"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
It was so easy, too easy, to win her over. Her enthusiasm was instant, the quick brightness to her eyes as she quickly signs on the dotted line… Signs her soul to the devil. She is touching him, velvet caresses to his scarred shoulder, dust falling as she pulls away. He doesn’t respond even as she pleads for him to break her. There’s no need to answer when it’s already a given. I’ll do anything, whatever the cost. And with those words, she is his. ”Follow me then. And don’t forget, you must do whatever I ask or else Crow will come.” He demands and turns away from her, his body becoming ghostly once more as he leaves the brightness of the meadow and forges into the shadows. He isn’t worried at all about this Crow fellow. He’s the opposite of worried, he’s almost gleeful. Even though Reuen had slipped through his fingers, one wretched broken mare was as good as another. Besides, he hadn’t given up on that one yet.
Not once does he stop to check on if she’s following, he knows she is. The soft sound of her hooves on the damp dirt of the road catch in the air when he flicks his ears back. The promise he has made is too enticing for her to resist. It’s amazing what just one little glimmer of hope can do. The greatest bait one can offer to catch the fattest of fish. Every once and a while he pauses, considering his route. It has been awhile since he had taken this path and the way comes back in snatches. A familiar rock, tree, canyon guiding his way back home.
He can smell the Chamber, he can feel it’s coldness reaching out. It’s tendrils wraith like as it curls around the soggen strands of his disheveled mane, how I missed thee old friend. While most sought out the Chamber’s heat, he stuck to it’s colder regions. The ones always covered in darkness. His hooves pick out the path with more eagerness, his pace quickening as he crosses the border and finds himself back in the Chamber once more. A piercing whistle is let loose, his eyes blazing like a furnace the moment he has stepped into the kingdom. Those red eyes probe the depths and darkness around him… Knowing they are waiting. ”Don’t be shy…” He hisses, the corners of his mouth smirking as he comes to a standstill and awaits Aoki to join his side. Once she is close enough, he gestures for her to move forward and places his teeth to her flank in a sharp nip to quicken her pace. ”I’ve brought home a present to play with.” So sorry children for being gone for so long, Daddy’s back now.
07-24-2015, 05:23 PM (This post was last modified: 07-24-2015, 05:27 PM by Aoki.)
it's like i can't stop what i'm hearing within,
it's like the face inside is right beneath my skin.
And the lamb followed the wolf, fangs as sharp as death's scythe.
I feel my heart quiver, flopping around against my ribcage like an errant bird, trapped, caged and wanting freedom. It breaks, with every stride into the darkness another piece falls at my feet. Shards of a blissful memory, lost and forgotten. My green eyes follow his glimmering hide as he navigates the dying trees, he finds the path with the natural grace of a predator. Slithers of doubt mar my trembling heart. It isn't safe. The darkness swallows me, the rigid limbs of the trees engulf me all at once.
Inside I hear him laughing. I hear the chains rattle in the distance and see his cruel smirk. All teeth and fangs, all wide eyed delight and blossoming rage. I follow with a shadows distance, my rugged hooves stepping into the moist tracks the pallid beast had left. My eyes glisten with something -- it cannot be tears, for I've been dried up now for a while. But the gaze takes me and as I am pushed out into the open clearing, paraded like a showcase, my glazed eyes bubble and distort. The trees bend and now, gnarled fingers curling out to grab me.
Your prison here makes mine feel like paradise. Aoki must be grateful. And to think you followed him to get rid if me? Such a silly, silly little mare.
He berated me inside, and Gryffen berates me on the outside. His teeth grate at my full skin, all bone and slick pekt over gaunt hips, shoulders and spine. My scarred neck twists out and I touch my muzzle to the earth. Moist. Cool. Everything here is dark, a shadow of a shadow. What have I done? Was losing crow worth this? What was I to do? I turned my gaze upward, ears tentatively flickering atop my crown. 'Aoki is here. What is Aoki to do?' Because I hold him to his words. Get rid of Crow, save Aoki from the rattling chains and propping fingers. I swallow a breath and whisper softly, strained against my dust dry throat. 'It's dark. Dark, dark, dark.'
The ravens are far more observant as the timely wolves; where the wolves lay in dormancy, dark eyes like glowing slits in the shadow, it is the ravens that flock above. Beady eyes ever-watchful, wings ever flapping. It it the murder above that caw and crow, it is their untimely disturbance that makes me shift from my rest. I rest not because I want to, but because of certain needs. The life within, it was ever impatient. Shifting uncomfortably against my barrel, pushing at places I never knew existed. I did not do the swelling life so well. My normally lithe, towering form was cumbersome. I found weaving through the trees much more harder. But I moved now with care more than grace. There was much more to the way I walked, than it was before.
There are shadows crossing the border; but one of them is as pallid as the ghouls in the deepest, darkest part of the forest. My green eyes narrow upon them both. One leads the other, like one would lead a prisoner, a ball and chain is just not far behind. My plume glides over my hocks, the crisp winter wind catching my filaments of gold mane and making a gilt cascade against my sun-kissed skin. I'm there in several strides, my lofty frame a tower, but now also as much sideways as it is upwards. I lower my head, my nose pushed gently against my chest. I am careful, I hold slithers of concern for not only my child, but the Chamber as well. For both are as important to me in life as breath is to a lung, as a beat is to the lucid heart, locked within the chest.
My gilded ears turn, capturing the ghostly steed's words, and then I hear the broken girl's pleas, her voice as fragile as the tender tinder strewn across the floor. I am not the most compassionate of mares, my loyalty is for none other than the Chamber and of course my earthen knight (I am quite surprised he is not here first, being as keen as border patrol as I am.) Still, my ear cocks to the side, waiting to hear his familiar hoofbeats. But for now, I shall entertain the guests.
'Is she meant to be a gift? I'm certain the Chamber does not need charity, so much as being gifted broken things.' my tone is sultry as the earth, as I weave the tendrils of black magic with my voice alone. I turn my sapphire eye to the fragile girl, roaming her, noting the scars, the bones as they practically leap from her chocolate skin. 'What do you intend on doing with her? Feeding her to the wolves?' I tilt my head, a strange gesture, but it gets me a better look of the female. I shake my head then, and then adjust my gaze to settle on the stranger. His crimson eyes as menacing as the glow in the deepest darkest patches of the pines. But I have fought much a nightmarish filament, and not much imposes me with fear. 'I am Engelsfors. And you, stranger, who are you, one that brings the Chamber such... lovely things?'
E n g e l s f o r s drink thy posion lightly dear. there are deeper and darker things than you minister of the chamber
I was looking for a breath of life another taste of divine rush
If Shaytan didn’t already have two obsessions (one - Straia, and two - bunnies), she might be the one so easily won over. She already sleeps with the wolves, walking daily amongst devils without knowing the sort of protection she enjoys as member by proxy. Killing bunnies and drinking their blood is bad, right? A very minor bad, but bad nonetheless. She is a wolf in a horse’s skin and with a horse’s teeth. She is wretched and tortured and awkward and really not very good at anything at all. Least of all, caring for Sayaa, the (less) skinny, but still abnormally small little bay girl that can often be seen lurking near the pink tinted mare. The maroon is mostly faded now, into a nice light, rosy pink. Her normally white mane is still a light shade of blue, and the fanged bunny crest on her chest is still (and forever will be) as dark red as can be. The rest of her bay spots have turned up as well, giving her a very odd, very comical look. Not that Sayaa ever describes her mother, but if she did, she might say the one that looks like a clown (a clown that bites and kicks and generally ignore her - but still a clown).
Shaytan hears the whistle, and though it is not a summons from her achingly beautiful Queen, she decides it might be worth investigating. The voice is unknown, and if she is to be good at anything, she should probably at least know the others she works alongside. She turns from whatever it was she is idly doing and ambles towards the noise, giving no thought to the child who has created her own sort of game amongst the trees. Sayaa watches her go, and it isn’t until Shaytan is almost out of sight does she scamper after her. Having weighed the choice to follow or not follow, she thinks it still might be best to keep her food source in sight, lest it disappear forever. It might, she thinks. Her mother is unpredictable.
The very faint scent of blood reaches Shaytan’s nose and it triggers the yearning. She’d been so good. So, so good. Fucking hell. She doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it, however, because the little get together she’s arrived at is rather odd. Odd, even by Shaytan’s standards. She doesn’t know any of them, and ugh, social gatherings give her a bit of anxiety. Shaytan doesn’t say anything as she approaches, drawing up beside a palomino mare who is large, just like her. She couldn’t possibly be of Belgarath’s blood, though. She seems… too well adapted. “Hello,” she says simply. It seems like a strained introduction. The bunnies lurk in the back of her mind.
Sayaa sneaks up to the other side of the palomino, putting another horse between herself and her mother seemed like a good idea. She looks at the one who is skin and bones and takes a couple of small steps forward, curiosity taking hold. They are kind of the same, which makes her sad. If Sayaa is unhappy, then surely this grownup is unhappy. She murmurs softly to the captive, ‘“You should eat more.” The lady’s mother must hate her too, she thinks.
It’s a damned party. Straia is late, but fashionably so. Besides, she’s the Queen. It actually means that everyone else is simply early. The ravens have been keeping her informed. The ghost has come! The ghost has come! They chant, again and again, because sometimes they get a little excited about things. And this time, they are very certain that Gryffen is a ghost and not a horse at all. But he is really a horse. However, she doesn’t dash their hopes, but rather nods. Eventually, they get past the excitement of the ghost and mention that scarred, broken creature that follows him.
Reuen? She’d be shocked if Gryffen had actually managed to sneak the girl away from the annoying, watchful eye of the Gates magician. And a bit pleased too. But she doubts this is the case. Apparently he’s found another plaything. Another broken, worthless creature. Straia doesn’t entirely see the point of wasting time on such things, but ah, if it pleases him and keeps him serving the Chamber, what does she care in the long run?
Straia is on her way over, close enough to catch various snippets of the conversation herself and to be filled in on the details by her ravens. But they also inform her that Shaytan and Sayaa and Engelsfors have also arrived (the bunny, the scrawny thing, and the golden tower). Ravens are really terrible with names.
Eventually, she finds this little gather. “Well well, Gryffen.” she says, weaving past the crowd with just a slight nod till she comes to stand near Gryffen and the girl. “What have you brought us? And more to the point, who did you piss off to get her, and what do you plan to do with her?” Straia isn’t against broken gifts, so long as they are useful gifts. The one thing the Chamber does not need is dead weight. They don’t need a prisoner who can’t do shit or doesn’t anger the appropriate kingdom. So she gets right to the point, because she needs a few more details before she can consider whether or not the girl is a gift at all.
And then, because she is vaguely intrigued by the broken girl, she turns her attention to the girl. She is scrawny (more so than Sayaa), covered in scars and cuts. “Aoki, is it?” It is, because the ravens can repeat names even though they don’t understand that it’s a name. She’s getting pretty good a deciphering their speech. “What did he promise you, if you came here?” she asks the girl, shooting a glance at Gryffen. This is not his question to answer. To influence. It is hers and hers alone, because Straia wants to know.
One by one, they come. Slowly but surely and not a familiar face amongst them. He is not surprised, it would be shocking to think that they would just sit around and wait for him to return instead of dying off or moving on. BUT STILL. Fucking rude. At least someone he knows must be lurking around. The first, a female, all haughty as she casts a displeasing look onto this withered thing that he had so nicely brought home for them. Iris’s of red find hers as he sneers back. ”Surely you are not so closed minded, unable to see some value in my gift. Especially a broken thing that wants to be… Unbroken.” He doesn’t respond to Engelsfors next questions, his attention redirected to the next to approach.
A mare and her foal, the elder seemingly unaware of the little one that sticks so close to her hip as she looks upon his present with hungry eyes. He responds back to her hello with a slight dip of his muzzle but a grin breaks onto his lips the moment the paint mare arrives on scene. ”Ah Straia….” A slight glance at Aoki, a roll of his shoulder turning into a mere shrug. ”Unfortunately the Gates was unwillingly to let go of their little ruined girl but I found a pleasing replacement. Poor unguarded thing, just left in the Meadow all alone. Can you imagine?” A pause, considering her last words. ”Do with her? Well whatever I want. And whatever the Chamber needs her for.” He lets these words hang in the air, words filled with ideas.
Straia turns to Aoki and he remains silent, catching her look and relaxing himself with a hind hoof cocked. If Aoki looks to him for permission, for encouragement, he gives it to her with another gesture of his head. Go ahead and tell her broken ballerina. All about this dreaded Crow and how desperate you are to be rid of him. How you would..(what was your exact phrase?)… Do anything to be rid of him. Surely Straia (and the others) would then see the worth in this gift he had brought to them.
it's like i can't stop what i'm hearing within,
it's like the face inside is right beneath my skin.
They come to me like vultures, wanting to pick at white bone and peach flesh. Desiring oh so much to pick at the fruitful organs, so ripe and red. My mind twists and turns, old and worn chains rattling as I feel Crow moving, his grasp on me tighten, around my throat, around my lungs. He grips them with an iron hold and I feel the breath ebbing away from me. As the golden mare emerges from the darkness, like a gleam of sun, I feel Crow's appetite growl, his teeth slathering with want, with need.
She is made of substance, of flesh and bone, not sticks and leaves, like you, my dear, dear little Aoki.
His words bite into me, and my shivering frame flops and stumbles. Weak, so very weak. I hold my breath, his control of my lungs a burden that slides right down to the marrow of my bones. Cold, ice, embedding itself into me. I watch as she observes me, like one would observe a piece of meat they have no intention of buying. They poke, they prod, and complain it is too fatty. Or in my case, far too bony, not enough meat. I feel myself slipping, green eyes dull, like autumn grass.
More arrive. A filly. Her words, they cut me. I then want nothing more than to feel the warmth of my own children -- Crow had taken them away from me too. Their warmth, their love. He had replaced it with eh cold, iron prison. I shiver some more, dropping down to my knees. The worn ground bearing down, deep into my bones, my weary muscles. 'Aoki eats, she lives. She doesn't want to live, so Aoki does not eat.' green eyes meet the curious young filly, eyeing up her mother, who seems to have a cavernous mind, a dreary eye. I cannot help but think perhaps, perhaps Crow had his clutches of her too.
I feel another set of eyes, an array of feathers. The whites of my eyes widen, lighten at the sight of them. Oh, he's here. He's all around. I whip my head back to Gryffen. He had promised, promised me he could get rid of him, get rid of Crow. And yet he has brought me right into his lair, right where he can come out. The rusted chains shift, suddenly whipping past and I feel the coldness grip my skull, unseen hands wringing around my neck, silencing my need to shout, to scream. For him, for my pink knight (wherever he is.) and now, the pallid wolf, his red eyes, I meet with mine and I want to scream at him, cry out, and yet the sound comes out a garbled choked mess. 'You promised Aoki. Promised her Crow would leave. Crow is here. Crow is here.' I tremble, as though a leaf on a winter branch, the wind unrelenting in plucking me from my pedestal. Oh, but Gryffen is the wind and I, I am a lowly leaf, clinging to a breaking twig. I draw my eyes up to Straia, to Gryffen, to all of the vultures come to pick at my bones.
'Aoki will do anything, anything.' I plead, my voice near breaking, cracking like glass ice. 'Please, please get rid of Crow.'
I was looking for a breath of life another taste of divine rush
Straia does not seem happy about the prospect of the broken down gift. The mare reminds her of the broken toys, the ones tortured by Nerissa, terrified of play time and yet resigned to their fate. As if they, themselves, do not have the power to get up and walk away. No control over their minds. Victims to the monstrous giantess. Completely at another’s mercy and bound to their whims.
Something curls inside Shaytan, and twists warmly, awakening a different type of hunger. She doesn’t begin to salivate at the thought of dead bunnies, though she can feel the itch begin again at the top of her jaws.
The power… the idea of power. The desire to dominate. She hasn’t the slightest clue how to do it, or where to find someone to do it to (besides the half-grown shadow at her side, who already knows how to avoid her snaps and slaps and kicks). That slight hitch in plans is irrelevant. Shaytan finds that she likes the way the skin-and-bones mare quivers under the white stallion’s watchful eyes. Aoki thinks her eyes are cavernous and dreary - but oh, that’s because she didnt know what she wanted to do until now. (Except for Straia, she knows how she feels about her beautiful Queen). Something in her sparks and starts the wheels turning, which makes her eyes shift, almost imperceptibly.
There she is. There’s the Shaytan they’ve all been waiting for.
Sayaa doesn’t notice her mother’s blossoming, while her attention is focused on the nearly dead captive. Her little black nose scrunches up in confusion, and then her ears flick back (more in distress than fear or anger) when the mare falls to her knees. Oh. That isn’t good. That isn’t good at all. Maybe it is Sayaa’s true nature coming out, or the need to feel some sort of love in her life, or just the innocence of a child. Whatever the case may be, she tentatively steps forward during Aoki’s pleading and curls up beside her. Comfort is all the child wants, and if it is all that Sayaa wants, then this wretched creature must want it to. She doesn’t really know what to say, though. Crow sounds scary. She couldn’t possibly help Aoki with Crow.
Shaytan glances around at her Queen and the Hunter and the Hunted. "Crow?" she says, in question to her ramblings. Who was this Crow, and how could she be more like him?
She is not necessarily against the gift. She simply hasn’t decided if it’s going to be a useful, or more trouble than it’s worth. She, not it. Though things that refer to themselves in the third person have a blurry line between she and it, in Straia’s book. Though Gryffen is more than pleased with his little find, and she wants to keep the white ghost around. She won’t ban the girl, she just may decide that it can be Gryffen’s pet completely.
The girl may or may not be able to help the child. She falls to her knees at the sight of Straia. Really, at the sight of the black feathers on her head, the ravens that circle in the sky. Ah. That might be detrimental. Shaytan seems alive at the sight of the girl on the ground though, the same way Gryffen is. Though she’s always known this of Gryffen, but Shaytan? She gives the mare a curious look for a moment, before turning back to Aoki.
Sayaa is the one ground, curled up with the girl. Sayaa. Not her mother’s child at all, really. Not quite right in the head, but kinder, softer than Shaytan. At least for now, but the girl is young, and perhaps that will change. Or perhaps her mother’s lack of affection will send the girl searching for it elsewhere. Straia lowers her head to Aoki’s level, and her words are soft. “Crow does not live here. This is Raven. And Raven is powerful.” She doesn’t say that Raven is good, because that is not necessarily true.
Raven is the Chamber. Raven is clever and cunning, small and fleet, capable of anything. They are hers, after all, and they can do whatever she asks of them. But she also understands that Crow is not real. Crow lives in this girls head, for whatever reason. That part she can’t fathom, but the why doesn’t matter. “If you serve the Chamber, and do as Gryffen tells you, I can give you Raven. He can help you fight Crow. But you must be loyal. Would you like that?” She’s never tried mental magical, but why not? She can do anything else with a raven. Why can’t she plant one in someone’s head? Hell, she’ll give it a shot. If that fails, maybe the girl will just think if worked anyway, which is all about the same thing.
He didn’t know what the hell Crow was. It had been assumed that Crow was perhaps a stallion that had terrorized her to madness and he figured he would deal with that issue whenever it arose. He doesn’t quite know what to make of the situation when Straia promises to give Aoki a solution to her problem. He’s not quite sure he wants a solution to her madness, then she wouldn’t be able to be controlled so easily. However he can also see exactly what Straia’s going for. Even if Aoki is rid of her fear, it would be because of him and Straia. Loyalty is the painted Queens objective and this is his gift to the Chamber…. So he goes along with it. He plays his part, coming to Aoki’s side and purring softly to her. Encouraging. ”Did I not tell you I could help you get rid of Crow? What do you say?” Red eyes shine brilliantly as his gaze holds her. Swear yourself to the Chamber, be my slave.…Then what you seek will be yours.
