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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening

    COTY

    LILLIANA -- Year 206

    QOTY

    "There is still something of himself - something of the Wolfbane who would always love her - that rallies against the slime. It says, 'lie in the bed you’ve made'. So he gathers the covers and tucks himself in." -- Wolfbane, written by Calcifer


    stranger in this land; colby pony
    #1

    there are wolves in my head and their howling
    there was a garden of evil in the palm of my hand

    She is alone tonight, and she runs. 

    The ground is soft beneath her paws, springy and giving as she lopes forward, the powerful muscles that rope across her back driving her forth. She can feel the storms brewing in the back of her mind, those things that she doesn’t dare face—those thoughts that simmer and bubble and threaten to spill over. She snarls as she runs, her lips pulling back as the growl runs up her deep throat, racing along her tongue.

    Gods, she wants to tear something apart tonight. It is not a delicate or a sweet emotion, but it is an honest one. She feels rubbed raw, the edges of her skin crackling with a static energy as the evening folds around her, the darkness draping across her broad back. She would not be picky, she thinks, as her eyes begin to sweep around the area around her. She doesn’t need the largest game or the most dangerous hunt.

    She just needs something to funnel this nervous energy into.

    Something to blunt the edges of her razor edge tonight.

    Something to take the brunt of her unnamed fury.

    She has no real target, nothing to truly draw her ire, but she rages all the same. She has to wonder if it is better or worse that nothing has angered her and yet she angers. Does it just live within her now? Does she just constantly swallow the broken glass of her fury because she is the spark and the ember?

    Sochi doesn’t have the answers.

    She just has the ache in her muscles and the endless night as she runs forth.

    She just has the silence and the sound of her breathing and the feel of her pulse.

    She has herself and herself only.

    It is probably best that she is alone.

    now I'm broken and bleeding, I’ll never find my way

    S
    OCHI
    stranger in this land


    Colby she is feeling really social i'm sorry
    [Image: sochi.png]

    I was less than graceful, I was not kind
    be out watching other lovers lose their spine

    Reply
    #2

    — I'll break you a hundred different ways —

    He is not often caught out in the night.

    In fact, it is rare for him to be out at all. He preferred the solitude and the quiet, avoiding the mundane chatter that often clogged the more populated areas. He couldn’t relate to them, and they couldn’t relate to him. His mind is often blank, fueled only by thoughts of necessity – food, drink, and very rarely, sex. Everything about him was minimal – especially in the dead of night. Stripped down to nothing but bare bone, disjointed and skeletal – though not the bleached white that you find scattered on the beach, worn by sun and elements. His bones still reek of the muscle and blood that rots away come nightfall, and the only sound is the scrape of low-hanging branches as they rattle against the vertebrae of his spine and the fine bones of his wings as he walks.

    This part of the forest was often deserted, which is why he kept himself here. The trees are dense enough that hardly even the beams of the moon can strain through it, and is away from the prying eyes of others. He wasn’t concerned with frightening them – but he loathed their questions, even if they went unspoken. Perhaps if he had the capacity to understand, he could sympathize with their curiosity; after all, not even he was immune to having his interest piqued. He supposes he might be a hypocrite, but he doesn’t think on it too much.

    He hears her before he sees her – by some sort of strange magic that allows him to still have his senses despite lacking the vital organs for them. He stops, turning his skeletal head to watch the tiger as it rushes towards him. He stands, gaunt and unmoving, with a haunting tilt of his skull, wondering if she will stop, or simply go around. He wouldn’t make a very filling meal for her tonight.

    — and I'll make you remember my face —

    Nightlock


    Sochi
    Reply
    #3
    Sochi

    darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
    maybe you need me or maybe you don't

    He is not her usual type of company, or even her usual type of prey, but he is different enough that he catches her feline attention. It is the barest of motions that signal she even saw him, a twitch of his nose, the narrowing of her eyes, the bunching of muscles beneath a thick winter coat. It is enough to send something racing up her nerves—a competing sensation of hunger and curiosity and the unknown that drops out beneath her, presenting her once more with a reality that she cannot easily understand.

    She considers gathering herself and launching at him, reacting on instinct and attacking, just so she can see what it feels like to have the ivory of him beneath her paws, the crunch and snap of bones between her teeth. But even she, barely restrained and mostly feral, is able to pull herself back.

    In the end, the curiosity wins out over the hunger.

    It is not always the case.

    She stops herself barely in time to keep herself from slamming into his insubstantial side, coming to a stop much less graceful than usual. It spits dirt onto her face and she jerks her head, rising up into a half lunge to share herself entirely, her body graceful and lithe. When she comes back down on all four paws, there is a nervous energy that races through her although it is less nerves than straight excitement.

    The thrill of the hunt still keen in her eyes, jittering in her bloodstream.

    She shifts, hoping her form of prey will blunt the edges of it, and sheds the form as easily as she wore it. Within seconds, she is once again equine, the shine of her iridescent nearly as bright as her silver eyes.

    Even in this form, she can smell the faint, ripe edge of something rotten on him and it dulls the hunger in her stomach. She is glad that she did not take him between her teeth before she stopped to assess him.

    “Have you escaped death or has it escaped you?”

    It is the only question that she can think to ask.

    playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
    if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf



    Nightlock
    [Image: sochi.png]

    I was less than graceful, I was not kind
    be out watching other lovers lose their spine

    Reply
    #4

    — I'll break you a hundred different ways —

    Even though her movements do not slow,  he remains unmoving. The feline slides to a stop, and in seconds, she has shifted into the form of a horse. It ignites just the barest sparks of jealousy, at the fact that she is able to switch so easily between two forms. He had no control over his; the sun and the moon controlled his flesh and bones, and he was completely at their mercy. He thinks it would be nice, to be able to shift at will, but unfortunately that was not the hand he was dealt. He was only slightly bitter about it.

    He can feel the electricity that hums off of her, can still see the hunger that darkens her eyes, but he can offer only a blank, empty stare. Even fully fleshed, he was only mildly more expressive than he was now, stripped to bare-bone, with not even a hint of emotion to flicker across the void of his skull. The bones of his wings lift and rattle in response to her question, the only real sign that he had heard her. ”I suppose I escaped death,” the words are almost abstract, disjointed as they come from his jawbone and nothing else, ”Since she decided to spare me today.” A pointed tip of his head in her direction, although it easily could have gone unnoticed.

    A shift of weight, and he is moving closer, taking in her dark skin and the iridescence of her blaze. She does not seem put off by the sight of him, although he is sure the freshly rotted flesh was a lingering scent that left something to be desired. ”What were you hunting for?”

    — and I'll make you remember my face —

    Nightlock

    Sochi
    Reply
    #5
    Sochi

    darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
    maybe you need me or maybe you don't

    He is interesting enough as a conversation that she dismisses the possibility of him as a meal—although there are worse things than working your jaw on bones and sucking out the marrow. Still, she lets the hunger subside, working its way down from a rolling boil to a mere simmer as she tucks her chin closer into her chest, her silvery eyes considering him from beneath the swath of smoky black forelock.

    “She has decided to spare you for now,” she corrects, although there is no malice in her words. After all, who is he to say that this conversation would not go sour? Who is to say she would not change her mind? And, if she was not to bring his demise, there are other dangers out in the world still.

    It would be foolish to pretend otherwise.

    She lets it slide though, whether he agrees with her correction or not, and instead watches as he inches slightly closer. Her lips peel back in a quick warning but she settles again, not upset by his proximity but not willing to let him domesticate her in his view. “I had no specific prey in mind,” she says easily, rolling a muscled, scarred shoulder. “I am able to find all types of game during evenings such as this.”

    Some smaller, like wild rabbits, and other times larger.

    She eyes him for a moment.

    Much larger.

    “What of you?” She realizes then that it sounds like she was asking him what he was hunting for and the thought curls a corner of her lip in sardonic humor, amused with her own joke although she doesn’t bother to voice it aloud. “What brings a…horse?” her voice tilts slightly up in question, “like you out here?”

    playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
    if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf



    Nightlock
    [Image: sochi.png]

    I was less than graceful, I was not kind
    be out watching other lovers lose their spine

    Reply
    #6

    — I'll break you a hundred different ways —

    He is humored by the for now that she adds to the end of her statement, and the unspoken but implied threat that lingers there. She did not fear him, as some did; although their fear was often unfounded. An awkward puppet of bones is all he was once evening fell, but for some reason the sight of his fleshless form was disturbing to most. Of course, she had no reason to fear him. He could see the sharp teeth that had glinted in her mouth, and knew she would delight in the feel of his bones being ground to dust with the force of her bite. He didn’t fear her either, however. Let her bite – he wouldn't feel it.

    When he does not press further, it is difficult to say if he is respecting her warning – which he gives no indication of having noticed – or if he has simply decided on his own to not continue to encroach upon her space. It is tempting. Tempting to see how far he can push her, until she snapped at him. Perhaps another time, should their paths ever cross in the daylight hours. Teeth against flesh was for more filling than the empty clatter of bone. “I’m sure you do,” He concedes to what she says of her array of prey, teeth clacking as they meet with each word, and with no flesh or skin to keep the sound concealed.

    There is another haunting tilt of his head at her question, staring at her with void sockets. He doesn’t attempt to agree or disagree with the inquiring lilt in which she says horse, and instead only answers her. “Solitude. Their questions are annoying.” His head swings in the direction that would lead towards the meadow or the river, both of which were far more densely populated than the forest tended to be. The land was full of peculiarities, but it still didn't seem to keep the stares and questions at bay. 

    He turns back to her, then, asking almost abruptly, “Who are you?”

    — and I'll make you remember my face —

    Nightlock

    Sochi

    I'm sorry I made you wait two weeks for trash, but, I love you <3
    Reply
    #7
    Sochi

    darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
    maybe you need me or maybe you don't

    Sochi isn’t even sure where her boundaries lie.

    So much of her remains unexplored territory; so much of her has never been discovered. She had spent the majority of her life contained to such a small corner of herself that the rest of her feels wild and untamed and unknown. She doesn’t know what will serve as triggers for her—what will spur her into action, what will set off her temper, what will make her want to wash her hands clean of something.

    All of which to say that she would be as interested as him to see how far he can push her.

    What would it take for her to snap?

    But he stops pushing, instead choosing to respect the distance between them, and her lips settle once more, her handsome face falling into neutral, calm lines. She wonders how much he can see without eyes, how much he can sense when he is nothing but bone and air, but she is not the type to ask overbearing questions—not the type to press someone for answers she isn’t even sure she wants to know.

    When he comments on the annoying questions of others, it surprises a laugh out of her. She turns her gaze to the shadows, the laughter fading into a frown and then a scowl. “I don’t blame you for wanting solitude.” So many of them have no respect, have no understanding of the natural rules of the wild. They choose instead to cling to these nonsensical ideas of a society—choosing diplomacy and words over the purity of violence and natural order. It makes no sense to her. On most days, it infuriates her.

    No, she couldn’t blame him for wanting distance from that.

    “Sochi,” she answers when he asks. She has nothing to hide from him. Not now, at least.

    “What are you?” she counters, because she decides she doesn’t care much about the ‘who.’

    playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
    if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf



    Nightlock

    that wasn't trash.

    i'm sorry for replying obnoxiously fast.

    i'm not really sorry.

    but i love you anyway. <3
    [Image: sochi.png]

    I was less than graceful, I was not kind
    be out watching other lovers lose their spine

    Reply
    #8

    — I'll break you a hundred different ways —

    He has been fortunate, in that on the incredibly rare occasions that he has accidentally fallen into conversation with another, they have at least been moderately interesting. She is enough to hold his attention, for now, although it is difficult to discern that on the empty, emotionless surface of bones that make up his face. The magic of Beqanna is a strange thing; he shouldn’t be able to see, or to hear, or to walk and move. And yet, everything is limited when in this state, but still possible. Enough to get him by, although there is a rusty, mechanical movement to him — there is nothing refined about being made purely of bone.

    He hadn’t expected her to laugh, but even that sound was almost fierce coming from her mouth. Everything about her seemed harsh and unforgiving, and he found himself wondering what became of those less fortunate than him; someone smaller, or just simply stupider. “Solitude is difficult to come by. Everywhere is too crowded,” he pauses before adding dryly, “To my liking at least.” In certain company, even one was one too many.

    She asks him what he is, and the grating sound he emits is something similar to a laugh. He steps towards her, almost imperceptibly toying with the invisible line they’ve drawn between each other. “What do you think I am?” The bare-bones of his wings creak as he lifts them, rattling as they settle again back into place. He lets his question linger for a moment between them, before answering himself. “I’m normal, except for at night.” It still irked him that he was not in control of the transformation, but there was little he could do about it. Other than continue to be irritated. “And, my name is Nightlock.”

    — and I'll make you remember my face —

    Nightlock

    Sochi

    Well at least this one didn’t take two weeks <3
    Reply
    #9
    Sochi

    darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
    maybe you need me or maybe you don't

    There is a tension that lies underneath the conversation—enough that they cannot simply fall into a friendship. Although Sochi is not quite certain she is capable of such an easy relationship anymore. Once upon a time, perhaps she would have been able. Perhaps she would have even relished it or sought out the opportunities. But now? Now she cannot find such desires in her. It just seems exhausting.

    Still, he is an interesting enough companion.

    At his question, especially as he asks it while reducing the space between the, her lips rise again, the teeth shifting into sharper canines. “I think you’re a midnight snack,” her tongue flicks out lightly to touch her bottom lip, something like a warning flashing in her silver eyes. She’s given him two warnings now, she thinks, and although she doesn’t usually bother with them at all, she knows she won’t offer a third.

    But he pauses and answers her question and she angles her head slightly in thought. “So a chew toy in the dark and a fleshed out meal during the day.” A tilting of her lips into something like humor. “What a blessing, Nightlock.” She cannot imagine what it must be like to pass through the moonlight without so much of you missing. Her shifting has never removed pieces of her—it has never stripped her clean of that which makes her herself. It has only given her the ability to walk in two forms.

    It has given her two lives, not less than one.

    “How many know both forms of you?” she asks suddenly, thinking back to the earliest years of her life when she hid so much of her true self. Was he the same? Did he segment himself?

    Or was he brave enough to show both sides of the same coin?

    playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
    if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf



    Nightlock
    [Image: sochi.png]

    I was less than graceful, I was not kind
    be out watching other lovers lose their spine

    Reply
    #10

    — I'll break you a hundred different ways —

    He acknowledges her warning this time, perhaps not outwardly, since he had no way to display it on the stripped bones of his face. But, he does tilt his head for a moment, as though to contemplate whether to oblige her or not, before he finally shifts a step backwards. Not completely bending to her, but at least showing that he could be mannerly, if he so chose to be. He didn’t fear her — there was little he feared, perhaps out of sheer stupidity, or perhaps because he had nothing to lose or gain by being alive  — but he wasn’t entirely disrespectful, either. Not tonight, at least.

    “Seems more like a curse rather than a blessing, but I appreciate your optimism,” Perhaps for the first time there is something deeper to the usual monotonous tone of his voice, a strange sort of humor audible in the way the words are spoken. A poor attempt at jest, that likely will fall flat, but he can’t be bothered to care too much.

    Her last question, however, is the first thing he could say truly intrigued him; not just with her, but of anything and anyone he’s ever encountered. It was one he had never been asked, and something he had not put much thought into. ”No one,” He answers simply at first. The curse had been put in place long after he was born, and so not even his own mother knew both sides of him. Even before, he had never been one to keep companions, and now it just seemed futile.   “I don’t really make a habit of sticking around.” He doesn’t regret it. There was no reason for anyone to be around long enough to witness the change. Everyone he met it was only in passing — purely accidental. “What of you, Sochi? How do you choose which  side of you to show?” His voice is low again, the words issued slowly amid the clicking of his jaws and teeth, recalling the tigress he had first encountered. 

    — and I'll make you remember my face —

    Nightlock

    Sochi
    Reply




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