To Catch a Predator [Mesmer & Shyam]

[withkey l o s e r]

A red tongue flicked past his lips to taste the air. Smells like rain... Mesmer thought, looking critically at the poorly disguised pit trap that he was out checking for the third time that day. They were everywhere, traps like this one and worse, though none that would kill his toys before he had his chance to play with them. Yet, much in the style of every trap that he'd been using for the past few years, he hadn't caught a single thing. Long tan fingers twitched and, if looks could kill, the plants beneath him would have withered beneath his surly gaze. Rabbits and rats could only satisfy him for so long! He longed to sink his nails into a warm body, rend flesh with his fangs, feel a creature of his size struggling and thrashing beneath him before his body gives in to the peace of the great beyond.

Just thinking about it was enough to cause more than his hair to stand on end, and a devious grin pulled up the corners of the naga's mouth. Surely there were other ways that he could trap a little creature to call his own. Pointed fingertips tapped idly at one of his hipbones as the brown serpent uncurled his coils, leaning back against a tree as he thought. He could always hunt them down? His healing wasn't anything to brag about, but he could probably treat an arrow wound to an arm or leg, and nothing with an arrow sticking out of them was going to fight too hard. The smile on his face turned fierce as he decided on his course of action, turning to return to the city, where his instruments of play resided.

When he ventured again into the world, it was with a bow and quiver strung over one shoulder and a length of itchy rope wrapped over the other one. One long-fingered hand also clasped a small flute -- after all, he wasn't going to just sit and wait for his prey to come with nothing to do. Finding an appropriately central location, he slithered up a tree, curling his long brown coils about its trunk and branches, making himself comfortable. The rope already had a noose and the bow could not be more ready to take aim. Setting his supplies in easy range, he put the flute to his lips, playing a haunting little tune to himself as he waited for a sign.  

[An Original Username]

The sky had steadily turned overcast as Shyam made his way across the forest floor. Even without getting the taste of the weather on his tongue, he could certainly tell that showers were approaching. His pace did not quicken, however; the adolescent was near certain that he would be able to find his chosen hovel before the storm broke, and if he were incorrect, then what was a little drizzle to him? To him the more pressing concern was returning before night fell, but even at his languid pace he was making good time. It wasn't like him to make a point out of haste when there was no real need for it - such an attitude had prompted others to call him 'lazy' for it, whereas he rather preferred the term 'lax.' A lazy creature wouldn't actively search and hunt on his own, after all.

Admittedly his catch was not a very impressive one. All he could manage to snag were a pair of young rabbits, small and neither very healthy, but it was better than nothing. Nothing was often what he had to settle for whilst living on his own for so long, so even smaller hauls were of great importance. With a grunt, he shifted his knapsack from one shoulder to the other, keeping his head down while he slithered over moss and leaves. When he glanced up again he found himself at a distinctive fork in the path ahead of him. He glanced down both paths, flicking his tongue, and was about to take the left fork before he caught the muffled sound of a flute coming from the right. It was too far away to hear any real melody to the song, but it was chilling nonetheless, and his coils stiffened as he gazed down the rightward path. He listened to the music a few moments more before he rolled his clawed hands into fists and started towards the piper's tune.

The wind began to pick up and with it the sounds of the flute became louder and formed a more coherent refrain. Shyam gripped his bag tightly, quickly shifting his gaze as he moved closer to the peculiar sounds. What compelled him to follow the rightward path he did not know; curiosity, perhaps, or just a desire for some shift from his monotonous route. While his mind wandered, his weight and the ground beneath him shifted as an odd pile of leaves beneath him sank. With a loud yelp, he lunged heavily to the side, falling over in the process, as the spot where he stood moments before fell in on itself into a crude pit trap. Wide-eyed, the young naga heaved a few shaky breaths as he brought himself upright, inching further away from the pit and scanning the area around him. He caught a glimpse of ruddy-brown in a tree nearby before realizing his bag and his catch were gone, fallen down into the depths of the trap in front of him. With a snarl he crept back over to the pit, peering inside and reaching out in vain towards his lost meal.  

[withkey l o s e r]

The pause of his flute was unintentional. He had been so excited by the possibility of finally having a plaything in the palm of his hand that he couldn't help the delay, the flick of his dark eyes toward the crrk- shff of the pit trap.

But he <********," hissed the serpent. He'd already given away the game, there was no point in staying quiet now. The soft rustle of branches wasn't enough to give away his position as he peeked between the leaves, spying his prey upon the dully illuminated ground. It wouldn't be long before the sun had set and a storm would be upon them. He was still unnoticed -- he could slither into the underbrush and follow the other male, attack when he was weak, when he was least expecting it.

The idea put a foul taste in his mouth. He wasn't above underhanded tactics, not by any means, but he wanted the first pet that he won to be won fairly. What kind of conqueror attacked only his sleeping enemies? Another hiss passed his lips. The other naga was a lovely catch, too, and nothing that he would want to escape; dark features and ivory hair, with a languid feel about him. Would he even have the strength to fight me? Mesmer smirked. He highly doubted this strange little boy would have the muscle to overpower him. Making his decision, he slipped into a nearby tree slowly, careful not to disturb the branches around him -- not enough to be noticed, at least. The bow fell from his shoulder into his hand and a soft smirk came to his face. This hunt promised to be a fun one, even if he didn't win his prize...  

[An Original Username]

Any expletive heard from the boughs above went ignored as Shyam worked in vain to retrieve his lost catch. Lying on his belly, he reached out as far over the loose edges of the pit as he dared, out-stretched hands hardly coming within a foot of the knapsack at the bottom. With gritted teeth he hoisted himself back out of the trap and quickly began to scan the area around him for a large stick for him to use, but all that was in the clearing was mere twigs. With a murmur of "Son of a b***h" under his breath, Shyam gave up the search, deciding that it was no use wasting his energy. There went a day's worth of hunting.

Setting his jaw, he started to press onward, thinking to himself just how stupid it was for someone to make a huge crappy pit-trap like that in the middle of the trail, and how stupid he was for almost falling for it. As he moves further away from the scene of disaster, he soon began to wonder on the thought of why the trap was there in the first place. It was very large - certainly large enough to hold someone much bigger than he - and it was made right in the middle of the trail where the flute had been playing...

Shyam stiffened and paused for a moment, his eyes widening as he slowly turned about, peering up into the trees and behind him on the trail. The day was coming to a close, and the way from which he came was much darker than before. He couldn't tell if anyone was following him, but a feeling in his gut urged him to hasten himself either way. With a flick of his tongue, he wheeled back around and quickened his pace, hoping that he wasn't being pursued.  

[withkey l o s e r]

The real fun was finally beginning.

In his dreams, Mesmer always played with the idea of expanding his harem to masses, including slaves that were trained and purchased instead of caught, possibly even a handful of other naga to take places of power beside him or to share in the mutual benefit of each-others' protection. That way, he would never need to weigh the pros and cons of catching his prey immediately or taunting it. Sentries would be set up wherever necessary, slaves would be ordered to rope off the boundaries of his playing field once his prey ventured too close. He could even have other taur there to help him track them down, hunt him, send him every which-way, desperate for help. In the end, he could visualize himself forcing them to come to him on their knees, begging for his help lest they bleed to death...

But this is reality, unfortunately, came the thought that pulled the brown naga's head back into the present, the black teenager in his sights and an arrow notched in his bow. How long would he last, if he was put too the chase? Or would he get away? A grimace pulled Mesmer's lips back from his teeth as he lifted the arrow and pulled it back. That wasn't a risk that he wanted to take, not with such a lovely prize at stake. Letting his breath out slowly, the princeling released, sending the arrow sailing at the dark serpent's left shoulder, a length of rope unfurling behind it as it sailed. The weapon hit its target with a wet THUNK and Mesmer grinned wildly to himself, holding his breath for the best part. Watching the confusion envelope the boy's face before transforming into terror and pain, he took hold of the rope in one hand and yanked, shredding the arrowhead from his prey's shoulder and pulling a good chunk of flesh with it.

Cackling at any pained sounds that emerged from the other, Mesmer dropped from his tree, winding the rope slowly around one arm, brown eyes sinister as he slipped from the bushes, swaying his hips as he went.