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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


    go tell your friends about it, ryatah
    #1
    i will be brutal
    He has grown to enjoy the forests of Beqanna more than he ever did the meadow. This place is far quieter, and he is less likely to be bothered, especially by any new mothers looking to present his latest mistakes to him. Larva has seen them scurrying around – hideous, vile things much like Saon. A frown creases his lips as he slinks further into the trees. Eventually, he finds a nice open patch of land where the sun begins to warm him. His pale green eyes close as his scales flourish across his face and shoulders, creeping up his spine and down his hips.
     
    There is a plethora of thoughts rolling around his head that seek to trouble him, but he casually brushes them aside for now. Things always have a way of resolving themselves without any effort on his part and so he has elected to simply do nothing. If Fiorina seeks him out to dump their little abomination on him, he will simply devour it and teach Priya that her other siblings are fodder. This idea causes his frown to shift upwards into a light smile that just reveals the pointed teeth behind his gray lips.
     
    But the sound of footsteps pulls him from his daydreaming as he turns his head. Larva gazes into the shade for a while, squinting in an effort to see her better. She is not familiar, he thinks, but he doesn’t take off to preserve his solitude just yet. Instead he remains in place with his sage green eyes focused on hers. It’s not every day that someone like Ryatah bumps into an old viper like him, after all. In fact, his lecherous heart spurs him closer so that he might circle her with a keen interest evident in his expression.
     
    Someone should keep you locked up somewhere safe,” he says with a light laugh. “Or would you rather be stolen away?
     
    He comes to a stop before her, his greedy smile smeared across his face. His favorites were always the ones who thought they needed a little more danger in their lives.
    @[Ryatah]
    Reply
    #2
    she fell for the idea of him
    and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
    She remembers when she used to frequent the forests more than anywhere else.
    When she still felt like a ghost, when this land felt like a stranger, and she didn’t have a place to belong.
    She would slip through the dark woods, a mere wisp of white flickering between the gnarled trunks of the trees, and she would listen to the melody of their voices and ignore that persistent gnawing of her heart before disappearing again. It was easier to disappear knowing they had never seen her, than to be invisible standing right in front of them.

    She still doesn’t belong – not really. She has surrounded herself with so many familiar faces that she has fooled herself into feeling like she has again found her place here, but beneath it all she knows she relies too heavily on those pillars to hold her up. She likes that she doesn’t have to explain herself, or any aspect of her life, to any of them (because she’s always hated how it sounded out loud – like it made all her mistakes and failures all the more real).

    But when she rounds a bend and comes across him she feels a spark of curiosity in her chest. She stops, catching herself admiring the way the dappled sun caught his scales, and the way it lit his sage-green eyes. There is a stretch of silence where she simply stands, her dark eyes warmed by the amber glow of her halo as she watches him and tries to kill the butterflies stirring inside.

    She shouldn’t be here, she thinks.

    She doesn’t need him. And she doesn’t know him well enough to want him, and she knows – can feel it screaming in the back of her mind – that the last thing she needed was to give herself a reason to. She cannot possibly break herself apart more than she already has. She cannot possibly let herself be lured in again by a sharp smile and the dangerous promise in his words when he circles towards her.

    And yet instead of leaving, she laughs, shedding the shadows of the trees in favor of the light of the clearing that she steps into, and if for a moment she catches his scent and thinks it might be familiar she doesn’t let it show. “Are you offering?”
    ryatah


    @[Larva]
    Reply
    #3
    i will be brutal
    Has he ever felt like he belonged among the masses or the rolling hills of Beqanna? In truth, he has never considered it. He has always had a habit of brute forcing himself into situations and commanding a space of his own in this world. Maybe sometimes it fell naturally into his lap and he simply failed to notice. Maybe this world has always given to his every desire. When Ryatah draws closer, he observes her with an ancient greed. Whether she is meant to be his is entirely beside the point.

    Larva wants to reach out and snatch the halo from her head so he can learn what divinity tastes like. Would it paint his tongue the same as the first blood he ever drew? Even after all these years, he still remembers what it was like to sink his teeth into someone for the first time. It was always the ones he claimed to love the most that died between his jaws.

    “Are you offering?” she says, and he feels a smile form across his face. But he couldn’t drag her back to Tephra and hide her in the jungle for him to enjoy whenever he pleased. Maybe he could make this little grove in the forest his, and her as well. His breath stutters at the thought as he begins to trace his teeth across her back and up her spine, along her neck until he reaches her jaw. Her skin tastes like a bleeding heart and it sends a shiver through him.

    No, I think it would be more fun to hunt you down again and again,” he mumbles into the curve of her jawline, mostly to himself. “To find you in the same spot I left you would be too mundane, too expected.

    His eyes trace the curve of her hips for a while as he presses his side tight to hers. She’s warm like basking in the sun and she smells like wildflowers. Somehow, this observation angers him. Ryatah reminds him of all the beautiful, perfect things in this world and he hates it. He reaches out to catch a lock of that pristine white mane between his teeth so he can tug at it roughly – a little test to see if he gets a reaction of her. Larva has always ached to ruin all good things in this world and it seems she won’t be any different.

    I’ll let you go when I’m done, and then you can run back to whatever suitor awaits you. Then, when I’m bored, I’ll find you and we can let everyone watch.

    It doesn’t occur to him that they’ve done this whole song and dance before. But this time he burns her face into his memory and he places love bites across her shoulder just to taste her blood. He’s careful not to bite so deep that it might scar, though. He always leaves without a trace, in the end.
    @[Ryatah]
    Reply
    #4
    she fell for the idea of him
    and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
    For once, her impetuous nature is shadowed by an unfamiliar apprehension. She has always been more prone to flirting with danger than shying from it, and yet there is something about him that makes her cautious. The way that he looks at her – and she is trying not to stare for too long at those sage green eyes, trying to not get cut on the sharpness of them – makes her skin prick. She is afraid of him, and it is different from the way that she is afraid of Carnage. There is an unexplainable kind of trust that has been built between her and the dark god, something that she isn’t sure could ever be articulated into words.

    There is no such thing between her and this beautiful stranger, though.

    He comes closer, and the amber glow of her halo softens the darkness of her watchful stare, tracing his every move.  This man, with the scales that nearly glitter in the dappled light, and the serpent-like way that he moves, she does not know his intentions nearly as well as she might be able to guess at Carnage, or Atrox. How fast could she heal her own slit throat, she wonders?

    Likely not fast enough.

    There is a fear that chases the surge of adrenaline when his teeth touch her back, and trail up her neck. There is a sense of danger, a warning sign, and she tosses it aside, but maybe not so carelessly as she usually does. Hunt you down, is what he says, and though her breath hitches in her throat at the words and the way they feel murmured so intimately against her jaw, she leans into him. “You’ll find that I’m boring prey,” she breathes as she turns her head, her lily-white lips skimming across his skin. “I don’t typically run.” She was the lamb that walked willingly into the lion’s den, just to see what it might do; as if it could ever be a mystery.

    Her heartbeat quickens, and her blood springs willingly to the surface at the beckoning of his teeth, bleeding bright and crimson down the pristine white of her. She does not heal the marks, not yet, and instinctively she presses closer to him. “I don’t have any suitors,” and spoken so sweetly from her tongue, it isn’t a lie. She doesn’t see herself as someone that anyone actually wants – not to keep, at least. Even if she smells like Atrox and Hyaline, even if there are scents of other men that might cling to her skin, she could never be so bold as to assume that she meant anything to any of them in the long run.

    “So I guess it’s just you.”
    ryatah

    @[Larva]
    Reply
    #5
    i will be brutal
    There has always been a strange sort of duality within him – a quiet war waging between his two selves. On the one hand, he sees a woman like Ryatah and he wonders what it would be like to love her. He can imagine sun-bathing beside her on a too hot summer day and then wading out into a clear lake somewhere. He could treat her so gentle and kiss her just right, the way someone ought to be treated. But on the other hand, he wants to see the light go out in her eyes and hear what sounds she might make on the way out.

    Both halves twist and coil around one another as he watches her now. Her blood paints his tongue just the way he likes and yet her skin is so soft that he could kiss it forever. The choice lies in front of him just as she does – it does not run or scamper or hide. When she leans into him, his lips part to take her by the throat but he pauses to hear her speak. It is never the hunt itself that sates the hunger burning in his gut. He laughs, and he doesn’t mean to, but it comes out all the same.

    Alays had never run, either. The thought sours his mood and the two halves of him begin to devour one another. Her memory always comes like a phantom in the corner of his vision. “The greatest ones never do,” he whispers softly. They had each kissed his face and told him he was beautiful. They always fed both halves and somehow left him even more ravenous than before. It is never the chase or the kill or the taking that drives him but the way his prey manages to turn on him somehow. All the beautiful ones show him rock bottom and then throw him a shovel.

    When she presses into his bite, he can’t help the way he sinks his teeth in further. Her blood pools into his mouth and it still doesn’t feel like enough. Larva pulls back and swallows but there’s so much that it streaks brightly down his chin.

    He steps back and then he gives in just like he always does. His body slides on top of hers and he holds her tight like maybe he could love her. He slides inside of her and kisses her spine so gently. It must come as such a surprise, then, when he isn’t so delicate the second time. Larva bites into her wing to give himself leverage as each thrust becomes rougher. He grows less concerned with her and almost entirely about himself. The only fragment of control he retains for Ryatah’s sake is not flooding her veins with venom, though he considers it.

    A thin layer of sweat develops over him and his breathing grows labored. His growling turns to filthy moaning and he shudders as his body collides into hers one more time. His eyes are closed tightly for a few seconds longer before he finally releases the battered base of her wing. Larva slides off of her and his scales recede beneath his skin, leaving only familiar scars in their place and a trail of her blood all down his chest.

    We’ll find someone to love you just so I can take it all away,” he finally says with a shrug, laughing freely at the idea.
    @[Ryatah]
    Reply
    #6
    she fell for the idea of him
    and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
    She recognizes the shift in him, only because it is something she is so familiar with. The shift when she is reminded that the games she plays are real and have real consequences; that he could drain her dry here in the forest, if he so chose, and there is a fleeting moment when the same powerless feeling that always finds her simmers in her veins. She is used to being powerless; she is used to being entirely at someone else’s mercy, so much so that she forgets that with this angelhood – as undeserving of it that she feels – there is a new power.

    If she wanted, she could never let him touch her.
    If she wanted she could let his teeth sink into nothing, she could become as tangible as fog, but she knows she won’t do it.
    She wants her skin to break beneath his touch more than she wants any kind of control.

    There is no resistance from her when he takes her; instead she softens in compliance, her slender neck arching when her delicate nose tucks near her chest. She bites back a gasp when his teeth dig into her wing, inciting a pain that shoots down into her shoulder, but all she can do is press closer to him. It feels different to be with a virtual stranger – she can’t even remember the last time it happened. Her heart was a fickle thing, always changing it’s mind or shaping itself in desperation to what it thought someone else wanted, but it rarely strayed from a core few.

    It felt exhilarating, and yet somehow wrong; when she finally is released from the haze of sex and excitement she would wonder why this made her feel almost guilty when betraying Skellig rarely did.

    He leaves her bleeding and trembling, but there is still not enough fear in her eyes when she looks to take in his handsome face. She doesn’t know what his words were meant to do; if they were meant to frighten or hurt her, but they fail to do either one. Instead she casts him a rueful smile when she says, “That’s assuming I don’t destroy it myself.”
    ryatah
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