01-18-2020, 04:45 PM
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Herr+Von+Muellerhoff|PT+Sans+Narrow' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style type="text/css"> .luath_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; background: url('https://i.postimg.cc/CKVNVYbf/luath-bg.png'); width: 600px; min-height: 600px; border: solid 1px #000; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px 1px #000; } .luath_container p { margin: 0; } .luath_image { position: relative; z-index: 5; width: 600px; }.luath_text { position: relative; z-index: 8; width: 520px; margin-top: 40px; margin-bottom: -200px; background: #000000b8; border: solid 10px #04010042; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px 1px #000; }.luath_message { z-index: 8; position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #54696d; padding: 30px; }.luath_name { position: absolute; z-index: 10; font: 150px 'Herr Von Muellerhoff', cursive; color: #54696d; bottom: 40px; right: 100px; opacity: 0.9; text-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000; }.luath_quote { font: 11px 'PT Sans Narrow', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; background: #04010042; color: #54696d; padding: 20px; letter-spacing: 2px; }</style> <center><div class="luath_container"><div class="luath_text"> <p class="luath_quote">sing to me, and I could forgive you</p> <p class="luath_message">The pain leeches away, but floating in the darkness Luath can imagine that he didn’t drown when the water closed over his head, because this doesn’t feel like death. It doesn’t erase the horror, of it having been wearing his father’s face.
Warmth and light seep back into his consciousness, and he opens his eyes, resigned to find himself back on blood-red dirt. A scrape of hoof against the ground, and a shape moves across from him, silhouetted a moment against the red of the dome wall until he blinks his vision clear, and realizes why it blends so well for a moment – this familiar form is half red itself, hard to see against the red barrier.
For a moment, Luthe is mesmerized by the glint of light off of scales, admiring his own form for the first time outside of his reflection. For the first time in his life, he understands the way stranger’s eyes follow him; it takes a moment to shake himself free of the compulsion and it charges him, long jaw open and filled with too many teeth. Luath throws himself to the side to avoid the snap of those jaws, and launches upwards with dizzying relief that the darkness had healed the wing.
Even so, he falters for a heartbeat when his doppelganger’s body brushes his on the way up, the insidious hum of <i>’Land, just land’</i> almost catching before he spirals away. His other form snarls its displeasure below, at his escape.
It’s clear that the other Luath isn’t missing its magic, like he is; Luthe can see the sheen of his dragon scales, saw the teeth, felt the hypnosis attempt to take hold. He thanks whatever gods might still be watching that the water has gone – unlike his foolishly doomed stand against his magical sire, he stands a chance now. As it is, it will be a match of who can be more clever: Luthe might be very familiar with his own talents, but attack-Luath is used to training with his winged family as well.
Unfortunately, he has no distance weapons. His wings allow him an easy escape, but it will be hard to injure his other self from above, his topline well protected by dragon scales. And he can’t allow himself to be touched – if attack-Luath can touch him, there’s a good chance he will simply allow himself to be destroyed.
Feinting downwards, he draws it towards the horn pillar and then lands behind it, whirling around to lash out with his hind end, kicking again and again and again, trying to drive him back against the pillar and kick out at places he couldn’t reach well from above– underbelly and legs, chest, face: places more lightly scaled and vulnerable. He forces himself to disconnect from the idea that he’s attacking himself, and gets a sense of morbid satisfaction when he feels his hooves connect.
They’re backing towards the pillar, but it lunges forward in the moment he is touching ground to kick again, and teeth sink into Luthe’s haunches, making him cry out. Luthe kicks out anyway, the low strike finding purchase on his opponent’s knee, but attack-Luath does not let go, despite a high keening that indicates the kicking is making as a strong impression as the teeth that are shredding his hindquarters. <i>’Submit,’</i> his own internal voice coos, <i>‘Give in.’</i>
Luthe bucks against his other self’s hold, but fails to loosen the tight grip of predatory jaws. He’s fighting the compulsion, knowledge making him last longer than some, but knows he can’t last forever against it in this direct contact, the kelpie pressing forward to making his skin touch more of Luthe, and Luthe’s kicks less and less effective. There’s a fog growing in his mind, heavy and dark, when a tendril of an idea slips through.
Against every instinct he has ever had, Luthe gives in; he lets himself fall to his knees, head drooping. It slides him off of the kelpie’s teeth, and his opponent is surprised and then delighted, taking a step back to evaluate, the pause Luthe knew he would take before he decides how to kill, to savor it, while his prey is subdued. Ignoring his screaming body, Luath lunges up and back, knocking his other self to the ground. And then before he can change his mind, refusing himself that moment of appreciation, he brings his red hooves down on his doppelganger’s skull with a sickening crunch.</div> <div class="luath_name">luath</div> <img class="luath_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/SRKdtrCT/luath.png"> </div> </center>
Warmth and light seep back into his consciousness, and he opens his eyes, resigned to find himself back on blood-red dirt. A scrape of hoof against the ground, and a shape moves across from him, silhouetted a moment against the red of the dome wall until he blinks his vision clear, and realizes why it blends so well for a moment – this familiar form is half red itself, hard to see against the red barrier.
For a moment, Luthe is mesmerized by the glint of light off of scales, admiring his own form for the first time outside of his reflection. For the first time in his life, he understands the way stranger’s eyes follow him; it takes a moment to shake himself free of the compulsion and it charges him, long jaw open and filled with too many teeth. Luath throws himself to the side to avoid the snap of those jaws, and launches upwards with dizzying relief that the darkness had healed the wing.
Even so, he falters for a heartbeat when his doppelganger’s body brushes his on the way up, the insidious hum of <i>’Land, just land’</i> almost catching before he spirals away. His other form snarls its displeasure below, at his escape.
It’s clear that the other Luath isn’t missing its magic, like he is; Luthe can see the sheen of his dragon scales, saw the teeth, felt the hypnosis attempt to take hold. He thanks whatever gods might still be watching that the water has gone – unlike his foolishly doomed stand against his magical sire, he stands a chance now. As it is, it will be a match of who can be more clever: Luthe might be very familiar with his own talents, but attack-Luath is used to training with his winged family as well.
Unfortunately, he has no distance weapons. His wings allow him an easy escape, but it will be hard to injure his other self from above, his topline well protected by dragon scales. And he can’t allow himself to be touched – if attack-Luath can touch him, there’s a good chance he will simply allow himself to be destroyed.
Feinting downwards, he draws it towards the horn pillar and then lands behind it, whirling around to lash out with his hind end, kicking again and again and again, trying to drive him back against the pillar and kick out at places he couldn’t reach well from above– underbelly and legs, chest, face: places more lightly scaled and vulnerable. He forces himself to disconnect from the idea that he’s attacking himself, and gets a sense of morbid satisfaction when he feels his hooves connect.
They’re backing towards the pillar, but it lunges forward in the moment he is touching ground to kick again, and teeth sink into Luthe’s haunches, making him cry out. Luthe kicks out anyway, the low strike finding purchase on his opponent’s knee, but attack-Luath does not let go, despite a high keening that indicates the kicking is making as a strong impression as the teeth that are shredding his hindquarters. <i>’Submit,’</i> his own internal voice coos, <i>‘Give in.’</i>
Luthe bucks against his other self’s hold, but fails to loosen the tight grip of predatory jaws. He’s fighting the compulsion, knowledge making him last longer than some, but knows he can’t last forever against it in this direct contact, the kelpie pressing forward to making his skin touch more of Luthe, and Luthe’s kicks less and less effective. There’s a fog growing in his mind, heavy and dark, when a tendril of an idea slips through.
Against every instinct he has ever had, Luthe gives in; he lets himself fall to his knees, head drooping. It slides him off of the kelpie’s teeth, and his opponent is surprised and then delighted, taking a step back to evaluate, the pause Luthe knew he would take before he decides how to kill, to savor it, while his prey is subdued. Ignoring his screaming body, Luath lunges up and back, knocking his other self to the ground. And then before he can change his mind, refusing himself that moment of appreciation, he brings his red hooves down on his doppelganger’s skull with a sickening crunch.</div> <div class="luath_name">luath</div> <img class="luath_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/SRKdtrCT/luath.png"> </div> </center>