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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


    [open]  With eyes like glass; ANY
    #1

    From my breast the cold heart taking,
    Give it to Belerma's care

    Six months are soon to pass me by. Six months and still no sign of hope or rescue. I’m left to grow and discover things on my own time and, in the span of life thus given to me, so far I’ve discovered this: waiting for your own story to begin was about as useless as tits on a fish.

    When dawn begins to lighten the sky I know it’s time to head out. Uncurling, I trade a sable black fur coat for a plain, muted brown. Single color switches were a thing of minor effort, now. I could fade from black to white with the speediness of a careful inhale, though multiple colors like bay or paint still evaded my grasp. If I attempted it, one color would seep into the next and break uniformity or pattern, rendering the effect useless and rather ugly. “Perhaps in time.” I think with the stretch of my crystalline wings, “Or perhaps never.”

    It didn’t matter to me. Changing something as narcissistic as one’s appearance was a meager party trick, in the grand scheme of life and power. The only good that came of it were other’s enjoyment at watching the painters transition. “Hey!” Another foal cries out, giving attention to my early rise, “Where’re you going?” 

    “Does it matter?” I reply, not even bothering to turn my head and look at the offending baby. No one else questions me. “I’ll be back, anyways.” I think, shuffling ahead into the yawning daylight to make tracks through the playground. No foal as young as I would be brave enough or stupid enough to attempt an overnight stay in the wilds. “Death lingers out there.”

    But that won’t stop me from living in the now, and right now I’m breaching the borders of the Meadow as daybreak offers her own soft strokes of color to our world. As a plain little brown thing with nearly invisible wings, I’ll be just another spot on the great canvas of life.

    Unless, for some reason, I’m rooted out as an easy target.

    Rey

    Reply
    #2
    The creature does not make a habit of prowling the meadow. He prefers the calm damp and darkness of the forest. But he had grown bored of the stillness and solitude it provides. Perhaps when he had more to think about it would again be his favorite haunt - but for now he does not wish to be alone with the ghosts that haunt his mind. He needs action. He needs life. This surprises him, but he does not fight the urge to seek out more entertainment.

    While he does not normally deviate from his usual somber coat unless trying to impress (or alarm), the thought of being in direct sunlight with a black pelt motivates him to change into something a little less gloomy. He materializes on the edge of the meadow (having forgotten the simple pleasure of walking places long ago) wearing a simple dun pelt. He also compacts himself, hiding his Friesian features. He does not appear to be himself at all, but that amuses him for the time being. He does not bother to hide the shimmer of his transparent wings, however (he often forgets that the strange appendages even exist).

    It is the wings that so resemble his own that catch his eye. Despite his general aversion to foals, the filly seems to hold herself in a fashion that does not immediately offend him. Ultimately, it is his overwhelming boredom that pushes the male towards the child.

    "Aren't you a bit small to be out alone?"
    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
    #3

    From my breast the cold heart taking,
    Give it to Belerma's care

    The dun male is neither secretive nor villainous in his approach and so I feel no immediate need (aside from turning a suspicious eye in his direction) to adjust my current position in the Meadow. I will agree that I felt initial hesitance at his overall appearance - he towers above me and has a manner of speaking down that marks him for his character - but I am more aware in these fresh, few months of life of just how deceiving appearances can be than others who have lived much longer and still believe in first looks. “The eye is the ultimate deceiver.” I reply to him in lieu of a better, snarkier response.

    I am a lady after all (or so I’d like to imagine.) “Aren’t you a bit large to be associating yourself with me?” I huff, casting my once suspicious gaze back out to the sea of horseflesh. The workings of my slow-growing tail flip side-from-side to deter a range of pests and, though I try to stifle the emotion, embarrassment at his remark blooms in spots of crimson along my proud, high cheekbones. “A bit small to be alone …” I want to scoff.

    I was much smaller than this when loneliness became my only friend.

    Rey



    @[Gunsynd]
    Reply
    #4
    Gunsynd
    (last night i got high
    as your expectations)
    There is a pause between when she finishes speaking and when the male decides to smile. Pleasantries are like a foreign language to him; they do not come naturally or easily. He is also unsure if he should even provide a smile for such a display of impertinence. She has obviously known no discipline. Of course Gunsynd is not the child-rearing type, but he has opinions.
     
    “Right you are.” He breathes, his voice softer and smoother than normal. And like a deflating balloon he shrinks himself down to her size, his features shifting seamlessly backwards in age until he is but a colt. It had been some time since he had morphed into something so innocent, yet the ease with which he achieved the final look was somewhat alarming. He cocks his head and looks her in the eye, mischief playing in his dark eyes. “Better?”


    @[Rey]
    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
    #5

    From my breast the cold heart taking,
    Give it to Belerma's care

    I have found Death. You cannot convince me otherwise - my eyes have seen and now, my heart will never forget. With fingers deft and smooth he halts time, dragging the hour hand backwards and backwards still, around and around while the minutes fall in line behind. I cannot hope to tear away the gaze I’d idly thought would be strong enough to resist him; the prowess of his abilities is like watching an animal be skinned alive.

    Unsettling. Fascinating.

    “Better?” He asks.

    What does he expect me to say? I watch him quietly now, both gray eyes tracing his  with untapped curiosity. I see mischief; the telltale sign of age trapped in a young body, but I also see much more. Perhaps even more than he’s aware of. “You would do this... for someone you don’t even know?” I ask, turning the event on its head.

    I could care less for his intentions, cruel or otherwise. It’s the first semblance of kindness on my behalf from a stranger - he could never understand how this moment will be coveted, tucked close to my heart for those aching days sure to come. “Thank you.” I murmur. The crimson of my cheeks spreads in a cloud of color across my once-brown skin, my legs move of their own design; suddenly I’m pressed flush against his body, bloodred and black.

    “What do they call you?” I want to know.

    Rey



    @[Gunsynd]
    Reply
    #6
    Gunsynd
    (last night i got high
    as your expectations)
    Stranger.

    The word disrupts the mischievous fun he was using her for. The smirk sinks from his lips and is replaced by a scowl. The creature is lost in the mire he had tried to avoid by coming to the meadow in the first place. 

    They were all strangers. The now familiar ache in his brain were memories should be came flooding back with a vengeance. Perhaps he would have been better off lurking in the shadows of the forest until he had a better grasp on what had happened to his past. But no... that would bore him. He needed to wreak havoc of some sort. Wasn't that what had drawn him to her to begin with?

    He notices the change to her coloration as one notes the movement of a stray hair against a face. Very little surprises him anymore. He had coupled with creatures that could change the weather by desire alone - a changing pelt was nothing to bat an eye at. He does note, however, that she seems to have very little control over her power. 

    The familiar smell of the old den reaches his nostrils as she presses herself against him. Many of his spawn had been reared in that wretched place (though he does not know who they or their mothers were). He feels the burn of regret as he realizes her sudden attachment. What had he done?

    He shifts his (currently) invisible wings to give himself some room and thinks about his options. Haphazardly he spits into the space between them "You're all strangers." The thought makes him angry...bitter. He suddenly has a vision of himself as an aging and impotent beast - dying a slow and uneventful death. While completely untrue, the thought is enough to shock him back towards action.

    Still in his childish form he moves closer, nibbling the fluff of mane playfully and letting his lips brush against her soft neck. "But why shouldn't I? What good are my abilities if I can't use them as I see fit?" His words are like honey and poison and they are muffled into her skin. He could feel her like putty in his hands. He would mold her into something he could use. He smiles and finishes "I don't know what 'they' call me, but you can call me Gunsynd."


    @[Rey]
    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
    #7

    From my breast the cold heart taking,
    Give it to Belerma's care

    Inside of me, there’s a thrill of sudden elation when he rolls his wings in discomfort. I shift, sidestep lazily away from the nudge, and press my bloodied lips tight together so that a smile won’t break out across my face. I must be in control of that - my body; it has to begin with the eyes so that they won’t see you, the real you. Mine dart away. Maybe he’ll think me in pain. “All the better.”

    I cannot see the way his dark lips have cut sharp creases into the corners of his mouth, nor can I discern the shadow that passes like a foreboding cloud over his features. I can only hear the harsh grate of his lungs as they conjure thick phlegm for spittle, the sharp tuh of his projectile when he curls his tongue to wordlessly relay distaste.

    I have stroked the fur of a demon, and this is my only rebuttal?

    The smile twists my lips against my will. I’m brought crashing to my senses at the soft grip of his teeth, it’s so easy to fling a wayward hind leg in response - as if this is all I’ve ever been: a playful child. “Gunsynd? Not what I expected, honestly.” I chirp, happy to see if this revelation will amuse him. “Better than, actually.”

    Now my gaze flies readily to him; a matching pair of eyes like a growing storm, filled with curiosity. He had said something, something that had stuck even as he’d taken liberty to press wizened words into the shape of my skin, distracting at best. “How do you see fit to use them?” I press, “Your abilities, I mean." I add in sudden explanation. The hint of a vestal smile softens my mouth, I tilt my chin towards him with the guise of fascination.

    There’s nothing harmful in my question. I’m just a child, after all. “Just a child.” I remind myself. “Is there anything you can’t do? I laugh.

    Rey



    @[Gunsynd]
    Reply
    #8
    Gunsynd
    (last night i got high
    as your expectations)
    Her thoughts are a mystery to him – he did not have the power to read minds like so many others. While he recognized the utility of such a trait, he had never been fond of the skill. Perhaps if it was offered to him it would be too tempting to resist, but for now he looked on its possessors with disdain. 

    The mind was sacred. The body, however, the body could be used and manipulated. The body had needs and desires that often contradicted the mind. He was much more comfortable infiltrating the physical. These games would toy with the mind in a much more circuitous fashion – teasing it into submission. 

    As she responds he smiles, though the smile is born from the thoughts that now flood through his mind rather than her playful quips. Her next question and the curiosity burning in her eyes only push him further down his own rabbit hole. “You’re asking if I have any limitations?” He asks. The smile remains but the words are dry, accusatory. He rolls his shoulders and flexes his wings which shimmer incandescently with the movement. His eyes bore into hers, daring her to avert her gaze now. “Is that wise…?” And then as an afterthought “What is your name?”



    @[Rey]

    If you're down for a little powerplay he can mess with her a little. Smile
    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
    #9

    From my breast the cold heart taking,
    Give it to Belerma's care

    Is it true? Can it be? Is this Gunsynd, the same one I stare at now with hushed reverence, is he suspicious of my motives? That smile - it hardly touches the depths of his eyes. He’s very good at the game I’m trying to learn, I study him now with a ravenous stare. “What nightmare can a nightmare dream?” I wonder, and then the slip of his first question is hanging in the air between us, footed only by another, less relevant one.

    “Are you afraid?” I ask suddenly, the subtle perk of my head giving me the air of someone highly amused. “No one will come for me, if I scream.” I tell him flatly, the red of my coat beginning to drain as I constructively brush past his final inquiry. It draws my humor with it, leaving me to color myself in strokes of dappled gray. “I’ve tried it before.”

    My interest in him wanes. Perhaps I’d been mistaken in my initial evaluation of this creature. He seems, at times, fully awake and at ease. But there are moments in the span of our little tete-a-tete that the infallible Gunsynd becomes riddled with uncertainty. I long for the rush of a fear I cannot conquer; Gunsynd may not be the one to challenge this. “Invincibility comes from having nothing to lose.”

    He has more than enough.

    I ease forward. My body realigns itself for southbound travel, the interwoven wings hoisted over my slender ribs sparkling softly in the glinting light as I twist around. “Call me disappointed, I suppose.” I tell him at last, switching the mute gray of my skin to the same, rich green of the meadowland around us. “What good are your abilities if you can’t use them as you see fit?”

    No good at all.

    Rey



    @[Gunsynd]

    Have at it Wink
    Reply
    #10
    Gunsynd
    (last night i got high
    as your expectations)
    So she was finished conversing, was she? That suited him just fine. He had never been the diplomatic type. One last smile at her receding form and her attempt at disdain and then - 

    A crack of the atmosphere not unlike that of lightning and his false boyish form vanishes completely. 

    This is how he felt freedom… when his most basic parts were one with the world around him. It had taken him ages to master his craft, to become utterly aware of each and every one of his cells, atoms, particles. He had to distinguish one from another in order to let them fly apart and come back together on his command. It was an art that had destroyed him and recreated him several times throughout his existence, but it was such a part of him now he was unsure of how he had ever really been himself without it. 

    While his molecules are ranging free, he moves only a handful into the young female’s body where they settle, one in her stomach, one in each lung, and one in each ear. He then begins to play. The part of him in her stomach grows larger and larger, a hard and cold stone that weighs down her innards. Simultaneously he vibrates his cells near her eardrums so that all she can hear is a thunderous roar, and creates a near-freezing mist in her lungs, forcing her breath to expel small puffs of icy vapor despite the mild temperature that surrounds her. 

    The parts that make up his face float incorporeally before her eyes, though he has become black as shadow once more and has made his eyes a green reptilian affair. His tongue (now vipercated and black) reaches out to her and enters her ear, flicking the sensitive hairs within. The deafening roar ceases momentarily while he whispers “If you scream, I might come for you.” He lets out a terrible laugh and moves the parts that have been in her ears to the muscles of her jaw where they shoot out intermittent electrical impulses that cause her jaw to clench and unclench rapidly. He becomes disembodied once more and uses his skills to cause swathes of her pelt to become incredibly hot and others almost frostbitten. The mist in her lungs becomes almost a solid, making each breath difficult and painful. It begins to move up through her airways, causing a suffocating sensation while allowing just enough oxygen to pass through to keep her alive. Eventually he allows this to be let loose, leaving her coughing and sputtering and gasping for breath through the clenching of her jaw. The two particles become themselves once more and join the rest of him in his game.

    The stone in her stomach grows larger, causing her muscles to spasm and contract against it. In an instant, the stone transforms into a liquid and forces its way up through her esophagus and out of her nostrils and chattering jaws. He removes himself from her entirely and it is over as quickly as it had begun. He had no sense of how long he has played with his toy, but he has tired of his game. All this fun has done nothing but fuel his desire to seek out more interesting prey. He reforms himself as she had first seen him and presses his lips against her neck, still hot from his power, before turning and setting off in the direction of the forest. “Scream for me sometime – I promise I won’t disappoint.” He calls over his shoulder on his way back to the shadows. 


    @[Rey]
    Feel free to edit anything out Smile
    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




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