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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


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    what has fallen may rise again; ROUND I
    #4
    He’s just a scrawny fellow, lanky enough in his age and see-through at that, not to be noticed. But his father works without watching, he is above them all and doesn’t care, because he’s awesome like that. And his skin screams when small particles of mud, dried upon the wind into sand grains, enter his body. Through skin they go, through lungs he breathes them. But he doesn’t scream. He knows better than to scream in Taiga.

    Mother had loved him and told him he was perfect, so growing up he had nothing to worry about. He was a sneaky boy, creepy to some, wanting to know how the world worked in what some would think an unhealthy way. Others - those around him - had encouraged this behaviour, wanting the thrill of a chase, of a catch, leaving the boy behind with the unmoving carcass. For him, that was where the fun would begin.

    He still adores Lokii for showing him how a living heart works. One day, he’s going to know all about the brains too. Lungs seemed to be pretty clear when he tested them last, and although it’s fun to see the small balloons rise and fall with the fake breath one can give them, they’re pretty straight-forward.

    Unless of course they are suddenly altered. His breathing shallow, gasping, the bay appaloosa colt emerges from the Taigan forest following a stream, looking for water, water to breathe. He has entered said stream - he’s not entirely an idiot - and follows it to the sea, then the sea towards the beach where his godly father awaits. Together with several others. Then he needs to get out and join the group, gasping with the rest of them.

    Carnage doesn’t notice or care that one of those gathered - or more, since Rajanish does not know who’s who - is related to him. Perhaps he doesn’t care for offspring that has nothing useful about him; by now Raj has noticed several other horses have traits to use for their unholy work, by now he’s noticed that despite his see-throughness being helpful in hiding and spying, he has nothing to show for in terms of useful evilness.

    Standing with the others he zones in and out, listening for the instructions, letting them enter his subconscious. Find Pangea. Simple enough - but he doesn’t even know what it looks like. Yet there is something that has changed him, that causes this inability to breathe air and this longing for the salty waves, that gives him a vague idea that he’ll know it when he reaches it. And besides - he just doesn’t really think about it. The message is undeniable, this is something that is needed to be done, so he just does.

    But before they can go, Carnage finds it a good idea to pierce them with more dust. Gravel enters his skin in a fast pace, causing his wounds that sting as soon as he enters the salt water, and only then, after the second piercing is done, he makes a run for it. He doesn’t care for any of the others, if they follow, stumble, fall, get trampled. He cares for those good-looking waves, and when the ghostly kid finally breathes the water, he is content.

    For a time being, he floats, swims, walks about the sea floor. He’s lost the others, but if that means he’ll be the lost one or if those around him are, escapes his conscious mind. He has no attention for where he goes exactly, but soon enough, he awakes from his trance.

    He’s not the only translucent thing around here. There are creatures with balloon-like shapes, a bit like lungs filled with water instead of air... and he’s late to recognize their tentacles for what they are. Weapons, stingy, poisonous; his eyes close but his skin is afire under the water, and whenever he tries to move some of them surround his legs. Everything hurts head to toes, his right ear stings some more when a more tiny jellyfish seems to float against it and gets itself astrangled for a moment, and Raj barely allows himself to breathe the sweet salty water in fear of opening his nostrils to them. But he has to - and gets stung there also, indeed.

    The float of jellyfish passes slowly, and each second is excrusiatingly long. Only when the fiery stings no longer increase, he opens his eyes and forces his swollen legs to move further. His nostrils flare in the water, barely able to breathe in any of the salty oxygen-giving bliss. Perhaps he had no sense of smell underwater to begin with but he dares not go out to the surface to test his theory.

    His right ear is dull and throbbing, as well as every hair on his skin, but he moves. There is still a subconscious sense of urgency within him, a task to complete. Find Pangea.

    His knee scrapes a rock he has not noticed well enough and, more importantly, not felt. Only the small trickle of rosy blood floating by him makes him aware, for his eyes are the only thing he has kept whole during his encounter with the other translucent beings. Feeling desperate, he contines trecking, unaware yet what his blood attracts. He goes deeper, and deeper, and with the increasing pressure, the bloody scrapy wounds are being pressed closed.

    He has a sense of coming home when he touches down, and his swollen, stung body remains unaware of the shadow following behind. He doesn’t even seem to feel the loss of a few tail hairs, but he won’t miss them either. But perhaps it stays away now that he touches the forsaken ground, because it senses greater power at work. A shark is nothing compared to the god of darkness, after all.
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    RE: what has fallen may rise again; ROUND I - by Rajanish - 09-04-2018, 05:43 AM



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