• 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


    If a thought was the truth; Maugrim, any
    #4

    N y x a

    Maugrim’s phantom arrival causes her gut more revulsion than Deathwish’s eventual rot. The way he names her (such a lack of imagination), the way he fixes two awkward wings to her side without much care for accuracy or beauty - he is a sloppy God; content with dragging her to the shoreline of her beloved Island, the same place her mother had breathed such life back into.

    But she is not her mother, nor is the woman who rushes to greet them with the pestilence of death at her heels. Nyxa, still dazed and not entirely sure what’s become of her life, can’t seem to answer the strange broodmare because she is fixated on the way Deathwish leaves trails of ruin on Ischia’s beautiful landscape. A feeling distracts her; something like indigestion or the pressure of building flatulence, but she cannot find the time or the breath to comment on this either.

    Nothing rouses a response from her hardened lips until she watches the two (whose matching coats give her reason to pause) come together. Maugrim, lord of the ocean and water itself, is quick to placate the thick-bodied female at his side with a kiss reminiscent of the one he shadowed beneath her own jaw just moments before. Nyxa cannot say why, but she quirks her mouth into a disbelieving smirk and coughs, “Are you her lapdog, then?”

    She’d been wrong about his knowledge, why should she be so surprised that Maugrim lacks the ability to even be his own sort of demon? “It’s that absence of imagination you were thinking of earlier,” her conscious supplies inwardly, lacking the fear Nyxa was so tightly bound with. The thought causes her grin to freeze. “Forgive me,” She says, though she knows full well that she doesn’t mean it. Her legs work hard to lift her sodden body upwards, the weight of saltwater and the clinging brine of the sea cascading over her supple shoulders as she tries hard to ignore the sharp pangs in her belly.

    “I was looking for Maugrim because he brought me here, of course.” Nyxa says, her breathing labored as the tangle of her dark forelock settles over the curve of her brow. “And I wanted to thank him for bringing me home. Obviously.” She concludes, her teeth grinding against each other. The water filly doesn’t find it hard to meet Deathwish’s eyes when she says this; they were truthful statements in a sense. It’s when her purple gaze slides sideways to land on her counterpart, Nyxa’s jailer, that the growing girl’s eyes darken with the hint of secrecy.

    “Why are you looking for Maugrim?” She starts again, the fine point of her nose jerking back to face the muted gray woman.

    Every kiss is a door, Can I knock on yours?



    @[Maugrim] @[Deathwish]
    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: If a thought was the truth; Maugrim, any - by Nyxa - 01-02-2018, 10:42 AM



    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)