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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    Let the Ocean Take Me [Maugrim/Any]
    #1
    This time, the trip to Sylva had not been on her own accord. In a moment’s notice, she was drug beneath the surface of the ocean. Salt stung in her eyes, ripped at the fragility of her esophagus as she fought desperately for air. Struggling helplessly to keep her head above water, clawing at any type of oxygen that would sate her weak lungs, but finding nothing but him. The king of the sea, bringing her back to the blackness over and over. 

    (Fight). 

    Coral rips at her russet hide, turning the sea a horrible shade of pink. Her puppeteer must find some sick sense of joy in this, in seeing her body flung at the sharp rocks like a rag-doll. She is fighting, but to no avail - he is taunting her, lifting her up to the surface just before plunging her into the water again. Fuck, how would she survive this? 

    (Fight). 

    Krone’s body is thrown about, and she cannot control where it goes and she has no sense of the direction he’s taking her. Her wings are unfurled, soaking up water as she is hurled into the bulk of a volcanic rock. 

    Crack

    Pain shoots up the fragile bone of her appendage, and she lets out a powerless scream. It’s broken, fuck, it’s shattered. She inhales, water rushing into her lungs and clouding her head. She’s going to die, she can feel it. Darkness envelops her...

    (Fight).

    She’s tossed like garbage on the shore of the river. Her lungs are burning, and she struggles to get a breath. He was unlike any she’d seen before.  His power, the way he willed the water to entrap her in its deadly embrace, was all foreign to her (she’d seen a lot of magic in her time, but none like this). Her eyes are red and murky - it’ll take her quite awhile before she can see clearly again. 

    Wherever she was, it was dark. Her feathers are soaked, her body is drenched. Her wing throbs in agony and the cuts along her body sting as salty water drips into them. Oh fuck, what was she going to do?

    @[Maugrim] this sucks but feel free to do whatever to her. She can’t see very well right now and her wing is broken from the impact of the rocks.
    Reply
    #2
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    She fights him the entire way, and though most would see it as brave and formidable, Maugrim only sees it as foolish. There was no point in the struggle, in attempting to get away from him. She is in his domain, and she will come to know that when she is within the water’s clutches, she will never be free. No longer will she be able to sunbathe in the shallows of the ocean without picturing him, knowing that he could appear at any given moment and take her beneath the depths. He wonders idly if she will ever see the sun again, here beneath the dense canopies of the forest or the cave in which he has already planned to harbor her, with his dark and placid lake waiting cruelly for her. 

    Once he has her in the middle of Sylva, he only then allows her some peace - and it is only given because she is so near exhaustion that anything he may try to do to her would be less than ideal. He did not care for an unconscious victim, and he would wait patiently for her to stir awake. During that time, darkness encompasses them as night falls on Sylva, and the algae-and-lavender stallion stands over her with a dark and emotionless expression, black eyes carving out each wound he had created and the way her lungs shudder with each inhale and exhale. He should call for Modicum, for it had been his mission to bring her back for the clown, but Maugrim does not. He will do what he is told when it benefits him, and when it does not, he will disobey.

    His allegiance is to himself and the water, alone.

    Soon, her eyes flicker open. Bloodshot and blurred - looking intently around but not really seeing anything - and Maugrim stares into them hungrily, his breath hot against her poll as he lets her know that even in her blindness, he is here. He says nothing to her, not yet, and he wonders if she realizes where she is, or what exactly has happened besides being thrown into the ocean. She smells of saltwater and blood, still damp from the journey. His pale lips suck at her auburn skin, tasting the ocean that has soaked into her flesh, eyes flashing with intent. There is no sexuality in the kisses he places on her battered skin, hungrily roving her neck for the metallic taste of blood mixed with his sweet seawater. 

    “You are safe now,” he purrs in a whisper, still hovering over her and licking the water and blood from her body like a predator tasting its prey. “I will keep you safe.” He croons to her hauntingly on the muddy shoreline of the black lake, with the yawning abyss of his cave right behind them, beckoning them into its jaws.
    m a u g r i m.


    @[Krone]
    Reply
    #3
    There is no way for her to see the predator that lurks in the murky depths below. At least not now, as her eyes burn and fight for some kind of relief. All she knows, is that she feels his presence, standing over her, watching her. The roughness of his tongue over her body is uncomfortable, sickening really, but she has no strength to fight it off.

    A frigid breeze sweeps over the wetness of her skin. Krone’s thin coat is no match for the winter of whatever kingdom her kidnapper has dragged her too. She uses her one good wing to shield her face from the offending force of the wind, shivering violently like a scared, fragile child. He is still grooming her, whispering haunting words into her ears. Green-tipped satellites swivel to get his mouth away.

    “Who are you, and what do you want from me?” Her muffled voice strains from the shelter of her feathers. Her throat feels scratchy and she sputters out an unpleasant cough.

    There were so many questions she had, but none she could readily ask (where was she? Why did they want her? Would she ever go home?). For now though, she hopes the stranger will answer the questions she can manage to get out.

    Then maybe she could get some help.

    @[Maugrim]
    Reply
    #4
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    She no longer needs to worry about what lives in the darkness of the abyss, because now she knows. It is him that haunts the blackness of the lakes and rivers, he who controls the seas, and it is he who will always be there - waiting for her. 

    Krone does not try to fight him off of her (bless her if she had tried), for all her strength had been taken from her in their terrible and exhausting journey from Tephra. Bruised and battered, she is now easily his plaything at the lake’s edge, covered in the sweet scent of his only love - himself and the water. She belongs to him, to this lake, and to his cruel intentions. He wonders if she realizes this, or if despite her body physically giving up on her, if her mind continues to fight it - riddling herself with the delusion that she will be saved, that he will set her free, that this is all a dream. 

    He almost laughs at the thought.

    It certainly is not a dream.

    As if to remind her, the needy way he sucks at her skin becomes painful as teeth scrape possessively against her water-logged body, his ears pinning back against his skull at the force in which he adds pressure. Soon there is breakage just below her neck-line, where he had left a trail of fresh blood from his hungry bites. Her blood is metallic and life-giving, a blazing inferno of darkness shining in the blackness of his irises at the taste. His pale lips - dry and cracked - are stained an almost beautiful red from the open wounds, intermingling with residual salt from the ocean and the briny waters of the river and the lake. 

    She flinches only when his voice rattles into the cold air, and he shows his displeasure at the gesture with a growl that reverberates in his throat; warning her. Next she wants to know who he is, and what he wants. A tiny smile curls onto his blood-stained lips (shouldn’t you know who I am already, sweetling?) as he runs his muzzle up her neck and then down her cheek, tracing her body. He shivers, still damp from their journey, and the wind cut through the forest unmercifully. He steps closer to her, his eyes on the cavern behind them, his breath hot on her skin. “Who do you think I am?” His voice is garbled and ugly, fed by too many days spent in the salted water of the seas, a poseidon come to life to walk amongst the mortals and deem whether their lives are worth living.

    “What do you think I want?”
    m a u g r i m.


    @[Krone]
    Reply
    #5
    Krone is stick between two emotions - part of her just wants the bastard to kill her, the other wants to fight him, to protect the life growing within her. But she is tired, so so exhausted, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that her minutes alive were coming to an end.

    Her burning eyes are shut tightly, glued together by salt and sand and moisture. She makes no attempts to open them like she had before; she makes no attempts to rid herself of the leech that sucked at her spine. She’d never felt so fragile, she’d never been so hopeless.

    Just end it... She thinks, but then a voice emerges from the shadows.

    Little does she know that this voice and her kidnapper would be her undoing.

    “Maugrim,” His voice is cold and stoic. Not quite angry, but definitely not happy at the situation. Would she be saved? “Don’t you see, Riverlord?” See what? “She’s pregnant. Think of the things the child could do for Sylva, for you, for US.”. The intruder doesn’t come closer, in fact, his voice is drifting, as if he’s retreating to the shadows. No, no please don’t leave her alone. “Do what you will with her - torture her, fuck her. But do not kill her...not until I get that child.”

    @[Maugrim] Basically do whatever and have fun with her but he’s like I WANT THOSE KIDS xD
    Reply
    #6
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    His artform is disrupted. The delicate way he brings himself closer to her, feeding off of her energy (whatever little is left), chipping away at her piece by piece, slowly making her realize she is only property now and no longer her own person - the dance is cut short, interrupted...and calmness in his voice and posture dies with it. She’s not able to answer him, and there’s no way he can bring them back to the particular moment they are in, and his displeasure with the clown’s interruption is evident in the way he balks, ears flattening against his neck while his head spins wildly over his shoulder, bared teeth (bloodied and yellowed) begging him to come closer and join his precious puppet so that he may become one, too.

    His name is unraveled through the shadows, answering one of the woman’s questions that he hadn’t planned on giving her. His upper lip ripples in a snarl, his fiery gaze firmly set on the shadows which carry the clown king’s voice, his chest expanding with each heavy breath he is now inhaling as rage accumulates within him.

    Pregnant.

    For us.

    Maugrim’s hunger has already been loosed on her, and it is hard to reel in the predator when he is already off his leash. The stallion turns his head towards her quickly, his dark eyes snapping into focus on the slight swell of her stomach, displeasure growling in his throat. Pregnant? He did not care. Maugrim only cared for blood, and now that his private little ritual had been interrupted, there is no more patience with his prisoner. He is swift as his mouth clamps down on her withers, anger seeping though each tender muscle of his jaw and throat as he applies as much pressure as he could to her skin. His frustrations would be taken out on her, wondering if there was some way he could rip the child in her uterus from her so that she may die.

    The clown is long gone - forgotten on the shadows. He would do as the King commanded (he is but a machine, built for destruction), but there is no mistaking the haunting gleam in his eye that would hint at the death that soon awaits her. There are no words now, no gentle voice coming from her captor; only silence and the sound of his labored breathing (restraining himself, biting harder with each breath) as the water begins to stir again around her legs, coming to life with Maugrim’s very thoughts.

    The child may be keeping her from death, but it will be him who she sees with her dying breath.

    Slowly - painstakingly and terribly slow - the water begins to pull at her legs again. It will be a familiar feeling to her now, one that is foreboding and dismal as it wraps carefully and coldly around her, like a snake squeezing its prey. He still holds firmly to her with his teeth, blood from the bite flowing freely into his mouth and down her shoulders, staining the water red. He snorts as he tells the water to pull her deeper, walking with her while his mouth still clamped to her withers.

    He cannot have death (not yet), so he will have the next best thing.

    The predator mounts her without warning, his lust fueled by rage and his inability to kill her when he wished. The water dances around their bodies, wrinkling with blood and sweat, lapping at her shoulders and at his thighs. His mouth releases her withers with a twist of his neck and instead holds her behind her head. It is unnecessary (the water holds her in place, and she wouldn’t dare to escape now), but there is so much within him that begs for release, he does whatever he can to match the elation that killing gives him.

    Even when he is finished, he is not satiated. He releases her into the water, throwing her away from him as the lake opens up to receive her. He stands chest deep in the lake, sides heaving and bloodied mouth open languishly. He stays above the surface as the water pulls her down into blackness, sick of her presence but not able to release her in the only way he knew how.

    Maugrim pulls her back up, staring frightfully into her head that floats on the surface only because he allows it. “That parasite in your womb is the only thing keeping you from your death,” he hisses through clenched teeth, spittle flying from his mouth and across her face. His eyes roll madly, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he fights every part of him that tells him to kill. A wave, sudden and abnormal, beginning at his chest and then sweeping towards her, unforgivingly slams her against the shore and away from him.

    He festers in the midst of the black waters, his anger palpable. Enough so that his body becomes invisible, translucent and completely made from the lake itself. He disappears beneath its surface - to the depths beyond. All is still, and the warmth of the cave's mouth gently coaxes her.
    m a u g r i m.


    @[Krone] i figured krone could get a break (react, go into the cave, fall asleep on the shore, whatever!) and maugrim will come back to her in a few :3
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