My oh my, what a beautiful day. In Satan's sandbox. Barren as a saint's bedroom, dry as... well, a desert. My lips purse in irritation. You know things are getting bad when I'm running out of metaphors for "it sucks". Crispy, crunchy horrible dry plants, that's all there is to eat. Sagebrush. Have you ever eaten sagebrush? It's prickly and itchy and just about not worth the effort.
I'm eating it anyway.
Me and my big mouth landed me here, but it really wasn't my fault. Draco, he's why I'm here. That snotty little ball of gas couldn't take a joke. I only wanted to play with his sister, you see. To see if she was as batshit as her brother. I suppose I can still accomplish that, as long as I'm here. But it would have been so much more special if I'd been able to get her on her own.
It doesn't help that I'm not the only one here. There's a shining blue mare who waa stolen alongside me, "Oceane". I wonder what she did to piss off the sand people.
My tongue is pricked and my scales itch and it's miserable here. I've considered spreading my wings and heading for home, but there are hissing things in the dim corners here, and I don't know if they can follow me. Monsters. Real ones, not just the twisted souls of regular horses. That's all I wanted to see, wasn't it?
you, dark and glorious, are enough
 Draco had half of a mind to tear Rebelle limb from limb. He’d thought about the stench of her blood when he found her in Loess. He’d hoped that he would stumble upon her corpse half-eaten, a present from Ripley.
(Draco, while vindictive, is not fond of dirty work; the very thought of another’s blood staining his white bed sheets gives him pause.)
But the demon mustered onward, and when he had finally locked his eyes onto that vicious pink coat . . . He swallowed back a violent physical rage and placed a wicked smile on his face. No, he told himself as he took one forced and polite step forward, leaving a bloodied body in Loess will do no good. Not that stealing does much good either, but—no set of hands could pry Draco from his shiniest prize: revenge.
He thinks of her, dead, when he finds her in the dust bowl. Draco hadn’t thought much of her, actually, until she became so crystal clear before him. So real and raw but all Draco can muster is a flash of the hot, homicidal anger of when he had first stolen her. It isn’t a startling sensation, certainly not. It lifts his lips into his most charming smile yet.
“Hello, darling,” he states simply, tilting his head so that shadows deepen on his face. “You look thin.”
@[Rebelle]
 hitch a ride on my violence
At last he emerges from the dusty dim, and a sulky pout twists my sparkling lips. He certainly took his time. I trot up to meet the bloody bone crowned stallion, my tail flipping in irritation.
The fury rolling off his hide doesn't escape my notice, it was impossible to ignore once you knew the signs of it. But I pressed forward anyway, past the point of caring. "There you are!" I chided, as though it were a summer outing he was late for, and not the simple ignoring of a prisoner. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me. And after all the trouble you went to bring me here." A pecking kiss darts toward his dark cheek, teeth glinting briefly in the harsh light.
A dramatic, forlorn sigh feathers past my lips, sides heaving beneath dusty wings. "You sure know how to treat guests, I must say. Do you all eat so sparingly? No wonder your temper is always so foul." One chipped hoof kicked at the sun-baked earth underneath me. I found myself missing the Loessian springs more and more with each passing day, and I'm sure he knows it. My only joy is that I might manage to bring him as much grief as he's brought me these past days.
"How's that lovely sister of yours these days? Pigeon or Sparrow or something, right?" I asked, carefully bland. My ears flicked to and fro, eyes never leaving the gleaming crimson of his own as I sat back to see if I'd hit the mark I'd been aiming for.
@[draco]
you, dark and glorious, are enough
Draco, being the spectacularly vicious and directionless creature that he is, finds the worst kind of delight in those that detest him. It is easy for him to fall into creating their worst nightmares, to dream of forcing them into a chase with just the glow of his eyes. They crash there in his daydreams, his enemies, falling and tumbling and splitting ankles against sharp rocks. It’s glorious: a world Draco rules with no nagging responsibilities and disdainful looks.
Rebelle can live there, comfy in a nest of thorns. First, angry and then as time wears on, desperate. She’ll live until he is bored, and then he’ll leave her to what vicious nature lives in his head.
“I did forget, actually,” Draco cuts in with a shrug, rolling his eyes from her face to the sparse bushes beyond. He didn’t mean to forget, which seems more insulting than forcing himself to. Belle’s comfort established during his forgetfulness isn’t something that he loves, but Draco is certain he can make up for it.
“No, you’re just too dull to find the good grazing,” he retorts, a smirk slyly lifting his lips.
When Belle mentions his sister, Draco cooly states, “Dove.” He keeps his cool because they have a daughter now, and if she were to be brought into this feud, there would be heaven and hell to pay.
“She’s doing much better than you, that’s for certain.”
@[Rebelle]
hitch a ride on my violence
My ears tip back and forth, dismissive. He isn't telling me anything I don't already know. That he's taken his time in finding me is an irritation, but I've done my part, played the good little prisoner, and I'm over it. A hard shell drops over my eyes, cool as his own frigid demeanor.
I shrug, bored with his lack of reaction. "What brings you here, then? Run out of foals to terrorize?" I ask, letting my gaze wander past him. I can at least say of this whole endeavor that my curiosity has been far beyond sated. I know what Pangea looks like, and I know what lives in it. Very little of it impresses me.
A brief, dusty laugh pulls from my throat at his jab, my eyes rolling disdainful. "Well, no one's ever accused me of being too clever, so I don't know why you're surprised." The smile turns vicious when he corrects my tawdry naming of his sister. "Dove," I repeat, letting the word slip off my tongue like spittle. "My, your parents were right on the nose, weren't they?" I giggle at the clear separation of light and dark the pair's parentage had bred. "Poor, sweet Dove. She can only be doing so well living here, with a monster for a brother. I was only trying to help her, you know. To show her that theres more to life than dust bowls and tumbleweeds." I shrugged again, each dull feather catching the light.
I huffed a gusty exhale, red dust stirring before the blow. "Just as well. If she's been this malnourished all her life, I doubt she'd know what to do with that kind of freedom." My head throws back in a breezy 'what can you do' kind of gesture. "Anything else? Or did you just drop by for a little small talk. I know stimulating conversation must be hard to come by here." A look of pity crosses my brow, the bravado I'm feeding him running on irritation and the insufferable need to make him uncomfortable. As if I weren't already paying for that particular urge.
@[draco]
you, dark and glorious, are enough
05-06-2020, 12:48 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-06-2020, 12:48 AM by draco.)
"Ugh, Belle," Draco retorts, rolling his eyes, "you'd know I don't care for the terrorization of foals." He smiles now, tipping his head up to look down at her. "I put them out of their misery quickly. No need to prolong the murder of the young."
Draco's never actually murdered a child (he's too lazy for it, but perhaps one day he'll have the pleasure of killing one of Belle's), but he can't help but run his mouth.
It is clear that Belle is pushing his buttons, by the way her mind clashes and whirls with boredom and insults. Draco snorts, tilting his head to the left and eyeing Belle suspiciously. He's been on to take the bait before but - but again that little taste of fatherhood stays his usually trigger-happy hand.
"Hmmm," the demon hums as Rebelle drones. That angry, devilish pulse quickens, his chest tightens - he finds himself biting his tongue in her presence once again. A coppery taste floods his mouth but this time he swallows it back, savoring the blood and easing into the sting. "Got us both right on the nose, yes," Draco says, turning his frustration into a strained but charming smile. A mention of Starsin and Litotes is like a punch to the face for the demon - he doesn't like being remind of the mother he hasn't and years and the father that rushed into his arms as if forgiveness was ready and waiting. He wants to take that hurt out on her, mostly for being the one to bring them up - but also simply because she is here.
"Shut the fuck up, Rebelle," Draco snaps, locking her gaze with his and heightening the fearful glow of his eyes. His voice is growled but not overtly angry, and the way he crowds her next is almost hauntingly slow. As if this were inevitable, or perhaps as if the infliction of suffering on others is simply his . . . nature.
It is, Draco tells himself.
"You talk a lot of talk. Why don't I just feed you to the aliens? Or better yet . . ." now he purrs, pressing closer. "I could do something truly awful. Wear you down just enough and leave you alive. That kingdom of yours won't care, either. I'm sure they'll find you deserve it."
Draco stops, tucking his chin to neck and grinning.
"I'll make sure you leave here just as meek as you find my sister to be."
@[Rebelle]
hitch a ride on my violence
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