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  • Beqanna

    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


    you wear me out, pteron
    #1

    do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?

    He stretches almost like a cat, dragging his talons through the river mud and leaving deep gashes in their wake. His wings spread with the sun turning the membrane of the appendages a strange peachy-red sort of color. Veins of varying sizes are visible for a brief second before he folds the wings over his back with a quick snap. The ragged wounds across his face have begun to heal, slowly, but they still hurt from time to time. Ghaul wades slowly into the river where he takes a deep breath and plunges his face into the stream. The water always stings at first, but the coolness of it soothes his scarring tissue.
     
    Little air bubbles stream up from his nose until he lifts his head once more. The water is still chilly from the winter snow fighting to hang on a little longer in the north but he doesn’t seem to mind. It is only a minor inconvenience in exchange for some relief from the marks Sochi left him with. He wonders if they will be friends or if he will always want to peel her face from her skull. Either way, he doesn’t intend to invest any of his hope in any sort of relationship with her, friendly or not. He dips his muzzle into the river a second time and gives his head a little shake to ensure it’s fully soaked.
     
    When he lifts his head a final time, his ears swivel forward to listen to the various voices around him. None of them are familiar nor are their heat signatures. The frigid water trickles down his chin as he climbs back up the river bank, shivering and tucking his wings around him like a shawl. He observes the various blurs around him for a while before he notices one almost similar to the woman whose wing he claimed for himself. This one is not quite so small, however, and he wonders if it would put up a greater challenge.
     
    But these fresh wounds deter him from opening his mouth wide enough to rip another limb from its socket, he thinks. A defeated sigh escapes him as he wanders closer to the figure, head tilted as he croons quietly to himself.
     
    I like your wings,” he says with a smile that is all teeth and little warmth. “I am Ghaul.

    ghaul

    @[Pteron] what a creep im so sorry
    Reply
    #2
    finger trips across my cheek----------------
    ----------------kiss me until i can't speak

    After the warmth of the tropical ocean, the river that brushes past his fetlocks feels remarkably cold. It’s not, not really, but as he kicks one hoof and watches the arc of glittering water, it certainly feels so.

    The sea breeze had swept him south, down around the peninsula of the Pampas and then up into the bay, depositing him here at the mouth of the river. Pteron’s olive gaze follows the water he’s kicked as it is swallowed against by the gurgling rapids, and he draws back a hoof to repeat the action when his blue-tipped ears flick backward at the sound of someone coming nearer. Pteron takes a step back, putting all four feet on the damp bank, and turns to face the stranger. And it is a stranger, one with strange markings and stranger eyes, and Pteron follows the curl of the horse with unhidden curiosity.

    I like your wings, says the boy who introduces himself as Ghaul, and Pteron takes a moment to look at the other’s wings as well. Dragon wings, his least favorite, and dragon scales as well. Pteron is not fond of dragons, and it shows in the frown that appears. But this is Ghual and not Reia, and Pteron is able to introduce himself with the trepidation that shows in his face.

    “Thank you. I’m Pteron.” and then, because he is curious. “How can you see them?”

    @[Ghaul]

    -- pteron --

    Reply
    #3

    do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?

    They are each fortunate in cultivating relationships with others, though in entirely different ways. While Pteron romances and charms, Ghaul simply collects and takes them. He wonders if this winged stranger will be the first male that he drags back to Pangea as his prize or if Gospel would try to eat him first. The wyrm imagines them each tugging and fighting over the boy’s bone and it brings a smile to his face that comes out crooked and full of pointed teeth. Luckily he can’t see the way his new friend regards him.

    Pteron,” he repeats quietly before his tongue thoughtfully curls over and around his favorite fang. The question causes Ghaul to tilt his head curiously for a moment and he wonders how best to answer for a while. To reveal his cards or keep playing them close to his chest, he wonders. “I see your warmth. Your outline.

    And then he breathes a small plume of fire and watches it curl, white hot and then vanishing as quickly as he brought it into existence. He creeps closer then and touches his nose to Pteron’s cheek so that he might map his expression, to better understand this moment. When he finds his new friend’s brows furrowed with concern, however, his smile fades and he searches Pteron’s lips. A frown. Ghaul takes a momentary step back and regards the pegasus for a moment as his anger writhes up into his chest. Should he grab him by the face and try to pull his jaw bone from his skull? Should he devour his eyes so he can be blind too?

    Stop making that face or I’ll peel your skin to help you,” he hisses, teeth all clacking together and little embers escaping his jaws as he speaks. His wings spread open in a primal threat display, talons gnashing at the dirt beneath them. And then he closes the small distance he had afforded Pteron only moments ago. Once wrong move and it’s clear the hellspawn will make good on his promise with glee.

    ghaul

    @[Pteron] if you want ghaul to attack him he will but i didn't want to rush into it
    Reply
    #4
    finger trips across my cheek----------------
    ----------------kiss me until i can't speak

    The green-eyed Pteron is appropriately wary of danger. Or at least, he usually is, and today he had made a mistake. How dearly will he pay for this, the pegasus wonders? There is surely fire behind that mouthful of sharp teeth, blue-white flames that would easily sear away the flesh of his piebald side, split him down to the bone in a heartbeat. The lack of eyes distracted him, naïve curiosity fostered by the general ease he experiences after a night with Aquaria.

    The stranger answers him, describing a way of navigation Pteron had never considered. Sometimes he can find his nestmate by the warmth they radiate, but that is nothing like what he images this boy must see. What does heat look like? Is it white like fire? Or orange-red-yellow like fire? Maybe it is a nothing color, maybe it is like the shimmer of the horizon on a Loessian summer day. Letting his mind wander is safest in times like these, the boy has found. Letting his mind wander and staying very still. Ghaul’s scales are hard like Reia’s, and his breath is hot behind those many teeth, and he too has little care for Pteron’s personal space.

    The dun takes a deep breath to hold while he stands immobile beneath the buckskin’s questing mouth, and realizes this is a mistake nearly immediately. Ghaul’s spread wings and talons elicit the proper response, Pteron’s own white wings halt their unfurling in a visible display of his hesitation and uncertainty. Interacting with a predator he does not know is far more difficult than Pteron would have ever anticipated. Does he try to appease him? Apologize? Surrender and hope the mauling is a quick one? Reia likes to be offered sex sometimes, but that’s certainly not happening with Ghaul.

    Playing dead seems much more tolerable, even with the seemingly endless pain that so comes along with it. Maybe it will be a quick rip of the jugular, Pteron lets himself think, and as he empties his mind in an effort to prepare himself, his olive-eyes catch for the first time on the markings along his face. They remind him of a cold night with the universe wrapped tight around him. “I like your stars,” he tells Ghaul with a soft smile. It won’t be so bad to die thinking about those stars.

    @[ghaul] 

    -- pteron --

    Reply
    #5

    do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?

    Ghaul has not yet learned to fear anyone or anything in this world. All of his adversaries to date have been met with rage as he rises to face each challenge set forth before him. Perhaps one day he will learn what it means to fear death, but for now he has the upper hand with Pteron’s life cupped gently in his palms. He could snuff the light from his eyes in seconds. The piebald boy is like a baby bird, fallen from the nest and at the mercy of the cat who stumbled upon him.

    The monster feels his lips curl into a smile when the pegasus stiffens and holds his breath. A part of him had been thrilled when Sochi refused to surrender so easily, but in truth he prefers submission like this.

    But just as he parts his awful jaws to sink those crooked fangs into Pteron’s face, he speaks. Ghaul pauses with a thread of saliva connecting two teeth. His stars? He closes his mouth and exhales in a harsh snort. The word has been spoken to him before, but its meaning is too abstract for him. When he looks at the skies, there is only a wide blue expanse with nothing for him to admire. Time is only measured in the temperature of the moment for him and little else. His life lacks the poetry of beauty or color. In fact, the only thing in this world that he holds precious to him is Clarissa, because her feathers and scales put him at ease. That, for him, is beauty.

    Still, he is displeased with the way his new friend responds to him. He bends and yet he does not soften as the others do for him. An odd chittering noise forms in Ghaul’s throat before he suddenly opens his jaws once more to swipe his fangs roughly against the other’s temple. The hellion runs his tongue over his teeth and he is greeted with the bright taste of copper that tells him he has drawn blood. A purring sort of croon escapes him then as he shifts his weight, contented by the flavor. He does not know that this play thing heals just as Sochi does, that the mark may be a scar at best within moments.

    Pteron, what are stars? Why do you like them?” he says as he watches the blur of his face for a while. As chaotic as he seems, Ghaul is easily appeased by compliments and he is content to simply mark Pteron. He will be a treasure that is allowed to roam outside of Pangea, the drake has decided. “I like your wings because I imagine they taste nice.

    ghaul

    @[Pteron] its like friendship rings but permanent and he has no choice!
    Reply
    #6
    finger trips across my cheek----------------
    ----------------kiss me until i can't speak

    Each breath might be his last, so Pteron savors each one, the cool evening air sliding down his throat, flavored by the water of the river and the brightness of fresh summer growth. His ears flick toward Ghaul when the creature chitters in his throat, and his breath catches as sharp teeth pierce his temple. A shallow wound, but his skin is thin there, and a crimson line trickles down his pale cheek. The flesh mends quickly, but it stings long after. Biting, that he is accustomed too, though Reia uses it to keep him in line, and Ghaul has bitten him for…well, Pteron is not sure exactly. Fun? Dominance?

    He asks about stars, about why Pteron likes them, and the dun pauses for a long moment. He pauses long enough that Ghaul tells him why he likes his wings, and Pteron swallows audibly. There are a great many things from which he can recover, but he is not quite sure how feasible life after consumption might be. He’s seen pieces of his flesh on the red clay of Loess before, left them behind when he moved away without a mark on him. But how fast can he heal? Where does he heal from? The answers to these questions seem far more immediately important than why he likes stars. Pteron knows better to delay though, an overlong pause is nearly as bad as the wrong answer.

    “They’re lights in the sky at night. Like fireflies, but always bright, and no matter how high I fly they never seem any closer.” He has tried, many times, and each time the air becomes too cold or his head too light, and he regains consciousness while tumbling back to the earth. Too far, he’s found; some things are beyond his reach.

    “Please do not eat them,” he adds, knowing that his voice trembles but unable to control it. “You could have some feathers, but I like that they are attached to me.”

    -- pteron --


    @[ghaul]
    Reply
    #7

    do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?

    The little gasp that comes curling so meekly from Pteron’s throat delights Ghaul but he does not pursue another taste of the pegasus. Instead, he is happy with what little he has taken for himself while the other tries to explain stars from him. His voice wavers with the trembling of his nerves and it oddly soothes the monster-boy. Some of the words he says don’t make sense but he likes the idea of these stars being unattainable, beyond reach. His tail swishes back and forth while he considers this description for a moment longer.

    They sound nice,” he mumbles at last as he tips his chin upward to look at the sky in the hopes he might be able to see them this time. But he can see only that same empty blue that he is used to – a sky full of questions rather than answers. He sighs in mild disappointment before returning his attention to his new plaything. In his mind, they are friends now, but the title assures him only slightly more safety than others.

    His small ears swivel forward curiously when Pteron makes his request and then a thunderous laughter comes rumbling up and over Ghaul’s lips. No one had ever simply asked him not to devour them. Well, at least not before he was already sinking his teeth into them. His scaled head tilts as his smile remains smeared across his oddly handsome face. He bumps his nose gently to Pteron’s jawline in a somewhat affectionate gesture.

    I like you, Pteron. I will keep you whole. I think you’d be less funny if I ripped those wings off,” he snickers. Still, he leans closer to touch his lips to those feathers once more, and they make him think of Clarissa. Even the memory of his twin flame softens his edges and relaxes his taut shoulders for a while as he looks back to his friend’s face.

    Is it easy for you to fly?

    The question must seem odd, but there is always some difficulty in landing or taking off for him. He has found himself tumbling into shrubs or rocks before in his attempts at flight. It must be so much easier to be able to see, he thinks with a tinge of jealousy.

    ghaul

    @[Pteron]
    Reply
    #8
    finger trips across my cheek----------------
    ----------------kiss me until i can't speak

    The time between each of his heartbeats drags on like an eternity. Pteron waits, no longer attempting to still his quivering muscles. There’s nothing more he can do, he knows, everything is up to Ghaul.

    They are standing so close that Pteron can feel the shift of air when the stallion beside him tilts his head up. He must be trying to see the stars, Pteron realizes. Best not to tell him that stars aren’t usually visible in the late afternoon, he wisely decides. He’s rewarded for this thoughtfulness – and for his earlier plea – by the sound of his companion’s laughter. The bump along his jaw contains no teeth at all. Pteron releases a shaky breath, less reassured by the other’s assessment of his humor were he to have his wings removed. Pteron’s stiff wings do not soften until after Ghaul has pulled away again, and the question he asks doesn’t quite match the subtle loosening of his muscles.

    “It took a long time to learn,” he tells Ghaul, deciding that an answer that was not bragged was probably in his best interest. “But now that I know how, yes. It’s pretty easy. Like running, I guess.”

    -- pteron --



    @[ghaul]
    Reply




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