds.
the way their blood mingled in drops on the ground, on their skin
It reaches tendrils into his mind, sliding in as lust and want emits from Drow in a fog of hormones. It itches to take those memories, to take them and crumple them to dust. It aches, wants, needs to get rid of who it was before.
you will not harm him.
It recoils, shadows snaking back out. It still makes him bleed, revels in the way that the blood drips down into the earth. It laughs a satisfied laugh before it remembers the other, the pale stallion. It solidifies just enough to see the shape it in the shadows before it wraps the same thick fog around the white stallion. “My price?”
Oh it could be fun to play some with whatever idea the white stallion had. It might be good to see who it could hurt with it…
But it was never very good at playing follow the leader.
It’s lips brush against his ear. “Your life.” And it laughs, it’s teeth snagging the end of his ear, just enough to make him bleed, not enough to maim him. “Unless you have something better?” Shadow touches that seem to reach inside him and pull the blood out of his veins through the pores of his skin.
a gasp of breath they both desperately needed before their bodies clashed against one another again
It grounds its teeth, using the shadows to send a nasty slice across the silver black’s barrel, deeper than ever, through his bones this time. It turns away from Gryffen, turning back to its toy. Shadows creeping in through the slice in his barrel, stopping the blood flow just long enough that they start to open the wound, pressing against the broken bones and skin. “Enough.” It says, a dangerous whisper as it pushes a little harder.
