• 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


    please stay, for this fear will not die
    #1
    Most days, most days stay the sole same
    Please stay, for this fear it will not die
    Down low, down amongst the thorn rows
    Weeds grow, through the lillies and the vines
    She bathes.

    Withers deep, head submerged.

    Plants can hold their breath for a long time.

    From here, the sun's light filters through the river's topmost layer with an gold angelicism nearing incomprehensibility; it glitters in a way most fantastic. When Noori sends the fishies to swim to and fro beneath its rays, their scales reflect colours unseen from the above-water world. How beautiful.

    How boring.

    She bades one such fish swim in her mouth, just to know how it feels. The bone-like wood of her molars caress the creature, feel its scales like the crevices of a mountain; she mutes the urge to bite down, knowing such pointless cruelty would gain her nothing. Still, the magician convinces herself that the fish manages to escape when it wiggles from her lips rather than acknowledging that she freed it by way of her own choice.

    Splash.

    The above-water world tastes disgusting; she resents it. The cries of her own ecstacy during lovemaking in a river such as this keen on repeat in her mind's ear and in one single moment, she wishes to be fucked like that again (to feel that cavernous void that gapes at the center of her being filled with the physical delirium of trauma-bonded cock, to kiss goodbye her sense of sanity and health in the name of toxic love, to lose her identity to a man whose identity-eating appetite could not be satiated no matter how wet she became for him) while wishing also to die.

    Her teeth gnash, the absence of the fish infuriating.

    noori

    Reply
    #2
    I am here.

    It doesn't seem like much to know, but so often anymore I couldn't say where I was. Today though, I know I am here, beneath the claustrophobic canopy of trees. Their interlaced branches pin me down and hold me in, stop the implosion from repeating itself. Under their sheltering prison, I am safe. 

    The sky, once lover, now taunts me as viciously as the Voices do. Broken girl. Too fragile to fly. Why have you got wings if you can't use them anymore? Best not to look up when I can avoid it. So I walk instead, a looping path worn gradually through the mulch and mud, my once shining coat dull with dust. The spear in my breast points the way. 

    It's almost an old friend by now. Familiar whorls and veins that wrap along the slim shaft, long since dyed rusty brown and new red with my ever dripping blood. Yellow eyes gleam in the shadows. Always a few paces behind me, I must keep moving or all will be lost. 

    And then comes the hard part. Where the water splits the earth in its violent way, rushing by without care or concern. "Do you remember?" I croon softly as I stare into its gleaming depths. Eyes wide as daisies stare back at me from a hauntingly familiar face. Too thin, too scarred, she looks like a relic of days gone by. Left in the corner to gather dust when new toys come along. 

    "Do you remember killing me?" I ask again, suddenly angry. It had help, of course. But the water runs cold anyway, and I can remember the feel of it inside my lungs. Crimson stains the surface for a moment until I blink and its running clear once more. I don't think I've forgiven the river yet. 

    The clack of teeth on teeth snatches my attention, drags my gaze away from the drowned woman looking up at me. Confusion blurs my expression. A tree is angry. Or sad. It's hard to tell. "You should get out of the water," I find myself calling, anxiety in my voice. "It's devilish, tricky stuff." It whispers sweet promises of relief and rest, and all I got was this stick in my chest. 

    @[Noori]
    Reply
    #3
    Most days, most days stay the sole same
    Please stay, for this fear it will not die
    Down low, down amongst the thorn rows
    Weeds grow, through the lillies and the vines

    "Aloof" fails to do justice in describing the mare in the river but then, most words do. Whatever definition she fell under in the past she rejects in the present, determined to detach from her identity to such an extent that reality becomes uncategorized, too. Let them live, she thinks to herself. Let them live and die while I remain here.

    She feels no different when another one of them arrives. Her ear offers the smallest of twitches at the mare's crooning voice, first directionless and then headed straight for her. How fitting, that a madwoman would be the first to discover the nymph freeloading in this autumnal land; the powers that be seemed quite inept at rooting out the rats, to whose numbers Noori certainly belongs. In any case, she does not care for the other's presence.

    Tries not to care.

    "Why are you scared of a little water?"

    With that, the mage sings to the ancient parts of the river which once took the shape of rain and sends them up, reverse droplets storming above the stranger's heads in a great display of what wickedness lays in a storm. Swirling, tunneling, whipping and slashing. Yet not a drop finds its way to either Noori or the anxious woman who keens to her reflection. And, just when it seems as though the show will reach its peak, the droplets freeze; and, without ceremony, drop back in to the river.

    "The devil lives within, or so I've learned."

    noori

    Reply
    #4
    I watch on in mixed curiosity and apprehension as the tree spirit draws water from the tributary. It rains and falls to her command, and I can't look away. The threads of water tangle overhead, weaving images I can almost define. Spatters of feral moisture with worlds at their cores. 

    Then they're falling, and with a mighty splash they land back where they came from. My gaze is cold as it turns back to the bark skinned creature. She's playing with the water as if it were a friend, but I know it will turn on her one day. Friends always do. My broken-glass smile fractures my face and I shake my head in reply. "You'd know all about that, would you?" 

    It's a scathing question. There are monsters in this world. Demons and devils of all shapes and sizes, and they don't often try to hide themselves. If she's known a few, I wouldn't be surprised. That doesn't change my impulse to dig at her bark, to dig talons into the cracks and break them open. For a long moment I stare at her, and don't realize that looking out of my eyes is a devil of my own. 

    Hushed whispers pull at my skin, needle sharp and cruel. They ask me why I'm standing here. What have you forgotten, wretched thing? What sits inside your rotted brain and waits for you to remember it? I snap at the antagonizing voice as if it were flies bothering me and not unseen specters. Always I hope my teeth will sink into flesh, just once. Once will be all it takes to my revenge on the whispering things. They will not whisper then. They will scream. 

    Imaginary blood on my teeth, I grin again at the growing girl, seeing others in her place. Faces long gone, and only half recalled. "You'd be better off without him, you know," I chide a girl I knew when I was young. Oh yes, she would be whole, if only she could let him go while she still had the chance. 

    @[Noori]
    Reply
    #5
    Most days, most days stay the sole same
    Please stay, for this fear it will not die
    Down low, down amongst the thorn rows
    Weeds grow, through the lillies and the vines

    The scathing tone of her question does not find its mark against the thick skin of Noori's alabaster bark. The answer seems apparent to her. Yet against all odds, the oddness of the mare who found her in the river reignites something like curiosity within Noori's breast. A sick curiosity, no doubt, one which smelled of festering wounds and gut rot but which resurfaced nonetheless at the beck and call of the lunatic woman.

    One glance, Noori decides. Just one.

    The sight of the would-be beauty (opalescent and handsome, curved in all the places that awaken sexual creatures of any type or kind) snapping her teeth at the thin air divides her audience. One half of the mage wants to stay, to enjoy the show, to provide the other with something tangible to chew on; the other rolls her eyes and pulls at her to leave, to return to her delicious and comfortable dissociation to which she so clung in the times of Trekk's absence.

    You'd be better off without him, you know.

    The sentence, it which seems to be tailored to the exact thoughts occupying Noori's mind, sends a chill through her sap-sweet veins. I can't live without Trekk, comes her internal answer, one which mewls and whines to be so without her one true love. One true lover might be the truer statement but she ignores such rationale -- not just now. Always.

    "You don't know him like I do," Noori offers in response, turning now to face the stranger in earnest. The heat of her glowing green gaze would be disconcerting if Sabra had any sense left in her addled mind; in this case, Noori doubts the other will even notice. Still, she walks forward, parting the river with the passing of her stocky forelegs. "Trekk loves me. What else would I need?"

    She regrets speaking the question the moment it leaves her mouth; she fears that such words would invite an onslaught of insanity from her would-be companion. Yet still she cannot bring herself to leave. Instead, she summons from within the forest a small life force, beckoning to it in that way she has; Mother Spring suffers no disobedience in her children, after all. When the creature bursts through the foliage near the bank of the river, sides quivering with the exertion of its run here, Noori turns and smiles upon it. A benevolent, radiant goddess to whom the creature sacrifices its life with a divine happiness.

    A fawn. Female, wide-eyed; the picture of bespeckled innocence and charm. Her little black nose twitches at the scents of the two mares.

    "I believe you were looking for a place to sink your teeth, my dear" says Noori in a sing-song voice. "Might I provide you with such an instrument?"


    noori

    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)