03-02-2022, 11:01 AM
SNEK
Photo by Jan Kopřiva on Unsplash
@Aela
Their words wash over her as senseless as the sea they're standing beside. The Beast's - no, the stallion's - are half-choked with salt and sand, and the palomino that holds firm between him and the shaking red filly replies silky smooth, but too clouded in metaphor for her to understand. Creatrice' breath shivers in her nostrils, by turns terrified and furious, and something in her belly turns cold when her red eyes brush against the blood-and-ash of his skin where something strange and unknown lashed out from her livid heart.
There's a coiling feeling in that cold place inside her. It distracts her at first from trying to follow the stilted conversation, but now when she tries to grasp at it, it slithers away, hissing softly in her ears. This is something new, something that wasn't there before. It's something that the soggy, slimy, stinking, stallion pulled out from some depth of his ocean lair and poured into her like an empty cup. Her gaze sharpens suddenly, snapping out of the middle distance. What has he done? Her reward for the sudden attention is another leering smile that makes the bared muscle of his jaw tweak and flex and makes her stomach turn.
What has she done? It isn't guilt that draws the question to her mind, but she'd be hard-pressed to pinpoint the line between curiosity and fear. Whatever she touched is now lurking beyond her reach, present and quiet but for the faint rasp of scales sliding across one another. The stallion is testing his limp wings, that unfriendly smile devolving into a sneer as they simply shudder and remain loose at his sides, the ragged tips dragging in the green mud. Broken? Dislocated? The red girl snorts smugly, moving out slightly from behind unmoved palomino.
"Long grass, Little Witch?" The buckskin's voice still cracks when he speaks, adding harshness to the dripping sarcasm that seems to be second nature to him. The shadows curling around him lick at the earth and the air without purpose, "And where do you propose I would find that now?"
Blue-green eyes drift out to the open water where the edge of the Pampas was once visible, and he laughs brokenly.
"All your grass and your plans are at the bottom of the ocean."
A look of consternation crosses the hard edges of his face then, making them sharper, making the blue of his eyes edge with an angry green.
"If you've let anything happen to Marten, Aela, I'll find a way to make you pay for it."
There's a coiling feeling in that cold place inside her. It distracts her at first from trying to follow the stilted conversation, but now when she tries to grasp at it, it slithers away, hissing softly in her ears. This is something new, something that wasn't there before. It's something that the soggy, slimy, stinking, stallion pulled out from some depth of his ocean lair and poured into her like an empty cup. Her gaze sharpens suddenly, snapping out of the middle distance. What has he done? Her reward for the sudden attention is another leering smile that makes the bared muscle of his jaw tweak and flex and makes her stomach turn.
What has she done? It isn't guilt that draws the question to her mind, but she'd be hard-pressed to pinpoint the line between curiosity and fear. Whatever she touched is now lurking beyond her reach, present and quiet but for the faint rasp of scales sliding across one another. The stallion is testing his limp wings, that unfriendly smile devolving into a sneer as they simply shudder and remain loose at his sides, the ragged tips dragging in the green mud. Broken? Dislocated? The red girl snorts smugly, moving out slightly from behind unmoved palomino.
"Long grass, Little Witch?" The buckskin's voice still cracks when he speaks, adding harshness to the dripping sarcasm that seems to be second nature to him. The shadows curling around him lick at the earth and the air without purpose, "And where do you propose I would find that now?"
Blue-green eyes drift out to the open water where the edge of the Pampas was once visible, and he laughs brokenly.
"All your grass and your plans are at the bottom of the ocean."
A look of consternation crosses the hard edges of his face then, making them sharper, making the blue of his eyes edge with an angry green.
"If you've let anything happen to Marten, Aela, I'll find a way to make you pay for it."
- Creatrice
@Aela