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    version 22: awakening

    COTY

    Wolfbane -- Year 210

    QOTY

    "She presses into him greedily, hungrily, and demands more. She does not know how to be gentle when she is with him—does not know how to quell the aching in her belly, the neediness in her touch. She would devour him whole. She would sacrifice herself completely. She would give and give and give—" --Tabytha, written by Laura


    to swallow the children[wayra,evolet,catrice,covelings]
    #1


    Sometimes parents tell their children that monsters are not real, sometimes parents lie- monsters are very real.

    Kult does not question what they must do, he simply does as he is asked.

    Night is coming as they skirt the Gates borders, filtering against the backdrop of trees and bushes. Using the half light of dusk to conceal themselves, to collect the girl. They must find her, that snow covered mare, and they must take her. That's what he's been told, that's what he knows he must do. It is all very simple in his mind, nothing needs explaining, nothing needs reason.

    Here all is lush, all is warm and inviting. They should work on that inviting part, some guests they were better off not receiving. The grass and clover here are almost overpowering, both in their smell and their presence. The night rages on, filling the Gates with darkness, with the oppression of dead heat. Now and then white moths flutter across his barrel, over his head and he snaps at them in their passing.

    Before he can find the girl he spots a cluster of children. So many, so many for such a small kingdom. He stood and he watched them, so consumed in the illusion of safety that they were.  He watched them and he listened, to his brother and his sister he speaks, just one word.

    "Take." And again he falls silent, his single ear pushing forward at the voices of their prey. The sound runs up his spine with an indescribable thrill, but communicating nothing to his heart. It was purely physical, it was wonderfully thrilling.


    Khaos x Killgore


    hello plotses peoples the creepies are here to collect you
    Wayra
    #2

    KERSEY || the academic executioner of silver cove

    For once, I am following Kult. I know the way to the Gates and I am usually the leader, but I find the change of pace interesting. My one eared bay brother is on the hunt. I do love to watch him in action. His eyes scanning and every muscle in his body tensed. It's a shame he hates being touched. I am sure Kirin would like to use him to further Khaos' lines. (Then again, I have a feeling our brother feels the same about me.) Kult is far from plain, although he is no winged god. I love all of my brothers but I prefer the company of the dark coated, blood spattered sibling creeping through the night. I sniff the air, absently. Fall is coming.

    He stops, then, eyes on a cluster of children. I follow his gaze and a smile flits across my face. Like a cat I slink forward, scanning.

    Pick one, big brother.” I flick my ears, listening for watchful residents. So far, we are alone. “We need the ice girl but there is time enough to pick out a toy, as well.

    After all, Kirin did say to bring back something of theirs.

    I whicker softly into the night, a soothing sound, a siren call. Perhaps a child will find us and our decision will be made. I grin. Kult will intimidate but I can mother. I always like it best when I can add a bit of kindness to a plaything's life before they are destroyed.

    #3
    Evolet has everything that she could ask for, except for one thing: her mother’s attention. She had been born innocent enough. She had chased butterflies, and tottered along her mother’s side for a time. But, those days were short lived. Soon enough she was herded into the Gate’s nursery so that her mother could perform her kingdom duties. Suddenly, the days of innocence were gone, and Evolet was weaned.

    Her mother has gone off somewhere to commune with Rapscallion, and Evolet is left kicking dirt while the other foals sleep peacefully. She hasn’t made any friends. She’s been too caught up watching Rapscallion replace her at her mother’s side. She is scowling at the ground, gritting her teeth, when she hears the call.

    For some reason she cannot help but answer, and her own voice harmonizes with the other. There are shadows in the distance, and she wanders a few steps towards them, before looking back. She knows she shouldn’t leave the safety of the group. But, the hesitation is quickly snuffed out when she remembers she isn’t wanted anymore.

    She comes upon the two dark shadows, and she is very small in comparison. She trembles at the sight of them, standing at their feet. Suddenly she feels very alone, but she doesn’t dare look back again. She knows that it is too late.
    #4

    I love the way that your heart breaks
    with every injustice and deadly fate.

    This is a foray he has no intention of missing. Where the opportunity for pain and strife and teaching is to be found, it can be guaranteed that he will be there. This one has the makings for all three, a delicious trifecta that he has a harder time resisting than an alcoholic at a frat party.

    Kult leads the way, an unusual occurrence, considering his graying brother’s antisocial tendencies. But he follows, nipping at Kersey’s heels with an uncommon excitement coursing through his veins. This is the type of mayhem he delights in, the type that keeps his blood hot and his mind sharp (or as sharp as it can be, at least. He will be the first to admit he has never been the brains of the operation).

    He does not wear his flames tonight, his scarred and mutilated body blending far too well with the soft shadows of the night. He has fallen some distance behind his siblings, lost in his own musings, his own anticipations. When he reaches them again, there is already a child there, one who seems to have joined them of its own volition. The realization causes a slow smile to curve his cracked lips. It is not a kind smile, there is no mirth in that expression. It is a terrible sight to behold on a creature so ghastly as he. He slips quietly beside the girl, muzzle lowering until he is close enough to brush a gentle caress along her small, slender back.

    He doesn’t say a word, does not feel the need to. He leaves words for Kersey, for hers have always been sweeter than his. He is here only as muscle. An enforcer to ensure that those they take fall in line. It is a task he relishes, perhaps far more than he should.

    Raelynx

    khaos x eyrie

    html c insane | picture c naelii.deviantart.com
    #5

    She had been waiting, like winter waits for spring. Or, more accurately, like a warm body waits for the cold to kill it. There had been hope, just a spark of it, and she had been poised to let it die. She had been braced for that hope to flicker and fail, so much so that she had almost blown it out herself, just so she didn’t have to carry it around any longer.

    But no, there it was, a scent on the wind. He had come.

    Wayra closed her eyes, and she felt a shiver race down her spine. With that shiver the cold, the cold she no longer felt, came creeping in, so much so that for a moment she felt warm. She welcomed it, she welcomed anything if it meant she wasn’t numb.

    Initially, the little blue girl had thought it was him. She had both expected and not expected him. This scent, however, was not a scenario she had prepared for. They were both him and not him. Family then. The understanding, the realization of family hit her like a brick, and Wayra closed her eyes. In her world of ice and snow there was occasionally light. There was the occasional flicker of something that wasn’t cold, of something alive. When the purple boy had said family something inside her had stirred, had opened its eyes in the dark. It hurt her, to stand near something so warm, but she had done so anyways, and her icy heart had cracked, bits had turned to slush.

    Slowly, very slowly, she began to search for them. She moved through the Gate’s like a ghost, like a cold front that left ice crystals clinging to the grass. It didn’t take long to find them, for they blazed like fire. Wayra’s expression, usually frozen, cracked a little. Kirin was like that too, like fire. She watched them from a ways off, and sighed, a tiny, wistful sound, a sound she hadn’t made in a while, like something half forgotten and from a dream.

    She meant to keep her distance. She didn’t want her cold to touch them. She wanted to let their fire burn. But, like a trapped moth, she drifted closer, and closer still. Finally, when she was close enough to see the whites of their eyes, Wayra tilted her head, like a mechanical puppet come alive. She opened her mouth to speak, and her breath was an icy rush to the spring night.

    “Kirin’s family.” She said it no one in particular, and to all of them at once. That was all she said, but more important than the words she said, was the expression she wore.

    She was smiling.

    Wayra

    the glass candles are burning

    #6

    kult

    I am a storm that will swallow the children
    and I will deliver them to the kingdom of pain

    The excitement he feels is barely contained, though outwardly he displays a poker face. Eyes flat, black, otherwise unseeing in appearance- yet they see plenty. They see the others, his family, skirting the borders. Crawling over the land as he does, reeled in by the hunt. He's salivating even, mouth slick with spit and he does quick to swallow the excess moisture.

    If ever Kult had felt anything akin to sexual arousal, it would be now. It would be in this moment, in all moments such as this, all those still to come. Not a moment is spared when Kersey encourages him, tells him to pick one. He's almost gotten to speaking just when one approaches them instead.

    She's reeled in too, young thing, sleek and dark. Blending into the fading light except for the rush of pigment at her neck and hind. Her own call fades into his Sister's, uniting into something cold and foreboding. If the child noticed, she was too stupid to act on fear. If she remained because she was brave he supposed he should respect that, but he doesn't. He simply watches her through his ill reflecting eyes, sockets veiled in matte.

    "Raelynxxxxsss" He hisses on the air, willing his vocals to find his brother. The one with the gift, the one with flame and brimstone. Kult turns to Kersey, a crooked attempt of a smile plastered across his fading brown jaw. Then his breath catches as cold crashes into his chest, sending his neck and head whipping in the direction from which the front emanates.

    It is her, he does not have to ask, he does not have to question. The cold surrounds her and dives into his very being with assault. He shakes for a moment, grimacing at the swift drop in temperature, then he is pulling forward. Snaking his way to her, words from her graceful mouth falling on his good ear. Kirin's family. Her words are practically song in themselves, he can sense her desire to reunite with his brother.

    "Yess." He speaks, sounding out the word. "Wayra, come. Kirin." He stops and starts as he pleases, forming no sentence structure. He also starts to her against his aching bodies protest, circling her hind quarters and pulling around. He would show her where she was to go, come, his body seems to say.

    Ah, but first the reaping. He looks intently to his Sister and Brother, to the young thing standing still as a statue before them. Then he blinks back at the ice girl again, "Take." He smiles, pleased with the evenings events.
    .

    #7
    midnite

    A chorus of whispers followed her in her sleep, singing along in a sweet tune luring her awake from her sweet slumber. "Take, Take, Take."  The ghastly voices sang in a charming tune, causing the silver glossed girl to peek her little head up from her safe little corner. Ebony lobes flickering, as the whispers continued, this was surely not a dream. Inky black lashes batted away the sleep from her dark chocolate eyes, as she slowly began to gain her sense from her short slumber. It was quite dark, oh ever so dark, was she supposed to be awake? 

    Her petite body shifts, as her limber legs gently push the little girl upwards. Her dark frame blends into the night, as she tried to be ever so quiet her hooves carelessly stepping onto multiple rocks and sticks causing cracks and clattering noises to be splattered about as her vision slowly adjusts to the darkness. The whispers continue, more in a conversational manner whispering names of few equine she had not endorsed with.

    Blindly, Midnite strode into a body. Surely bigger than hers, jumping back carelessly her hooves clattered on rocks stomping on the ground with a loud thud. "Hello?" Her vocals are high strung as she searches for the dim glow of eyes. "Is anyone there?" Her eyes still not adapted to the cloaking darkness of the night, she aimlessly strode into another body, or was she repeatedly bumping into the same equine?

    She could hear the blood rushing to her head, as her slowly adapting sight cleared to the gaze of a dark bay stallion. Her body trembles, he's probably a stallion of the Gates right? With her mother off recruiting, and her unknown father whom she has never met and her older brother whom has mysteriously disappeared. She felt horribly alone, staring at the brute as the chorus of whispers seemed closer she heard the word "Take." Release from his lips caused the little girl to become tense. 

    love's a game - wanna play?

    #8
    hiya guys, feel free to head on over to the Cove Smile
    [Image: ca94dsg_by_calltherp-dcioghd.gif]
    SLOW-WORDER CLUB




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