• 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]  heaven help me for the way I am
    #1
    rated M for probable sex and violence

    mazikeen
    Summer is brief in Hyaline and this year Mazikeen is thankful for it. She’s tired of thinking about how last year she was practically giddy with happiness, tired of the memories that stray in.

    Tired of instinctively looking towards the lake on sunny days to see if she can spot Sabal sun-basking. Tired of the warm mornings when she wakes up and expects to see Gale smiling at her.

    Mazikeen hates these thoughts, how weak and stupid they make her feel. How they rot at that ever-present hope because she cannot think of a way to save him. She'd brought this all on herself, she doesn't have any right to sulk about how things have turned out. She knew her time with Gale would be brief - she just had not forseen how much the happy memories would hurt, or how she still has not succeeded in completing her promise. It already feels like another failure on her list on the days when she does not want to face her own hope.

    And maybe that is why she goes on the hunt today, why she decides to seek the Curse out. Her skin crawls to think of its dark grin when it had mentioned a child but somehow it is easier to think of this, of the present and the immediate future, and let the white noise of her constant anger drown out everything else that is simply too much to deal with.

    She hunts as a griffin, a piece of a memory she deserves to have haunt her. Instead of the fiery colours she had worn the first time she had made a deal with the Curse, she’s a deep jet black that matches the growing shadows as dusk deepens around her. Her scars are almost invisible against the shadowy pelt and the only colour comes from her bright orange eyes and the handful of glowing cracks that trace her spine. A visible indication of the direction her thoughts are drifting.

    A few more flicker to life when his scent grows stronger and she knows she must be close, her entire body going tense and alert as she moves through the dark woods.


    @[Gale]
    #2
    Gale
    this is going to break me clean in two --
    this is going to bring me close to you



    The brindle creature at the bottom of the lake is sleeping peacefully in the sun-warmed depths. As the shadows grow, they call to the darkness that has become Gale, and he wakes.

    Blue eyes, intense and glowing, peer into the dark water and the fish nearby find safer places to swim after he swallows a three foot catfish in a single bite. Just as the sun sinks into distant Taiga, he breaks the still surface of the lake and steps onto the shore.

    He has spent the day in the shape of a monstrous crocodile, marveling at the way his shifting has changed. Improved even, he thinks, smiling at the ease with which he changes his grey-brown coloring to iridescent navy and his body into that of a horse.

    The Curse has plans tonight, and so he sets out, intent on leaving the mountainous kingdom for the evening.

    It is pure coincidence that he comes across Mazikeen before he leaves the boundaries of Hyaline. The black griffin, shot through with molten orange, looks quite like the Tephran volcano. Gale might have looked away, but the Curse only smiles.

    “Care for an evening stroll?” He asks, the curious tilt of his dark head belying the fact that they both know the only answer he’ll suggest is an affirmative one.

    @[Mazikeen]

    #3
    mazikeen
    When Mazikeen finally sees him, it is not just anger that causes her heart to race. That protective white-noise keeping out her thoughts slips and her pain is on display. There’s still love there, though it makes no sense to her. She shouldn’t have even a hint of affection left for him - shouldn’t look upon this face and still see Gale instead of the Curse. A few more of the markings on her body bloom into fiery light and she does not shift to match the equine shape that he is in. A very minor act of rebellion or maybe an effort to protect herself a little longer. Either way it is pointless - if he asks her to change she will.

    What he asks now isn’t really a question and they both know it, but she answers anyway - giving herself the illusion of choice. “Of course. I was hoping to see you tonight.” Though true, the words are difficult to speak and she cannot look at him as she does. She’s too busy trying not to think about the times when she’s walked up to this same body and used something other than words to greet him. Part of her considers doing so now, a detached part of her that wonders whether it would just be easier to pretend this is still Gale. The same part that is beginning to think she should probably be making more of an effort to spend time with him. If she asked, would he include her in whatever it was he got up to? If she showed a willingness to join?

    But the moment for an affectionate greeting passes and while Mazikeen is sure the space between them is only temporary, she makes no move to bridge it as she falls into step beside him.

    She’d intended to get to the point without any preamble but she finds herself acting like this is just a stroll and she asks one of the more innocent questions that have risen in her mind. “Is there a name you’d prefer to be called, other than Gale?” Now that he’s not coming back is the implication she is trying to get at, though the thought feels like a betrayal. She is torn between that desire to pretend this is who she loves and wanting to completely separate the two of them in her mind - and though she'll likely regret it, she lets the Curse decide which way she'll sway.


    @[Gale]
    #4
    Gale
    this is going to break me clean in two --
    this is going to bring me close to you



    The Curse has sunk its slick black tendrils into every bit of its host, driving out the last vestiges of Gale. All that remains is the shell of the navy stallion, and even that the Curse often shifts and changes.

    Tonight he does not, and remains the nearly golden horse, his head raised to meet the burnished gaze of the black griffin. A pair of griffins had nested in the red hills of Loess, he remembers, and they’d had a trio of mottled eggs.

    He shifts as she gives assent, becoming a pale gold griffin streaked with navy blue. His wings are white - the one marked in scarlet red.

    The bright fire of her own markings are nearly an aphrodisiac, but he has been careful. While enjoyable, lust is not the Curse’s primary motivation, and he has remained intentionally distant from Mazikeen. The orange eyed mare elicits too many emotions in him, and it is best to keep away.

    With Gale gone entirely, the Curse had assumed that the troublesome reactions to the Alpha would disappear as well. Its black heart is not meant for such things, and so it had ached in a way that neither healing nor regeneration can mend.

    There is no pain now, only pleasure as he steps close, and presses his shoulder against hers, the low rumble of a purr sounding in his feline chest. Being near her, against her, is satisfying in a way he cannot explain. He knows, without a doubt, that it is a Very Bad Sign.

    Attempting to distract himself by going over his plans for the evening, he is interrupted by Mazikeen’s question. Another name?

    The Curse has no name - it simply is. The hosts always have names, and it takes those. It has been called a dozen things. “Gale.” it tells her, though no bit of the Gale she knows remains.

    Their stroll has put distance between them, moving through the rocky terrain as they leave the mountainous kingdom. Gale doesn’t name their destination, and even forgets it entirely a time or two when he catches her eye.

    The third time it happens, he shares the plans, just to keep himself focused on the task and not on the plausibility of dragging her off into the bushes. They’re going to steal someone, and Mazikeen will keep them captive here in Hyaline until an appropriate ransom has been paid.

    “You can choose the target,” he offers, feeling rather benevolent.

    @[Mazikeen]

    #5
    mazikeen
    Mazikeen doesn’t understand the disappointment that she feels when his purring form is no longer pressed against her, when they do not immediately get down to the act that had driven her to seek him out. It is easier, she discovers, when he wears the colours she’s come to love - though this in turn makes sadness and guilt and disgust churn in her stomach. None of these emotions are helpful and she continues to try to keep them far away.

    She doesn’t press her reason for wanting to see him just yet, she lets him set the pace and lets him lead her where he wishes.

    But by the time they’ve left Hyaline, her frustration and confusion are roaring within her mind and her entire body is illuminated with burning markings. He'd changed to match her, had greeted her affectionately, and yet they're literally just strolling around as if there is no desire for less space between them? She is just about to consider pouncing on him, whether to fight or something else, when he speaks again - explains why they are outside of Hyaline. They’re going to steal someone and hold them captive for a ransom. Like the mention of obedience, this does not immediately bother her. Steals happen all the time and they do not need to be malevolent.

    He offers to let her choose the target and she snorts softly, as though she does not believe this to be a kindness.

    And yet… she has an idea already. And like so many of her other dealings with the Curse she tries to delay displaying how quickly her mind is made up. Mazikeen wonders if these instinctual, automatic responses to the Curse mean she understands it, maybe even is better matched with it than she was with Gale, but that is something for her to shred herself over when she is alone later.

    The dark griffin stops, reaching out to tug (not too gently) on his wing to get him to do the same if he does not automatically pause with her. There’s no point in continuing to wander until they decide a direction and she has just one question before she makes her suggestion. Mazikeen doesn’t keep distance between them this time, and she ignores how easy it is to move to him and to not let herself question or think about it too much. Her black beak nuzzles into the feathers of his neck when she asks in a low voice “And what would you consider an appropriate ransom?”


    @[Gale]
    #6
    Gale
    this is going to break me clean in two --
    this is going to bring me close to you



    As they make their way out of Hyaline, the last light of the sun disappears over the western horizon. Mazikeen’s markings glow ever-brighter, but the Curse cannot be sure it is not simply a trick of the light, and so he ignores it. His own body glows as well, the cremello hair feathers as if from within, casting a pale circle of light around them as they move.

    They’re far from conspicuous - this pair of griffins roaming through Beqanna - but theCurse does not mind. They’ve not yet reached their target anyway, and only then will secrecy be required.

    She scoffs at his offer, and he pauses.

    Is she going to be difficult?

    Her obedience has been quite satisfactory until now. The kelpie is gone from the lake, fled to Tephra where he is now sure that Mazikeen has hidden the children. She’d also not flinched away from the idea of theft, which he had thought boded well.

    So he is frowning - not angrily, not yet, only wariness - when she reaches out. The frown deepens as she draws near, burying her black beak in the glowing feathers of his neck. He can feel her breath, warm and damp, and he purrs.

    He’s not meant to, and even as the pleasure courses through his veins and he returns the gesture, he feels again that dull ache of wrongness. Is this some bit of Gale remaining, he wonders, or something worse? He should have full control of his host by now, should not be taken unaware by the way his body responds. And yet…

    There are better times to worry about that than now. First they’ll enjoy themselves, and then they’ll take a captive, and then he’ll have time to delve deep into his own self and discover the source of this discomfort.

    “I was thinking I’d let their loved ones decide,” he answers as he preens the soft feathers of her neck. “But if it is not high enough, we’ll send them back little bits of the captive until it is.”


    @[Mazikeen]

    #7
    Mazikeen can shut down a lot of her thoughts, but her reaction to him returning her gesture of affection is instinctual. A low, soft purr radiates out from deep within her and she only has half a mind to think about how much she hates that it is so easy. Just a little bit of attention to her neck is all it takes.

    She shouldn’t enjoy this at all - certainly shouldn’t feel a small flush of pleasure. Shouldn’t be aware that the vivid orange of her markings dims as a few, though not all, of them blink out of existence.

    But her purring ceases when he replies to her question - a shudder running through her though she makes no attempt to move away. All she does is stop nuzzling his pale golden feathers for a moment before resuming, giving herself a few seconds to think with what little clarity she’ll allow herself.

    Mazikeen does not enjoy cruelty - for all her fierceness, she hadn’t enjoyed when she tore Firion apart, hadn’t wanted to hurt Gale after his “joke” about being just friends. She cares too much and that also translates to preferring to be treated with affection. It’d been so easy to love Gale, with his kind touch and even their lustful moments were still sweet. The way her feathers are being preened is an echo of that Gale, enough to be both wonderful and awful.

    She finds herself wondering whether the Curse will be as selfish and rough with her as he was the first time - and it’s with a detached version of curiosity that she realizes she’d like to find out. She isn’t sure anymore what she’d prefer.

    Is it better for it to be how it was? Or better to drown those memories with something else entirely? The new reality she is trying to fit herself into so she can survive it.

    “I suspect we’ll have some difference of opinion on what is considered a fair price.” She muses, resuming her exploration of his neck, pressing her body into him a little more. Mazikeen with her damned heart would give away the captives for free as soon as someone came to claim them and she doubts he will be so giving. “But maybe we’ll find a way to compromise.” He doesn’t have to do any such thing, she knows - but the suggestion is more playful than it is serious, something she might have said to the other Gale, right down to the way a small smile appears in her orange eyes.
    #8
    With each new lifetime, the Curse has evolved. Born of bitter blackness, it has adapted with each host, and grown more powerful. The vitriol of the Monsters had aided him in driving Gale out far more quickly than he had his sire. The Dark God, who had Seen through time and imagination, had turned the brindle’s fear into reality, and had given true life to the Cursed mind that now calls itself Gale.

    Always before it has been rage and want, capable of mimicking otherwise when necessary, but feeling not a thing but greed and fury once destroying the host and gaining enough powers to wreck havoc on the world around it.

    Why then, does he possess the ultimate ability and still find himself wanting more?

    When the Curse had told Mazikeen that he expected a child from her, he’d done so hoping she’d refuse, hoping for a reason to hurt her. He hadn’t needed a reason, not really, and she’d agreed anyway and so he’d never looked back at his hesitance.

    He should have, he thinks now, perhaps it would have added some clarity to his present state of mind.

    He does want to destroy her, to rip her open and gnaw the marrow from her bones, to feel the way the blood drips from his teeth. Yet as she presses her body against him, he finds himself wanting something else as well. Not wanting instead of, simply more than. Not blood, but the taste of her skin beneath his lips, and the sound of her breath catching as he touches the column of her throat.

    The rending of her heart from her chest had been pleasurable. He decides now, as she smiles up at him, that he will have it metaphorically as well, that he will possess each and every last bit of the orange eyed woman.

    That, perhaps, will be enough.

    (The bile of Wrongness lingers, so like the Curse had once haunted Gale, but he finds he, too, can push it away while he looks at Mazikeen.)

    Shifting to something with limbs more capable of caressing her, Gale says softly just below her ear as he does: “I don’t compromise. But I don’t mind if you make up the difference in other ways.”

    @[Mazikeen]
    #9
    He doesn’t compromise, but Mazikeen thinks that’s not quite true. He had once, before she had broken their first deal. Her burning eyes closing to better savour the sensation of words spoken softly beneath her ear as a more pleasant shudder runs through her. She can make up the difference in payment, he tells her, and this satisfies Mazikeen. It is always better, in her mind, for her to pay the price for others. If it is a pound of flesh or something more along the lines of what they are doing now, she would do it.

    A piece of that smile lingers when she replies in a quiet, teasing voice. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She shifts to match him, another instinct - another thing to not let herself think about as she touches him back. It is so easy to do this, too easy. Mazikeen feels like she is slipping faster away from herself, faster than she intended, but the feeling of being lost in this is welcomed. This isn’t anything like happiness, but it’s the closest she’s felt to it since she first looked upon her children and that makes her hold on a little tighter. More burning markings fade until it is only just the near-permanent ones down her spine.

    This time, there will be no piece of Gale in the baby. This time, it is just her and the Curse.

    It may not happen tonight, it may take many more meetings for that strange feeling to flutter within her again, but Mazikeen isn’t worried about that. She doesn’t mind, not when he caresses her like she’s not alone in the wanting and that new heart in her chest beats wildly. She lets herself believe they are in this together and that somehow, there is this small piece of power that she has over him.

    She traces the glowing scars, the ones she has only faint memories of giving him, while asking in a low voice “How obedient would you like me to be tonight?” She uses her teeth to nip at his skin, testing and teasing and she forgets to hate herself or cringe at his touch.

    Sabal had asked her not to give up but if this is what giving up feels like - it doesn't seem so terrible.

    @Gale
    #10
    The autumn wind is cool against his skin, and he shivers as he chuckles at her reply. Though he has her promise of obedience, it hadn’t come through breaking her, and it shows in the boldness with which she speaks. She is still daring, even after he’s ripped her to shreds and devoured her, and her lack of fear delights him.

    In another lifetime, it would have enraged him. It should enrage him in this lifetime as well. That it does not is Wrong, and yet he finds that he does not care. Not now, not tonight.

    He wants her, and perhaps more than that wants to know that she wants him the same way. Just then she shifts to match him, and the coincidence is too much. He laughs against her shoulder where he has been kissing, and as the fires fade from her skin, he pulls her down to the grass beside him. For a while he loses himself, focused entirely on the orange-eyed creature that smiles up at him and the way her touch sets him ablaze.

    Her question - how obedient does he want her? - pulls him back to reality, and the reminder that she is here because he has told her to be.

    The realization feels cold, like a winter snow atop his burning desire, and he falls still in his caresses. She’d been teasing, her touch says, yet his hand against her chin now holds her face steady rather than pulling it toward him.

    He meets her gaze without a smile, his eyes tracking the way he runs his thumb below her lip with a fierce blue intensity. He must shove the Wrongness away again, and with it the clarity that might have warned him this might be a blunder.

    The Curse has had her only once before, when he’d hoped it would break her, but that had failed. He still wants to break her, but not all of her. Only what parts of her might still belong to Gale, and only so he might have them himself. But he does not have the words to express this, or the lack of self-preservation that such a confession would require.

    So instead he kisses her, slowly at first and then with growing intensity. Tell me that you want me, he says against her ear as his hands travel down her sides in soft caresses, and then show me that it’s true.

    @[Mazikeen]




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)