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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


    [mature]  In my field of paper flowers // Any
    #1
    I laugh, and there is no humor to the sound. A trio of starlings erupt from their perches as I do, disturbed from their oh-so-important preening. My teeth snap half hearted at them, missing by miles and more ill tempered for it. 

    "Do you know," I ask the girl beside me, pink and glittering and not there. "Do you know how fucked up you have to be for even the voices in your head not to believe in you?" I giggle again, the absurdity mind boggling. "Oh well, I guess you'd know all about that." I muse aloud. I killed her, after all, so she'd know better than anyone how decayed I've become. 

    Decay. 
    Rot. 
    Slimy, rotting brain matter coating my hooves and legs and muzzle, the scent of mould and mildew barely touching the stench of long dead flesh, eyes squeezed shut, weeping, no, leaking from their sockets and I'm bashing her head in, my daughter's head in, if I don't she won't stay dead and she'll keep coming back more ruined than before and its all my fault.

    I let her die. 

    Wanted her to die. 

    And now she's always with me. 

    That's what I get, I suppose. 

    A shard of daylight cuts my eyes, and I moan at the suddeness of it. Leaves of amber and gold tangle in my mane and tail, a whimsical touch to my dishelvement. It takes a moment, but I get there eventually. Remember that I'm standing in the Sylvan woods. That I've been here for some time now, I think. So hard to tell when the trees never change. It's mud on my feet, not... less pleasant substances. Have I walked through a river? I grumble, the memory refusing to surface. 

    It's quiet. I feel that I am alone, though something tells me I'm wrong. A fragment of recollection that says there's someone else here. 

    With me. 

    Watching me.
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    #2
    Rajanish
    Pangea was the land of his father; but it was as dead as he himself had been. This time, he goes to Sylva, the land where he was born, where he had truly lived, where he had been free to, and in fact been encouraged to, experiment. It had been Sylva and his Sylvan memories that had visited him in the Afterlife, or rather that was what he came up with - possibly it’s his memories visiting him there and nothing else. When time stands still however, one tends not to worry about anything at all. His best educated guess is that this is why most of the ghosts in the Afterlife are content to stay where they are.

    He... materializesin the ever-autumnal forest. Silent as a ghost, which he had been from the day of his birth; perhaps his haunting was always a thing he had carried in himself. Rajanish was always odd but strong, but now... now he feels even more solid, stronger than ever.

    He should have visited Sylva much, much earlier, if this was the effect.

    The ghost is still a ghost though; still translucent, and still capable of phasing through the forest. Still bound to the rules of the dead - but the fun part is, he’s also not bound to the rules of the living. No smell - if the smell of Afterlife decay followed him maybe, but not the smell of a horse; he has no real body. No sound - he doesn’t rustle any leaves, twigs and branches don’t touch him. Not when he doesn’t want them to, at any rate.

    Transportation is motionless for the ghost; he has stopped making habitual movements indicating walking, floats forwards or sideways instead. It doesn’t take him long to find the perfect target; a pearlescent woman, who with that coloration and sort-of status (what is status in Sylva?) should have kept her coat prettier.

    She has not, so it’s her he wants to study. - hello -

    Pick her apart.
    No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break.
    No voice to cry out suffering.


    @[Sabra] Your not so friendly, neighborhood ghost has arrived <3[/i][/i]
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    #3
    My senses tremble, the vibration of a fly caught in a spider's web. Some signal that I'm trying to trace, to tug back on the line. My eyes track from tree to tree, shadow to shadow, the sun only deepening the voids. 

    And then, as they usually do, a Voice murmurs in my head. Only when I've caught the impression of sound do my eyes alight on the owner. A Shade like the others, insubstantial where light hits him, more solid when it doesn't. I smile viciously. 

    "You're new. What did I do to you, I wonder." My mind is quick to suggest possibilities. Was his family turned out when I last left these woods? Was his home burned, or drowned once upon a time, when I could have saved it? Maybe my children ate his heart while I stood by and watched. Maybe I did it myself. I've been punished for less. 

    Still I smile at him sharply, a mouth of chipped teeth and lips stained dark with old blood. There are mountains and oceans of chaos in my mind. That I'm not running or screaming is simply the luck of the day, that I'm spoiling for a fight and not cowering away. What are dragons to the demons in one's own mind? What are ghosts but past failings to be defeated. 

    I shudder, an icy claw down my spine. 

    My eyes dart from side to side, refusing to settle on him, on the trees, on anything. It's the anticipation tray gets you, you see. The waiting. 

    I do hate to be kept waiting. 

    @[Rajanish]
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    #4
    Oooooh, Sylva.

    It’s been so very, very, very long.  Have you missed me, like I’ve missed you?

    Probably not.  We didn’t end on the best of terms, I know.  What with me seeing other lands and all that and being unfaithful and you not doing anything to stop me from leaving.  That really broke my heart.  You could’ve said something. Anything. Anything at all. And to tell you the truth, I’ve been elsewhere for while now. Doing who knows what with who knows who. But they were so cute though.

    So Worth it.

    But. Anyways. 

    Yes, I did really miss you. Missed us.  
    So I’m back now!  And the good news is that we can pretend nothing ever happened. Because nothing did happen.

    What was I just talking about?

    I dunno.
    But in the meantime I’m going to say something to Sparkles and Foggy over there.

    “OH, Is this a game?!” Isqueal, overshooting my momentum and blazing past the pair of them for a moment before I find the means to stop myself and round back around to them. I’m in my typical non famcy skin; just my usual gorgeous pink and yellow horsey body today. “Me first! I am a professional guesser, ya know. And I won’t even listen to your thoughts.”

     I scrutinize him as he flickers there, my beady black eyes studious and almost cross from the effort. “I’m going to guessssss…thattttttt drawing the words out long and all sing-songy like any expert guesser would. “You ate him and gave him the worst present ever for his birthday.  Not necessarily in that order.  Or maybe it is.”

    Smiling triumphantly, my eyes dash excitedly back and forth between them, “what’s my prize?” And then, just because I’m curious and just because I could, I blew a small gust of air at Foggy, curious to see if he’d twirl and dance like the smoke rising off of a burning body. 


    @[Sabra] @[Rajanish] I’m sorry
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    #5
    Rajanish
    You're new, she accuses. At that, the ghost shakes his head. Before he can contradict her verbally however, she continues: What did I do to you, I wonder, and at that, auntie Jackel arrives.

    Well, she's no longer any sort of auntie anymore. Raj and Kreep had pretty much left Sylva behind long ago, long before his death, even. Besides, the mare doesn't, you know, seem aged. Or matured. Or both. Ah, immortality... but, he supposes he is immortal now too, in a weird and creepy way.

    He smiles knowingly when Jackel begins to guess, seeing what it'll end up in: more and more confusion and delusion for the pearly mare. How far, he wonders, could they go with this before she suspected that what Jackel guessed and he confirmed, might not be the truth after all? He grins a little, waiting for her to slow down a little - raises a brow at her when she blows some air at him (it won't do a thing, because he is otherwordly - see-through as he is, he is not actually made of any sort of mist) - he is bodiless and yet he moves as though he has one, able to make himself more tangible now that he is here this time of year, or perhaps just now that he is in Sylva - whatever the magic is that tethers him more this time around than others, he will find out later. Now, he will just make use of it.

    - Yes, you ate me - he confirms, - but you're the one with the birthday present, Jackel - Oh, so much easier and more fun it is, to mess with them both. Mirroring the yellow and pink mare's smile, but with hollow eyes of a ghost, he creeps up on the winged mare. - What are you going to give me in return for my life? - he wishes to know.
    No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break.
    No voice to cry out suffering.


    @[Sabra] @[Jackel] don't be, Jackel is fun!
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    #6
    Information 
    And then there were three, and my jaw clicks when I grin. She's flash and fragments and I snort at her joining in. 

    "A professional guesser?" I sing-song, voice pitched ugly high. Then more normally: "Pity you couldn't be a professional knower. That would actually be useful." My tail snaps at my heels while my eyes danced between the two of them with equal impatience. I have no reason to believe it disbelieve their claims, other than I recognize neither of their faces. A deep chested sigh gusts through me. 

    "Well, I'm sure you deserved it, and you-" I flip my mane as I turn to the pink lemonade mare. "Your prize is that I don't eat you. Unless you want me to." A haphazard giggle leaves me then, at the idea of someone wanting to be eaten. Or maybe not so far fetched. I've offered predators my throat. Asked them to draw the first blood so that whatever I did afterwards wouldn't really be my fault. And then sighed disappointed when they turned me down. Not so impossible. 

    I hum a little off key tune as I consider the spector's question. He's got a curious flatness behind his eyes. A lack of feeling. My nose wrinkles with a huff. "Eternal torment, same as the rest." I snap. I made up my mind a long time ago. If I'm going to be haunted for the rest of eternity, I'm not going to make it easy on them. Why should I? 

    With a sultry glance, I step a pace closer. We meet in the middle and hardness enters my own face. "Now, are you the kind who won't let me sink my teeth into you? That's no fun, you know." I simper, beguiling even as I threaten. "Isn't that right, Pinky." I add, speaking to the giddy mare even if my eyes aren't on her. 

    @[Rajanish] @[Jackel]
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