"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
Ever since the kingdom had saw fit to bless her with a gift, she had been itching to push it to its limits.
The was the reason for her solo journey into the deepest parts of the forests. She had even told the valley wolf pack to steer clear of her, in case she couldn’t keep control. The new beast was an animal the likes of which Beqanna had never seen. It was a perfectly balanced killing machine, both ruthless and cunning. It lurked just beneath her mousey colored skin, snarling and frothing and begging to be set free. It was almost frightening, that feeling of barely-restrained power. But today- today she would let loose, and she would call to the only kingdom member who could possibly control her should she lose site of her horse beginnings.
“Eight“.
She called to him over and over, her voice almost singsong in its innocence. But she was far past innocence, and her rippling skin was testament to that. In its place came tawny brown scales, but more leathery like elephant skin. The sleek muscles of her horse form were replaced with lean but powerful ones, though the ones in what were now her thighs were particularly impressive. What were once the front legs of a horse were now small arms ending in clawed hands. But the biggest change, and perhaps the most frightening, was the head. Gone were the delicate feminine features. Gone were the brown doe eyes and the fluttering nostrils. In their place was an angular, wicked shaped skull, complete with slit-pupil eyes and a mouth lined with razor sharp teeth. Once the transformation was complete she stood on two legs, panting slightly in anticipation. She felt barely restrained, as if she could take on the world and come out on the other side standing. Her senses were heightened so much so that she could hear the mice scurrying through the underbrush. On each foot was a sharp, hooked talon, and like a dog unconsciously wagging its tail, the talon tapped at the ground. Pushing her snout into the wind she called to Eight again, barking and chirping in her new forms voice. It was an eerie sound, and even the wolves knew better than to challenge her call.
topsail
even an army of sheep should be feared, if they are being led by the lion
It is an incredible thing – the lands of Beqanna. Each kingdom is a living, breathing entity – a god or goddess ruling over its flock. The Valley was beautiful, in a death sentence sort of way. And low and behold, the gifts she bore were one in the same. The gift of the lurking wolves, armed to the teeth with ferocity and fight- even the land itself was draped in murky and frightful things. Yes, the Valley was a terrible goddess, and she brought forth terrible gifts of power. Eight was not surprised that you, dear Topsail, were seen fit to birth inside you a most dreadful beast.
Your words call out to him – vaulting through his mind, like a galloping of horses on the horizon. He knew you would call, and you knew he would come.
He waits, his eyes half closed in light anticipation – he knew what was coming. He knew what the Valley goddess had washed over you, he had felt when the magic seeped into your pores, mixing with the mirth of your skin, the solid bone of your skeleton – he felt the change that birthed you into something anew.
Ah yes – there it was. The soft lilt of your voice in his head had come something different- it was now in the open air, reverberating quietly from the thick of the forest. And no longer was it a voice befit of a queen, but the predatory language of clicks and whirrs. A smile came ever so slightly to his face.
In moments, he disappeared from the quiet of his cove and appeared at the edge of the clearing, his eyes reaching yours when your head whips around in the suddenness of his presence. “Magnificent. You have done well.”
And now it was his turn. He stepped slowly forward, and with each movement, his body shifting with momentum. His body stretched taller and longer- his tail melding together –a dome of spines fanning up from his back. His skin turned into a mosaic of tough skin, his forelegs shrinking smaller and his hooves turning in sharp talons, his skull stretching further into a crocodile like smile.
With a final step, his transformation is complete, his body towering over the ground in a glorious display of primal power and savagery. Topsail, steady yourself now. His words travel to you as if they are almost underwater – a fight at your domestic side. While Eight’s magic and experience held him true to his sanity, there was no telling what the primordial power that lay inside you would wreck to your lucidity. The power of that much magic running through your veins, of a change so vicious that there would be no way for you to hold on to each slip of your sanity. It's possible you would become a danger to yourself, and more importantly - your kingdom, until the primal power had ran its course and made peace with your body.
Well now, I suppose, was Eight’s true test of being your guardian.
∞
and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
Somewhere, deep beneath the leathery skin and efficient muscles, Topsail remained. But instead of being just out of sight she was thoroughly hidden. Occasionally she would mewl in displeasure, but it was easily drowned out by a throaty growl. The Topsail that was, was no match for the Topsail that became. The Topsail from the Gates was no match for the Topsail of the Valley.
Her brain registered the noise of Eight approaching, but it wasn’t the rational thought of her former self. Instead, when her predatory gaze fell on him her lips peeled upwards to reveal a line of dangerous teeth. Her eyes darted back and forth as he transformed, and the beast inside her began to froth and rage. This was not right, he was a trespasser now! Even as he grew taller and more dangerous than her, still she growled. The lethal claw on each foot tapped the ground in agitation and for the first time she felt the first pangs of blood lust. Her mouth watered. Her breaths came rapidly, and the scent of him infuriated her all the more. Of course she had called him here, but she had been the other Topsail when she had done so. The new Topsail could not tolerate him or his presence and certainly not the way he was attempting to assert his dominance over her. If there would have been a rational part of her left she would have backed down; unfortunately, rationale had been shed with her grulla coat and honey colored eyes.
She heard his words but they did not register; instead, she let loose a savage noise, something between a roar and a growl. Whirling around lightning fast she took off, crashing through the underbrush without so much as a thought. Her thick skin was impervious to the branches and the brambles, and in any case, she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to care. Behind her came the crashing of even heavier brush and she knew Eight was behind her. He would not let her get out of control, despite her current overwhelming need to do just that. A feral screech left her open jaws and she plunged forward faster, pushing her new body to the very edges of its limits. Faster and faster she went, and though Eight remained behind her, he could not close the gap completely. But still his presence infuriated her, and soon she found herself slowing. The old Topsail begged her to keep running, to not do what she was contemplating doing. But old Topsail was as weak as a kitten and right now, new Topsail couldn’t bother to listen to her. Instead she stopped completely, turning on the much larger Eight with a fierce, savage growl practically pouring from her lethal mouth. Her eyes darted over his armored body, resting momentarily on the pulse beating deliciously in his throat. The sound of his blood whooshing through his veins was enough to make her pupils dilate. Normal speech eluded her so instead she barked at him, her intent clear. Leave! Mine!” the bark seemed to say. He didn’t leave and her fury built, until finally the dam gave way. With a feral screech she launched herself at him, her dangerous talons grasping for any thing to hold on to while her gaping jaw searched for highly edible flesh.
topsail
even an army of sheep should be feared, if they are being led by the lion
What we are, and what we become. Who we have been, and who we will be. It was an ever changing thing, wasn’t it? The Topsail of the Gates had almost been demure – young and brand new, a crown thrust upon her head in an alliance of good faith. What no one could have guessed, was the Topsail that would become. The Valley did dangerous things to her tenants – changed them in ways no one could know. She tamped the light inside of you and churned out something much darker, coloring you with shadows and calling to the dark side clamoring inside of you.
There was no question in Eight’s mind what would happen. The magic he thrust towards you, leeching towards the corners of your mind, feeling out for the equine inside you, had been met with a primordial barrier. He knew there was no way to touch that fortress inside you that had been built – you were reptilian now, intent on blood lust and fury. Your territorial vehemence rolled in waves off of you, and his lizard like eyes blinked rapidly, drinking in your agitation and trembling muscles. You were a spring about to snap, a tight tension of violence. And there, you went.
Your lithe body collided through the Valley’s lands with alarming velocity, and Eight followed after. As fast as he may have been, he knew there was no match for your speed – why, you were built for it. But he knew the monster inside you would win – he knew you would not back down from your land, and so he followed – knowing that soon enough, your defensive nature would kick in. This was fight or flight, and he knew you were not the latter. So onward he followed, his crocodile mouth gaping wide, his long tail lashing out to tear down tree and limb. He knew you would tire of fleeing, knew your raptor mind would be impervious to the thought that you were outmatched and undone.
Sure enough, the time had come. The precision in your stop was sudden and precise, and the velocity of Eight’s large moving body was too much. He slowed intensely, scraping large chunks of land to steady his body. He knew what would come next. He knew it was time.
He was easily three times your height, but the power and thrust of your muscles launched you with ease, your needle teeth outreached towards his skin, talons glinting as they sought for purchase into his leather armor. And indeed, you had found it. Your hands struck into his skin onto the heavy curve of his shoulder, your mouth latching upwards to gain purchase on his neck. He threw his head back in a peel of sound that split through the woods of the Valley. He whipped his body back and forth, attempting to shake you from your fleshy throne, hoping that your splicing talons on your feet had not dug too far in, that your mouth had not latched too tightly.
He threw his enormous body towards the closest tree, his shoulder aimed down to create an impact of tree and your body – a surefire way for you to release your grasp, regardless of the fury inside you. His intent was not to crush or kill (because how would that look, the death of his young queen on his hands) – but to free his body and prepare to fight again. There was no doubt that you would leave long gashes across his skin as you scrambled for purchase to stay on.
When you detach, he comes after you, blood flowing down the hide of his body – his mouth snapping out towards you – not to kill (which is almost a challenge, with how small your body is compared to his massive jaws) – but just to grab hold of your skin, any skin – to remind you that you are real, you are here, and you can still feel.
Well, better to attack him than an innocent – right?
∞
and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
Her equine self was a distant memory. There was nothing left but an insatiable need for bloodshed and a vengeance so strong her skull felt ready to split. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, Eights pulse thrummed in her ears. There was a massive dose of sensory overload and even her reptilian brain was struggling to keep up. Soon the scent of spilled blood added to the intoxicating bouquet.
Screaming, she struggled for purchase on Eights armored flesh. The large claws on her toes dug deeper, allowing her to climb up the much larger reptiles flesh. It was almost easy, and had she been anywhere near her right mind she might have laughed at the overall ease of what she was doing. She was the perfect predator now, and that realization ran hot through her veins. That overwhelming sense of power and strength fueled her on farther and her teeth snapped at any and all flesh near her mouth. Blood flowed freely over her tongue, enough to make her drunk, not enough to satiate her. But Eight was an ancient magician and as such his strength was enough to make hers laughable. Compared to him she was nothing but a fly, while he was the magnificent lion feasting at the kill. Screaming his own scream he turned on her, and the moment his teeth split her flesh brought her crashing to earth. Eventually, at least. At first it angered her and she fought with a new passion, but he was too much and too strong. While she certainly had an iron-clad will, he had hundreds of pounds, years, and teeth on her. Screeching, she scrambled onto his back. Blood streamed from numerous cuts and slashes. She was panting heavily, her reptilian brain begging both for retreat and retaliation. The horse side of her pleaded for the case of retreat, knowing that anything else would lead to a very untimely death.
Thankfully, the pain seemed to be enough to tamp down bloodlust. As the pain washed over her in heavy waves, she found her mind clearing. Like a blanket of fog lifting from the tree tops, the haziness of Raptor mentality was lifting from her mind. Though she remained in her alternate form, her mind was becoming her own once more. Opening her snout she let loose several barks and chirps before leaping down from Eights armored back. Looking up at him she barked again and tilted her head, hoping he would understand. And then she remembered that she had other means of communication. That bit of her psyche had also apparently been lost in the effort to thwart what the Raptor viewed as a threat. “E.e..Eight?” she said tentatively, and even her mind voice was hoarse despite it not being used to perform the Raptors vocals. “Why would the kingdom give this to me? This is uncontrollable…” She hated that she sounded weak, loathed being vulnerable. But she did not shift back, and as her breathing slowed she found herself in somewhat more control.
