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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


    where the wild things are; pelagi
    #1

    I’ll eat you up, I love you so

     
    It is not like its mother.
    Its mother is a magician, all slick angles and darkness, wrapped in shadows and spirits. It has none of that wicked grace, none of the strange mysticism bathed across its features. Besides her it feels clunky and heavy, jaws clicking as it tries to master a language not meant for its tongue.
     
    It is not like its father.
    Its father shares the same body, alien and sharp, spines and teeth like knives, teeth meant to tear and render meat to shreds. But its father knows only the birdlike trills of their language (its natural tongue, the one that comes easy, the one resistant). Its father can only stomach meat, its father does not speak their language, only mushy slurred words that leave everyone frustrated.
     
    It is its own being.
    A true cross-breed, with the look of aliens and a mind closer to a horse. It traipses through the world, sharp and untouchable, trying to learn their language. Its mouth is too-wide, like it’s always smiling.
     
    (You’re not an It, insists its sister, who is wholly equine, who is bright and wicked and who sometimes hurts it, sometimes creeps into its mind and makes it do things, you’re a she, a her. Just like me.)
     
    It has a name – Charnel. A name of death houses. A ghastly name, for it comes from a ghastly family.
    (Its sister is named violence. They are named for pain and hurt.)
     
    (I’ll make you normal, promises its sister, just let me in.)
     
    It has wings that grow, too, metallic glistening things that it unfurls and flaps tentatively. They are large and cumbersome and it does not yet know how to fly. It is the only one in the family with wings.
     
    Wings folded against ink-dark sides, it
    (she)
    walks into the forest. And the first thing it (she) sees is a mare, older than Charnel but you wouldn’t know (aliens grow fast, already tall and armored).
    She would smile, but is afraid to show her teeth.
    “Hello,” she says. The word is still mushy, odd in her almost beak-like mouth, but she manages. She’s been practicing.
     
     
     
    Charnel


    sorry about the weird text color I am incopetent and trying to fix it
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    #2
    Why does she wander the night? Because sadness and the sea are best kept beneath moonlight. Because daylight makes her so sleepy she cannot wake to leave the trees. 

    But Pelagi is less the predator wrapt in shadows. Pelagi is more the little gray mouse who scampers through the fallen leaves. She is an inhabitant of the night, but not your typical sort. She is the quiet, the penumbra between stark moonlight and inky blackness. 

    Moonlight filters through thinning autumn leaves, illuminating the blue of her back - the black of her face. The moon is her consort, but she leaves her naked to the creatures that hide within shadow. The creatures with dripping teeth and terrible hunger. 

    Hunger.

    Pelagi cannot remember the last time that she was hungry. She can’t remember the last time that she ate purely to satisfy the growling of her stomach. She hasn’t had an appetite for years now. She frowns, but isn’t she always frowning? 

    She’s been drowning in her ocean of moonlight for eternities. Although, eternity isn’t really all that is it cracked up to be. Eternity is a figment, a mirage. The world is not endless. All things fade. There will be an end to time itself. 

     At least, this is what she tells herself as the moonlight trails higher, higher, away from little blue mares trapped within the confines of jagged toothed forests. 

    “Hello.” comes a voice from the black. Pelagi stares in wonderment as the last rays of moonlight illuminate the hard shelled creature before abandoning them, smothered by the clouds. 

    Why does she wander the night?

     “Hello.” she returns, though she can no longer see through the blackness.



    @[charnel]
    Reply
    #3

    I’ll eat you up, I love you so

    It - she - wanders because she likes to escape from sister, sometimes, from the terrible aching weight of sister in his mind, controlling her like a puppet. She knows it’s the rules, the ways things are (she couldn’t exactly tell you why – it’s all clear, when Violence is there, but when she is on her own things are muddied). She is young, but she is not nervous to be alone, for the way her skin is thick and terrible, the way she hisses her breaths, she knows others will cringe back.
    (And for good reason, she supposes, because sometimes she relates to them but sometimes they just look like meat and she finds herself salivating.)

    The mare responds and Charnel cocks her head, listening carefully. This is not her language, not yet – perhaps not ever – but she knows no one else speaks the trilling, clicking language that comes natural from her beaked jaw, so she practices. She says their words over and over again and listens, begs Violence to talk.
    (She understands everything better when Violence is in her mind, a walking translator, but Violence always takes that knowledge with her when she leaves Charnel.)
    Her own faint greeting is echoed back, and Charnel is pleased, though she doesn’t know what else to say – she mostly just talks with Violence, who does not converse with her so much as talk at her.
    She shifts.
    “My name is Charnel,” she says, but it’s mushy, rushed from her mutated mouth, comes out like mah name ish tharnal and she inhales, sharp, frustrated at the ways her tongue betrays her.

    Charnel
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