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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening


    LILLIANA -- Year 206


    "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

    I love the way you hate me; BADWOLF
    "Evil requires no reason."
    He had been far from home for too long. He needed the touch of his beautiful Rys or his sassy Drow, or his calming Zur to keep the beast from boiling to the surface. He is weak without them (or weak with them, the voice whispers, tantalizing, shadowy threads pulling him down…down). Even the grounding touches of his kids would have helped. But he is far from them, lost down the rabbit hole that was Beqanna.

    the darkness was rising

    The forest called to him, it long has. It pulls him into the darkness, deepest parts of it and lets him take apart what he needs. He fights it, oh he does. The last coherent thought he had had was of his family, of their eyes when they discovered his shame, his weakness. And then, he pushes them all out.

    Sharp teeth take over his blunt horse ones. His body lengthens, a sound of bones cracking and realigning. Claws erupt from his toes. Shadows cling, and those eerie neon green eyes blink open once he is done. It had been a long time since he had taken this shape, the shape of a shadow hound. He is larger, more dire wolf size, but clearly nothing from this world.

    He loses himself in it, in the instincts, the wants, the needs of it. He doesn’t know for how long, only that when he returns, however briefly he is covered in blood, that he can feel it itching across his skin and on his face. He can see it on the ground, and looks around for the remnants of some unfortunate soul that had lingered too far into the forest. He sees him, a small satisfied smile curling his lips as he remembers the chase, the thrill of the hunt.

    A crackling in the forest announces someone else. He turns, ears flickering. A blink and he’s there in the darkness bit of shadows, his green eyes the only visible thing as he waits to be noticed.

    **Disclaimer, posting to Pazuzu can result in maiming, torturing, and all kinds of nasty things possibly happening to your pony. If you do not agree, do not post to him or if you do not want your pony horribly maimed, please say so. Most of the time he will just leave some nice new scars, either mental or physical.
    The clear, moonless night danced with starlight, dark enough Badwolf could look up and see stardust laced with shadows. Dark enough she could creep out of the shelter of naked tree branches that had long since dropped their leaves without feeling naked and exposed herself. She could dissolve into dust a bit like those distant stars, though nothing as glorious as that faraway shimmering galactic band, nothing so grand. Hers was the dust of earth, humble and ashen, not glittering with life and possibility.

    She was a daughter of magic and misery, and where those who came before her could turn the world to dust on a whim, she could only break down parts of herself, sacrificing bits of who she was over and over, letting her self give way beneath the demands of a ravenous world that only ever always wanted to devour. But no matter how much of her the vicious world might consume, each piece would only turn to dust in that cold bitch’s mouth, dust and ash that crumbled away into nothing, only to come home and restore itself to her body.

    Because fuck you. You’ll never get all of me.

    The grey of her coat had faded further through the years since she’d last set foot in Beqanna, soft white laced with dapples, and soft steely blue snowflakes still fell in lazy drifts down her skin barely visible beneath the light of cold, sparkling starlight. When the moon rose high in the sky, it lit her up like a heartless, vicious spotlight, highlighting every imperfection of her form, every awkward angle and curve that made her something not quite hideous, not quite horrific, but cursed with ugliness all the same. But the stars. They were quieter, leaving her the sweet lie of the shadows that were the only thing to ever embrace her.

    So when darkness blanketed the land once again, she crept out of the cave that shielded garish blue eyes from the blinding light of day. She itched to see the stars; it shivered along her skin like sand clinging to her hair, her whole body aware of the sensation, waking up and needing to move. She wasn’t built to be cooped up, but it was her only option during the day if she wanted to function.

    Maybe once the plague was cured, darkness would fall across the land, and endless night that left her free to roam. Wouldn’t that be a lovely change? Ha. The world was never so kind, not to creatures of dust and shadow.

    She paused though, a different kind of shiver running down her spine as she stepped into a patch of forest that seemed darker than the others around it. Normally this would be a pleasant surprise, but in this particular case it set the hair down her spine tingling and standing at a hint of attention, a cold shudder like icicles trailing along her skin. She stilled, bright blue eyes searching the darkness until they found the eerie green glow of eyes watching her. Caution should have won out, but she’d never claimed to be smart.

    “Who the fuck are you then, spooky?”
    "Evil requires no reason."
    Her words make the corners of his lips curl up in amusement. His magic reaches out, touches itself along her legs, creeping up, and up until the tendrils of it sneak into her ears, until she opens her mouth on a breath and it slips down her throat. He almost wants to choke her on it, but he does not, he lets it linger and cling, leaving a nasty taste in its wake. The magic taps into her blood, into her brain, shifting through her memories without a care for what emotion they bring. He doesn’t care if he breaks her.

    At least not until he realizes she is a part of him. A part of him from so long ago he feels a physical urge, a longing, to return to those days. Even as another part of him fights against it.

    A laugh, an eerie chuckle as the hell hound falls away, as it drops to the ground in pieces of darkness. They seem to melt and then slither along in his shadow until they crawl back up his hooves, his legs, seeping back into his black skin. “Your father.” He says, his teeth pinching her shoulder, his body slipping into shadow tendrils, wrapping him around her, squeezing her. His voice a whisper of wind against her ears. “Which makes you mine.”

    He lets fire burn along inside him, the tendrils of darkness around her, beginning to burn and grow hot against her skin. He holds her there for a long moment, singing the hair where he had touched before he releases her. He is nothing, lingering in the air that she draws into her lungs. He lingers there a part of her and a part of the forest and yet nothing at all.

    Until he doesn’t. He stands there before her, eyes as black as his coat and says nothing.



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