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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


    [open]  I can smell your scent for miles; Any
    #1
    Winds howling...

    Mother doesn’t like the Forest. Not like he does. He is covered in stars like her and yet she knows he does not belong on the cold tundra of the Isle. It is not his place. Whatever blind eye she turns, deep down she knows that there is something… different… about her newborn son. Still… She loves him. This gift from the Dark God placed inside a Dark Star. This beautiful colt with one eye of crimson and the other of silver. His smoky coat velvety and smooth, untouched by life like her own. She longs for the cold arctic nights of the aurora but she will not abandon her child. For now, this is home.

    Where Mother is tonight, he can’t be sure. They are both nocturnal creatures, preferring the shadows of the evening to the brilliance of the sun. It doesn’t bother him, wherever she might be. She always comes back when he is hungry or tired. Besides, other eyes seem to follow him and regardless of her unease with the black feathered friends he has made for himself… At least she knows he is watched over.

    Tonight, he moves silently through the coldest part of the forest. The place where others whisper that monsters lurk. If they do, he is unafraid. Unbothered. All is darkness except for the dazzling tiny stars that hover around him, illuminating his path. An invisible force reaches out within himself, lightly brushing against the minds of the creatures that are still awake. Searching. Looking. Curious. He briefly invades a bat, swooping overhead on its hunt, and enjoys the sensation of seeing through night vision and the clicks of echolocation. He doesn’t linger for long. There is much still to see and discover.

    Eventually the colt skirts the edges of where the forest becomes truly ominous. Rumors of nightmares spread but he is unaware of them. His dreams are those of moss and rotting bark, things that crawl beneath the dirt and rustle in the branches. He is part of it now, those nightmares. There is some sort of stirring coming from the shadows and he turns his small head in its direction. Says nothing, merely watches through penetrating two-toned eyes and waits.

    Carnage x Ciri
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    #2

    my shadow's shedding skin ...

    “Should you be out here, alone?”

    It’s his favorite question to ask. As if he is benevolent, a protector of the small, concerned about their wellbeing. He’s not, in case you were wondering. He unfolds himself from the shadows, not quite behind the colt, but in the opposite direction of where he is looking. His eyes are black voids that drinks in what little light the boy’s stars give off. He has been looking for Dretch for weeks, what little patience he possesses eroding with each fruitless day that passes.

    A gaunt, lanky creature, only one of the many things that go bump in the forest, he drops his head a moment. A few moths flutter in the air over his head, no doubt drawn to the soft glow of the earthbound stars. Brushing his gaze on the colt’s silver and red one before casting it into the part of the forest the colt had been looking toward, he chuffs once, a low, guttural sound. His hellhound springs from the darkness. She is a thing of nightmares but Niklas finds only beauty in the smoke-like wraith. More a wolf/hyena hybrid than a hound, she reeks of brimstone and the acrid stench of the fear that she oft gorges on. Lips parted in a silent snarl, forked tongue lolling from her mouth, she bounds toward the colt with outstretched paws – and ghosts through him, trotting to a now-grinning Niklas’ side to rub her head along his shoulder like a common housecat.

    “I’m looking for my --.” He’s cut off when he is forced to vaporize, becoming a cloud of black smoke that a grinning Dretch sits on.

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    #3
         
    DRETCH
    ... and from your lips she drew your hallelujah

    Niklas had been searching for her for ages and she had been avoiding him simply because she knows it vexes him so. Set could simply summon her forth, strangle the mass of creatures living inside her skin with a casual magical grasp. But for whatever reason the golden-eyed mage had set his son – and his darling hound – on her trail and then just … left them to it. He had been stalking her for weeks now. The hellfiend used the shadows and darkness against her but she had thus far been successful in dodging him. She had been following him all evening, for no other reason than to ease her boredom. She fluttered overhead in the form of a moth, at times narrowly dodging the clicking of the bats as they ate their fill of her now-brethren.
     
    She had seen the colt with the red and silver eyes first, Moth-Dretch instinctively drawn to the soft light of his stars, dazzling in the Forest’s deepest reaches. The Forest had become a sort of home for her these past few seasons. She enjoyed belonging to no one and nothing, living where her daily activities can be as capricious as her nature (though avoiding Niklas and Set is a constant).
     
    “You were what, Uncle? Sorry, I can’t hear you?” The black smoke underneath her is still for a breath, then warps in on itself and disappears before reforming into a hollow-eyed Niklas. Dretch winks at the colt, standing up from her sitting position and shaking out her mane. She shifts with the motion, a small Raccoon-Dretch darting toward the stranger, but not before she takes a cheeky nip at Ramsey on her way. The hellhound, typically an ill-tempered creature, snaps back, but it’s a halfhearted effort – Niklas is not the only mortal she holds some sort of esteem for. Raccoon-Dretch scampers up the colt’s leg without permission, clutching at him as she stretches one paw out, trying to grab one of the bright lights suspended around him. “What are you doing out here?” she asks conversationally, as if Niklas were not glowering at them from fringes.
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    @Stendarr
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