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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening


    OCEANE -- Year 208


    "Because if she had not met him, she knew she would have been searching her whole life for the piece that he filled her heart with." -- Eva, written by Shelbi

    lost to the hunt as I was to you; rey
    He has been hunting.

    They move together. The red wolf is again at his side – once sleek and swift, now slowed and scarred – but the scent of their prey is finally thick in her nostrils, and their gazes meet in the semi-darkness that preludes the dawn. A single look passes between them before eyes of flint and amber turn as one to regard the silhouette before them.

    The hunted is at hand.

    He has not known who it would be – only that they would pay. Whoever it was had brought the maned wolf to the brink of death, and it had cost his own son’s freedom to bring her back from it. It had taken time, precious time, for the pair to ready themselves for what was to come. Red had needed to heal. His wife had just given birth to their newest daughter. So he had waited.

    But the storm within had been brewing.

    And now, as they step out into the filmy gloom, Daemron’s blood thunders and his eyes flash. “You,” he utters with unadulterated malice, his voice a tempest. He did not know her name, but he knew her face – and a low growl from his side is all the confirmation he needs.

    His fury is unleashed.

    They are summoned from the shadows without a sound. Bent to his iron will, they have gathered in legions. They have followed the hunter, awaiting his command – and now they seep from the wood and from the brush from all directions, wave upon wave of hide and maw. Their tongues are thick with the promise of the hunt to which he has led them, and every eye is trained upon Rey.

    They are hungry.

    They launch forward – every tooth bared and gleaming in the halflight – a swarm of wolves with singular intent.

    lost to the hunt as I was to you

    Beqanna is filled with the forgotten and I’m one of them. A non-immortal slut, wasting out her elder years in peaceful anonymity, the way I like it. And why shouldn’t I? I’ve done my part, contributed to the meaningless cycle everyone else around here seems driven to be a part of. I’ve whelped some kids with a King (more than most can say) and watched our eldest daughter ascend to a throne of her own birthright.

    Nothing else was asked of me, so I did as I pleased.

    Carnage giveth, but karma taketh away.

    They are lucky that I travel on foot while the season is nice. Lucky to have found me when otherwise I would prefer not to be found. It is luck and nothing else that leads the chestnut stallion to me one evening in the forest, but I turn to look his accusation in the face and laugh aloud when he recognizes me.

    Yes, my confidence soars. I see his little pet had survived.

    The first of the wolves to attack snaps on empty air, and so does the second and third. We’ve played this game before, unless his companion animal had forgotten? It’s with blinding fury and deadly smug accuracy that I flick from here to there and back again, teleporting so quickly that I blink in and out of sight. He cannot -

    “AAAAAAAUUUGHHHH!” My scream is bloodcurdling, high and filled with painful terror. I look back upon myself and notice that my body is cut in half by a young tree; I’ve miscalculated, teleported into something solid and now my innards are irrevocably cleaved from the inside out.

    The wolves - his wolves - descend, and I’m lucky (so very, very lucky) to have them rip into me and finish the job so ravenously fast. My legs are torn asunder first, and then one leaps in for the deathblow, sinking into my throat to dangle and drag my head down. Pain, suffocation; these are my final friends and I welcome them as much as I had welcomed Bruise’s game those many years ago.

    My lips bubble red with blood and I choke, going blind as a claw digs into my soft, fleshy eyeball. Then I am nothing, the same thing I’ve always been really. Nothing and no one, forever the end.

    Immune to The Plague
    Helped raise Pangea
    He could feel the rush of his anger in his veins as she evades his pack, flicking in and out of sight while the sound of her laughter taunts him, just as she had taunted him once before – and Daemron hates her for it. Over and over, the dogs sink their teeth into the emptiness where her flesh had just been. Their hunt has culminated to this moment, and yet she toys with them all as if it were nothing.

    It infuriates him beyond all recognition.

    She appears directly before him and he lunges, as does the maned wolf at his side, but she is not there – no, she is everywhere. In all of his rage he roars out, “You bitch! What she had done to Red, what she was doing to him now – he could feel the pack’s hunger gripping him. He could taste their bloodlust on his tongue – or perhaps it was his own. The willowed chestnut swings blindly about, catching glimpse of his target just before she disappears – and then an alien scream rips through the semi-darkness behind him.

    Slowly, he turns.

    It is gruesome and garish – but his steely gaze does not waver as he watches the wolves tearing her split halves asunder. Yet while the dogs feast, he finds his own hunger curiously unsated. A stroke of luck had killed her – not him. At that he moves forward, and the pack parts like a sea on either side of him (waves of wild fur and wetted lips). He comes upon the fateful tree, and there is a pause as he looks down upon flesh that had once been every color imaginable. All that remains now is the color of her blood – and it is satisfyingly red.

    He moves off, and the wolves have their fill.

    lost to the hunt as I was to you

    Rey <333

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