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    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


    Theirs Something About His Manners ||Santana, Any||
    #9

    And just like that, reason left the premises. Santana's volatile temper was taking a turn for the aggressive, frightening her with the seemingly mindless anger she'd never witnessed in him before. Gone was the sweet boy she had come to love. In his place stood a fiery beast caught between destruction and joy. It was a stalemate tableau, Castile reacting in kind to the youth's stance. Not. Helping. The champagne girl's presence faded into the background temporarily as the tension between the males built, air clogging with their combined smoke. 

    Until she touched Santana. 

    Lightly, tentatively, with reassuring words. Sabra knew she would have done similar, well enough to know it was a desperately stupid move. The light graze was enough to catch the colt's attention. Snapping his head around, the half-reptilian boy's teeth clicked as they shut tight on living flesh. Sabra yelped, eyes slipping from her son's glassy eyes to bright blood dripping onto the sand beneath them. 

    Like some awful premonition, she had seen the sequence of motions that would have followed once the girl had moved to touch him. Instinct would over at last, driving him to attack the apparent threat before turning to attempt some kind of assault on his original target. At some point during this the adrenaline would have pushed him fully into his other form. Like stepping into a hurricane, she had flung herself into the path of his teeth. 

    Being bitten hurt enough when teeth were dull and flat. It bruised sometimes broke skin. Pointed, serrated teeth cut through the skin and muscle of her shoulder much easier. It was painless until the blood began to flow, staining the blue hair crimson from below her wing to wear it blackened the sand. The initial short cry of shock had given way to shallow breaths, but it had been enough to break through the primal anger that had so transformed the pale dragonling. Sabra watched as the horror she felt was mirrored in her son's eyes. 

                                               ▪■▪■▪■▪

    "Mom... mom, I didn't mean to, I just..." The boy's blue and flame gaze darted back toward the black and white stallion. "He hurt you. And you're just going to let him do it again." Misery stretched itself across his face as his eyes drew back to the seeping wound on his mother's shoulder. It was shallower than it had seemed at first, a broad scraping of the skin with minimal damage to the muscles beneath. They'd been lucky. He wasn't startled by the anger in her expression. It was deserved. Her words, on the hand, cut him deep. 

    "Santana, I love you. But you will not fight my battles for me. You were sired by him and will honor that." Her eyes held his with something very like embarrassment in them before continuing. "We will speak later. Now go. I have to deal with this." The glimmering mare turned stiffly, favoring the foreleg he had damaged as she walked away without giving him the chance to respond. 

    He'd wanted a dad, when they were small. Mom had been the best she could, Uncle Ivar had made sure he and his brother hadn't killed themselves accidentally. But a dad... especially one as cool as mom always made Castile out to be. He'd wanted that so badly. Until he'd seen mom when she was low, broken down and struggling to survive. Pride usually prevented her from asking for or accepting help. 
    Somehow, over time, it began to feel like Castile's fault. Him and Raul could take care of themselves,  that was never the problem. It was Mom who needed someone to look out for her. And he hadn't been there. Not once. Now he was, and she was just going to forgive him? It didn't make sense. 

    Feeling foolish and small, he glanced towards Venus, ashamed that this was the side he'd shown today. It had been violently surreal, being shoved into a tiny corner of his mind while a beast surged forward. What would have happened if mom hadn't screamed... he knew it would have been bad. Worse, anyway. "Venus, I'm sorry. I didn't know that would happen. Any of it..." He murmured, avoiding eye contact. The flame in him felt as truly extinguished as a candle in a monsoon. 

    SABRA

    I'm Hell on Heels, Say What You Will


    @[Venus] @[Castile] I'm sorry this is kinda crappy and a week late :|
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: Theirs Something About His Manners ||Santana, Any|| - by Sabra - 09-15-2018, 03:25 PM



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