• 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


    paint it black; teal
    #1
    dark son of gunsynd



























    He is fairly certain that he likes summer. The beat of the sun across his broad back warmed him lovingly. It made his cave like a cool treat when he lay his broad form on the stony ground to stretch and sink into the earth and forget the thoughts of a not so distant conversation with his father.

    On this day, Lior moves to his usual place in the meadow, not far from the edge of the forest that separated him and his small home. Thick matted tendrils of mane bounce against the length of his neck as a heavy hoof moves him from time to time. It is a blessed thing to have the once gaunt features filled out...the poke of sickening ribs to relax with a thicker barrel.

    Plainly, Lior is no longer looking like winter had almost smothered him in her freezing embrace of starvation and sickness.

    He had no agenda, no one to impress or disappoint. He was just who he was. A moody, hungry grump. Large nostrils clear with a snort before he lifts the heaviness of his head to look about. More often than not, he remained alone in the meadow.

    Small clutches of horses drift across the grassy plain like wayward ships. Sometimes they captained themselves whilst others followed after like tied buoys. Lior chews the bit of grass in his mouth thoughtfully as he witnesses the connections. The pewter of his eyes determine he is not fond of that lifestyle and he was much more content not caring and chasing after mares. Who could possibly want more than he already had? Lior is a king in his own eye with plentiful grass, shelter in a comfortable cave, and no one to answer too. The slight touch of a smirk changes his features for a moment before it dispappears with dip of his head as he seeks to fill his belly further.

    After all, if women should come to him then so be it but for now he does not question nor interrupt the life path he travels.

    LIOR
    Reply
    #2
    Teal
    Her mouth dried in anxiety, her golden figure rambling aimlessly around the meadow like a harried little bumble. There was no pattern to her swift movements. Her head was low, her nose working furiously to map out what she couldn't see like a hound searching for a particular scent. Without being aware of it, she trailed loops and circles, scribbling her way around and through the flowery terrain.

    But she wasn't a hound, and not at all accomplished at using her sense of smell alone to guide her. So she didn't realize the scent of stony moisture was leading her to a man and not a little pool of water. Males and females both traversed this place all day every day, so she learned to ignore the distinction of gender in her seeking.

    Must be close now... Her tongue felt like a sheet of sandpaper, clinging to the back of her thirsty lips. She wandered, this way then that way, crossing over the invisible path of the damp stone odor repeatedly as she struggled to follow it in a more direct fashion.

    Elegant little ears sat as uselessly upon her head as her glassy eyes, and so she did not hear the man's heavy footfalls as he drifted in his grazing. Her nose bumped his warmth firmly in her eagerness to find relief, and she shrank away from it. Oh no, she groaned inwardly. She was grunting in her trepidation, though she was not aware of it, whuffling nervously and shuffling a little more in retreat.

    Her head swayed left and right, trying to keep his scent in front of her. It was maddening that he could slip to the side or behind her and she'd never know until it was too late, if he were an evil sort of brute. She'd never know that, either, until it was too late.

    She licked her parched lips in apprehension, trying not to be too dismayed that all her aimless searching had brought her to a stallion and not the water she thought she was going to find.
    Licking him would probably not be quite as refreshing.

    She'd just have to try again, and then she was chagrined at that.
    Reply
    #3
    dark son of gunsynd



























    And just as the weave of a spider web seems like endless madness, day in and day out, she finds the spider. Lior had been in his head again. He is currently trying to conjure the memory of his mother. Was she pretty? Was she a kind mare? All he can do is chock it up to a lost name that simply drifted out of Beqanna. Distaste is like a copper penny on his tongue as he banishes the nameless mare that birthed him for she had given the male to his father...ultimately a child sacrifice chained to a life of torture, rape, and hatred.

    But when he feels a pressure of a velvet nose, the ugliness of his mind dissipates. The large male swings around to lay his gaze upon a white haired golden lass. Silver pools study her as she pedals back but as though stuck in tar. Her movements are slow and weighted and at first Lior does not understand. Silly mare. The thought vibrates through his mind but he now sees the eyes unseeing...they track nothing. "Hello?" The stallion tries with questioning features. The deep throatiness vibrates against his chest as he speaks low. He can see the woman is blind, scared. He does not know she is deaf so he waits for her answer with forward ears and a cautious look due to his mistrusting nature. Sadly, his father haunts him still after all these years and it has left the tall male damaged and withdrawn.

    But she is a woman after all and so against his own better judgement, a heavy feathered hoof lugs him closer to her with an extended muzzle, hot air exhaling from between the whiskered lips. "You ok?" The question is small and rough but it was much more than he typically did. Perhaps it was the sightless eyes of the mare that garnered sympathy from somewhere in the depths of his core but nonetheless his features remain neutral and flat despite his few efforts.

    LIOR
    Reply
    #4
    Teal
    She can almost sense him turning to face her. At least she thinks she can. That is the obvious thing one would do in his place, so that is how it happens in her mind, too.
    And in reality.

    Nothing but silence and endless darkness greet her, familiar fiends of horror cursed to haunt her for life, spurring her racing pulse. Her nose bounces just a little in the air every now and then, trying to discern if he's shrugged and moved on or... something else. But that faint taste of crisp water was still in the subtle breeze, the type cradled so gently in a dark cavern somewhere. She knew them by smell, the caves, Everything is dark to me. So he must still be here then, waiting for something.
    Not particularly a comforting thought.

    She hesitantly craned her neck toward him just a little. Something must have shifted with him, as he smelled slightly stronger now. Coming closer! His hot breath feathered across the tip of her muzzle and she yanked back with a surprised yelp. She hadn't realized they drew so close. He hadn't tried to attack her yet though, so maybe he was safe for a stranger. Maybe. She wasn't about to trust him so easily, naturally, but she didn't want to look too weak in front of a possible threat either.

    Her velvet crept toward him again, less hesitantly as she felt a little confident of his placement to her. She was mistaken though, as her clumsy muzzle knocked against the side of his with a too-quick jerk of her head. Her face scrunched in pain, but she was not giving up that easily. She took a step closer to him, reaching until she felt the warmth of his cheek, then his throat, then neck -fully prepared to scuttle backwards at any hint of malicious intent. She made sure to shift her hips away from him, always facing him straight on as her nose tap-tapped at the muscle in his neck, keeping track of him in the only way she knew, though brazen it may be.

    Tall one, isn't he?
    Smells good too.


    She smacked her lips quietly, wishing he could taste as liquid-cool as the hint of water he smelled like, but not stupid enough to try it.
    Reply
    #5
    dark son of gunsynd



























    He remains unchanged in stature and in demeanor. The blind mare is spooked by his actions but it does not move him in either way. Her small squawk of surprise only warrants a slow blink from his as his nostrils expand to take in her scent.

    She trembles before him, soundless still. She is a strange concept to him. Quiet, fragile, soundless. She is unlike most women he had ever encountered and wonders briefly if she mute as well. "Mare?" He does not know what else to call her as he listens for her reply but instead she touches along his face, his neck. Lior does not flinch even after she knocks against the thickness of his skull.

    The dark stallion begins to understand the handicaps of the young mare. Other than blindness, she was  (he thinks) mute (he has still yet figured out that she is deaf). Pewter eyes gather the movement of her lips as they pull and purse. They mimic a desire to drink and he thinks he understands what she is trying for...attempting to communicate in her wordless efforts. Lior thinks about how to handle this situation with a bit more care. Typically he would have snatched at the base of her mane and lead her along to a source of water but already she is nervous and flighty so instead he attempts to drive her.

    The bulk of his head dips to press the mare's shoulder with his muzzle for a moment before his taller frame slides along her like a river of thick tar. He stands at her left, shoulder to hip before lowering his own head to take some her mane in between his lips and gives it the faintest -tug- before releasing the tuft. He grunts, a rumbling in his depths, as to signal his desire to move. Heavy footfalls begin with a single step and another then he waits for her to mimic his actions.

    LIOR
    Reply
    #6
    Teal
    She tapped his neck. Nope, still there. Pause. Tap.
    Pause...

    A foreign touch pushed into her shoulder firmly, jolting her with a start. She must have missed his movement, silently admonishing herself to pay better attention next time, which essentially translated to touch people lots more, got it. It was as if he was preparing her for more contact, as his large frame slid to her side, barely brushing her -just enough to let her know he was there.

    She stiffened warily, itching to dance away from him but knowing she would lose sight of him if she did. There was a light tug at her mane just before his barrel at her side vibrated with some sort of command, maybe. Perhaps more of a suggestion, as he slid forward a step. Her nose reached out and dragged down his side as he took another step and seemed to wait.

    She grunted back at him a couple times, making her own chest rumble like his did, and pressing against him so he could feel it. Her tongue lined her lips, wondering if perchance he would guide her to some refreshment. Then again, it was also likely he'd lead her back to his cavernous home to do who-knows-what with her. Her heart pattered uneasily and she sidled away from him just a bit, mulling it over.

    Her thirst eventually won out the debate though, and she eased carefully back into his side, brushing her nose around til she found his shoulder. She huffed a couple times, sweeping up his scent and putting it to memory. Caveman.

    With a swift clamp, her teeth sharply bit into him and she swiftly waltzed away in case he lashed out in rebuke. She stopped only a pace away to stare in his direction.

    There. See?
    No funny business, I mean it.


    She stood with her head up, blowing a meaningful snort pointedly for emphasis, then hesitantly meandered back by trailing his rocky scent. Her muzzle leashed her to his hip cautiously, half-expecting a return bite. She lipped his coat gently, almost sweetly, satisfied her point was made. It was sort of an apology, but mostly it was Ok, mister. Where we goin?
    Reply
    #7
    dark son of gunsynd



























    The male is unnerved and more so annoyed that he had decided to use his time on this cripple creature. Pewter pools gaze at her with such a stoic capacity that he appeared to be a solid figure carefully chiseled out of onyx. The honey dipped woman is cautious (as she should be). She is flighty and fragile like a butterfly carved from wax so that if she were handled too long she would melt into a twisted and fractured shape.

    Lior watches her dance, high action and nimble, before she figures out that he is not here to harm her. In fact, Lior does not really know why he is even here. Typically he is alone and content but this mare, she needed him and it stirred something he was unaccustomed to. The snatch of her teeth at his shoulder does not feign a reaction from him but another simple grunt. Was she finished? Finally satisfied with the little 'love bite'? Long limbs take another two paces just as she gives a little, pleasant touch. Lior disregards it and waits for her to keep up with him.

    It is only ten or so minutes before he has walked her to fresh water. The moisture in the air causes the dark garnet tongue to dart between his own lips. Silver eyes are no longer looking at the woman but simply feeling her. If she were a smart girl, she would not attempt to prance off from his side again for the stallion had given her an opportunity to stay by him and would not offer it again. Thankfully, she seems to carry along with him till they reach the cool spring waters in which Lior begins to dip he head. "Water." One large feathered hoof paws at the water to splash the edges of the woman's nails in an almost playful gesture (it was playful for him!) before he begins to ingest the refreshing liquid.

    LIOR
    Reply
    #8
    Teal
    She felt no bite of rebuke. He ignored her snapping and her touches, it seemed. Nice! Totally unphased, that was good. Probably. Or, hmm, maybe he couldn't feel sensations. She'd have to think on that.

    Her cheek stayed pressed at his flank, careful not to trip him in a tangle of legs. Such a thing were always possible where she was concerned. Quite clumsy. Or maybe everyone was. She hadn't searched him but he just sort of felt large to her, so he probably was. Maybe he'd be big enough to just, step right over her without trampling her. She wasn't sure why she was thinking about that though. Wasn't he taking her somewhere?

    As time passes, she edges her way to his shoulder. She hums and huffs throughout the short journey, her own little deaf song. The vibrations in her chest felt nice. She seemed to accept his presence naturally and her mind sort of wandered the whole time.

    He smelled nice. Like rocks and water. But also like himself, and not a bunch of other people. Caveman was a loner. That's cool, she was sort of alone too. Well, entirely alone, she supposed. Up until she nearly licked him. She was glad she didn't though, she always seemed to get kicked doing that. But, hey, maybe he wouldn't have felt it anyway so she could still try.

    His body slowed to a stop and she remained at his shoulder. The scent of water was stronger here, and she was relieved that it didn't also smell like the rocks of his dark home. Sort of true to his grunts, or something.

    Drops of wetness sprinkled her out of nowhere and she threw her body into his with a jolt, then bounced the opposite direction because, well, he was still a stranger and not to be trusted. She realized he must have dropped something in the water, maybe to get her attention. Maybe it was his language, this throwing things and standing so still. People seemed to have so many languages.

    She dropped her head to the ground casually, pretending her bout of fright never happened. Slowly easing her way back to where he stood, she followed the water's edge til she was next to him again. Then, finally, she drank.

    When she was done, she wanted to show him how adept she was at learning these languages. She wanted to throw her hooves in the water and sprinkle him too, speaking his language and all that, but she was distracted by his scent again and curiosity tugged her mind in a different direction.

    She stepped up to his cheek again, mindful of the teeth, and pushed her nose at him, blowing a breath against his coat. Hmm, yep. Smells good. She moved on to his neck, then his shoulder, mapping him out in her mind with little taps and nuzzles. He probably couldn't feel it anyway, right? So might as well.

    Speaking of not feeling, she added another bite at his hip, much harder than the last. Just to test. And then she would continue her way around him, filling in the blanks in her mind and giving him a face -or body.
    Reply
    #9
    dark son of gunsynd



























    The way she is tucked against him makes him uncomfortable. He is not use to being touched and it makes him want to claw off his skin right then and there but the male allows the blind woman to continue to hug his curves and edges tightly. His features remain stoic, neutral (not that she could tell but for the sake of her handicaps...well, he allows her to stay close). The small grunts in her throat at least let him know that she is not daft. The mare is still competent in her realization of who he was and what he was doing.

    When they had reached the water's edge and after his effort to lighten up the space between them, he is met with the woman slamming against his broad side and bouncing off. Confusion and curiosity glint the silver of his eyes as he watches the peculiar little creature that she is. After a few moments of her awkward dance, she is greedily sucking up the cool waters that spread around their hooves. Lior enjoyed the feeling of sand and pebbled under his hooves, the feathers floating about his ankles.

    A small smile curls at the edges of his lips when the mare seems satisfied with her fill. She was such a curiosity to Lior! He does not flinch or pull away when she is at his cheek, moving along the muscular length of his neck, the tallness pf his shoulder...

    BUT-

    When she goes and takes a hefty bite out of his hip, well, Lior isn't going to let that one slide. A throaty and loud whinny bellows from his chest as he bucks his hind up right on up in a hop...not trying to lash out in a hard kick but to simply bounce the thickness of his hindquarters against the mare's face or neck or whatever part of her to get his message across. No biting. Lior pivots  his weight around with pinned lobes and angry eyes. He knows the mare is blind but it does not ease the anger he feels for her to simply feel the need to break the skin of his hip in a nasty bite. Now he is wary of this woman. Was this a game? Some kind of trick? Lior had let her closer to him than any other horses before (at least willingly) and she repays him with not one but TWO bites. He snorts, already feeling the blood on his hip attracting flies.

    He had liked her company. For the first in a long time, Lior was warming up to her and not cringed at another's touch but now...now he wasn't sure if he could even trust a blind muted mare. The male stands tall now with a raised skull and laced lobes. He waits to see what magician lay just under the gold skin...what kind of trick this was being played on him. 


    LIOR
    Reply
    #10
    Teal
    He accepted her blunt behaviors of painting him in her mind with her relentless touching, and she felt confirmed that he could not feel physical things after all. She was usually shoved away by now, but he just stood there so stoic and still and dull. That was, up until she tested her little theory and gave him another good bite.

    Her ears seemed to vibrate soundlessly at whatever loud noise he must have made, and she was instantly on the alert. However, there is not much to be focused on with only the smell of him already surrounding her and the feel of his coat against her muzzle. So when he lifts his hind end where she bit him, her teeth clacked together as he bumped her under the chin.

    She was dazed for a brief moment as she retreated a step or two for safety, processing that he could indeed feel and that, yes, ouch, she could too. Then a wide grin spread on her face and she tossed her head back and laughed. Such a natural thing, laughs, loud and uncontrolled. She didn't hear a thing, of course, but she loved the happy shaking in her chest, as if it had been directly tied to her heart and just acted on its own sort of instinct. No mask for society or etiquette, she wasn't even aware of such things. Just bald expression however and whenever she felt them.

    Caveman feels! she thought with glee, still lit with amusement and joy. She wasn't sure why it made her glad, but she had no mind for questioning her emotions. That was a thing taught by society and the need to fit in or belong, and she was only herself and belonged wherever she stood.

    Her brows suddenly pulled together though, nostrils flaring. She suddenly feared he might have left and she'd be plunged back into her own sort of darkness again, scared and anxious about everything around her. She didn't like that feeling, the sting and icy pain in her chest, the terror.

    Her nose reached out tentatively, afraid of the sense of security she was beginning to feel around him, a strange male. She wasn't pushy this time, a little worried she'd find him gone if she tried hard enough. Her blind eyes were wide as she moaned some short, sad grunts, a wordless question. Are you still here?

    Am I alone again?


    ooc: sry for throwin you another one so quickly x.x no rush of course <33
    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)