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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


    [mature]  (a little gory) let's begin feeding the sickness; any
    #1
    With every ambling step, the komodo dragon’s head weaved back and forth, forked yellow tongue flicking out to taste the air. He’d been tracking the strange beast for days, since it had escaped his clutches - but not before he’d gotten in one good bite to the chest. Such delicious relief had scented the air as it broke free and ran, and he had watched, mouth open in a wicked grin dripping with its blood as it scurried away.

    They tasted so much better when they thought they were safe.

    Days passed, and he followed behind, slow and steady, tasting its growing concern in the scent trail it left behind. The bleeding wouldn’t let up, wouldn’t clot like a normal wound, and panic rose and crested and broke as the strange four-legged beast weakened. And today? Today he could taste resignation and exhaustion and defeat. He’d given slow, inexorable chase, tracking the beast and letting it catch glimpses of him anytime it got too complacent.

    If prey-beasts dreamed, perhaps he was the monster in their nightmares, a gaping grin dripping venom and his own glorious brand of meat tenderizer, saliva heavy-laden with bacteria that sank into their flesh with one bite, stewing inside them for days, turning the into the most delicious meals if he could just be patient enough.

    And oh, but he was patient.

    It was already down when he finally let himself catch up, wide eyes dull as it stared at its end approaching on four clawed feet. Its chest heaved in erratic rhythm, fighting for breath, and still he took his sweet time, savoring the scent of impending death. It was far too large a meal for him alone, though that had never stopped him trying; he could devour nearly his full body weight in a single sitting, and this was a brand new delicacy, a species he’d never sampled before. How delightful. His tongue flicked out to draw in the scent of its breath as it panicked and flailed, struggling to rise on solid hooves, flicked out juuuust far enough to taunt it with a swift little lick of the soft skin at the end of its muzzle.

    Hello, precioussss. What a pleasure to meet you.

    His mouth gaped open and he struck, the sweet taste of blood flooding his mouth, adrenaline spiking as the beast fought one last time to save a life that was already lost, forfeit to his venom and the infection that spread through its veins. Nnnh, but he loved the fight, pupils dilating, head lashing as he tore at the still-breathing carcass, serrated teeth slicing through flesh and ripping a chunk of meat free for him to snap up and swallow down, utterly delicious.

    Another bite while its dying screams rent the air, setting his blood to humming in his veins, buzzing with life, with the frenzy of the feed. It flailed and thrashed as he tore free another chunk of the lovely flesh of its chest, dodging blows from wildly-striking hooves as it struggled to rise, to flee, to live.

    Mmmm, but it struggled in vain.

    He ate his fill, gorging on hide and meat and bone and organ alike. The carcass went still long before he was satisfied of course, as they always did, but the meal was sweet and tender, savory and delightful, and he enjoyed every morsel until he couldn’t stuff another bite down his throat. With a sated groan, he dragged his body toward a nice, sunny rock to bask and digest and revel in the fullness of his belly and the afterglow of a successful hunt.

    He slept, the heat of the sun and his distended belly making him hummm with lazy contentment. But as he slept, he changed. Magic of a sort woke in his veins for the first time in his life, burning through him and twisting his body until it became like that of his prey. Bony scales became supple hide, copper and white fur spreading across his new skin. Long hair sprouted from his tail and the back of his neck, and spilled over down the front of his face as ears grew, as bones warped and muscles stretched and pulled and toes fused into hooves, so that when he woke, he was the shape of the unfamiliar beast. The horse, the first one he’d seen, the first one he’d touched, the first one he’d devoured. Its blood sang to his, called out a shape he’d never known was his.

    Hot blood, wide prey eyes, and the world around him exploded into color and definition beyond anything he’d seen before. What? He jerked to his feet, startled at the new shape of his limbs, the strange redistribution of weight, finding a new center of gravity. He snorted, tossing his head nervously, feeling the flutter of a mane against his neck. What the hell? Perhaps it was a dream. He’d never dreamed of being a prey-beast before, but he’d indulged in a tiny flight of fancy about prey beasts and their dreams, so. Maybe he was due. Sure.

    Might as well explore what it was like in this strange new shape. So he ran, reaching speeds he’d never dreamed possible. He leapt and kicked and whirled, bucked and jumped and learned the way this body moved, learned its senses, learned its rhythm. And when the scent of others of his species teased the air for the first time in his life, he gave into his new shape’s pull to seek them out. Slipping into the water, he left his island home and swam for the distant mainland.

    It took longer in this shape, limbs less suited to gliding through the water, tail no longer built for powering him forward, body no longer slinking and sinuous in the waves. Still, he made it to land, scrambling onto the sandy shore and shaking himself as dry as he could manage, water still clinging to the ridiculous long hairs that tumbled from his neck and his tail. So damn bizarre. His chest heaved, sucking in air after the long exertion, and he stomped his hooves, trying to shake off the clammy wet feeling of fur stubbornly holding onto ocean water.

    Now. Where the hell was he? A sandy beach, lush greenery leading up to a mountain that smoked with warning. Steam rose from inland freshwater, shrouding the land partway up the volcano with a thick veil of moisture. Mmmm, warm and lovely, a bit warmer than his island had been, and he could smell abundant prey of a wide variety of species. Oh this would do nicely. And the new shape was happy too, the scent of his kind thick and heady in the air. With one last shake, he set out to explore this delightfully strange, luscious territory.
    #2
    KERRIGAN
     
    The simple heat had attracted her, just as the ethereal moth becomes enraptured with the brilliance of flame.  It becomes an instinctual need, just hovering past the thin boundaries of infatuation and obsession, to find the source.  She'd dropped the guise of the banded krait in favor of something more land dwelling, shedding the body more attuned with the raucous seas and raising the sinewy form of a black cobra in its place.  

    The painted youth had presumably evoked her from the reptilian stupor she'd thrown herself into, rekindling the deeply embedded desire to return to the lands she had once roamed in a different form.  Still unwilling however, to give up the more predatory state of the mind the serpentine mare had given herself over to just yet.  

    And as the last of the warmth of autumn had bled and died in the arms of winter, she found herself on a primitive pilgrimage to a land of perpetual warmth and greater promise.  Imagine the surprise then, for the reclusive mare to nearly be tread upon by the stray hooves of another as her mind began to lapse into instinctual autopilot.  Kerrigan hadn't noticed the odd intermingled residue of equine and reptile belonging to someone other than herself until he was nearly upon her.

    Raising her arrowed head, the obsidian hood she wore expanded with an aggravated hiss; the only warning she gives before beady eyes train on his metallic form.  The heat of anger burns brightly, perhaps more so at herself than him, for her careless behavior.  The nearly forgotten emotion tugs at something within her, triggering her lithe, jet body to reform into the distinct shape of an equine, the darkness of her reptilian eyes fading to a turbulent silver-grey that glare back at him heatedly.

    Head hung low, she hardly pays mind to the bulky bodice she now wears.  "I'd be more mindful of where I step next time if I were you."

    i am everything you've ever lost.
    i am everything you've never had.

    @[End]
    #3
    The senses in this form were so different, sight almost overwhelmingly vibrant, scent so very odd, working primarily through the nose, not so accentuated by taste. His tongue seemed virtually useless in comparison, flicking out to taste the air and learning next to nothing. His nose worked well enough, and those ears were bizarre, external and swiveling with the twitch of minute muscles in his head. That was a bit of a trip, focusing sound by rotating his ears instead of turning his head.

    He was so absorbed in learning the way his body perceived the world now that he missed the taste of serpent in the air--scent. Right, the scent. Perhaps that explained the odd sensation in his chest, the restless way his body wanted to dance to the side, flick ears back, snort, eyes sharpen and seek out danger. Of course, he figured this all out after the snake hissed, zeroing in on him with rage and warning in reptilian eyes. His body wanted to shy away, or strike out at the tiny threat, but his own eyes flashed reptilian and focused intently, mouth shifting almost imperceptibly, teeth sharpening at the sight of a potentially delicious little treat.

    Ah, but then the snake writhed and warped and twisted into something still so strange to his eyes, the same shape of the four-legged beast he’d devoured, and so recently become. His gaze sharpened and he watched, fascinated, as she settled into her equine skin. Intriguing. Her transformation had looked quite deliberate; perhaps he could learn to do the same? He damn well hoped so, at least. Being a prey-beast was sure to get old.

    It took a moment for her words to filter through his equine brain and translate themselves, the first speech he’d heard in his life. But when they did, the words coaxed a sharp-edged grin to his face and he took a step closer, breathing in her scent. “Mmm, right you are. Snakes make such tasty little snacks.” He clicked his teeth with a little huff of laughter and then asked, “How did you do that? Change your shape on purpose?”
    @[Kerrigan]
    #4
    KERRIGAN
     
    The stallion hadn’t heeded much of her warning, neither in serpentine disguise nor in her equine form.  Firstly by not entirely shying away from her provoked spitting, then by even daring a step closer to her grey splotched bodice.  Raising her head higher, her eyes narrow and ears rotate forward, making no move to retreat from his looming unwelcomed presence sliding nearer.

    Snakes make such tasty little snacks.

    He grins.
    Then he laughs.
    And that was all she needed to hear.

    Kerrigan’s composure was quickly fleeing, as was her time and patience.  The lack of warmth was beginning to feel draining, energy quickly waning before she could even step foot into the perfect heated embrace that Tephra could likely offer.  The lengthening of her hollowed fangs had been unintentional, as did the morphing of her pupils vertically contracting, threatening to mutate backwards. God, how she was craving the permeating heat of volcanic stone to seep through her body.

    “Practice.”  

    She tosses the retort over her shoulder with the snap of her jaws closing firmly into place, having already turned around to restart the trek further into the heart of the charcoal kingdom.  They could part ways there, or he could follow her if he was so inclined, but the wizened mare damn well wouldn’t waste another second standing uselessly still in this lumbering cloak.

    i am everything you've ever lost.
    i am everything you've never had.

    @[End] apparently she can get a little feisty




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