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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


    so you know i'm never comin' back; litotes/any
    #1

    do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?

    How long has he dreamt here, in this place between life and death?
     
    Hours. Decades. Eons. It’s all blurred together now since the dream is always the same – birth, conquest, and slow death. Are these things that will come to pass or are they simply the imaginings of some hopeful little child? He sucks in another gulp of amniotic fluid as he practices breathing, followed by a tiny hiccup. Ghaul remembers being plucked from some other place and slung into the echoes of infinity to wind up here. He’s only the sad side product of some cruel angel’s fever dream but he doesn’t seem to mind.
     
    Sometimes Bible speaks to him and he doesn’t understand the words. Her tone is soft and gentle each time. He’s content to remain curled here for as long as needed so it comes as a surprise when her body heaves with its first contraction. If he had room, he might kick out in fright, but he can only flex his small talons in the tight space of her womb.
     
    But this time, his claws are developed enough to tear a small hole in the sac that confines him. Seconds, minutes pass before another contraction rolls through her and he again lashes out, ripping through more of the soft tissue. There is a taste of copper across his tongue that sends him into a panic of gnashing teeth and all four legs flailing. The tender meat of her stomach is torn into ribbons and he can hear someone screaming. Ghaul can feel Bible fall to the ground but he continues in his frenzy even as cold air meets his small nose.
     
    With a kick of his back legs, he pushes himself out into the world through the wound he’s torn in his mother. The stars that shimmer across his horns and cheeks are stained red with her blood as he sucks in his first terrified breath. (And heaven shivers to see its mistake unleashed, surviving.) Ghaul screeches – for his mother, for anyone – as he lays there on the soaked ground. He strains his ears for some reply but there is only the sound of drowning lungs gurgling out their last breaths beside him. This world is cold and dark, and it has left him all alone with his hummingbird heart.
     
    A shiver runs up his spine as he rolls on to his stomach. Perhaps no one will come, he thinks. Ghaul clenches his little fangs together to keep them from chattering. Instinct commands him to stand even if there is no mother there to kiss him clean and encourage him. His star-dusted legs gather beneath him and he stumbles halfway up before tumbling back into the pool of red in the unforgiving snow. An angry, terrified whimper slips from him but he tries again a few more times until he gets it right. The moon observes his unholy birth indifferently, unimpressed when he takes his first steps.
     
    Ghaul leaves an ugly trail of filthy hoof prints in the snow, connecting him to the torn open woman forever. Would he cry if he had eyes or would he still only be concerned with himself.

    ghaul

    @[litotes]
    Reply
    #2

    DAWN

    it must be about as hard as forgetting your best friend

    Dawn had once thought that queendom would look good on her; she had believed that wearing the crown would shape her into a better woman and that she would be able to leave the East better than she had found it. She will never fault Solace and Kagerus for their ruling – they were lovely, mostly peaceful women and had brought Hyaline and the East to greatness, and she has them to thank for everything she has now – but their fractured relationships with Kensa and Litotes had left a sour taste in everyone’s mouths and when Dawn had finally stepped to the crown, she had truly believed she had what it took to make the kingdom flourish.

    Now? Now she’s not so sure of herself; she questions every move she makes, every person she speaks to. Her recent encounters have left her confused and bitter and she isn’t sure whether she wants to flee back to the Cove or if she wants to find shelter in the arms of yet another man. She’s never been the type to need protection – she prides herself on her independence – and yet the nights she spends alone in Pangea are some of the loneliest of her entire life.

    The winter winds are harsh, especially in Pangea, and blankets of snow cover the barren landscape like a fluffy blanket as she patrols the kingdom. Her thick winter coat is fluffed against the cold and she braces herself as she walks, trying to thaw the ice in her veins when she hears a terrified, pained screaming.

    At once she is off, but by the time she arrives there is nothing left she can do but stare. The mare is ripped apart as though by some huge beast, and there is so much blood coating her that Dawn cannot tell what her original coloring is supposed to be. She is gurgling her last breaths, suffocating in her own blood, as the golden queen approaches, eyes wide with horror. What could have done this?

    It takes her a moment to notice the tiny hoofprints leading away from the woman, and Dawn swallows hard as she turns to follow them, bracing herself for what she is about to see. The beast had probably torn the woman open to get to the growing foal inside, and then... she closes her eyes tight against the mental image and shakes her head, forcing herself to stand up tall as she follows the tracks.

    She finds the child with ease, bloody and shivering and all alone. He is alive, but how long will he last in this cold? She pauses as she grows closer, wanting to tuck him into her side – but something makes her draw back a step as she examines him, from his bloody hooves to the horns beginning to curl from where eyes should be. “Little one?” she calls to him gently, swallowing back her unease as she moves closer again, pressing her nose to the blood on his rump that is beginning to freeze with the cold. “Are you okay, little one?”



    @[ghaul]
    clean.
    Reply
    #3

    do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?

    He screeches into the wind, a juvenile demand for warmth and food in a world that has only given him ice and misery so far. His wings curl forward over his shoulders in an attempt to block some of his scaled body from the wind. Everything is varying shades of blue so far, he notices, until a splash of red comes into view. His thin, short tail flicks curiously before he shuffles forward. His legs are clumsy, especially in the snow, and he is awkward as he finally reaches her. The little drake snaps his teeth but the gesture doesn’t seem aggressive as he tilts his head right after. Instead, it appears as though it is some strange communication, some foreign request for food.

    Something stirs within the core of him and tells him that she is made of meat – blood and tissue he can consume and fill his belly with. A little drool dribbles between his uneven little crocodile teeth at the thought, but she is too large to take down. His small ears swivel forward and stand at attention when she calls out to him. Ghaul skitters forward once more, closing the last few feet between them until she touches his hip. The blood frozen to his scales briefly turns her nose a strange orange color before it blooms to red again.

    Are you okay, little one?

    He chirps, an odd little squeak, before curling against her shoulder as he might have done with his own mother in another life. Ghaul wiggles and settles in as his wings fold back in their natural resting pose. “Okay,” he finally answers with an overeager nod. The little stars dusted across his lips, cheeks, and horns glimmer without any help needed from the sun or even the light reflecting off the snow. These markings, identical to the stockings weaving up his legs, are the only real clue as to his sire’s identity.

    Hungry..” he says after a moment of pause. “So.. hungry…

    His lips curl into a smile, all his tiny baby teeth glimmering zealously. Does she understand the need for the hunt, he wonders? Are there any others like him in this world who march the path to conquest? If there are, he thinks, he will devour them and consume their strength.

    ghaul

    @[Dawn]
    Reply
    #4

    boy what's normal to you? 'cause that sure ain't normal to me.

    Litotes quickly found that sex left a bitter taste in his mouth.

    After Starsin and Kensa, his dick might as well have shriveled up and disappeared. Seriously - it is a wonder he was able to couple with Bible, but perhaps they had found each other on a particularly needy night. It was such a one night stand that Litotes does not expect anything to come of it, not like it has in the past.

    If the cremello has proven anything, it is that he has terrible foresight when it comes to sex and love. This particular time, it appears to be an extreme consequence of lack of foresight.

    Litotes sighs.

    He should go to the squealing colt, but he does not. He watches, though, with cold and curious eyes. From here, he can tell the boy is blind, but still he does not go.

    It is only when Dawn arrives that he pushes himself from his pathetic apathy to follow the palomino queen. He is enough distance away to go easily unnoticed - and he hopes to stay that way. When the queen reaches Ghaul, Litotes sighs again and breaks into a trot. “Dawn,” he calls confidently, hoping his certain tone will keep any suspicions away. “He’s mine,” is what he murmurs once he draws next to her side. Glittering gemstone eyes fall on the colt with pity and fascination, finding him to be beautiful and terrifying amongst such crimson and ivory.

    “He needs a nursing mother. I won’t turn him into the fairies,” Lie finally murmurs after Ghaul’s final “hungry.” He turns to Dawn with resignation, knowing good and well that the women he usually turns to are not options now. Ghaul is hard to ignore, so the cremello turns back to his son hesitantly. He reaches down to wipe some of the blood from the boy’s face, lips gently rising over the stumps where his eyes should be. “You’re strange . . .” he whispers.

    and if i fall would you know that to do?
    and if i'm caught up would you stay?

    Litotes


    @[Dawn] @[ghaul]
    Reply
    #5

    DAWN

    it must be about as hard as forgetting your best friend

    The odd little boy snaps reptilian teeth in her direction, and Dawn wonders briefly if it is a threat, but the cute head tilt after brings a smile to the golden woman’s face. He is just a child, newly born and clearly starving, and after seeing the state his mother was in, he certainly doesn’t know how to communicate like a horse just yet. He is clearly something other than entirely horse – the fangs and scales and talons speak to something more draconic – but she is not frightened by the child, merely curious as to how he came into existence. She has seen dragons before, and far worse than just a newborn desperate for a new meal.

    She hears a familiar voice as the child curls into her shoulder, greedily sinking into her warmth. She turns her head to see Litotes, who is not as proud and haughty as she has come to expect to see him; something in him has changed, she can see, and it isn’t a pretty sight. He claims the boy as his and she nods – she had seen the galaxy swirling across his face and legs and had figured as much – then swallows, glancing back in the direction that the tiny hoofprints came from.

    The boy pleads that he is hungry and Dawn looks to Lie again as he turns to face her, his voice heavy with resignation. “His mother is gone,” she murmurs, hopefully softly enough that the boy doesn’t pick up on the implication there. Looking back to the foal, she nods towards his fangs and talons. “And I’m not too sure he needs milk to survive on... something tells me he needs to hunt.” She is suddenly glad that her night with Valek hadn’t resulted in a child; clearly this boy needs someone, and here she is. “We could... take him hunting. I’d be glad to help teach him how.”

    She runs her tongue down his back, cleaning blood from his scales as Lie cleans his face. The cremello whispers that his son is strange and Dawn chuckles, pulling the boy all the closer to her side. “A strong, strange boy,” she agrees with a smile. “He needs a name, Lie.”



    @[litotes] @[ghaul]
    clean.
    Reply
    #6

    do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?

    He does not know what it means to love and perhaps he never will, but there is a bloom of warmth in his chest when Litotes arrives and calls Ghaul his. The boy’s ears perk up and he smiles pleasantly. This one is his father, then? He turns his reptilian head and watches this splash of red as a soft purr builds in his chest. Between Dawn’s warmth and each of them trying to groom the blood from his body, he finds himself entirely pleased with the circumstances. Perhaps it’s the attention or simply the way they seem to care for him already. Either way, the corners of his lips maintain their smile effortlessly.

    A little leathery ear turns when Dawn mentions the word ‘hunt’, making him snap his teeth again excitedly. “Hunt,” he repeats, little talons eagerly tearing up the snow and ground at the thought of a fresh meal. The colt snorts softly at his father at his comment, sending a puff of white into the air before it dissipates between them. “You are strange.” He feels his way to his father, running his nose over the stallion’s face to map the curves of his features and memorize them. Litotes’ skin is soft, unlike Ghaul’s, and he finds it odd that his father is more like the Dawn woman than him.

    Perhaps he is strange. Unfortunate.

    If the queen’s mention of Bible’s passing had any effect on the newborn boy, he doesn’t show it. He’s entirely consumed by learning their faces and the idea of capturing his own food. There doesn’t seem to be a morsel of remorse or sorrow tucked into the corners of his soul when he replaces himself against Dawn’s side. She calls him strong and his chest puffs a little at the compliment. He likes this word, he thinks with another fanged smile.

    A name?” he repeats curiously, only now realizing that they have one while he does not. Dawn and Litotes. His head turns left and right repeatedly to watch them as they seem to consider options for him. Meanwhile, he merely tries to figure out what the Dawn woman is to him. A makeshift mother? She’s warm and soft, which he likes, and she even wants to take him hunting. Could all three of them track prey together, then? The thought delights him, clearly, judging by the wide smile across his small, blood-stained face.

    ghaul

    @[litotes] @[Dawn]
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