• Logout
  • 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


    [mature]  turn your face towards the sun
    #11
    L E P I S
    i turned all the mirrors around
    Her throat is protected but her neck is not, and the piebald stallion’s snapping teeth find their mark. Lepis bites back a gasp, her own teeth clenching tight to give it no indication of weakness. The original wounds along her neck are from more vicious blows than this bite, but the blue skin that makes up the scar tissue is more sensitive than her uninjured hide had ever been. Wolfbane had known that, comes an intrusive thought. He’d kneaded them so gently on those early nights when she was nearly too stiff to move, and even when the pain of them had faded with the years he was never less than tender.

    The cursed creature in front of her might have forgotten the details life that its skin once had, but Lepis has not.

    She has tried though, and the habit with which she shoves down the intrusive thought is one made easy by repetition. This is not Wolfbane in front of her. It is not even Castile. It is a monster, and her husband is dead. This thing in front of her had killed him.

    ‘Finally’ it hisses as they separate. The voice is strange – not quite Castile but not Wolfbane either. Is it Wyrm, she wonders, or Longclaw? It doesn’t matter, she thinks as her dark hooves shuffle about on the red earth. She feels it growing softer beneath her as she is backed closer to the water. Had she paid more attention to her Uncle’s lessons on battle she might have remembered the importance of keeping the higher ground, but she did not. Her only focus now is not turning her back to it, in never giving it the chance to attack unseen.

    It feels the regret, she is sure of it, but it does not seem to slow it. It taunts her instead, and she wonders if perhaps the only things the Curse keeps of the lives it consumes is the knowledge of how to inflict the most damage on those they once cared for. Lepis doesn’t need the bravery she’d summoned to curl her lip in disgust when she realizes the answer he refers to. That’s why he’d waited so quietly through the spring and summer; he’d been biding his time. The dun mare has heard rumors the Taigan Ambassador had borne a pair of striped twins this past spring, but it seems the Curse has decided to spread itself out in a more literal sense.

    She has worried much over what she might use to lure it here. Lepis had contemplated stealing away the trio from Taiga or launching another effort to find Heartfire. She needs bait for the trap they are setting, but getting it seemed always to require moral compromise. Unjust imprisonment is one of the very few things on which the grey-eyed mare does not compromise, and so she has struggled long to think of what might entice the thing. She needs it here only long enough to spring the trap, and with enough warning of its arrival to ensure they are ready.

    Spring is farther away than she’d like, but the opportunity he unwittingly presents to her is too good to pass up. When the false bravado leaves her, Lepis is likely to regret the decision she makes. Why worry about finding bait when she might grow it herself?

    ‘Come closer’, he growls, and Lepis does.

    The wariness in her face as she draws nearer is not manufactured, and though she does start at the transformation from wings to tentacles, she does not shy away. The bravery keeps the fear away; there is no need to put on a show for this monster the way she had for the Pangean one. It knows she is frightened – or at least the scattered remnants of her husband would know. Outwardly though, she appears nothing more than resigned and suitably wary for a woman approaching a monster with the appetites of a man.

    She knows that the safest thing to do is run.
    She comes closer instead, flinching as a pair of tentacles wrap themselves around her forelegs. Another winds its way around the base of her left wing, and the last squeezes around the narrowest part of her throat. They do not impede her movement for all their tightness, and she continues forward, stopping just near enough to be heard over the quiet slap of the crescent lake against the shore.

    “You’re lucky there’s no line tonight.” Lepis tells it, quickly drowning the nausea that rises at this flippant reference of her past. Not a flicker of it appears on her shadowed face or in the low tone of her voice. “But you should know I prefer my payment up front these days.” The dark-haired mare appears entirely uninterested in picking a further fight. Lepis knows she takes a risk in this, in hoping it will believe that this is truly the type of woman she’s become in the four years since her marriage shattered. There have always been rumors that she had seduced her way to success, and to those on the outside there does seem some merit to them. Her hope is that there is little enough of Bane in this creature that it accepts that outsider’s perspective. Or perhaps just enough of him left to confirm the suspicions that she had always worried he'd had. 

    The silence between them stretches just long enough that she prods: “So? What do I get out of this arrangement?” Her fondness for bargains does not appear to have changed, though it is clear from the distaste that deepens the lines around her storm-colored eyes that she expects a rather large repayment for her participation in any deal. The tentacle around her neck makes breathing slightly difficult, and her mouth remains open even after she is quiet. She does glance at the tentacle just to the side of her mouth, and then bares her teeth at it in a mocking grin as if to say: ‘See, I could bite but do not.’

    @[Wolfbane] had told her she couldn’t bargain with the thing, but Wolfbane is dead. He clearly didn’t know the Curse as well as he thought he did.

    n | l
    #12

    I believe I'd die if I only could

    I sure feel strange, but it sure feels good

    At first he was intrigued. @[Lepis] didn’t shy away from him, she moved closer. She hadn’t done what he’d expected her to do, but it only threw him for a second. Just long enough that the tentacles jerked to a stop before writhing and continuing to grasp for her anyway. Why hadn’t she made him suffer? It was what Wolfbane had prepared for: false emotion after false emotion being thrown at him like javelins, and then a heavy dose of artificial pain or maybe even complacency. He’d practiced resisting before arriving, and for what? For nothing. The bait hooked itself.

    His heavy aquatic arms wrapped their puckered, slimy feelers over her legs then under her wings and throat, and Bane had trouble deciding if he was alright with this turn of events. He considered the options:

    Yes. Lepis could’ve easily crushed him with the weight of unbearable feelings. He would’ve fought back, maybe even done his best to hurt her in the process, and maybe she would’ve escaped afterwards. But that left them both empty-handed and him more pissed off in the end. How could she be certain that he wouldn’t channel that rage into other pastimes? It would’ve been easy for her to deflect him with her gifts, but Lepis couldn’t guarantee that some other unlucky horse wouldn’t end up suffering because of it. She might’ve gotten rid of him, or damaged his ego, but it would just be a speed-bump in the road for Wolfbane.

    Or maybe she really was getting used to sleeping her way to the top these days? He’d always wondered what she’d really been up to in her spare time. Who it was that ended up comforting her at night when she was alone with her thoughts? It wasn’t him, and perhaps it could be Castile, (the rage simmered over a boiling point at the mere thought of it) but as soon as she taunted him with that floozy excuse for a bad pickup line, Wolfbane knew what was really driving her submission.

    Lepis was laying a trap.
    He could almost bet his life on it. The poor excuse of entertaining a line of stallions was simply that: an excuse. He knew it, because he knew Lepis wasn’t a two-kiss whore. No… she aimed higher, and thought too highly of herself as well. He jeered, “You save your own life, and someone else’s by giving in. That’s your penny payment, you filthy imbecile.” Castile’s look-alike snarled.

    The wriggling black arms flexed; he felt the way she struggled to breathe, and his smile grew. Wolfbane tugged his ex-lover closer - more like dragged - and ran his nose sickeningly over and around her own, inhaling her scent. Her skin was smooth as silk and their whiskers mingled together, sending shivers down his spine. He should kill her - get it over with already. But at the same instant he thought about growing fangs and clamping his mouth down over her own until the very last breath died within her, a jolt of pain-

    “NO.” His thoughts re-directed him, distracting Wolfbane. “Focus.” They commanded, and he grit his teeth even as Lepis threatened him with her own.
    “Enough games.” The stallion snarled. Using the leverage he had on her neck, Wolfbane yanked to try and bring her head down, then he let go and slithered to her hind, trailing his tentacles along with him so that they could all wrap around her wings from behind. He’d needed leverage to pull himself up, and by now his motions were feverish and hectic: a sense of urgency overtook him and the skinwalker traded his forehooves for claws that could dig into her flesh and hold her tight.

    He should be quick about this and then be on his way, if he didn’t want to tire out from so much shapeshifting. Besides; holding onto this ridiculous bodysuit of the former Loessian King was starting to wear on him. He only kept it on lest some other horse come across the two of them. It was his hope that they’d assume the obvious and quickly be on their way. Just another day in Beqanna, just another two recognizable horses fucking out in the open.

    For this thread:  Sex: M  ◉  Appearance: Disguised as Castile  ◉  Mood: Dangerous

    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #13

    l e p i s
    the next step was a question of how
    never thought it a question of wether

    The glow of dusk is fading quickly around them, but she can see enough in the dim light. Enough to watch the emotions that pass over Castile’s face: confusion, thoughtfulness, rage. It is an odd experience, because she knows what her Uncle looks like when he feels those things, and the horse in front of her does not match her memories. Even with this perfect disguise, there are some things it does not know to imitate. Lepis tells herself that this is important to remember, any information gathered about the Curse is good information. It is surprisingly simple to think of this calmly, but such is the power of her false bravery.

    It keeps her from shrinking away when it jeers at her, tossing her attempt to bargain back in her face. It gives her the courage to lunge toward him, except at that moment he drags her nearer, and the legs that had been bunched to propel her forward are instead dragged along beneath her. It is stronger than it should be, and she struggles to free her wings as the thing wearing Castile runs its mouth along hers. It is more revolting than she’d imagined being this near to her Uncle might be, and the bile that rises in her throat is not an emotion she can push away.

    “At least wear a different face,” she hisses, demanding even when she has to choke the words through its grasp on her throat. Some emotions she has no need to manufacture. Disgust at this assault is one of them. The shiver that runs down her own spine is cold fear, insistent and demanding. There is only so much magic she can handle without draining herself, and she is always weary at the end of a long day infusing the lands around her with peace. That the fear bleeds through her bravery is a sign of its strength. Were she to let go of her bravery now, she doubts she could do anything more than stand and tremble.

    She’d done that once, but she’s sworn never to do so again.

    It yanks her head down, and she stumbles to regain her footing only to realize it’s slithered behind her and wrapped the tentacles around her wings.

    Mere moments ago she’d been certain of this plan, of the efficiency of creating and growing her own bait. Thinking of it in such clinical terms made it seem simple, but the feel of him pressed against her is anything but. Despite what she has said and the monster’s suspicions, there has been no one else. The last lover she'd taken had been as red as the son she'd borne the following spring, and though she has told Elio and Celina that they are Wolfbane's children, she knows now that is not quite true. Wolfbane had never really come home after they lost Gale, and he'd been lost forever the night he accompanied Heartfire to the Beach.

    She’d sworn there would never be another, and to have that vow to herself broken against her will adds a cold edge of terror to the fear that creeps down her spine. With her wings bound to her sides and claws digging into the scarred flesh of her neck, she finally reacts the way he’d expected, abandoning her near-constant efforts to keep peace in Loess and instead focusing what mental strength she had on one final effort to free herself.

    It settles atop her, the weight a focal point for Lepis to send her emotions. The creature might have prepared himself to face Lepis, but she is not quite the same as when they had last argued, and she hopes that is enough to save her. The peace that Straia gave her power over is no longer spread across the entirety of Loess, Sylva, and the Brilliant Pampas. Instead, it is focused on the piebald creature that pulls her close to it with taloned feet, even the manipultion's end strength stronger than anything other emotion she can summon. To it she adds mercy and sympathy, those two that she has especially practiced for this day, theorizing they are unnatural for the monster and hoping they are not the sort of attack it had anticipated.

    “You’re hurting me,” she says, the pitch of her voice inside its mind matching the way she attempts to pull away from where those claws scrabble for purchase against her shoulders. She doesn't even mean to say it, and isn't even sure she has. The base of her wings spasm at holding even a fraction of its weight at this angle – they are not meant for this, and she knows exactly how they ache just prior to breaking. Does it mean to break them? The panic of having both flight and dignity taken from her renew the strength of her still feeble physical efforts to get away, and she attempts to kick at it with her left hindhoof as she exerts the very last of her mental efforts in an attempt to sway him..



    @[Wolfbane]


    n | l
    #14

    I believe I'd die if I only could

    I sure feel strange, but it sure feels good

    It wasn’t really about the sex. It was about sadism. About making the horses subject to his torture all the more embarrassed and humilated during that torture. It was about power, absolute, and the feeling of having the upper hand in matters of life and death concerning his victims. Wolfbane hadn’t started his encounters with Lilliana, Neverwhere, and Lepis under the assumption that it would lead to impulsive gratification, but somewhere in the heat of a blinding rage he’d lost control.

    His current victim is lucky that she has her own arsenal of weapons to help lull that rage. Wolfbane’s not in a mood to be careful or considerate, but all the same her energy flows through the wash of red he sees: peace slows him down, unclenching his grasp a bit, and the aftereffects of mercy and sympathy are enough to convince him that she needn’t die uselessly today. The skinwalker actually paused; he blinked. A dull throbbing in his head made him push away from Lepis violently.

    He hadn’t even realized that she’d been talking, and so the satisfactory pop of her heel against his chest drove Bane further back, shaking his head.

    He wanted the anger to be in control, nothing else, and Lepis was making that impossible. What should he do with her now? For a moment he felt exposed, driven away from the quarry by her own magic and stumbling backwards through the saltwater growth, away from Crescent Lake. Should he ignore the residue of her powers and try to kill her anyways? Would it even be possible?

    His eyes flashed in the night, but the feeling of Lepis’ emotional manipulation was like a thin membrane over every other thought he might possibly have. Her fabricated feelings were a residue over his real ones, and try as he might to summon a newborn hatred for her, Wolfbane couldn’t. He just… couldn’t. Knowing what he did about his ex-wife meant nothing, if he couldn’t prevent her from attacking him like that, so it was best to go - and go quickly.

    With a jerk of his forearm, Wolfbane flexed and dug his claws into the sand and dirt, flinging it up into Lepis’ face if she’d turned to look. He was exhausted, heaving and snorting by trying to fight off the waning sympathy and by trying to shift out of Castile’s horrid skin. Tired, and more dangerous than before; he would risk nothing and fight until the last breath, and suddenly this felt as if it might become that: a cornered battle to the end. “No, she will not have that.” Wyrm berated him, and the thoughts became more than words rattling around in Wolfbane’s overcrowded skull.

    A warm energy expanded through his limbs and like that, Bane vanished. The last of his conscious energy had been used up; he burrowed into the dark earth and was lost among the roots and rocks of Loess. Escaped, again, but closer than ever before to making a fatal mistake.

    He’d underestimated @[Lepis].
    Never again.

    For this thread:  Sex: M  ◉  Appearance: Disguised as Castile  ◉  Mood: Dangerous

    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)