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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    [private]  Make every touch electrical - Bru pony
    #1
    You’re uncontrollable
    and we are unlovable
    The clear, hyaline lake is a joke. A contrast: a mocking image of what should be, would be, good and transparent in this world.

    The frosted draconic male stands belly-deep in the winter-cold water, that is still made of melted glaciers. Honestly, he could care less about the icy cold. Ice runs through his veins, and had become visible on his body long before it reached his heart and soul. Now, now it is finally visible - the icy blue of his eyes no longer quickly change to shades of various green, the spark lost and replaced with a more solid gleam. No longer does he grin so easily and then crack a joke to prevent people seeing the teeth. No longer does he bother to try to keep a largely vegetarian diet.

    Around him, little ice cubes float - the fish trapped inside are mostly already dead, frozen with a desperate look in their bulging eyes. Some are still alive, the little scaled bodies gasping for oxygen that is in the frozen water, right in front of their noses and gills - within grasping distance, but unable to be reached and used. Some ice cubes have been crushed already, whatever meat inside swallowed with the ice - a fish slushy.

    Now, it’s only the ice cold eyes that stare back at him from the water’s surface. The lake is still, as if waiting for something worse to happen.

    As if it knows that he can do way worse than torturing fish.

    It takes time - long time, short time, who knows - before he moves again. He submerges, water added to the ice on his scales and leaving it just as quickly as the new lake monster cleaves through the lake’s cold waters.

    Whereto, he wonders briefly. But he already moves to the southern end of the lake, emerging every now and then to breath, then sink again. But the river is less deep, and so he swims like any normal dragon horse when he exits Hyaline and enters the riverland.

    It will be some time before his dead fish minions will have followed him here, he supposes. He figures there is still time.

    For what, he doesn’t know.

    He only knows that he’s bored, and that’s no longer a good sign. Who knows what can happen when he’s bored, these days?

    and I don’t want you to think that I care
    I never would, I never
    could again
    Leilan
    no. 7 | ice forged in fire


    @[Bruja]
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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    #2
    I wander.

    Raul, the careless boy, has left me to my own devices, left me and hoped I'd stay put. He's the last one to go, my blustery lad, but go he does. Santana and that graceless girl, they escaped some time ago. My little birds, free of the nest. Fuck 'em. I never asked them to stay, and I never wanted them to hold me down. They would leave, I knew, it was only ever a matter of time.

    And now I am erratic, light throbbing in staccato sparks along my skin, tingling with the freedom of it. I had had spare moments to myself some months ago, before the cold and wet set in. Before I realized they weren't coming back. He visited me, left me a present. Not the one I wanted, but beggars can't be choosers, and now I'm being followed. Quiet, quiet as a mouse, bright eyes can't avoid the sky tinged thing forever. No, he's there, I catch him in the corners of my eye, and I have to lose it. Fly away, you hopeless creature, leave your troubles behind you! 

    So I do, and it's nice to be alone. Just me, myself and an irrational fear of heights. This shouldn't work, and it doesn't. I didn't fly, my wing is dragging, draining, letting me down. But I'm alone so it doesn't matter as much. Alone, and I'm not sure where I left my little lightning bug? Oh well. He'll find his own way, ready or not. They all do in the end. I'm going to take a walk and see where this sorry tale goes. 

    My tail is sorry, too, tangled and ragged. I just have not kept myself up lately, no sir. A sad little ghost of what was once a beautiful disaster. My shiny self is now dull and thin. Bones beneath the skin. My beautiful bones, white and red and so close and yet so far. I can see them, peeking through the ruptured skin, shattered and dead. I was shattered and dead. Now I'm just shattered. A pane of ice dropped from very high, but it still has to be ice. Can't stop that, even if it's not useful to anyone anymore. They keep sticking it back together and hoping for a miracle. Instead some pieces got left out and now it's a pretty, impossible thing. 

    Impossible. Impossible, impossible, impossible. Such a fun word. A challenge in its sincerity, and what am I but a challenge? Too easy, that's what. I look at him a while longer, realize I've been staring already too long. He just appeared before my eyes, like the ones I miss the most. A sudden focus, and I know I'm not alone. Unfortunate. Still, manners, shall we? 

    "What are you doing in the river?" I ask, all politeness, all kindness. "Have we met?" If I'm seeing him, we must have. I know no strangers anymore. Just some shadowed memories that jump out at me when I least expect. But they're all familiar, they're all true. A feather drips to the water, swirls away. My eyes focus on the missing thing, watch it intent as it leaves forever. Everything leaves, and it'll be forever soon. 

    @[Leilan]
    Reply
    #3
    You’re uncontrollable
    and we are unlovable
    He’d tried being a horse. He did. He really did.

    It just wasn’t a good fit.

    So when his wife had left him for another, when she crushed the glued remains of his heart, he’d decided he was going to give in to the traits that long since had been bestowed upon him. Dragonice, for fire was never in his heart, but the cold and distant way he reacted to the hurt the world had in store for him, fit him like a glove. Teeth and scales, because he scared away others in more ways than one, so why not. Dragon eyes, seeing the world for what it was.

    He’d used those things for the protection of others, once. He had decided not to, any more.

    And here was a vision from the past. The pearlescent mare, Castile’s… friend? Lover? At the time, anyway. Last time he saw the dragon-shifter, he smelled wholly of another woman. Something feline about that scent.

    The scaled, frosted male turns towards the pale woman, examines the look on her face. She looks a little too happy for her state of being, but perhaps that is something she hasn’t noticed. To be honest, she would not even make a good meal right now. Speaking of… he wonders if she’d take fish or meat if he offered. It might be worth a try to revive her a little more, somehow.

    From his place below her near the shore he can count the ribs that barely sport the feathers - feathers that, like the one that slowly makes its way down to the river, don’t look as shiny as they should. But there’s the gleam of former beauty, of things that could have been.

    So why not?

    ”I believe so.” At the time, he’d not forgiven himself for being too late, for instead of watching the border, thinking that watching the queen (his wife) would have been enough to see the lavender man coming. Nowadays, he pushed such silly ideas away. He could never do it right anyway, so maybe doing the wrong thing would make him feel better instead.

    Wrong things, like making a move on a mare who was with a friend - or at least not that long ago that he couldn’t remember. But reservations were for the weak. Love was for the weak. Ice blue orbs gaze at the mare whose attention is on the drowning feather. She is as much distant from the world as the crazy mare was, he thinks. But let’s test that theory. ”Have you ever experienced drowning?” he asks. The tone indicates no threat, simply curiosity.

    To think, his own drowning had changed him for the better.

    Or the worse.

    and I don’t want you to think that I care
    I never would, I never
    could again
    Leilan
    no. 7 | ice forged in fire

    @[Sabra]
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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    Reply
    #4
    My eyes don't stray from the ragged blue feather, following it as the current drags it this way and that. But he's talking, still talking, and I'm sure it must be important. And then the feather is gone, vanished around the bend, and I'm standing in the water with him. When did I get in the water? I'm not sure, but it feels so cold on my thin skin. Never did like the cold.

    But the water, it swirls around us, threatening to float me away. Where would it take me? I blink at him, confused. "Drowning? Can't say that I have. Thought about it though." It could be an interesting way to go, if it worked. And i rather wanted it to work. How long had I wasted here, near death but not near enough. 

    Wasn't that the story of my life. Right on the edge of what I wanted, and never able to really have it. Family, home, friends, faith. It all comes crumbling down and I'm through picking up the pieces. Let someone else have a turn. My lips are cracked and bloody at the corners, sore. I can't remember when I last drank water, or ate, for that matter. Who needs food and drink when the lack of it only means a sore belly and skinny legs? Not enough to kill me. What were we talking about... 

    Oh yes. 

    "Would you like to drown me?" I ask, and I may as well have asked if it will rain. If I can't die, at least let me feel something new. Maybe I'll prefer water to air, fill my lungs with it and breath out all my worries. There can be no space for anything else if all I am is water. 

    I'll let him think about it though, I'll take a drink and let him ponder. It's cold, so cold, and my throat hardly recalls the action. And my stomach will cramp the moment it hits. I hope he doesn't take too long to decide. 

    @[Leilan]
    Reply
    #5
    You’re uncontrollable
    and we are unlovable
    Can’t say that I have - thought about it though.

    ”Sabra, Sabra, Sabra.” He keeps a disappointed and patronizing tone as he repeats her name, like one would when talking to a child. Of course he remembers her name. If Castile hadn’t repeated it time and time again, it would be because his wife had once mentioned it after she had died. And she might not even know his, but that doesn’t matter. ”Are you that tired? No ties to the world?” Of course she has ties. It’s what kept her going. It’s what allowed her to stand here today, rather than that she was lying on the beach or in a cave somewhere, suffering on her own.

    He had not yet decided what to do with an answer if it came, but this one is definitive. She enters the waters long before she asks him if he would like to drown her. In fact, that had not been the first goal of the question, but she makes it so.

    The cold-emitting, scaled stallion moves slowly as if to circle her, but mostly places himself between her and the shore. ”It would only be temporary, you know that.” he tells her, eyes taking a yellow-ish color as he observes her - bones sticking out, he wonders if they’d be the same creamy pearl as her coat used to be when cleaned. ”What am I to do with you in the meantime?”

    The question is rhetoric; he knows he’ll have to take her with him. She’s evidence, and besides, it would be quite interesting to watch her, see if her body decays and then regrows or if she will be frozen in time, then suddenly wake up. He’s never witnessed anything of the sort; in fact, it reminds him of the joking answer he gave Kensa not too long ago; hoarding maidens, maybe eat one if they can’t be returned for gold. Now, eating is a step too far and not very useful considering the lack of meat on Sabra… he shakes his head, focusing a yellow gaze on the empty blue eyes of the gemstone mare.

    She looks careless. Wanting for a change. He’ll give that to her, then.

    When he moves, he tries to be fast at first. Grabs her by the neck, biting the jugular as well, then pulls her down. He’s no kelpie mermaid however, and she may have more pain than he had when he died at the time. But if she wants to feel anything, it won’t matter. Soon, it won’t matter anyway.

    She’s fragile, lightweight, and too easy to hold down. Even if her body shocks or she struggles, he has a long breath - figuratively and literally. Over before she knows it, he thinks. Hopes. Because despite the fact that he’s sort-of murdering her, he can’t help but feel a little affection for her still. She doesn’t need to suffer - and in this case, it might be exactly that fact that made him do it in the first place.

    When her body no longer spasms, he can afford himself to hold her down only with a leg. And when her eyes have lost their gleam, he does what he promised himself earlier - grabs her mane and pulls her with him upstream. There’s only a small trickle of blood that flows downstream - and the fish he’d murdered earlier that day finally make it down here as well. Who could tell the difference between fish blood and horse blood anyway? It’s easy enough.

    Actually, it’s been all too easy. Part of him wonders how easy it will be another time - if another time he would hesitate, knowing - or not knowing - if that other horse is perhaps not immortal.

    It's a thought carelessly tossed aside for now. Deemed unimportant. For now, he pulls the underweight body of the mare with him, wondering if she'll hate or thank him for it when she wakes up in his mountainous, icy lair.

    and I don’t want you to think that I care
    I never would, I never
    could again
    Leilan
    no. 7 | ice forged in fire


    @[Sabra] let me know if it needs changing
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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