"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
A voice in his head commanded him to hunt, to kill, woke the beast that had slumbered since he devoured the wrong prey-beast and took its shape. Metallic fur splashed with white faded to armored scales, and his shape bent and twisted and reshaped itself into his own once again. Hunt, he would happily do.
But not for someone else.
End had never been one to take orders. Instead, he prowled through the volcanic lands, scenting the air with his tongue as he stalked through thick greenery. Prey was abundant in these parts now that it smelled of prey again. How those vile creatures survived on grass was beyond him, and he settled into his skin with a twitch. He flicked out his tongue and savored the faintest taste of blood on the air, of fear and panic running rampant through the land.
They tasted so much better afraid. It really was too bad devouring that particular species of prey-beast locked him up in an equine-shaped cage and made him something he was not. Still, there were plenty of other panicking beasts, lizards and rabbits and small deer that were just as good at filling a belly, if more slowly. Another voice rang out in his head, though, naming the place he’d settled into as one of the safe havens from whatever plague had infested the prey-not-prey.
Ugh.
They would all come. And they would drive away the prey that didn’t force his shape into something unnatural and disturbing. He grumbled and listened in, noting that one of the neighboring islands was not on the list that would draw a frightened crowd. So he made his way away from the volcano land and into the water, swimming across a nice stretch of sea until he reached the lovely tropical island that was more suited to his nature anyhow. He stalked ashore and found a nice cozy spot to settle in the sun, to bask and regain some of the body heat he’d lost to the sea.
She's playing in the shallow water under her mother's watchful eye. The Tephra sun warming her narrow back, as she chases minnows as if nothing in the world could bring her more joy. She is careful not to actually catch the delicate fish, of course, because she knows that would hurt them. But the fun is in the chasing anyway, in moving and jumping and being alive.
She is oblivious that the realm is crashing down around them, blissfully in a world of her own where its just her and mama. But suddenly she stumbles, it's not unusual, and she giggles at first. But even though there are only several inches of water below her, once the falling starts it doesn't stop.
She falls and falls until her curiosity morphs into terror and her panicked cries are heard by no one as she travels across the world as mere particles in a puddle.
The magic deposits her with a splat in front of the most terrible creature she has ever seen. Her cries are silenced as she looks at him, and awe mixed with fright is written plainly on her tiny face. Little waves lap Tocca's already soaked skin, and she freezes.
tocca
brennen x ava
OOC: Tocca is a Brennen x Ava baby living in Tephra accidentally discovering her water teleportation >
The sun lulled him into a trance, his muscles melting with delight at the heat soaking into them, his eyes drifting closed to savor the feel of his blood warming in his veins. Mmm, so warm and welcome after the water’s cool season chill. Swimming was easier to do in summer, even in the warm western lands.
A child’s scream had his eyes flashing open, pupils dilating, nostrils flaring as his tongue flicked out to scent the air. Mmm, prey--no, he had no wish to be trapped in that cursed shape again. But she was so young, her flesh would be so tender and delicious...he opened his mouth, baring his sharp teeth in a wicked grin, saliva dripping from his jaws, and commanded his body to move, to strike, temptation far too great.
But his muscles were sluggish and slow to react, still chilled from the water and the first hints of something more, contagion he didn’t realize was setting in. He growled lazily and narrowed his eyes, snapping his teeth at her once in frustration, but it was half-hearted at best. And he played it off as deliberate with another rumbling growl as he tilted his head and looked the child over.
“Have you come to feed me, then?” he hissed. “You look awfully tasssty.”
11-01-2018, 06:02 PM (This post was last modified: 11-01-2018, 06:04 PM by The Tin Man.)
Hearts will never be practical, until they can be unbreakable. (But I still want one.)
Ischia wasn't too bad, The Tin Man mused as he trekked through the water. The sand was tricky to walk in, and the seawater glowed at night with the not-quite-plants that sometimes stuck to his hooves, but it was also pretty quiet.
Something drifted on the wind--a reptilian LIZARD scent that he very seldom encountered, but he did know the tangy notes of sickness and made a note to stay on guard if it ended up closer than he thought. The splashing that he heard, sluggish but steady, didn't help his nerves: This lizard was BIG, so no way was it related to the ones that skittered around and ate leaves or bugs.
But then some different splashing, a wave of unexpected magic-scent, and a small, female shriek made him pin his ears back. He headed towards the commotion at a canter, with the water and sand slowing him down--he didn't like the smell or sound of whatever was stalking in the water, but he also didn't want it near a foal if he could help it.
So The Tin Man arrived to find a shivering, wet filly standing frozen in the water, eyes locked on a third creature.
"Ohhhhhhh no." His black tail swished, and now all the weird magic-sick-PREDATOR smells were running together full-force, but he waded up towards the filly regardless. "Honey, we need to get to the shore, come on!"
hold me in this wild, wild world 'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
He has a magical finger on the pulse of all of his children. It is the best part, in his opinion, of the magic Beqanna has gifted him. The bay stallion isn’t directly involved in the lives of all of his offspring, sometimes he is merely a sperm donor of sorts and the mother doesn’t want anything to do with him – but he keeps a quiet track of them anyway, and it’s so much easier now. Of course then there are times when the world goes to hell and it’s easier to see who isn’t in danger than who is, but like all things he believes this will pass, in time. Right now, he’s mostly ignoring the whole lot of them while he tries to figure out what to do about the right now, in the here and now, with the part of his family that lives with him and his Brothers.
Brennen may be distracted, but the whirlwind of increasing distress and then absolute panic of one of his children – and on his own shores! – is not something he can ignore. With barely a thought, a brush of his mental fingers against the ocean, Brennen is between the threat and his daughter. In a single battle-trained glance, he assesses the situation. The lizard is the threat; the stallion behind him and beside the filly is not – at least not immediately. Therefore he turns his formidable amber gaze directly unto the threat, and the sound that emits from him could only be described as a growl (if, of course, equines could growl).
“No one will be feeding you in Ischia,” he snarls, pinning his ears and snaking his refined head towards the giant lizard. At his hooves, the shallow water bubbles and froths in response to the power that escapes his not-so-practiced control. He flicks one ear backwards towards the filly and the stallion, and he tentatively reaches out with thoughts – not something he’s been keen on practicing, because it seems like a mistake could have terrible consequences, but someone had pointed out to him that it might one day be a useful magical skill. He should remember to thank them. ‘Go!’ he attempts to send the thought to them. ‘Find shelter on the island;’. The last thing he wants is either of them underfoot if this comes to an actual battle.
hold me in this wild, wild world and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
Hearts will never be practical, until they can be unbreakable. (But I still want one.)
And in a flash came another stallion, winged and practically soaked in magic. The Tin Man could smell the shared blood between the new stallion and the filly: Her dad. Great, because he had not been looking forward to the idea of fighting Mr. Big-Ass Lizard by himself, if at all--but the relief got shoved into the back of his head by a foreign voice.
Male, loud with urgency, but half-directed (or just not practiced?). The only thing he could really parse out was GO, and a garbled direction to find... land. Go to the island? The stallion checked the shores. A clear stretch of sand with a darker edge of earth at the end, not too far but also very wet...
The Tin Man's nerves were already raw at the presence of the Big-Ass Lizard; soon they'd be frayed and he'd just start running, so he stepped next to the filly with a good few feet of separation, trying not to spook her. "Okay honey, your dad said to go to the island! Follow me, I won't leave you!"
She gulps hard, unsure exactly what that meant but between the snapping of his jaws and the question which came before she was pretty sure it was a compliment she didn't want. "Th, th, thank you," she says anyway, her mama had told her to be polite to strangers after all.
But they aren't alone for long and she looks away from the awkward intensity of the creatures stare to the horse-shaped stranger with a mixture of relief and curiosity.
Then there is another, and her already overworked heart skips another beat. Her lips part ever so slightly in awe of the Pegasus as her tiny face tilts up and her eyes, the same color as the tropical waters around them, take in the shiny black wings. Mama said Papa has black wings, she thinks, and her mind is made up that He is a good guy. Just as she is about to move towards him, her thoughts are jostled and loud command.
"Go"
The order and all its urgency comes through crystal clear, and she jumps in surprise and obedience. With a wide-eyed glance to the other kind male as he speaks she does as he says, channeling her energy into the urge to run.
In a reckless gallop, she stays close to The Tin Man's side. Sand flings from her tiny hooves in a way that lets her know that this may be the fastest she has ever run. The running helps to burn off some of her excess adrenaline and soon she bounces to a halt, craning her neck to better see her father and his opponent.
Her Father?
"I... I don't know who my dad is," she softly contradicts the stallion, her eyes never leaving the bay Pegasus and the dragon-lizard squaring up in the distance. "He lives far away and his name is Brennen."
Hearts will never be practical, until they can be unbreakable. (But I still want one.)
The Tin Man kept his gait to a lighter gallop once the filly snapped out of her fear--he did promise he wouldn't leave her, after all. And they forged across the shores to dry land, hopefully before the bay stallion and his opponent started fighting.
Once they were safe, however, the filly promptly informed him that she didn't know her dad besides his name, in the blunt way that foals usually did, and the Tin Man tossed his mane to try and shake off his awkward feelings. So the bay over there is a sperm-donor, he thought. Okay, then...
"Well..." Time to hope he didn't accidentally get caught in some family issues. "Do you know where your mom is?"
