"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
The sudden, absolute darkness pulls her from her hiding place. She has lived in shadows since he left her — since their cavern became cold and empty and the humanity that dwelled within her began to mourn him. She had never expected Partner to abandon her, even after Sister had made his body dance before her until she gave into her little game. When he had fled (at least that is what she assumes he had done, for when she returned from several nights of hunting, his smell was already growing dim) she had grown weary with grief, but instincts had forced her to look elsewhere.
She had refused to find another Partner, despite the way her body ached.
Even as she glides among the dark (a silent, tall shadow that might dance on the edges of Prey’s vision), Nexu vows to ignore the newer monsters. The endless darkness opened a gate into a world full of creatures just as dark and twisted and dangerous as herself, and the ancestors of her species whisper to continue their bloodline. Her instincts whisper that she is a failure; though the high ebony crown of a Queen juts from her face, she has no children to build her hive.
She seethes against the humanity in her, the voices that whisper she has given herself to Partner and she would be a liar to ignore that vow, and this anger feeds her. Nexu uses it to snap at the monsters that draw near to her armored body, baring her mouths and chittering warnings until they quickly scatter. By the time she reaches their abandoned cave, her knived tail flicks calmly at her heels.
The interior of her old home is dark, but she is a creature of the darkness and so she moves silently into the shadows, slitted nostrils flaring as she inhales what smells of Partner there might be.
Maugrim does not find it surprising that solitude finds him so easily. It is something he had grown accustomed to when he was just a child and it followed him into adulthood. The solitary life is something that calls to him and though he has those who he keeps close, there is nothing he will love more than the water that calls him home. But, every so often, the stallion finds his equine instincts searching for the warmth of another, whether it be a lover or merely drowning them - it didn’t matter either way, as long as he curbed his appetite for intimacy and touch.
The onslaught of never ending darkness seems to have brought out all sorts of monsters; things that glide through the dark on silent claws, scuffling in the underbrush and clicking their talons on the many boulders that hide beneath the red-orange canopy of Sylva. Despite the absence of the sun, winter still seems to be on its way out, as the snow has become muddied and only found in small heaps, melting into puddles.
The shadows and whispers of demons in the dark do not catch his attention - none would enter the water and thus, Maugrim finds himself immune to their ferocity.
Something else entirely draws the Poseidon from his resting place.
His memory is not fuzzy despite the length of time that has passed since last seeing Nexu. He can hardly remember their last moments together; it was as if they were suddenly apart, without any transition whatsoever. Curious and wondering if she still holds any favor for him within her chasm of a chest, the evergreen and lavender stallion finds himself at the outside of the damp cave that is now filled with the scent of her - fresh and very much alive.
“Nexu,” he says softly into the night air, the sound of other monsters scurrying in the darkness at the sound of his voice. But his ears are trained on the mouth of the cave before him, where the winter’s wind howls against the opening. She must be searching for him in the pits of their cave, for why else would she return here? She would discover his scent is only newly fresh, as for many years he had spent at the bottom of the lake.
The stallion steps into the cave, his hooves clicking sharply on the stone - announcing his presence to her.
It is quiet within the cave; at first, she only hears the beating of her heart and the clatter of her hooves on the stone. Their midnight-clad world has become eerie since the sunlight had plunged into the dark. The normal activity of their country had suddenly sputtered out and confident social butterflies had curled themselves into cocoons to hide from the long night. Yet at the same time, the darkest edges of the world have become loud with howling and groaning even Nexu cannot identify. Her long muscled legs come to a nimble halt and she relishes in the silence for a moment. It is heavy and peaceful, resting over her armored body like silk.
She almost falls asleep in the quiet, cradled like an infant in swaddling cloth, but the sound of feet catching the layers of stone pulls her mind away from the soft drowsiness.
Nexu’s head snaps toward the mouth of the cavern, knived tail flicking at her heels in preparation to strike. And she would have if it weren’t for his familiar scent drifting into her flared nostrils. It feels like a memory at first, as if his damp, crisp cologne had permeated the stone so deeply she can see him resurfacing from his watery depths in her mind’s eye. This smell is faintly different somehow, and it speaks of places outside their autumnal home — of puddles and lakes and oceans that he has traveled distant from this land.
She knows it is him (Partner, her mind chitters) but she waits for another moment in the darkness, a behemoth shadow of her own in the darker corners of the cavern.
Just when his eyes might be able to pick her looming shape out of the night, she springs. There is only the scuffle of her feet on the rocks before she jumps at him like an armored, twisted, nightmarish panther. The emotions that might’ve brewed within her — betrayal at his abandonment, anger at her failure to procreate, delight at seeing him once more — are too complex for her predatory mind to untangle at this moment.
So she aims to hit Partner; she has seen him melt into nothing but moisture before and she is certain he could avoid her now. Yet wherever she lands — whether on him or beside him — her prehinsle tail flicks across her side to aim its pointed edge at wherever he might be.
He does not fear the dark nor the monsters they bring. He is the Drowned god, Poseidon, the Finisher. He is the monster of all monsters, even when he stares down the familiar shining black face of Nexu. He expects anger (of course, for much of their time together begins with such an emotion) and when silence envelops him, the painted stallion’s chin tips upwards, his dark eyes peering through the blackness, trying to make out any shape of her within the depths of the cave.
She strikes the second he begins thinking perhaps she isn’t there at all. There is laughter that arises from his throat in surprise as she lunges, her black skin glittering as she comes into the open beneath the sliver of light that dimly hangs above them. Within moments he is only water, a liquified shape of himself that then resolidifies only a few inches from where he had originally stood, the bulk of her body missing him entirely.
Her tail finds purchase on the patterned green and pearl of his ribs as her hooves meet the earth right next to him. A gasp leaves his mouth at the burning sensation (pain, he remembers it’s called) and his ears fall into the depths of his tangled and damp mane. Furious, he bellows into the night air, his voice echoing across the various boulders and woods. The part of his ribcage where she struck him dissolves into water, releasing her grasp from his skin as he kicks out with his hindlegs, knowing that there would be little damage done if his hooves happen to connect with her armored shoulder, neck or face.
When his back hooves touch the earth, the dark evergreen of his skin resolidifies. The pierced flesh already has begun to heal.
Water from the atmosphere condenses together magically, fueled by his anger and excitement. Their reunion would be bloody, and he knew he would find it disappointing if it were anything but. He had forgotten, of course, about that damned tail, and with a sneer he wields the water like a rope, holding the damned thing away from him.
He doesn’t speak - reverting back to the familiarity in which they had found together in years past. He doesn’t attempt to bite at the armor of her hide with the bluntness of his teeth, but merely turns himself around so that they are shoulder to shoulder. He chuffs gently, blowing air from his nostrils as he attempts to brush his muzzle against the sleek obsidian of her neck.
When her tail slices through the unfortunate solidity of his side, Nexu can’t help but chitter a low sound of satisfaction. Despite the ways he melts into pure liquid and repairs his own injuries, he can get hurt, if only for a moment. He is the Drowned god, Poseidon, the Finisher — but she is the apex predator, clothed like Athena, daughter of ancient instincts and unnatural shadow. It only fits that they reunite under an eclipsed sky with his blood to paint her dark armor in shades of red. The scent of his blood, the gasp from his mouth, and his angered cry are love songs for the wilderness of her hunter’s heart.
She is thrown off-balance when her tail meets his skin, and this doesn’t give her enough time to react when his hooves meet her armored shoulder. A bang like lightning hitting a tree echoes through the autumnal forest. Nexu grunts when the connection is made, and although his feet do not cut like they might’ve if she had soft flesh, she knows there will be an ache there for a day or so.
It almost sickens her to think that he might’ve gotten the best of her, and her tail squirms in the clutches of his watery grip. Even while he swivels to stand closer, in a way that does not suggest fighting, she gives a fiery snarl from the depths of her throat. She could bruise the tender skin of his throat with the punch of her mouths, or she could twist her neck to the side and bury her crown into the depths of his chest.
But she doesn’t want to kill him; she isn’t sure if his water could heal a heart punctured by the blackened tip of her crown, and she doesn’t want to find out. Besides, the warm puff of air over her sleek neck and his sudden gentleness call to her. They remind her of the emptiness she has felt in his absence and the instinctual ache that whispers she has failed as a young Queen. It might seem strange, how his touch can soothe a fierce Predator, but her tail relaxes into his grip regardless.
Her eyes find him, and there is still a steely flash of anger in their dark depths. She doesn’t understand why he left (doesn’t know that it had been a misunderstanding, an unfortunate twist of time), and the betrayal she feels is a coiled snake lying cold in her belly. Yet he is warm and familiar — he is her Partner — and so she ignores the rage to invite him closer, leaning her midnight neck further into the warmth of his muzzle.
