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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


    please allow me to introduce myself. [ether]
    #1
    I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

    He stands apart. Always apart. Their lives are meaningless. Their loves, their losses, the chaos and destruction that they bring down on one another … they mean nothing. It means nothing. Most of them are a blip on the face of their world; insignificant in the eyes of time.

    Those gathered thin out as night rises, drawing a blanket of chills and breath vapors over the winter-laden landscape. Motionless, he watches them go from the tree line, lips drawn tight in distaste at the affection with which they bid their goodbyes. There is little point in relationships that gain you nothing but useless emotion. He rolls his eyes, the pupil nearly lost in the dark brown of today’s color choice. As the silence stretches longer, the ground at his feet begins to tremor. The snow cover on the ground is thin, the tightly twined branches overhead heavily laden. The boughs tremble, depositing their burdens on his back, and the lightless spaces in the frozen dirt expand and the hellhound emerges, dark molecule by dark molecule.

    This time he is small, no taller than Niklas’ knee. Just as lanky as his master, the shaggy black thing shakes the sulphur dust from his coat. Niklas follows suit, stretching his refined head forward and rolling his shoulders violently, ridding his back of snow. With a wordless glance, the two turn and melt into the welcoming shadows of the Forest.

    Set had sent him out from the Isle in search of him. And, of course, like a good little demon, he is complying. His father had learned a thing or two from a certain voodoo priestess the last time they had been home. The binding spell that holds him in Set’s control is one of them. They had disagreed on its necessity on more than one occasion – something about his inability to temper his inherent nature. Rubbish. He moves through the bowels of the Forest without sound, even the snuffle of the hound’s ever-searching nose muffled in the cold silence. Here shadow rules all and here is where they will find him.

    “Etherrrrr …,” his voice purrs with promise, systematically searching the nothingness with practiced ease. Come out, come out wherever you are.
    Niklas
    Hybrid, Black, Set x Anaxarete, Demon
    Reply
    #2

    Golden eyes watching our every move
    Losing time without the sun or moon

    He’d noticed. The shadows react differently to his presence, whispering through the darkest reaches of his hidden realm, heralding his arrival. It was impossible to miss, especially for one so closely entwined with those very shadows. He hadn’t liked it, so odd and foreign in the place he draws the most comfort from.

    They whisper to him as he draws closer, reaching cool dark curls across his skin. As though they might protect him. But they are slaves to his whim. Even they know it, but still the call to him. They are his, always.

    Icy fingers crawl across his spine as his name trembles through the empty space. He bares his sharpened teeth, snapping at the air as though he might snatch the hollow syllables from the wind. He searches for him in the empty spaces in between, in the hollows of the real world. The places he has always loved to hide.

    A part of him wants to flee, wants nothing to do with the beast that touches these shadows so cruelly. But another part of him is curious. Too curious. None have ever sought him before. He has always been so good at invisibility. The world might never even know he existed if he hadn’t found little Cimmerian. Or rather, if Cimmerian hadn’t found him.

    He would protect that boy with every last blackened bit of his soul.

    Determination fuels him. Parting the shadowy curtains, he peers into the depths of the forest. Light struggles to find purchase here, but that is why Ether loves it so. And here is where the demon finds him, the endless pitch of his body blending so perfectly with the darkness. Only his eyes indicate his presence, gleaming and golden, eerie in the depth of shadow. He is silent, no scent to give away his presence, no muffled breathing or shuffling of steps. The world’s most invisible and lethal of predators, if only he knew it.

    “Who are you?” he whispers into the dark, voice melding perfectly into the hush of the deep forest.

    ether

    Reply
    #3
    @[Niklas] has been infected by the plague (rolled a 3).
    He is a carrier (rolled a 1).
    He will not express a trait (rolled a 5).

    @[Ether] has also been infected by the plague (rolled a 1).
    He will show symptoms (rolled a 3).
    He will not express a trait (rolled a 4).
    Reply
    #4
    I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
    There was a time that Niklas had all that he wanted: a throne, the heat, the slap and sizzle of flayed and burnt flesh. Hell for some, Heaven for him.

    It’s all about perspective.

    He can feel Ether’s imminent attendance – the shadows bend to his will because they must, his dear, pitchy slaves. They fear him, serve him; but they love the boy. It matters little to him – their obedience is his to wield as he sees fit. Loyalty without something in return is not a concept he is well versed in. His insides ache and a shiver ripples down his sides and he rattles the bars of his cage. He would be free one day. Until then …

    He blinks and the yellow eyes are there, peering out from the impossible depth that hides the rest of him. Niklas does not hesitate to smile and he cannot help it, it is a gruesome, dangerous thing. Who are you, he asks and the black devil’s smile only grows wider, the black of his eyes going white and then fading to a dull brown.

    “You mean you don’t recognize your own family?” He feigns a pout, drawing closer to the pair of eyes, the soft thud of his footsteps on the frozen earth disturbing the quiet of the deep wood. Thin ears pinned tight, teeth clenched together, he snakes his head out and blows, eyes rolling back as he shoves the shadows back with a violent burst of power. His intent is to strip the younger stallion of his cloak, bare him without prejudice. They may refuse, cling to their charge as if they might save him for whatever hell awaits him in their master’s company. No matter – he can always send his pet in after him.

    “Right then,” he suddenly says, shifting in the gloom, nose wrinkled in mild disgust. “Niklas,” he offers, knowing the name will have no meaning and not caring. “Do you even know who you are? What you are?” He asks with a tilt of his thin head. Even he is not entirely sure - beyond the blood relation - but he can sense this Ether belongs to his darkness.

    The Plague creeps along the Forest floor, sinking into his flesh, a sickness welcomed.

    Niklas
    Reply
    #5

    Golden eyes watching our every move
    Losing time without the sun or moon

    He grips the shadows with a cruel hand, and Ether does not like it. They are so forgiving, the shadows. If one but showed a hint of kindness, they were always so willing to shield and protect, to cloak and give themselves over. But instead of asking, he commands with unbridled harshness, turning that willingness to slavery. He does not like it.

    His ears pin against his skull, invisible in the dim light of the shelter trees. He can feel the way in which they respond to him, being ripped asunder like a flimsy strip of cotton. More than warning enough for someone so closely attuned to them.

    For only a moment is the length of his pitch dark body entirely visible before the shadows swallow him, welcoming him into their cool embrace. When he parts those dark curtains once more, he is behind the slavering beast, yellow eyes glaring from the sheltering protection of his realm. He hadn’t missed the question however, and were he not utterly certain he is no kind of family, he might have paused in confusion.

    Relation he might be, but Ether knows who is family is. The question does not even merit a response.

    His next question however, gives him pause. Do you even know who you are? What you are? He knows the shadows had welcomed him in a time when he had needed them the most, knows they have sunk beneath his skin, into his very soul. He knows his own mind, his wants and desires and feelings. But none of those are truly what he asks, are they?

    He doesn’t move from the darkened shelter, instead peering at Niklas with those golden eyes for an uncomfortably long moment. Finally he whispers into the air the question tickling the corners of his mind. “Do you?”

    ether

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