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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


    [mature]  i don't have my head on straight ; khuma
    #1
    He has spent so much time lately just blending into the background, concentrating on raising his unruly sons and daughter, and he finds something within himself stirring curiously as his younglings finally grow old enough to be on their own again. He doesn’t question the compulsion that drives him from Loess’s borders and deep into the Forest, simply letting his mind wander as he tramps recklessly through the neutral grounds. It wasn’t that long ago that he had ventured into the Meadow and found not just Rowe, but Xiah as well, and he smirks at the thought of the two women. They had been good enough fucks, but then they had dumped their spawn upon him and disappeared. He enjoys the presence of his children, but the women were useless, just tools. They were gone as quickly as they had come.

    He longs for decent, quiet conversation and perhaps that is a sign that he is surely aging. Children are good fun but they are not great conversationalists – and his eldest daughter, Cress... well, she is too wrapped up in her own mind to worry about her old man. They talk daily, something he could not have claimed before a year ago, and though they are close he grows weary of being constantly surrounded by his family and nothing else. He has hardly met the others of Loess but he doesn’t find himself caring as much about it as he would have in his youth.

    A branch snaps under his heavy hooves and he pauses in both his movement and thoughts, glancing around curiously before continuing on his self-made path. He is aimless, bored, but he knows that something has driven him here and away from his home. It doesn’t take him long to traverse the entire wood, and he stops on the bank of the river, lowering his head to sip at the cold waters. The day is a gentle one – neither too hot nor too cold, and though he is tempted to cross the river into the Meadow to find his favorite napping tree, he resists.  

    So there he stands until the sunlight begins to fade, a stoic black-and-white shadow against the setting sun.

    @[Khuma] ugh this is weird and i'm bad at starters
    immune.
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    #2
    i'd break the back of love for you.
    She had nested here in Loess with her newest egg and waited patiently for the first sounds of a heartbeat within its ivory shell. The warm den had promised a perfect incubation for this child and she was prepared to raise another perfect baby of her own. Salvage had been so perfect that her heart raised when she dreamed of how this one would look. She awoke each morning with a smile on her face and eagerly pressed her ear to that egg.

    But the heartbeat never came.

    She waited all through the winter and spring. It was mid-summer when she finally came to accept that her baby had died before it was even born. Khuma hunted ravenously after that, gorging herself on weaker prey until she thought for certain she would burst. Sometimes she left carcasses just because the killing helped her forget that she had to clean out her nest. But now autumn has come and she supposes she could try again.

    Tall and slender, she slinks her way back into Loess with a small smear of red across her lips from her last hunt. Her dark green eyes roam across the various bodies but none of them intrigue her enough to want any sort of coupling. But then there is one that looks unusual to her, even in today’s world. Snow white mane against ink black body. Khuma slithers up from behind and lets her side brush his just enough to alert him to her presence. She tilts her chin down so the black of her forelock nearly covers her doe eyes.

    She stops just ahead of him and looks back at him. The dying light of the day exaggerates her curves and leaves her fiery red compared to his monochromatic body.

    I’m Khuma. Would you like some company?” she asks, her voice all breath and hunger. But she keeps herself muzzled for now as she watches him eagerly.
    khuma.
    @[Oxytocin]
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    #3

    He has never felt the loss – or nonexistence – of a child, at least to his knowledge. Every woman he has ever covered has birthed him a strong son or a beautiful daughter, much to his delight. His most recent conquests had left him with three healthy, powerful children, and he is sure that his seed is strong enough to continue producing more offspring through the years. The thought of settling with any one woman doesn’t exactly cross his mind – he has not been romantically attached since he was with Kindling, and reflecting back on that relationship, he knows now that it had never really been love. Love does not manipulate, he thinks.

    A body brushes against his in the fading light, and his eyes fall hungrily to the bay-and-white woman, half-tempted to rake his teeth through her mane as her slender frame just barely grazes his. Instantly he is starving, but he doesn’t let it show outwardly as she turns to face him, her dark forelock falling coyly into her eyes. The fading sunlight paints her curves with fire, and his dark eyes trace her body fervently as she watches him. “I’m Oxytocin,” he replies, his name rolling off of his tongue as he turns to meet her gaze.

    There is a hunger in her eyes that is echoed in his, but he knows better than to just leap in – the suspense is what makes it fun, after all. “I have been quite bored as of late,” he tells her with a smirk, resisting the urge to step forward and play with her mane. “Perhaps you could... keep me some company tonight. Help me to remember why I stick around this hellhole.”

    OXYTOCIN

    I don't have my head on straight



    @[Khuma] IT'S STILL CRAP
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    #4
    i'd break the back of love for you.
    Once upon a time, Khuma had been much more selective about her partners and thought that some form of love was necessary for her. Once Tatter passed, though, her heart grew calloused and she had only enough of herself left for her children. The fathers didn’t matter so long as they could give her strong sons and daughters. After that, they were used up, disposable playthings that she forgot as quickly as she had discovered them. But she has tasted failure more than once in her life and it has left her a little more hollow each time. Now, she’s just clinging to the scraps of the woman she used to be and praying that it will be enough.

    But none of this shows in her troublemaker stare or the way her lips pull to the left in a smirk that seems quite pleased with itself. Oxytocin. She memorizes it but she doesn’t repeat it aloud for him as is the common custom in Beqanna. She’d rather say his name in breathless whispers wrapped tight around filthy moans. Instead, Khuma just mouths his name so he can watch the way her lips move against his name for now.

    Keep you company for a whole night? How greedy. You might end up attached like that,” she warns in a voice like honey wine. The serpent girl moves closer until their chests are nearly touching, her breath warming against his neck as she gives his mane a light tug. She wants to press her body tight to his but she hesitates, watches him from the corner of her eye to see if he’ll bridge the gap first. Her lips explore the vulnerable pulse of his throat with her pointed teeth but her touch is gentle enough to promise safety for now.

    Maybe I only want you for an hour or two. Maybe you’ll have to convince me to stay for an entire night,” she mumbles against his skin with a short laugh bubbling at the end of her words. The sound is soft like swan down but her needy kisses seem to have little concern for what he wants. If she knew he shared his blood with Tatter, though, she might snatch him away to keep all for herself. Thena gain, she might do it anyway.
    khuma.
    @[Oxytocin]
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    #5

    Oxytocin has never been too selective with his mates, since love had failed him more than once in the form of that grey devil. Before her, even, he had taken sweet Alise as a brief partner, siring a strong, handsome son off of him. Davorin. He remembers the boy and his days in the Valley and how Kindling had despised him for being another woman’s son. Not that she had any right to be angry with him for fucking another – before Cress, she had lain with Osric (his own uncle, unbeknownst to him) whom she had a brief obsession with. It is no wonder she had never been loyal to Oxy; he doesn’t think it was ever possible for the bitch.

    Smolder had been an interesting co-ruler while she lasted, at least. Cunning and rude at best, but at least in the end she had made better company that the woman she called her mother.

    Did it make him cold and calloused as a result? Having the woman he thought he loved cast him aside, and being thrust from his throne? Perhaps, but he has learned to live with his faults in the long years since her death. He has begun to learn to live again, and to enjoy life and all of its... temptations. He may resent the women of his recent past, but he will never hate them, for they have gifted him with the most precious things of all – his children. Above all else, he lives for them.

    His children, however, are not on his mind as Khuma snakes her way around him and mouths his name in a way that makes his entire body stiffen with desire. Her honeyed warning results in a throaty chuckle from the dark stallion, and he lifts his head as she moves closer to him, her breath tingling against his neck as she plays with his mane. Sharp teeth begin to play at his throat and he trembles, tempted to crash his body into hers.

    Instead, he waits.

    Waits while she teases him, chuckling against his flesh. Waits while her own desire builds and threatens to burst; waits until the sight of her curves nearly makes him weak in the knees.

    “Oh, Khuma,” he murmurs, stepping closer so that their chests touch and he presses a kiss into the base of her throat. “You’re going to be the one attached by the end of this,” he tells her, swinging his body around hers so that their hips collide, and he nips at her withers, a wicked grin crossing his face. “I can promise that you won’t need much convincing.”

    OXYTOCIN

    I don't have my head on straight



    @[Khuma] i should probably change the thread tag
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    #6
    i'd break the back of love for you.
    She doubts there is any room left inside her heart for another man after sacrificing so much of herself over the years. The last fragments of her core are kept high on the shelf and she only keeps her fires warm enough for her children. But he doesn’t seem keen on anything other than a single evening with the serpent girl and so she doesn’t bother with empty promises as she has before. With this one, she can just slip away in the night and hope for a new baby to fill her nest hidden in the Loessian dungeons.

    He says her name and she smiles like a housecat just before it snags the mouse between its teeth. For her, this is a climax. The precious seconds right before her victory is certain, the final seconds of the hunt. Their hips touch and she lets her smile bloom into a full laugh that echoes off the tree line while he bites at her skin. The sun has finally dipped beneath the horizon and left them in the milklight of the moon. Khuma looks over her slender shoulder at him, eyes reflecting like the predator she is. Can he see the way her teeth are all fangs, poised and ready? Can he see the hunger in her smile?

    If he did, would he continue anyway?

    Enough talking, Oxytocin. Satisfy me before I hurt you,” she says as she slinks forward so he won’t have to waste time repositioning himself. She lets her body drag along his the entire way so he can feel the scales rippling over her skin as she shivers.

    Would she actually harm him if he didn’t obey her like a good plaything? She wonders briefly, momentarily distracted, but she’s certain she would destroy him in a heartbeat for wasting her time. Khuma turns her head forward and waits as patiently as she can, given her short temper and abrasive disposition. She runs her tongue along points of her teeth and practically chews on the tension in the air. Maybe she could stick around for a while and let her future children get to know their father.

    She looks back at him once more and presses her ass against his chest as her patience begins to wear thin already.
    khuma.
    @[Oxytocin] she doesn't know that she likes him now but she does
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