[open] The Sweet Sting || Elio ||

[Wolfbane]

I believe I'd die if I only could

I sure feel strange, but it sure feels good

All this lingering. Pha; it made him restless. Wolfbane paced the far depths of the forest on claws, grumbling to himself about whether or not going into Loess was a bad idea. He knew Eyas was watching him, waiting for him to make one false move. It was your own fault! Lupei raged, and externally Wolfbane’s body cringed at the berating voice in his head. Should’ve never let her get away, Wyrm hissed. Angrily, Wolfbane shook his head - a thick, furry feline head with a white mane- and ground his teeth together in silence, pacing onward.

He had to let her go. Lilliana wouldn’t leave the northern territories and the boys… Besides, we got something good in return. Longclaw agreed with him, which stacked the odds evenly. Two personalities against two; the sides of himself that lusted for power and the sides of himself that couldn’t resist disgusting, chaotic revenge. A hard impasse; one that made him anxious enough to pause again and sit, curling his tiger's tail (and the white tuft at the end) underneath himself.

Bane’s eyes, still a shade of familiar olive, peered out from under his heavy browline to where the forest broke apart. Out there where the trees thinned and the sun seemed brighter, Loess waited for him with open arms. Lepis was in there, and Celina, but Eyas could be as well for all he knew. He’d lost track of her when she left Nerine and headed south, but staying close to Taiga had inevitably brought him back into contact with another of his offspring - and where Eyas hadn’t been so inclined to share her secrets, Celina was.

He was waiting to hear more news, but meeting up with her was… tricky. It involved luck, and knowing her favorite places to frequently visit. Usually he’d just catch her off-guard somewhere and they’d chat for a bit, mostly questions like “How’s your mother” and “Seen anyone new lately?” among the few finer points. Today, he wasn’t having any luck. Bane was halfway debating moving on; there were other ideas he’d been mulling over that needed attention. Yet, just as he rose to move, a scent and an awareness of another horse caught his attention.

Disguised as an odd liger hybrid, Bane padded through the woods and then disappeared. He shifted down as soon as the shadows glided over his skin, changing his shape into something small and unseen while he moved. When he reappeared all of a sudden - closer to @[elio] - materializing from the darkness as the same satin black, striped green predator and striding out into the slanting afternoon sunlight, he growled, “Where is it you think you’re going?” In a way that suggested the correct answer was nowhere.

For this thread:  Sex: M  ◉  Appearance: LIGER  ◉  Mood: Irritable

OOC: Elio/Phae gets first dibs; back off <3 or I'll cut you <3 <3

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

Cool, autumnal sunlight highlights the white of a sweet, secret smile. The dark lips and red fur that surround his smile enrich the joy, making him look like a boy, polished in a child’s naive way. He’s looking for something, though what it is he is looking for is not given away by such a sincere face. Creeping green vines and warmly hued fallen leaves do tell a tale, though—one full of adventure and hope.

Yes, Elio is looking for something: a set of chiseled gray boulders covered in green, fluffy moss. They’re in a clearing hard to miss, surely glorious basking in afternoon sun. Elio remembers the first time he’d stumbled upon them: a cool spring day, the rock hot on his skin, the most satisfying nap. He had been crying that day, not for his usual family woes but because he just couldn’t figure out who he was.

He hardly cries, now. Elio is a bit harder, but—but somehow softer, too. Lighter. The door he had kept locked for so long now stands a few inches cracked. A breeze flows through. A white curtain flutters and tickles him. It’s peaceful.

“There you are,” Elio whispers, shattering the glassy reverie. The sun beats down on the steely and bright green of the rock in such a way that Elio just knows it’s surface is perfect for a nap. He trots around to a half-circle piece of stone, one short enough for him to hop on but wide enough for him to nap on. Elio studies it, nose brushing against the earthy-smelling moss. He takes a deep breath—

“Oh!”

Sleek and obviously predatory, the creature startles Elio enough for him to take several steps back. He snorts, lifts his head, and swallows back his immediate embarrassment. Irritation forces his legs into a stiff lock, and he draws his head closer to his neck. Against Elio’s better judgement, he twists his ears back and foregoes the creature’s question:

“What does that matter to you?”

[Celina]

Her head sways back and forth as she moves, low to the ground and curious. Celina’s sense of smell is no keener than any other horse’s, but she is searching for one particular scent. Though she travels this way frequently and considered her knowledge of the trail better-than-most’s, she has never been able to find her father before he finds her. Today will be the day that she does, the pale-eyed mare thinks, and her iridescent brown furrows in concentration. The short, brittle grass brushes against the delicate scales of her chin and lips, and though she mouths at it now and then in curiosity, there is no doubt that the jagged teeth that protrude from her too-long jaw are not meant for greenery. The sound of a voice makes her jump. She’d been so focused on scent that she’d forgotten about sight and sound. Fortunately, the speaker is far enough away that the sound their voice is an indiscernible rumble. Indiscernible in terms of words that is…she knows that voice! Moving forward as quickly and silently as she can, she hears a second voice reply. She knows that voice too, though the memory of it is far less recent. How long has it been since she saw Elio, Celina wonders to herself? He’s certainly been much smaller back then – he might rival Dad in height if Dad were himself and not some striped creature block the path of her younger brother through the forest “Gosh Elio,” Celina purrs, striding forward to stand nearer the stripped creature. “You’re, like, super bad at keeping a lookout. Besides, Dad’s just doing his job, you know. You should be more polite.” She glances to the side, almost furtively, trying to disguise the movement with a toss of her navy forelock. The white mare is eager to impress her father, especially as this is the first time he’d not been the one to catch her off-guard. celina i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type

@[Wolfbane]
@[Elio]

[Wolfbane]

I believe I'd die if I only could

I sure feel strange, but it sure feels good

Grinning through his fangs, Wolfbane straightened up at the sound of his son’s exclamation. He slunk forward casually on his black paws, swinging his hips and letting his tail sway back-and-forth over the ground. He’d shocked poor @[elio], hadn’t he? Tsk’ing softly, the Liger considered the pegasus’ question and crouched. He didn’t need to answer right away - Celina intervened at that moment, gliding quietly across the wide opening to where her father waited.

“Celina, my dear,” Bane greeted her in a warm purr, and as soon as she came to a stop near him he leapt - springing up to land gracefully on the same rock Elio had been inspecting moments before. “I think I gave your brother a scare.”

The odd lion’s face pulled its lips back into a snarl, narrowing its eyes as a low, brittle chuckle crackled out from between the many rows of sharp teeth. He’d hoped the look on Elio’s face was purely shock at having been surprised by a lion out in the middle of common territory, and not true fear. The young stallion needed to be on his toes a little more, and napping a little less. Scaring him into that might prove useful. At least he didn’t run, Longclaw’s approval came as a sudden thought to Bane.

“Elio.” His father barked, snapping his jaws together with a sharp click. “Don’t tell me that you can’t recognize the call of your own blood, son?” Wolfbane challenged his kin, grasping for that single tendril of a memory when they first met long ago. He’d been in Taiga for a very short time after that, not nearly long enough to secure as much of a bond as Bane would’ve liked, but maybe long enough, he hopes.
With a sweep of his tail he sat, folding himself neatly into a wizened sort of stance so that he could look down over his children with a sniff. His whiskers quivered, and the Liger turned to look again at Celina with a smug grin.

“Celina, I really can’t say how proud I am of your stealth these days...” The shape-shifter lathered praise over his pale, shimmering girl, after Elio had been given enough time to compose himself. “You’ve been practicing, I can tell. Now you and your brother -” He nodded his maned head in the direction of Elio, “catch me up on things. I feel like I’ve been gone too long, again.” Wolfbane sighed, as if prolonged absences were sort of expected of him. He did sound remorseful… Did that count?

For this thread:  Sex: M  ◉  Appearance: LIGER  ◉  Mood: Subdued

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

Anger.

It's righteous when Elio feels it. Righteous and raw, violent and vibrating. It consumes him. He watches the liger, eyes wide but serious (eyes almost - almost - containing a dare to try him). What is it about the creature's voice? Its eyes? Why does Lio feel an edge beyond the initial presence of a predator? He wants to feel its skull fall flat beneath his hooves, and that terrifies him.

But this liger wouldn't know that fear. Elio doesn't show it. Still, stoic, calmer than the boy he grew up as: he faces down the presumptuous stranger.

Gosh, Elio.

The ears atop the golden boy's head swivel in surprise. His head quickly follows suit, shifting enough to stare Celina fully in the face. Elio doesn't feel anything at first. There was surprise, but then a quiet sort of analyzation overtakes him. He stares quietly at his sister, knowing that a firework show worth of emotions are hissing in his chest, but says nothing. Does nothing. Just stares as she speaks, not really comprehending what she has to say.

It's when Wolfbane purrs that Lio leaves his tunnel vision. First, his head snaps to Lepis, wondering is by some miracle he could get her here; but reality seeps in, and so do Celina's words, leaving Elio with a vague, cold emptiness. Not apathy, not yet - but the gripping realization that his favorite sibling has outgrown their young likemindedness. He isn't sure who he is looking at anymore. It's Celina's iridescent white coat and floating fireflies but it's not Celina.

That's not Celina.

Elio won't believe it.

When Wolfbane dares to ask if he recognizes him, Lio wants to laugh. It would be a cold bark, utterly humorless - but his throat feels dry and the act of such useless defiance feels too exhausting. Instead, he rolls his eyes from Celina's and over to the liger's, and clearly states, "You've rarely spoken to me."

To Elio, Bane's compliments are blatantly empty. He can practically taste the manipulation on his tongue. Lio takes a few quiet steps backward, away from his father's perch, but still angled so that he is partially facing Celina. The look on his face is incredulous, wondering if she is really basking beneath their father's conjured sun. Disgust is bitter on the back of his tongue as it becomes very, very real that Celina has picked their cursed father over their mother. Over him.

Elio does nearly laugh when Bane expects them to "catch him up." He glances at Celina, naively half-expecting her to feel the same or at least show some sign of hesitance. The realization that this is regular - that Celina divulges information about their father's victims already - comes swift. It nearly eviscerates Elio. He stares, wounded but refusing to show it, wondering if the air knocked from his lungs will ever return.

"I'm not telling you anything," Elio snarls, drawing his wings tight to his sides and staring his father down. "And neither is Celina." He returns his gaze to her, now. The look in his eyes is fierce and determined. It says:

I will stop you myself.

@[Celina] @[Wolfbane] big cry

[Celina]

Her gaze soon turns in the same direction as he ears, flicking toward Wolfbane at the sound of her name. He is in a good mood today, she thinks, or at least not a bad one. Celina is grateful for that; Dad’s sour moods are best spent as far from the now-purring creature as she can get, after all. But today is a good one, and she basks in his praise. There had been a challenge in Wolfbane’s voice when he’d spoken to Elio, and Celina’s brief fears are assuaged. Her self-appointed position as her father’s favorite is one she has no intention of losing – especially not to a younger brother who’d abandoned them. She looked down the long silver length of her nose at him, scorn flashing in her seafoam eyes, false pity in the smile that shows between her many teeth. He can’t even recognize Dad? Celina’s head tilts a bit to the side as she watches Elio. It’s not curious as much as studious, assessing the red-winged stallion as if he is something she struggles to understand. Her brother does not address Celina’s critique of his behavior, and instead speaks to Wolfbane. When Elio does look back her, it is with a strange sort of blankess. Celina doesn’t know it and she frowns, which in the end is a good match for the snarl that his voice becomes when he next speaks. The aggressive burr of his voice stiffens her neck, as does the recognition of the fire that springs up behind his eyes. She lowers her head again, her mouth falling open in a way the reveals all of her jagged teeth to their best advantage. “Have you learned any new tricks since you ran away, Lio?” The green-eyed mare taunts, taking a casual step to the side that puts her just a bit farther from Wolfbane. “I bet you couldn’t stop me if you tried.” With that, and a quick glance to the left to make sure Dad was still listening to her, she says: “Mom and Castile got into a big fight. I think he’s leaving Loess. There’s a new leader in Icicle Isle.” She doesn’t share a name, hopeful that the news of power changing hands will be enough, and she will not have to explain that she hadn’t caught the leader’s name because there’d been a meteor shower and Mom had stopped talking to point one out to Celina, and the tangent they’d ended on had nothing at all to do with politics. celina i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type

@[Wolfbane]
@[Elio]

[Wolfbane]

I believe I'd die if I only could

I sure feel strange, but it sure feels good

He’d more or less expected @[elio] to reject him, but Wolfbane isn’t sad or even upset by his son's refusal to play along. Lepis had gotten to him too quickly, it seemed. His boys heart and mind have been turned against him, and the love that could’ve been a cemented thing was now only a brittle leaf being torn asunder by the wind of all their wasted words. Elio’s glare is accusatory - the glare of a child forgotten by their creator - but Wolfbane only blinks away the burning angst and turns his cheek to the side in a display of utter nonchalance to give his praise to Celina, where it would be appreciated.

He had no time for the boy, then, and plenty of other children to cull and shape how he liked. Let this one keep his hatred. Perhaps it would build into something more quantifiable, rather than manifesting itself as empty threats.

Celina, the righteous one, seemed to agree. Her father watched curiously as she spread her stance and snarled in defiance against Elio’s edict, flipping his long, greenish-black tail on the stone’s warm surface. Her growls echoed off the boulder cluster and when she’d finished, her sire rose up on his paws. “Good, Celina.” He swept up her hurried explanation with an equally as-rushed compliment, leaping back down to the earth in one smooth movement.

“Your brother,” He groaned and his body quivered; a flash of light played over his skin and the shape of his entire body began to bubble and shift, “doesn’t seem to get it.” He uttered painfully through a misshapen mouth. His limbs grew rapidly to replace the old ones; his jaw squared up and his nose flattened. He rose, completely changed, to balance in a sitting position on his hindquarters with his elongated forepaws tucked close to his chest. The ragged, black claws at the tip of each digit gleamed dangerously sharp.

“You will speak, Elio.” The odd creature growled in a hushed voice, “or Celina and I will permanently silence you.” The baboonish monster threatened, snarling. A pair of long, wickedly curved fangs exposed themselves. “You get it now, boy?”

For this thread:  Sex: M  ◉  Appearance: THIS CREATURE  ◉  Mood: Dangerous

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

Elio is keen to understand why his sister is so quick to throw her teeth down in a fight. He watches her, stormy eyes slitting not only in suspicion but also in self-restraint. Surely, that mouth could do something awful to him, but he wonders how she'll get it around something she can't see.

(He also wonders, in his naive way, if she will actually hurt him. And then he thinks, let's find out.)

If Lio had noticed his father contempt, he might have felt rage borne from a child scorned. He might have felt that momentous sting of pain in his chest, a hitch in his throat, a wavering of morality. He might have. But he doesn't - purely because he does not sense Wolfbane's emotions, and he will never find out he might have reacted to the opportunity of pleasing his father otherwise.

"Hurt me, then, Celina," Elio spits, before Bane shifts into another haunting creature's form. He returns his gaze to his father, listening only because his pride won't let him leave without a fight.

"I'd rip my tongue from my mouth before helping you," he says, low, growling, dipping his head low and peering defiantly up at the monster. "I'm telling Mom," Lio states suddenly and cheerily, not meeting either gaze and instead glancing up at the sky. A cheeky - and fierce - grin lifts his lips before his body disappears.

There, he thinks, now they only have their ears.

He doesn't run - not yet.

@[Celina] @[Wolfbane] )))))))))))

[Celina]

’Hurt me, Celina’ he taunts, and oh how Celina wants to take him at his word. Only self-control keeps her still, well practiced self-control and the memory of her father’s consistent refusal to allow her to. But Wolfbane doesn’t seem to be refusing now, Celina realizes. Permanently silence, he says. That sounds like a fight. One iridescent ear turns to catch her father’s praise, but the rest of Celina’s attention remains centered on her fire-haired brother. Even when she hears the creak and snap of Wolfbane’s shifting and smells the odd blend of magic and flesh that accompanies it, she does not look away. She has replayed their last encounter in the Taigan redwoods a hundred times, imagining the way that it should have ended. Celina had wanted a fight – either with Elio, or the sorrel who’d touched her Nashua, or the grey with a twig up her rump that wanted to lecture them all. She hadn’t gotten it, though. Perhaps now is her chance? The idea arrives with a rush of adrenaline, and the pupils of her green eyes widen in anticipation. Elio’s denial of their sire’s request only serves to add to the pace of her heartbeat. Celina’s eyes dart back and forth from Wolfbane to Elio as the latter glares at him defiantly. She wants to lunge, to rip away the tongue Elio speaks of herself. It is a struggle to reign in the instinct, that primitive desire to hunt that she assumes has come from her father. He’s certainly taught her how to control it, and later perhaps she will regret forgetting some of those lessons. For now though, she acts in a way that feels most right. When Elio disappears, the fight is officially on. She lunges forward, her near-white wings flaring wide. Her teeth slash the air where his face had been moments ago, and her raised front legs kick out. If he does not react quickly, Celina won’t need to be able to see him to find him. She can just follow the blood trail. @[Wolfbane] @[elio] celina i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type

[Wolfbane]

I believe I'd die if I only could

I sure feel strange, but it sure feels good

Give Wolfbane any situation and guaranteed, he’d find a way to make it chaotic. Out here on the grassy edge of two lands, where the trees swayed into one another behind them all, it seemed too peaceful for chaos. Too quiet for the snarls that ripped out of his throat, and Celina’s. What should’ve been a loving reunion had become a nightmare, and Bane fed off his children like a starving man being offered table scraps. He wanted to see them fight as dogs might: savagely, brutally, perhaps to death... It would prove Celina’s commitment to him and Elio’s strength as his son (if he had any real strength at all besides bluffing.) The taste of battle in the air gave him pleasant shivers, and their anger was giving him a contact high.

“What a stupid, childish thing to threaten.” The shape-shifter snarled, his lips rippling as another growl rumbled in his throat. Elio was outnumbered and outpowered, but the best he could manage to dredge up was, “I’m telling mother” ? His boy truly believed that the threat of his ex-wife, the Queen of Loess, coming to put an end to this would, what? Scare him off? Give him a reason to hesitate?

Elio must’ve known it wouldn’t. He disappeared a fraction of a second later, leaving Bane to perk his ears and widen his face. Celina leapt at the stallion, but her father was momentarily more cautious - easing his belly down into the dirt to spread out his weight and tense his legs, preparing to spring. He knew this trick: an old one of his; but one he’d seemingly passed on even if Bane couldn’t perform it himself anymore.

The wind shifted. Elio’s scent was still there with it. There wasn’t the dull sound of invisible hooves making an escape, either. “Stupid, stupid boy.” Longclaw’s voice muttered as a disjointed thought, ashamed at the lack of skill or sense Elio should’ve had by now. At his age, he’d taught Wolfbane so much more.

"Then life will have to do the teaching for him, since you failed as a father and mentor." Bane's ancestors cackled and jeered in his mind. The slow, feverish build of an oncoming rage began to tingle underneath his predator's skin.

He didn't even feel bad knowing that Celina would more than likely catch some unseen part of Elio’s flesh with those prehistoric teeth of hers, or maybe thwack him good with a hoof. It would serve him right. Meanwhile, her father waited. His pupils were wide and black as an engulfing hole, and he watched with a gleam in his eye for the right moment to bring the arrogant little prick to his knees.

For this thread:  Sex: M  ◉  Appearance: THIS CREATURE  ◉  Mood: Dangerous

@[elio]  /fight fight fight fight/