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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


    go to hell for heaven's sake; iset
    #1

    go to hell for heaven's sake

    It calls to him—the beast within.

    The hunger is selfish and manipulative. He answers to it, unable to really figure out just how he can say no. Then again, how could he say no to such excitement, such thrill? The adrenaline is more than he can handle. It pushes and flows through his veins, shaping and shifting his form, answering to the craving so eagerly and ready.

    He is a slave.

    A slave to masters that harbor darkness and destruction.

    He is chained to the core. Hurdling and fleeing to escape is not an option in his situation.

    So, he simply answers the call.

    The instinct is natural when he is shifted and shaped into a wild beast. He is black as the night, fur and scales, with red and yellow glowing eyes. A hound on the loose—crying out for blood, and craving fresh bone and flesh.

    He follows the scent, mouth drooling wildly. The hound moves down into the mountain. Paws carrying him easily over the winter worn earth ground. His pace is quick and precise. Carefully, he moves through shadows between trees and vegetation.

    The scent is just around the corner. Just a little closer to the lake—he is going wild now. Eager red and golden eyes searching. His mouth dripping with saliva at the edges.

    And then he says her, the scent, the girl just within reach.

    “I found you,” he says loudly with pride.

    S
    inner

    @[Iset] This was needed long ago. Sorry for the wait <3
    Profile | Detailed Bio | Character Reference
    Most likely always in his hellhound form
    #2

    Slowly but surely, her life was encroaching on normalcy again, and she didn’t know how to feel about it. It was all well and good that her and her brothers were together again, but where was the adventure? The thrill? After all, 99% of Iset’s fun had spawned from danger while in the Dunes, and she missed that giddy heart-racing adrenaline-pumping feeling.

    She had learned very early on in her life that horses generally had one of three responses. The cowardly fled. The smart picked their battles. And the hotheads and idiots fought. 

    Somehow, Iset always managed to fall into the third. Flight wasn’t exactly in her vocabulary. 

    She sees him before she smells him, but neither sense warns her until its almost too late. She blames the snow for accosting her eyesight and freezing her the small, short hairs in her nose, making it so that she didn’t notice the stranger until he was nearly on top of her. Someone or something strange was tracking her, hunting. 

    As soon as he was close enough, his dark fur against the snow gave him away and her nostrils flared at his scent, new and unsettling. The thought of running crossed through her mind, but quickly escaped out the other side. It’d been a while since she’d had a little excitement anyways. 

    He was lower than she was, but stocky. He was something she had never seen before. And she was ready to fight him, if it came to that. She spread her skinny legs to better balance herself, baring her blunt teeth and pinning her ears flat against her head. 

    Before he attacks (if, in fact that is what he plans on doing), he speaks, catching her off guard. A childish pride seeps into his voice, as though seeking her out was merely a task given to him, and he has succeeded. Her guard doesn’t slip, however and before long she has returned to her defensive stance. 

    “Found me?” she questions curiously, “Why on earth were you looking for me in the first place? Who are you? How do you know me?” She peppers the stranger with questions, not waiting for him to answer before more fly from her mouth like bullets.


    there's an old man sitting on the throne thats saying

    iset
    I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut





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