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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


    the study of death; any
    #1

    I don't remember being born.

    I do remember the moments after, the struggle to walk and the smell of milk. I stopped before suckling, my purple-gray eyes studying with interest the teat in front of me. There was a perverse curiosity in waiting to see how long my stomach could wait.

    Not long, but I am young.

    I drank deeply until I was sated, and then nipped at my mother sharply with a defiant squeal. Already I am impatient of my childhood.

    I don't wander far from Killgore. This is more self preservation than anything else, because I long to find out what all the things I am smelling and seeing are. How they work, what they look like when smashed, how to take them apart.

    I glance at my mother, and then at myself. We are framed similarly, but I am a dark bay with purple climbing up my legs and nose. I shake my head, and turn quickly, trying to catch a glimpse to ascertain the color of my tragically short and fluffy tail. Like a bunny, I snort derisively. The effort makes me lose my balance and I crumple to the side. Purple. I am purple on my mane and tail.

    I don't jump up right away. Instead, I rub my face into the dirt to see if I can change the color of purple on my nose. A small chirp comes feebly from beneath a nearby tree, and it is this that pulls me to my feet.

    A small thing with wings is flapping feebly beneath the branches. I look up. A bigger winged thing and her other little wings are chirruping madly. What makes them do that, I wonder. I glance down at the squalling thing with feathers. Slowly, judging its reaction, I put my hoof on the baby bird's back, between his wings. A loud crunch, a screech and silence.

    I wonder, what made it do that? Would every small thing with wings make the crunch-screech sound? I glance up at the others birds, cocking my head. I nicker.

    Come down, feathered ones. I only want to understand.


    K E R S E Y
    the academic executioner

    Reply
    #2


    She hadn’t even taken into consideration the possibility of having a female child. She had mused long and hard to decide if she was pleased about this or not. Not that it mattered really, not now anyways. Khaos was gone, gone in all sense of the word. A statue of the iron beast remained atop the cliffs, burning against the seaside sun. But that was it, all that remained of his physical self.

    No, it really made no difference now what sex her children were. The girl wasn’t even the product of Khaos, she was something a bit more. Killgore had not seen the child’s Father fall into the atmosphere, but Kirin had.  He had also demanded she visit the galaxy colored male, mate with him, and produce his child. Anything for her dear Kirin. She didn’t regret her willingness to please him, the girl had emerged with gorgeous purple points, and Killgore decided to call her Kersey.

    She girl was eager too, eager to learn, eager to do.  The bay watched her mostly, fed her, but otherwise she observed. She was waiting. Waiting to see how this one had turned out, to make a final decision on just how much she liked the filly. The child’s teeth find her or dare to find her, neither were tolerated and Killgore snapped back to pinch the babes ear. Throwing a stern glare through her dark eyes, before Kersey strolled off. Off towards a nest of Terns, chittering loudly and annoyingly she would add. One little chick was piping from the ground, flailing awkwardly as it could not fly. Kersey disposed of it quickly, smashing the idiotic creature and Killgore made her way over.

    She blinked at the smashed remains, her lip curling up but she stroked her muzzle through the girl’s soft mane before speaking. ”I have good news my sweet. I’m going to let you live.” She smiled a small smile, like this was a common conversation to have.


    Mother of Silver Cove
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    #3

    I hear my mother's hoofbeats and twist my ear about, interested. She moves with grace and purpose, reminding me of a serpent I saw twine around and devour a mouse. I wish I could move like her. I sense there is a purpose in the swaying of her hips and the movement of her eyelashes, but the meaning is beyond me.

    I am less interested in her pronouncement of my continued survival, and more consumed with my wonderings. I study the remains of the little feathered thing, thick liquids seeping from below the crack I made in its chest.

    "What made it do that? Do all small things squeak and crunch like that?" I nudge the blood pooling around my hoof, unaware of the blood stain it is creating on my purple tinged nose. I like the smell, though. It is metallic, tangy and a bit sweet, like fresh grass when it rains. "I'd like to try it again, mother. May I?"

    I don't nip mother. I learn quickly, and I have learned that she nips back. Instead I press my bloody nose to her side, all eagerness. What new fun will mother introduce me to?

    A question I have been pondering springs to my lips.

    "Why am I purple? You aren't. Was my father? Tell me about him."

    My question evolved into a demand, a firm but quiet one. I don't doubt that I will be answered. I have all the misplaced confidence of my youth, but with a touch of quiet arrogance. I am smart, and I will only grow smarter.


    K E R S E Y
    the academic executioner

    Reply
    #4


    As she looks down smiling, the girl fires question after question. Sending requests for information from her very tiny mouth. Very tiny, curious mouth. Killgore looks at the girl through her hard dark eyes, plucking the answer to her first demand from her knowledge bank. ”Why, you made it do that my darling. It is called death, or murder to be more precise.” She looks at the crumbled up remnants without emotion, not displaying any sense of guilt or remorse to the child’s actions. ”Many things crunch, many things squish. Some squeak, others cry, and still most scream. Little things are easiest to snuff, larger things can achieve the same state, though it may be some time before you accomplish that task.” The Mother left nothing to sugar coating, only facts, and the filly was hardly birthed. It would take time for her to build the size or strength, to physically end the life of things bigger than herself.

    ”There are many forms of death Kersey. This is but one. Some have a way with words that can accomplish an equally satisfying outcome. Words can kill the soul, words can make things yours. Sometimes words can make others create death for you.” She almost purred her relinquish of knowledge to her daughter, looking up at the mess of nest on a lower bough.  The tips of peeping beaks peeked up over the edges, popping up and down in their cries for food, their calls for their mother. Without missing a beat at the next request, the bay rears, pressing her maw out. She stretched her head and neck as far as they would go, butting the bottom of woven grasses in the extension. Two lightly feathered chicks tumble from their bed, landing with soft thumps against the earth below. Indeed some of their tiny bones broke in the fall, but they struggled no less with those that remained intact. Killgore lands lightly, taking a few back-steps as to avoiding smashing the chirping birds herself. ”There you are darling, all for you.” Nothing but encouragement from dear old Mom.

    She thinks hard for a moment, why was the girl purple? , it undoubtedly came from her Father. Someone Killgore had hardly known, hadn’t known really, she had gone to him at the bequest of Kirin. ”I do not doubt your father is responsible for your color. Your brother watched him as he fell from the skies, burning as he entered our atmosphere.” Our atmosphere, because it was not his. He was more than Beqanna, he was more than this world, than ALL worlds. was the universe. I do not know much of him my sweet, but his name is Carnage. He is a God.”


    All Mother of Silver Cove
    Reply
    #5

    I study the little body closely. Murder? I find I like the sensation, although I do wish my victim had been a bit bigger. And perhaps that he had struggled more. This one was useful for information, of course, but I want more of that.

    "Oh Mother, it feels like forever before I will be old enough to study the deaths of anything of real importance."

    My voice is the voice of a petulant child, the words incongruous, perhaps, with the sweet face I present. Blood has dried in a brown smear across my purple nose.

    "Words are that powerful." I muse. "I want to learn about them. If you could kill someone with words, you wouldn't need to be very big to master them, would you mother?"

    Perhaps there is hope for me. I smile, one of pure joy.

    The fall of the little birds instantly focuses me, and the smile disappears. I step gingerly forward. The untrained eye might think I am hesitant, but I am simply measuring. One tiny hoof pins a starling's wings to the ground. This one I caress with my nose, calming its frantic cries with a soothing motion. It chirps feebly. I bite in an instant, my teeth closing on its neck. This one crunches but does not squeak. Blood is tangy in my mouth.

    Fascinating.

    Mother speaks and I listen with rapt attention.

    "A god… does that make me a goddess? Or the servant of a god?"  I look up at her resolutely. "I should like to meet my brother."

    Stupid birds. It doesn't even know to try and get away. I look at the remaining one with a small measure of disgust. It isn't even worth the effort it will take to, what was the word mother used? Oh yes, murder it.

    I find that causing death is a little different every time. And every time, I learn.

    "Perhaps my brother would like this squeaky thing as a gift to murder himself? I've enjoyed the two I've killed. I don't want to be selfish."

    I look up at her, a small smile playing on my lips.


    K E R S E Y
    the academic executioner
    daughter of carnage and killgore

    Reply
    #6


    Killgore listens to her youngest child, full of talk this one was. Several inquiries and thoughts spill from the girls purpled mouth, and a few times Gore must cut her short. She thought that otherwise, she may not get a word in. ”You say that now, perhaps all children do. When you are my age you will wonder where the time went and how do you get it back.” Her dark eyes inspect the crushed fledgling quickly, and without much interest. There wasnt really much to look at anyways, splatters of insides and a pool of blood. Nothing she hasn’t seen before. ”No, I suppose you wouldn’t have to be very big to do such a thing. You could even do it now if you wanted, Kirin has a way with words at times. He doesn’t like to be dirty though, and he wont take to seeing you such a mess either.” Her eyes flicked to the spots of blood here or there. The layer of dirt the girl had smudged across her own face. Kirin was very particular.

    The second bird is pinned to the ground, Killgore’s ears swivel to meet the cries wondering how this one shall perish. Her thought is quickly answered and soon the starling is missing it’s head. She curls a lip, where had the bird been? Nasty, dirty creatures, and all that fluff in one’s mouth. No, she did not care for this task herself but she would not deny Kersey her own experiments. ”Not quite a God I would think, or a Goddess for that matter. Can such a thing be obtained? Yes, I think it can. As far as serving, here we serve Khaos. Perhaps if we serve him well enough, and do works in his name, if we do deeds to please. Maybe then we can ascend and be more than what we are. ‘Gods’ you say.” Why did she always speak so cryptically? Well, fair to say Killgore’s mind was warped, far more than it had ever been to begin with. She wouldn’t hear it though, any ill words against their beliefs here in the Cove.

    ”Mmmm, would you my sweetling? Yes, that should be most pleasant. Two you have, brothers that is. Of my flesh and yours, but many more than that in all. You are all siblings truly, regardless of how or whom brought you to this world, which womb you may have escaped. Do not let anyway lie to you otherwise, nothing is more important than your brothers, your sisters. Promise me you will remember?” She wasn’t asking, not really. It was their job to stay together, it was important, she knew that much. They had been trying to hunt them all down, to sniff them out across the lands and bring them here. It was where they all belonged, they would find them, make no mistake. She calls loudly, a flock fleeing a nearby hill, and she waited, looking to the skies.


    All Mother of Silver Cove
    Reply
    #7

    SO RICH, SO PRETTY


    The Cove was growing quiet, and Kirin didn’t like that at all. Perhaps he should do more about it, or maybe he could even order Kult about to do it for him. Now that was an idea. He loved his little brother, the vile, but useful little scamp. Always there to help out and do the dirty work. He was the perfect match for their little family, Kirin could not have asked for better.

    He was gliding over the cliffs, something he did often enough, when he heard his Mother call. A darling Mother she was, but he did not like to be ordered about. There she was just whistling to him like he was some sort of hound dog, ugh, Mothers. No matter how many times you told them, it’s like they didn’t hear. He snorted as he curved back around, heading now in the direction from whence the sound came. He allowed her to be a nuisance, she had earned the right in most ways, and besides..she was along with foal again. A foal at his own bequest no less, ask and you shall receive. He knew the moment he watched the comet streak into the atmosphere that his Mother must go to this one. Without their father around they would need suitable replacements, there was not enough of them yet, not even close.

    He is jubilant, for lack of better words, when he sails over his Dam. He quickly spots the young thing with her, and knows that he is once again a big brother. He dips and aims for the ground, landing with poise and tucking his wings. ”Mother” He kisses her gently on her cheek, the dutiful son. ”Who do we have here?” His grey eyes fall on the young girl, scrutinizing her appearance. She was lovely enough, a bit dirty, she could have washed up before he came, could she not? She bared hints of purple at her points as well as sprouting from her head and rear. He liked that the most, especially since Kult hadn't received the beautiful hue. “Well, I think she will do.”

    Soaring sadist of Silver Cove
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    #8


    "I should like that, mother. I think there are a great many things I could do to please Khaos." I say this a bit absently, my mind starting to wander as I imagine the ways in which my academic curiosity and service to the god can intersect. Perhaps my deeds will be a useful way to get the answers to the burning questions I have about life and death.

    Death. There is a certain sweetness to it, an addictive quality that makes me itch to move on to greater things than starlings. I eye the dumb animals with disgust. After all, it is their own fault that they aren't wiser and quicker. I suppose age would have made them grow in those things.

    Now they will never have the chance.

    The third starling is quiet, maybe terrified or maybe too stupid to know what is going on. It if tries to move I adjust my leg so one dainty hoof is blocking its path. The tone of mother's voice captures my attention suddenly and I tune back in to her words. I am smart enough to realize that her question is a injunction and not a request. Still, I pause as if pondering. It wouldn't do to let anyone think I am quick in judgements.

    "Yes Mother. I promise."

    I glance skyward then, my bright purple eyes wide with interest. I have not yet learned that to keep your cards close at hand is the better play. For I am still young, yet, and my purple winged brother is enough to startle anyone.

    I am not ashamed of the dirt and blood that mars my form, am not even really conscious of it. But if my brother is bothered by it, I will endeavor to please him. Family comes first, after all. Noticing my mother and sibling's disapproving looks, I rub my nose against my leg until the worst of the grime is gone. I eye my brother's wings curiously, somewhat in awe but not overly willing to show it.

    "Hello brother. I am Kersey." I dip my head slightly in a gesture of deference. "Which one are you?"

    I nudge the little starling forward, the third and last remaining one alive. "I've been practicing and learning a bit with this one's family and I wondered if perhaps you would like the third as a gift. They are rather interesting, the way the light leaves their eyes."

    I smile casually. I wonder what my brother will have in store for me.


    K E R S E Y
    the academic executioner
    daughter of carnage and killgore

    Reply
    #9

    SO RICH, SO PRETTY


    As always, he relishes in response to a praising gaze. A wide smile meets her watchful eyes, bright and purple like her points. He was glad to share the color, especially since the one she held was so bright in comparison.

    The filth though, that had to go, and before he can even suggest she remove it- she does. An intelligent child- his eyes flash with possibility. This girl would likely be of more use to him than he had originally anticipated. Mother did such fine work.

    His chin rises as her head lowers, a question filling his ears from her still tiny mouth. "I am Kirin, the eldest, Kult is around somewhere. I'm sure you two will meet soon enough." He promises, while taking a good look at his new sibling. She presses a young chick towards him, an offering of sorts he supposed. A gift she says, and it is well received.  "A gift for me young sister?" He bends to sniff at the timid creature, expelling a breath of hot air to make it move. It feebly retaliates, pipping at him with its oversize beak. "Would you like to see if he can fly?" He inquires evilly, a growl hinting in his voice.

    He does not wait for a yes or a no, because he had not been seeking permission or agreement. He snatches the little thing up in his mouth, pressing off the ground and into the sky. Feathers lift him into the air and he settles into a hover 2 stories above. A toss of his head is given as he flings the chick into the air, at first it rises and then it spirals into a fall.

    It doesn't take long at all for the bird to meet the ground, coming to a splat at his newest sisters feet. It had not even tried to fly, Kirin floated back down, looking at the dead chick crossly.

    Soaring sadist of Silver Cove
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