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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


    [private]  If you need a friend, don't look to a stranger
    #1
    Bardot
    I know what sin is

    It had been a strange few weeks for the little unicorn.

    She had only expected to stay in the Pampas for the winter. However, the thrill of the small kingdom kept her curious, the steady persistence she had with her brother seemed to be working, and now with the arrival of her mother… She wasn’t as set on her wandering ways as she had once been. Just a little longer, she thinks. Obscene had gruffly, holding back most of the details, informed her that the rolling wildflower plains might soon be unsafe. He wanted her to take Tantalize somewhere else but the buttery mare had simply frowned at him in return. He hadn’t been pleased with her open rebellion, the refusal to leave, although even he could surely see the sense in not wanting to approach their dam on the subject. As if any of them could make the former Khaleesi do anything she didn’t want to.

    Still, despite her stubbornness in staying with her newly recovered family, there is only so long one can watch the blooming of petals.

    With the arrival of spring, she leaves the beautiful open wildness of the Pampas and returns to one of her favorite places. The ice had thawed along the riverbank and the cool crisp waters of the rapids are especially inviting after the trek she had taken to get here. It is not long before she has slipped into the watery embrace of the river, sighing with pleasure as the water laps gently around her belly where she stands in the shallows. For a moment she lowers herself until rivulets ran over the silvery scars along her withers. This had certainly been missed.

    There is no doubt that she would come across a familiar face here today but the one she finds isn’t the one she had been expecting. There is a smile on her lips all the same. “Molech?” She asks the handsome stallion who she hadn’t noticed on her arrival. It had been some time since she had last seen him, wading amongst the lily pads. “You never took me up on my offer.” She says with mock affront, her golden eyes sharp as they study him and look for signs of what he had been up to.

    They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
    html © dante.



    @Molech
    [Image: BQjeje-Bardot2.png]
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    #2

    Molech

    He wanders, keeping close to the river and what feels like a safe harbor to him beneath the canopies of viridian green pines, with boulders and stones dotting the edges of the misting waters with grey-scale colors. His mouth grazes across the green of algae that clings to protruding rocks, constantly swept by the continuous current of the winding river. At this particular twist in the very familiar river, large stones breach through the surface like whale’s backs, smooth from years of water weathering with their slippery and slick protrusions. The rocks create a rapid-esque environment in this area, though its current is not fast enough in any way for there to be any harm in crossing if one was a skilled swimmer. He wonders what may happen to those who slip into the waters only to find their hooves pulled from beneath them, pummeling headfirst into the sharp rocks.

    Molech snorts, his vapor clouding around his face as the moisture from the river dampens the sharp features of his tri-colored face. It is achingly hot, even with the cover of the silent, sentinel pines and with the humid vapor steaming from the river. He enters the water, but not to swim. He disappears beneath its surface, seemingly gone from sight. But, like his father before him, he is not gone at all. He is there, moving through the current and traveling faster downstream than his legs would ever take him.

    When he decides it is time to emerge, the stallion appears from seemingly nowhere. His head crests the calmer waters of downstream, then the rest of his body follows as he places a hoof on the pebble-studded shoreline. Water runs down each divet that carves out his muscular frame, clinging in crystalline dewdrops to his downy feathers. Spreading his wings out wide, where the white and green on the underside are now visible, he gives their heavy weight a few good swipes, cascading droplets like fractals of ice around him.

    Pulling his wings to his side, deep goldenrod feathers now resting against the evergreen of his barrel, he walks absentmindedly through the gurgling shallows.

    She hadn’t seen him, just like the last time. He hadn’t been noticed because he hadn’t wanted to, following the stream of consciousness her thoughts had fed him, like a trail of crumbs. She is wading in the river in the same exact position they had first met. Bardot is not exactly his type - too resilient, unbending, independent - but he decides to probe again; maybe her demeanor has changed in the last time he had laid his lavender eyes on her.

    “Bardot,” he replies smoothly, sliding back into the water of the river to wade beside her. True that Molech has only known the river and the forest, though without parents it was difficult to wedge his way into a territory or kingdom, let alone be accepted there. No, it was much easier to find willing victims among the lost and broken, not in a place that gave them purpose. He smacks his lips thoughtfully, keeping a respectable distance between them despite the urge to close the gap. “Maybe I wasn’t sure if you were being truthful,” comes his humorous reply, his golden lips twitching into a smile.

    “Maybe you were just being kind to a lonely stranger.”
    YOUR PRECIOUS LIGHT IS FADING



    @Bardot
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    #3
    Bardot
    I know what sin is

    While she bathes in the soothing waters of the river, she has no idea of the bloodshed that is occurring back in her temporary home. As the water rushes around her hocks, she is blissfully ignorant to the way her mother had collided with evil incarnate or the anguish and unleashed anger of her half brother. No, instead she sighs quietly and enjoys the early morning peace until she spots him and allows herself to be swept in his direction, unaware that there is only carnage and destruction waiting for her on her return.

    If she had known his thoughts, she would have laughed at him. Not unkindly, merely amused because it was kingdoms (she had found) that held the most broken of people. All that ambition came from somewhere, usually created or festered from old hurts and wounds and that need to prove whoever had hurt them completely wrong. She sees it in her brother, had recognized it in her mother, had seen it time and time agin when she had searched for a a place where she might land. While she loved wandering, she also loved belonging to something bigger than herself. Not because she held ambitions or even because she had been raised for such a position once. It was simply something she was good at, somewhere she seemed to fit even if she never rose higher in life than that of a simple noble amongst a pretty court or the attractive sister of a self-proclaimed Prince.

    He meanders closer and the way his lips twitch make her own curve into a sensual one of her own. Flirtation came as natural as breathing at times and so she is unaware of what she puts off to him (mostly unintentional), simply glad for the company of a familiar face. “Why would I lie about that?” She asks honestly, golden eyes looking up to his lavender ones. Once again she can’t help but take note of his unusual coloring and the handsome lines of his face. Too handsome. That could only lead to dangerous things. As if she didn’t already have her hands full with all kinds of menacing things already.

    “Would it be so terrible if I was? Being kind to you?” She tilts her head slightly, the smoky black of her horn cloudy in the dim light that had yet to break over the treeline. “Luckily for you the jungle seems to be off limits lately.” She says lightly, as if Tephra being taken over by a magical tyrant was no big deal. "Looks like you're off the hook."

    They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
    html © dante.


    @Molech
    [Image: BQjeje-Bardot2.png]
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    #4

    Molech

    “You’d be surprised how many people are willing to lie,” Molech replies, that terribly misplaced forked tongue sliding from his pale golden lips in a flicker of slender black, tasting the moisture in the air that is intermingled with the scent of fresh river water and the jungle flowers in Bardot’s dark hair. His purple eyes are curious, his body relaxed beside her with his great tri-colored wings folded neatly into his evergreen sides. His face is suddenly sharp, however, almost accusing as if he is begging her to reassure him that she is, in fact, not one who would lie to him. He could never stand for falsehoods - he required loyalty and devotion beyond all reason. 

    Molech cannot let the question go unspoken and so he asks her abruptly:“Were you?” He clarifies with a tilt of his blazed face. “Being kind?” The hardened angles of his face soften with a gentle blink of his lovely eyes, a handsome smile creasing his mouth as his question hangs sharply in the air, heavy and baited. 

    He is a liar himself - perhaps the biggest one of them all, feigning love and adoration (which is really just a twisted and sick manipulation). He’s even gone so far as to plant himself into their lives, choking their breath like a weed kills a flower. His smile is gruesomely handsome, undeniably attractive, and not in the least bit concerning except for the way his eyes remain glassy and still. He is no longer joking at the moment - the way she answered would determine his next steps.

    He has forgotten all about the jungle, only that she had promised to take him and yet stands before him claiming that it is off-limits. He snorts sharply, thoughtful and calculating. It felt wrong, her reasoning for not being able to take him with her and there is a tension drawn across his spine as his wings shuffle gently at his sides. Molech’s lavender eyes narrow, glancing up at the onyx horn spiraling from Bardot’s head. 

    “Have you lied before, Bardot?” He asks darkly, his gaze clicking to hers the moment the question dies on his lips.
    YOUR PRECIOUS LIGHT IS FADING



    @Bardot
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    #5
    Bardot
    I know what sin is

    The forked tongue that darts briefly between his lips isn’t missed. It doesn’t bother her in the way it should have. She had seen a similar tongue tasting the air when her brother was covered in his scales. It also reminded her of the demon in the meadow she had found, Draco. To her, that’s where the similarities ended. Molech had never been rude to her, didn’t seem to be held back by his own emotions. She had never been certain what, exactly, Molech was. There was that something that had caught her attention as Tunnel had, as the others had. But he was the complete opposite of all the treacherous beings she had met… Which made him more dangerous then all of them in her mind. And incredibly intriguing as well.

    His handsome features suddenly becomes sharp with his words and for a moment, just a glimmer, she thinks she sees the danger that lurks beneath. And then he softens even as the question hangs between them, filled with an unexpected heaviness. She doesn’t respond, not right away. Instead she looks at him, those golden eyes tracing the pattern of the blaze that makes his face so striking and then finding his lavender gaze that doesn’t seem to match that becoming smile on his lips. “I was.” She finally says quietly, wondering if not many had been kind or honest to him before and that was what had sparked such a reaction.

    She follows where his eyes move up to her horn and it is her turn to smile, something savage yet sweet, when they fly back to her own tarnished ones. “I have.” She finally says, feeling something tighten in her core as they regard each other. Hasn’t everyone lied? She can’t remember a specific incident but she’s sure she hasn’t always been honest, especially to herself. If anything... They had been mostly harmless. Little white lies where the truth might be painful. She shifts her weight, glances down to where one of her flowers has fallen from her mane and lands, wilted, on the surface of the water. Then looks back into his eyes with her own bold and bright ones. “But not to you.”

    They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
    html © dante.


    @Molech
    [Image: BQjeje-Bardot2.png]
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