"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
Sylva was hers now, just as much as it had once been Modicum Mortem’s. As his queen she had risen to darker heights, relishing in the taste of blood and the sound of their enemies’ screams. For too long she had wandered aimlessly through life, unsure of her path or where it would lead her. Now, however, she was assured that she was exactly who she was meant to be. Surrounded by those willing to do her bidding she was presented with an unusual opportunity. One that she did not intend to pass up. It was in that spirit that she had set off in search of one who served the darkness just as fiercely as she did.
She’d encountered Maugim only once before. The green and white stallion had been compiled of pure instinctual blood lust. A talent not given to many others. It would have been impressive to find any who would not fear the stallion. He was not driven by the ordinarily trivial things and she sensed that he truly enjoyed the terror he inflicted. He was a rarity among them and she was elated to have use of him.
It wasn’t often that she sought out the other inhabitants of Sylva. Contentedly she observed from the shadows, allowing them to approach her with their dark plans and intentions. It brought her pride to watch as the darkness she admired so much engulfed their home. The autumnal land, once so bright and so pure, had taken on an ethereal beauty. Lust and revenge festered there, begging to be satisfied.
It was easy to spot the lavender tinted stallion. He always lingered at the edge of one body of water or another. Emerging from the treeline she smiled by way of greeting, her aura rushing hungrily forward to embrace the Sylvan. The afternoon sun cast a haze atop the surface of the pond, it’s ripples dancing melodically upon the banks.
“Maugrim,” she said simply with a slight nod of her head. “I trust that you have news for me in regards to your little…errand?”
She is the queen; swathed in shadows and billowing darkness, cloaked in fear and terror. He can feel her slowly coming upon him, much like the creeper vines that reach out with cold and merciless tendrils, grasping him firmly in his heart and mind as the sense of dread and foreboding coil in his belly. A powerful creature (terrible and yet ethereal, enchanting yet diabolical), much like the rest of the Sylvan forest. She, however, demands attention by her mere presence, and even he, who cares not for royalties and political powers, is cowed by her immense power.
A demon lurking amongst the vile and corrupted, feeding off their selfish desires and chaos-driven agenda.
The water before them stirs unpleasantly; he did not enjoy the aura that she brings with her, despite its allure. It causes the stallion to bristle defensively, the dryness of his lips cracking as a snarl ripples across his mouth, his displeasure manifesting by the sudden boiling and churning of the once-still lake. His dark and bottomless eyes slowly shift to hers, meeting the fear-monger with an unwavering gaze though his insides tremble involuntarily. Black and shining horns spiral backwards from her head, fiercely poised; he wonders if blood has yet to cover the glistening spirals.
He is lost in his terrible daydream until her voice rouses him, ears falling into the muscled curve of his neck.
“Success as always, my queen.” His voice slithers from his throat, deep and rough. The water still stirs unnaturally before them, trilling it between his proverbial fingers to soothe the feeling of fear that continues to rise within him at her close proximity. Adrenaline pulses through his veins as his heart rate increases, nostrils wrinkling at the feeling. “She is to be in my care.” His voice snaps, commands, before he adds: “If you deem it so, Astarael.”
His black eyes flicker to the cave mouth just across the murky water, finding solace in the black expanse that yawns delectably before him, though her aura still runs its icy fingers down his spine. He shudders involuntarily, his eyes fiercely meeting hers. “You know where I keep them.”
His eyes are stern upon her as she slowly draws nearer to his place within the shallows of the sprawling pool. Stilling herself beside him she embraced to cool water as it lapped at her ankles almost angrily. Stoic she senses his unease as her red glowing aura consumed him. All around them, smaller creatures that inhabited the forest fled, set with unease at the sight of the two ethereal beings as they conferred. The summer wind was strong as it sent it’s current across the top of the water, scattering ripples around them and carrying with it the scented perfume of their home. Eagerly she hungered for the news he would deliver. If Hiroto had not been mistaken, their newest visitor had much to offer them. Of course, her interest was more of a personal effect especially given that the little black mare had been spotted chatting with her dearest older brother. Belgaer was as squeaky clean and loyal to their father as one could get. He also held the advantage of being one of Ischia’s most traveled diplomats. That aside, however, the mare herself also offered a chance to piss of Tephra.
As suspected, Maugrim had not failed her. A smile creased the corner of her lips – an expression, when planted on any other face, would almost be deemed reassuring or affirming. On hers, however, framed by the sharply pointed crown of horns, it was enough to send chills down the bravest of spines. Ears trained firmly upon the acceleration of his heart, she cares very little for the demands that tumble off his hasty tongue. Casting aside her glance distractedly, she felt the intensity of her aura as it slowly grew, tugging and pulling at his psyche. She held the stallion in high regard, enough to task him with the guarding of their deformed guest, but she would not allow him to forget his place. When all was said and done, however, she knew he would be more than capable of extracting all that she desired to know and more.
I trust you to do what is needed, she purred, her voice easily mistaken for one of motherly affection. Casually she inched closer to him, the point of her wing gently tracing along the length of him. We must not allow this mare to believe us weak. Do as you will with her, her voice tightened, suddenly every inch authoritative and stern as she halted beside his head. You will report back to me. Everything that slips past her pretty little lips – I want to know every precious word. Understood?
She trusted Maugrim, perhaps more so than most. Demure once more she sauntered to the back once more, kicking away the remnants of the water from her slick coat. His agitation was evident as the current continued its mad show around him. Inching back towards the shadows she glanced over hers shoulder.
Do be sure to share our new pet, she instructed, resuming her maternal pattern of speech. I wouldn’t want the others to get jealous.
With one final icy smile, she melted into the surrounding darkness eager for the dark deeds yet to come.
