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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


    I got high as your expectations
    #1
    Nothing.

    And then some disturbance in the air. A quiver in the atmosphere. Like an approaching storm. And then...

    A shadow appeared on the leaf litter though no sun penetrated the foliage to cast one. The shadow grew and became more definite in shape. It began to move upwards in space in the most unnatural fashion - bubbling up in places and ebbing in others. As it moved upwards hooves materialized on the ground, surrounded by thick black feathering. Legs followed, muscles that had been long forgotten formed a topography under the surface of their skin. The body took some time to forge from the shadows and its pelt matched the ombre so perfectly it was difficult to determine when it had actually come into being.

    After several minutes of creation the being stood complete but seemingly lifeless. There was a dullness to the dark eyes and a heavy stillness hung in the air. Was it possible for a creature to bring itself into being only to leave the soul outside its body? So it seemed for minutes on end until...

    Breath

    A fog rolled from the nostrils upon his first exhalation. Whether it was dust from disuse or an inner chill that caused the fog in the middle of summer it was not certain. Regardless of the cause, the fog quickly abated and the dark eyes lit from within as slowly as the shadow had formed on the forest floor.

    Alive. Whole. 

    But there was something missing. He knew who he was in the most basic of ways. He was power. He was anger. He was lust. But further details evaded him. Memories plagued him like flies that would not land for long enough to swat. Without understanding why, he became angry. He knew that there should be more in his head than the gentle buzz that currently took up residence. He was older than time itself - there should be more than a name.

    And so he stewed, alone and confused but here nevertheless. Unsure of where he was or where he ought to be. But he was back.

    He was Gunsynd.
    Gunsynd is currently pretending to be someone else! He is now 15hh, hybrid, flea-bitten grey with clear blue eyes and goes by the name of Ginkgo. He will not have use of his traits while he is in this form. Please play as if he is simply the other persona unless your character has some sort of mind-reading. Thanks! <3
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    #2

    She knows the familiar twist of cedar wood and sweat. The pale woman lifts her head from the green moss at her feet to watch as he materializes. She is not afraid now or has ever been of the savage creature. She knows him too well to fear him.

    Gunsynd, a father to her silent black and turquoise daughter Gunvor, drags his decremented bones from the earth in an unusual sluggish strain. Epithet chews the last bits of her meal thoughtfully as she muses his confusion. He had been a terrible man to her. All tooth and nail...not that they had spent any more than a few moments of feverous lust pawing and clawing at each other's skin under the glittering eyes of the stars.

    Gunvor, the odd girl, seemed to be more his than hers but Epithet raised her nonetheless. Deep blue eyes trace him against the backdrop of lanky brow trees and tugging brambles. He was just as pretty as they day they copulated. The porcelain woman decides to go say hello for old times' sake.

    "Gunsynd." The woman speaks with inclination, bobbing her head in a slight nod as she picks her way across the soft soil of summer humidity. She stands as youthful as her fifth birthday with an eternity already behind her. The same would go too for the dark stallion that she had chosen to approach once again. Epithet eyes him, wondering if he would remember her pale skin, the ragged breathes but she decides the shake the image away since his abandonement had led her to Wyrm, her beloved emerald man.

    Epithet was just another face to this one (and how she had counted the children by him through the ages) and he was just a memory submerged under other various names and faces but something seems off about the usually statuesque beast. "Everything...okay?" She tilts her head slightly with dark lips pressing together in a minor concern but wondering if this was all a facade.

    Epithet


    ugh im obsessed with him...sorry lol i'm just playing off of their encounter that lead to Gunvor (who I'd like to meet him if you're feeling musey) and Epi has finally gotten her weepy shit together and put her big girl pants on hah
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    #3
    So thick was the fog swirling in his brain that the newly-reformed creature had not noticed the scent of another so nearby. Her voice breaks him of his tortured reverie and his eyes glint in her direction. There is pain in the deep recesses of his mind - he should know the face, the scent, the name. He knows he should have memory of the mare before him but there is none. Still, the ghost of the memory haunts him... teases him with its lack of solidity. He simply stands before her, his mind ablaze and eerily silent all at once. His eyes are dull and he does not stoop to the usual pleasantry of smiling or nodding.

    Finally he catches hold of a solid thought; she is not afraid. This bemuses and frustrates him. This is not normal, he is sure. And because it is his only real thought process, he clings to it like a lifeboat.

    His lips curl back over his teeth in what can only be described as a snarl and he snorts with derision. "Aren't you brave." The words spilling out like venom, souring the air between them. He is aware of the concern she had voiced but this only fuels his anger. "Or very stupid." He adds with a crack of a laugh. 

    He pauses and cocks his head, the remnants of the snarl still tugging at his lips. "What do you hope to accomplish by seeking me out?" It is not his favorite season yet - this he knows from her smell and the warmth of the air around him. Anything else she may want is a mystery to him, but he will get it out of her. As of now, she is his only connection to the solid world of the living and he is not convinced that he is grateful yet.

    ((missed yew - sorry gunny has amnesia from being in the clouds so long!))
    Gunsynd is currently pretending to be someone else! He is now 15hh, hybrid, flea-bitten grey with clear blue eyes and goes by the name of Ginkgo. He will not have use of his traits while he is in this form. Please play as if he is simply the other persona unless your character has some sort of mind-reading. Thanks! <3
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    #4
    'Like a rabid coyote.' She associates him with the idea, teeth far too exposed, edges of his mouth flecked with foam and spittle. Epithet doesn't moved from her place. She is a woman reborn, a creature once gobbled up by men like him and spat out for the next to come and fuck her and do the same. Epithet harbors a -bit- of animosity still since she has gathered all her pieces and put herself back together.

    Ears are bouncing between him and the sounds of ceaseless bird chatter that summer always brought. His remarks are like warm waves shattering against the jagged stone wall of a jetty. Epithet remains unmoved, unnerved. He is weak and confused. Pity for he had last been remembered as strong, angry, relentless. Now Epithet quirks a brow at his paltry lashings. "You have called me worse." She muses with a slow grin at his remark of her possible stupidity.

    "Now Gunsynd, why would you assume I want or need anything from you? I happen to see you looking rather off kilter and decided to see where you have been hiding all this time. Your daughter is nearly two now but I don't expect you to remember who she is or myself really for that matter." The woman shifts her weight from one ivory hip to the other as deep blue eyes watch him. "You should be happy that any gives a shit -at all- about you. You ungrateful bastard." The remark made with a threatening smirk across her pretty dark tapered lips, tossing the length of her forelock away though the warm breeze combs it back across her sight.
    Epithet
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    #5
    Her assessment of Gunsynd as a rabid coyote is not far from the truth. Predator. Crazed. He is these things to be sure. But unlike the frothing canine, he is calm and calculating. Conniving. The same bark-like laughter erupts from him at her jab. The conversation suddenly felt familiar in its antipathy. 

    Her words give him clues as to their past and momentarily relieve the pain of the emptiness in his mind. She had once been his - this does not surprise him. They all bend to his will sooner or later. He had fathered a child with her - also to be expected. He had sired more vermin than he could possibly count. 

    While the accusations were something he would normally let slide, her condescension pushed him past any such benevolence. The sneer slackens and he moves towards her, his cold eyes glinting with malice. "And what makes you think that I need any of your false concern? Do you think me so dense that I don't realize how you females try to use me? Clawing your way to me for a hope of power through my seed... only to think that somehow ties you to me - that I owe you in some way." He is close to her now, his words are quiet but full of spite.

    "Since you believe me to be ungrateful, let me show you my gratitude." His eyes spark with some hidden mischief and his lips tug upwards once more. He is most comfortable in this role - the cat playing with the mouse. "Much like your 'concern', it will be unwanted and most untimely. Just remember..." He moves his mouth to her ear and whispers "you asked for it." 

    He moves away from the mare at this and becomes one with the shadows once more. He may not be any closer to having his memories back, but at least now he had a game to play.

    ((CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE SUBSCRIBED TO GUNNY GHOST! ENJOY THE HAUNTING!))
    Gunsynd is currently pretending to be someone else! He is now 15hh, hybrid, flea-bitten grey with clear blue eyes and goes by the name of Ginkgo. He will not have use of his traits while he is in this form. Please play as if he is simply the other persona unless your character has some sort of mind-reading. Thanks! <3
    Reply
    #6
    The heat of his skin is searing her own with a dripping humidity. He is a slow burn of garbage in a long forgotten landfill, seething and dangerous, and just will not fucking die. Epithet rolls her eyes in an exaggerated motion when he attempts to unnerve her. She would not let him have the satisfaction of seeing her whimper away like a beaten bitch by her master. No, she easily will not let him have the visual memory of their past and his harmful words to orgasm to later in the comfort of his own dark mind.

    Epithet lifts a brow, her lips thinning with a small consideration for his threat and she shrugs. 'Oh do, Gunny love, please." The words are thick, sweet honey dripping from her dark lips as she opens her eyes wide and gazes up at him with the perfect innocence of a young girl, begging for her lover to be inside her except she spreads her lips to a grin as he slips away to into the darkness.

    ...Epithet debates how long she will let him have this side of her. How long she will permit his nuisance before she shows him what she can do too. "Oh Gunny..." The voice she expels is liquid sex, her smirk tugging at her eternally pretty lips. She looks off towards where he disappeared as though a musing wife after her dumb but sweet husband when he tries hard at something and fails miserable. 'It's the thought that counts.' She hypothesizes. Epithet wonders if he will appear again or perhaps dissipate like the summer's heat.
    Epithet


    So I know Calcifer is going to pm you! We can wait here if you like since we can roll this all over to another thread or you are welcome to post!
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