"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
10-08-2017, 08:23 PM (This post was last modified: 10-08-2017, 08:25 PM by Celest.)
A gully.
That's what her mother had called it and Celest liked the sound of that. It was somehow playful and gloomy at the same time. Sheltered yet dangerous - a place to find wet soil and dead things.
But today, the only thing in this gully is a girl who is full of light and life. Although the light she carries is not always pure and bright - she likes to dabble in darkness and fancies herself a great force yet to be woken.
She had her own secluded gully with a quiet and ripple-less gazing pool. And here, the daughter of Carnage lays dabbling in magic. Water like glass reflects her small dished face and the oak branches above her, but this is not what she sees. She looks beyond the glasslike surface, beyond her own reflection.
A haphazard dam separates this pool from the main river - it took the filly an entire day to make. It hadn't been easy. She had dragged sticks, rolled stones with her nose, and constructed the dam from whatever debri was available to her. The results made the toil worthwhile.
She lays in the cool soil like a piece of tumbled sea glass. Her cream and teal front legs neatly tucked below her and she appears to study the water. She had discovered that for her and her mother time did not unfold the way it did for others. For them memories were not exclusively moments from the past - sometimes they had memories of the future. And this is a beautiful thing for a little girl to discover herself capable of.
She would not shrug her shoulders at such a gift, as her mother had. And Celest didn't want to be at the mercy of dreams. She knew she could find a way to call up these future memories the way she could so easily summon a memory of yesterdays bath, she was here to test this theory.
Time passes, and she falls into a sort of trance she is more relaxed than she has possibly ever been, she feels... floaty? She tries not to think about it, tries to remain calm, that's the only way this will work. Just when she is slipping into a deeper relaxation it hits her.
Her mouth fills with the taste of blood and the scent of a predator fills her nostrils. Her self-preservation instincts kick in and she tries to stand but her front legs have fallen asleep and she sinks back into the fertile earth. She spits, but there is no blood in her mouth, and with a gasp she realizes that she had done what she set out to do. She has touched the future, just barely, and she's simultaneously elated and terrified. All she had was a scent, a name, and a feeling -he was not here yet, but he was coming. Fire-fang.
The gulch is an offshoot from the River, long bled dry from Summer’s heat. If he followed it down, (and he does, there’s sure to be some signs of life nearer to the source) all the way to the mouth where the earth still sprang back from beneath a paw, there was a good chance he’d come across another horse. This was his intention; to find another like himself, subdue them, and bring them back for the white wraith’s approval. To this one task Crevan bent all of his willpower, forgoing a lifetime of ingrained values and morals for a chance in the bright spotlight of his King’s good graces.
This is what he’s becoming.
Whatever had been lacking before in his life, Crevan now felt those areas overflowing. The presence of an unchallenged male authority gave him something to look up to, admire even, and that misguided attachment had him exploring that side of himself he would otherwise suppress. The Taboo, as Gryffen had called it, had led him here: to the quiet fork of land where the bank rose high on either side and the ground was soft as it was wet. He stops.
Crevan can smell her before he can see her, a blessing in disguise. The way she fills his mouth is like mint on the tongue - sharp, not unpleasant. And the warmth to her! There’s something dark, heavy on the breeze when he whuffs again; a taste that reminds him of the Underneath. His footsteps restart, this time with steady purpose and barely a sound.
Hunching low, he eyes the rim of clutter she’s gathered. The purpose of it evades him until he glances quickly above it, to where she’s frozen still. He can see the way her rich, turquoise eyelids are closed in concentration, can feel the thrill of adrenaline seize his muscles when the hidden eyes behind jerk as if lost in a dream. “She sleeps.” He thinks. He’s so sure of himself. He even waits a few minutes more for movement. She shuffles; falls quiet again.
Instinct takes control. Scurrying from his spot, claws scrabbling against stones as his mouth slings open to release a frothing snarl, Crevan scrambles into a flurry of motion as he makes his attack. Springing up from a crouch, leaping quickly in, it happens in the calm stroke of a few moments and then, his gaping mouth is reaching, reaching, reaching for her neck and all of a sudden, he realizes -
Dreams and reality collide.
Suddenly, the bloodthirsty creature from her vision is flying towards her with teeth bared. But she is not as surprised as she should have been - her adrenaline had already spiked the moment she had the premonition. She doesn't try to stand again, her tiny body would not sever to fight or outrun a wolf. Instead, she takes a deep breath keeping her eyes locked on his. She doesn't have time to be scared.
There isn't much time, between when she feels him and when she sees him, but there is just enough. A tingling starts along her spine and rapidly spreads to overtake her body and she couldn't feel more relieved. The light, the magic, it always made her skin tingle. When she had been alone, playing with little strands of light under the ferns, she had taken the time to enjoy the tingling and explore the different ways the light would move at her command. But now, she puts everything she's got into one powerful blast. She hopes her little bit of practice is enough to save her.
Between them, space is filled with violet light. It floods the dark gully, replacing the gloom with purple brilliance, and the force of it pushes her small form backward. The light reaches out from her, all of her, drawing from her life force and sending ripples of energy across the waters around her. The blast is larger than she expects and when it crashes into him, or into something at least, the collision leaves her body shaking. She hopes that something is him.
Because, the way her heart is hammering and her vision darkening around the edges lets her know she won't be able to manage another attack lite that for a while.
But she can't let this beast know that.
"What the hell!? Who do you think you are?" She roars, rising onto four thin legs.
Crevan falls into the sun. Spiraling through pain and fear, the young wolf feels himself thrown backwards by the force of her protection as violet fills his lungs, eyes, ears, nose. There’s nothing at first except blinding light, all around him, and then he realizes that his body has stopped moving altogether - but not stopped functioning.
He feels … dead. Not the numbing death that was comparable to his spine being snapped. Not the calm, quiet death of sleep-that-never-ends. Not even like the gasping, choking death of drowning; no, this death is horrid from beginning to end. “Who do you think you are?” The filly screams, a lilting sort of tone that, normally, would’ve roused a smile to his furred cheeks.
“I run with wolves.” He thinks at first, unaware that he is a raw husk of melted skin, lying useless and motionless but for quick, stunning breaths of air to show his pulse. “I play with fire.” He should say, but right now the patches of cells are reaching across his body to connect in webs of healthy growth. Fur begins to sprout along his tail.
“I fear no death.” He growls half-heartedly, rising on shaking paws while the rest of his fur begins to fill and thicken. Pain, the harsh bitch, is finally receding as he turns to look for the squared filly - laughably, the two are nearly face-to-face in height, though distance still keeps them apart. “My name is Crevan.”
He pauses. The quick dart of his curious eyes tells him she’s quivering too, from exertion perhaps? His nostrils flare, he inhales her to taste the residue of adrenaline, steps forward brazenly while another snarl echoes through his gut. “Fancy trick you have there, girl.” He hisses, anger finally beginning to take hold. “She thought she could just … blast me out of existence?” He thinks, a wild froth of saliva building on the edges of his pink gums.
“But I’ve had about enough of you. Fight all you want - I find the challenge intriguing.” He barks, uninterested in her name or whereabouts. This tiny, powerful (beautiful?) girl was not his friend, nor was she his charge. She was to be his captive, and that was final. With the shake of bone pale shoulders, Crevan pads forward again until he finds the outline of her face to be sharp, focused.
“I’ll either hunt you down before you get far, or you can consent to walk easily with me. Keep your questions bare and short.” He offers in way of final warning.
“Blast me again,” He thinks with the downturn of his peeled lips, all the while his eyes darken with ill humor though his tongue remains silent, “and I’ll kill you.”
10-18-2017, 10:06 AM (This post was last modified: 10-18-2017, 10:08 AM by Celest.)
The light fades, her eyes readjust, and she is sure that she has killed him. Her knees buckle slightly, as the thing becomes visible, from a mix of satisfaction and repulsion at the charred mass her attacker has become. Relief floods through her body and the seafoam filly lets out a sigh, dropping her tough girl facade, and looking closer at the corps.
His disfigured form disgusts her, but still, she looks at it with morbid curiosity. The strangeness of the situation keeps her there trying to answer her own questions and before she can grow bored with looking the dead thing twitches and rises - reassembling himself piece by piece.
For the first time in her life, Celest knows fear.
He brings his canine face level with hers, hissing words that are lost in her horror. Dread freezes her heart and trickles out in cool tendrils down her front legs and up her neck. For a moment, she forgets to breathe. He introduces himself as if she had asked his name as if they were normal children in a casual meeting and hot anger replaces the cool dread.
Fight all you want, he spits, and she knows it’s a lie.
She doesn’t move, she stands with the mud above her hooves and her eyes as hard as gemstones. “You were dead. I killed you,” she murmurs, more to herself than him. It wasn’t fair, she had won. She roasted him alive, she had foreseen him sneaking up on her and she had bested him and now he was making demands. And as his pink lips turn down, she sees in his face what she can only name hatred, and her own feelings are whipped up into a similar storm.
But she had seen the pain in his eyes, death did not come easy for him, it seemed.
“How about, If you cooperate I’ll make this easy on you.” She speaks low and along her spine, the purple light begins to glow through her skin- she glares at him to hide the effort that her bluff is costing her. “Have you ever tried to bring yourself back to life twice in a row, Crevan? Or three times? Or FOUR? You are no god, your power has limits.” She wasn’t looking for an answer, so she continues without pausing for one. “I killed you once and I’ll kill you again, and maybe this time when you start to put your pretty fur back on your charred skin I’ll kill you again and we can find out how many times in one day you can die before the game is up.” She mirrors his action, the only threatening creature she has yet to meet, and pulls her lips back in a slight snarl.
“But we don’t have to do that. Tell me where it is you are so kindly escorting me - and don’t just give me a fucking name, explain yourself - I’m not going to play a guessing game with you. As long as you're talking, I’ll walk.” She knew this land better than most, and she knew there was a whole lot of nothing between The River and anywhere else.
An odd combination, the two of them. It seems that the filly hasn’t taken his advice - to keep things short and chipper - and he’s tired of giving second chances, especially when her skin begins to glow once more.
Crevan shifts. Curling a pale head into his chest and heaving with gulps of air before his entire body re-shapes itself, he can just hear her tipping off into silence when he begins. The snap and twist of bones, the color of white fading to muddy amber, from start to finish the exchange is unsettling but blessedly quick. When he’s finished, he finds that his navy eyes are peering down once more to see a small girl with her gums exposed.
He frowns. “What if I just burn you back instead, hmm?”
Now he smiles, the flashing dazzle of amusement failing to spark life in his gaze. His head lowers, nostrils flaring to blow back the slim tuft of hair she’s working so hard to grow between her brightly-colored ears. From this vantage point, Celest is nothing more than a child spitting shrapnel on a subject she’s far from informed on. His breath is warm; searingly so, as if somehow he’s exchanged a working gut for a furnace instead.
“I wonder,” He whispers, “how many times could you come back?” He asks, choosing then to tilt his large jaw with curiosity over her instinct to challenge elder authority. With that same smile still hard-pressed into his cheeks, the stallion lets his mouth fall slack. A sweltering gust crackles over her delicate face, Crevan can feel his throat burn from the suppressed flame he holds back with his tongue.
It would be satisfying, maybe even fair to give the little brat a taste of her own medicine.
“That’s enough, I think.” He snaps suddenly, shoving the weight of his bulk against her with the rough slam of his barrel-like chest. Perhaps this runt has been gifted with a parent who simply chooses to look the other way, but what her caretaker lacks in discipline, he’ll reap as reward. The more she struggles, the worse this journey will be for her. “Babies like surprises, right? Consider our destination a surprise, then.” He snorts.
She’s squandered her one chance to tilt the odds in her favor, this stunning creature, and now the time for talk is up. “Move.” He barks, hovering near to her as a means of silent yet deadly encouragement. They should’ve already been on their way by now and Crevan isn’t one to allow her a moment’s rest, especially after she’s played one trump card too many. “And no more talking.”
![[Image: celest_by_cowgirlconrad-dcolc1l.png]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/bc93/f/2018/277/3/d/celest_by_cowgirlconrad-dcolc1l.png)
