[PRP] In Shadow and Spirit (Kurogi + Mephistopheles)

[Lady_Ourania]

Somewhere near the center of his domain, Mephistopheles resided without speaking, his blank sockets wide, his stiff ears erect. The woods had been unnaturally quiet for a time, empty of life ever since that Tempest halfbreed and his whore bride failed to show and give him his share of the profits. It might have been that the desired wish backfired beforehand, and they'd decided payment was not his to receive for defective merchandise. But that did not replenish the sip the stallion had taken, nor did it produce the child, the one that was half his contribution, no matter how deluded the pair allowed themselves to become. Months were spent stranded in impotent rage, pacing the edges of his forest, listening at the peripheries when his attention was required elsewhere. An unforeseen result of his black disposition was the stunted growth of the new seeds, laid down and nourished by their brethren in the near-absence of sunlight. The spirits were muttering mutinously about it still, filling the area with a dull hum like a stream of spined insect wings, all caught and tearing in his ears. He did not flinch from his position, unresponsive to their hate, even though he registered it on some level. Given a chance, he could undo the damage he had caused, but it would be a slow process, and he was barely willing.

Still, the issue of the child gnawed at him, left the demon disturbed and vicious. His influence waned the further he ventured from the tree of his conned rebirth, and even if the one he wanted had survived to adulthood, there was no guarantee that they would be of any use to him. There was a reason he'd wanted it fresh from the surrogate womb, a purpose that a lengthy delay eventually whittled down to crumbs, and he discarded them in a fit of disgust. If he could make the child trust him - worship him, even, if he played the role well - then there would be no fight. It was not beyond him to daydream that the foal might even do the deed itself; find a sharp object and slit its slim throat, if he requested it. The blood would dribble hot, run along its jerking body as it tipped sideways into silence, adoration trapped eternally in its glazed eyes. And the liberating redness would pool in curled leaves under the body, vanish underground to the bed where the original guardians dreamed, and it would leave him with a clean slate. His blood, the substance stolen and replaced with tacky tree-juice, would be present in the babe, and that would be enough.

A number of thick umbilical roots hung from his belly and burrowed in the ground, twitching as they siphoned nutrients. If only it had played out that way, the ancient mused, his key delivered to him, his curse lifted with the ultimate sacrifice. It had taken his head a long while to cool again, and then he'd transcended to a kind of thoughtfulness, ready to determine his next step. If the child was even of the living world, then there was always the possibility that it would be drawn to him. But he would not rely on so great a chance, not when luck never seemed to favor him. So another avenue would need to be explored. It rankled, but it was better than the alternative, better than endless waiting.

All of these considerations came gradually as he fed, outside stimuli temporarily ignored while he strolled deeper inward, his body locked in position. A few uninformed creatures skittered past, mistaking him for a peculiar tree, or some out of control fungus growth. The ones that did know him prudently kept their distance, and held their breath. But even when the sun began to set, he did not move.  

[demon_pachabel]

She drifted -- not like one who would wander from place to place to meet some sort of a life-changing and fufilling purpose, but like one who simply did what they needed to in doing such. Kurogi was like a ghost, moving through trees while her body practically radiated iridescence to name that her presence was there. However, it didn't seem to betray her entirely.

As a new being, she'd once found curiousity in peering through herself, namely in the form of her tail, which had been the only piece of her body she could actually look through, before the novelty of seeing things in the perspective of glowing and transparency had worn off; now to her, it was simply how she was. Though not all beings were of her nature, moving and seeking some nameless sustenance from each place she went.

But now it was through the stranger's forest she'd felt the need to traveled, peering at things as she passed them as though she expected something more from them before she'd turn her head away from them an continue on, the novelty again lost to her and giving her no satisfaction from it's presence.

Though it was in the darkness of this forest that she truly did have more form than in sunlit places where she was merely a ghost. Here she was a ghost with form, with shape like ghosts were always without -- which was how it was meant to be. A mushi was no ghost, she was simply...
...

the simple being she was. Nothing more, and expecting no less from any who would dare to beg her attentions.

Though it was rare that she would allow any to keep her attentions for long, as in her eyes most were as entertaining as just the trees; stories always were simple, but then again, it was always her own fault for looking at them too shallowly to shrink them down into the simplicity she saw in everything else.

It was all a puzzle in which she really didn't see the big picture of cause-and-effect; the only thing that would matter is that she would survive.  

[Lady_Ourania]

The roots retracted after a time, creeping and blending into the makeup of his hideous figure, the furrows in the soil closing by their leave. Mephistopheles blinked slowly, eyelids grating as he shrugged out of the comatose state and reacquainted himself with movement. But he was soon distracted by a line of conversation taking place over his head - something surprisingly fast-paced, considering it came from trees - and it was a simple task to tune into the frequency, already prepared for the interaction by their common feeding ground. Someone was in the forest, a strange someone, a figment creature that they could not pin down and capture for examination. He listened, gleaning what he could from their discussion, growing steadily amused by the forest's sense of uneasiness. They had nothing to fear from a wanderer, let alone a single peasant who had yet to commit a sin beyond arriving unannounced. And here he was, rudely missing the opportunity to meet up with them. If he had known a visitor was afoot, he would have saved his meal for a later date. He was, if nothing else, very polite when it came to greeting others at his doorstep.

The saplings that had been spared his withering wrath gave him accurate directions, and he moved unhurriedly through the undergrowth, his significant bulk making travel at an accelerated speed unlikely. There was more gossip to be heard on the way, half of it sounding ridiculous to the monster's ears, the information tangled across a network of several hundred oaks and aspens and pines. Some of them reported that it was equine in nature, four-legged, maned, with an elongated snout. Or perhaps an awkwardly proportioned wolf, the tail it bore fused together, possibly furred. But there was something amiss in its fabric, and these messages were the worst to decipher. The figure was barely there, invested in a body that would blow away in a strong breeze, and yet did not. Transparent, unreal, a wayward spirit. He ignored all of their offered musings, steadfast on seeing this filmy being's countenance with his own imaginary eyes.

He slipped beneath a low branch, and might have missed it if the chatter had not noticeably increased, turning his carved head with minor difficulty to view the cause of the commotion. In spite of his earlier sneering about the flighty descriptions of trees, he couldn't help but acknowledge his own limitations on what presented before him. It was an apparition like a drowned tree, washed-out emerald christened with gauzy hair and visible internals. Fascination was against his nature, but he could be piqued, and he was. And yet, there was a simultaneous surge of wariness that emanated from where his bones had once resided, wondering if this was some ruse created by the woods above him to put him in his place. It was true that this individual was unique, but that did not explain everything. "You are a most abnormal diversion, I must say." He called quietly, half-settling against a tree to make himself appear larger, their craggy shapes blending in the dark. "This entire province is abuzz with news of your presence. So declare yourself, just between anomalies, are you friend or foe to it?"  

[demon_pachabel]

Kurogi barely found herself needing any such chatter of her presence -- though she was less aware of what it was the trees were whispering about her, or that there was a buzz about her foreign presence in the least. Had she been intruding? She wouldn't have known -- nor would she have cared. Such frivolities were even above what it was she was seeking in being there.

Nothing. She sought nothing in particular and therefore was allowed the pleasantries of being able to look at everything to simplify it in her mind. Was she simplifying things on purpose? Probably not -- but it wasn't a simplification in that she needed things in small terms, but rather that she was looking at things and justifying them primitively.

It was like justifying death in that it was needed for one's own survival in one way; that was the only thing she needed to know. It was her own justification, her own.. 'simplification'.

However, the voice of another soon pulled her ever-drifting attention away from the trees to peer into the darkness - really, everything after so-far was simply darkness to her. It was on the charity of her own that any found much of anything without putting themselves into the danger of it.

But the darkness now was speaking to her, and it seemed she was debating the need to answer it -- if she needed to answer it.

"Those terms mean nothing to me." she answered, her voice wavering between debate of such a fact and the very truth that she wasn't even sure what they meant in relation to her presence. What really made the difference in this case?

"I do not set out in making enemies, however." Kurogi continued, looking away from the particular patch of darkness she'd been spoken to from, before looking up into the less-vague darkness above her, then around again. "Not to sound as though I am trying to be some sort of mystery, but I cannot say whether I will be a foe to this place as I can be to some, while to others I am simply a symbiont."

She shook her head following this statement, flecks of iridescence flickering off the ends of the tendrils and whisp that made up most of her body before she again turned her eyes towards the darkness where the stranger had spoken to her. "When I see little beyond that which is this body, I cannot tell on my own. If I do not bring the rust, or steal color, deafness, sound, or eat the time of what is near me, I must not be bringing any harm to this place... so what does that make me?"  

[Lady_Ourania]

The voice, with its airy undertones, marked it as female, and the dainty figure cemented the idea in his mind. The number of unescorted mares that managed to find their way into his forest was unusual, though they often provided some kind of sport. But this one did not seem as reliable as the others. When her gaze turned toward him, he had the uncanny sensation of being looked past, or through, his form somehow avoiding the cataract-solid weight of pupil-less irises. Night blind, he surmised, if not some more malignant form of the same affliction. She did not look as if she could see at all, but then again, neither did he. Whatever her technique, Mephistopheles had observed her moving about the trunks without drifting into a single one. That meant she was equipped to avoid them, made aware by something on her person. Perhaps the waving, tentacle-like appendages of hair had a part to play.

Though how well-known terms could fail to register in a brain he should have been able to see firing, the demon did not know. Her continued monologue made him relax, shucking his borrowed mass as he settled comfortably back onto all four legs. How could she be foe to anyone or anything? She was not particularly imposing, more closely resembling delicate frost, lacework and crystal than anything fierce. If she grew riled and lashed out, he was sure it would feel like mist breathing over skin. The stallion snorted at his own misgivings, following her unseeing gaze. If she did not want to sound mysterious, she had a peculiar method. But the symbiont comment struck him. He'd heard of symbiosis, associated it strongly with parasites, but that did not explain everything, and he did not feel like taking up the role of an ignorant colt in his own home. She could have been anything, a drained firefly joined with an animal-shaped cloud, river-algae that had caught the moonlight. Spirits sometimes borrowed hosts to fully manifest, but he had never seen anything quite like her.

He silently watched the shower sparks of pastel flutter down, tiny filaments reaching out of the earth to snatch them away. They wanted to know what she was, what her body consisted of, and he would ask after the answer later. Then they were focused on each other again, her stare a little over his head. If she brought nothing, stole nothing, ate nothing...

"It makes you insignificant." The answer should have sounded harsh, but something in his tone denied the full effect. It was then that he broke cover, slowly pulling from the cloak of night into revealing shades of grey. His dark, mossy hair glittered with dew leftover from his earlier stillness, the collected drops safe from body heat that he did not possess. His limbs creaked, the bottle around his neck thudding against unyielding flesh while he unabashedly filled his eyes with her bizarre appearance. Could he spy the blood circulating, the bones dancing in their encasement? "I am Mephistopheles. These are my woods, as much as one can claim to own them." He felt the objection from all around him, an empty shout in his ears, and it did not change his mind.  

[demon_pachabel]

His answer actually earned laughter -- or at least a sound that could have been taken for it; Airy yet dead. But she seemed to take it rather well. She was insignificant! Her! She actually liked the prospect of it now that it was said out loud, shaking her head from side to side to throw off some of the bioluminescence off of her, her eyes turning towards the flecks to watch them - as though she'd thrown some part of herself away with them.

"Insignificant, yet curious, no?" she answered, not bothered in the least at the sound of whomever it was she was speaking to making such.. strange sound as they moved -- to her it was no louder than the voices of her own strange..infestation. Perhaps not an infestation more than... anything else. She was a colony with a hive-mind, perhaps? Kurogi wouldn't have really been able to explain it.

Mephis..Mephistop...That was really a long name. How did one teach a child to remember that name, she wondered? No matter, it was merely a name -- was he mossy? Probably not. There was a strangely small number of 'her kind' amongst the trees as it was.

Not to say that 'small' in her mind wasn't still a large number. That was what happened when there was so much invisibility to most eyes involved.

"Mephistopheles of the woods, mm? It seems to be quite the kingdom from what I have been able to find of it." she mused, her eyes finally finding the tree-esque figure of the one speaking to her -- but he was still a shadow-y outline. Hmm. She would perhaps have to solve this problem.

"I am of not so grand of stature - I am Kurogi. Only Kurogi and I own nothing."  

[Lady_Ourania]

Her laughter lacked humor, and he took it as a reflex instead of a legitimate display, something she did to detract from the fact that her form was not altogether there. It provided him with ample evidence when her show of walking and talking had more in common with how they were done in sleep. Such a queer mare. The lightest cant of her head and more of her flaked away, like a sun-bleached corpse being slowly dismantled by ants and other corroding scavengers. Imagery that would have turned anyone else's stomach merely made him study her, trying to find where the two instances parted ways. For one thing, she did not appear to lose mass as she shed her colorful motes, and there was no pain involved that he could sense, even as one who had grown accustomed to scenting out such weaknesses. "Very," He allowed, the tone dark as his bored-out eyes while serrated lips cracked a faint grin. Whether she meant herself curious, or his own interest was that apparent, the demon did not care. Perhaps it was both, or something else. She did not strike him as organized enough to keep up with such a thought.

Distance did nothing for her, he decided. Where she had seemed kin to frog-colored fog, he could now see the lines of her, lithe, small, motionless. Her skin moved, but it could have been something down within the translucent stretch, and he had not yet learned to read that far in. She was merely a distortion of the green realm he controlled. "A kingdom to one is a trampled anthill to another." He replied, amused by his own contrary attitude, the way it pitted them against one another and still made no impact. Under more normal circumstances, he would have been infuriated with someone who did not take him seriously. But it all felt distant, his pride and determination, a moment out of time as she admitted to owning a name.

Kurogi. Foreign, simple, insipid on his palate; and meaningless, but for the being it came attached to. He chuckled this time, and it grated slightly in his throat before it hit the air in a honeyed cadence. "You are no one, nothing, a nomadic pauper. And yet you have a name." Did she have true substance, though? That was the question. If he reached out and clamped his teeth down on the back of her neck, would he find a mouthful of blood, or gelatinous water? Or the skin that was-not would part like a sea of winged insects and swallow his mouth up instead. "Do you feel fear, Kurogi?" He asked conversationally, her exquisitely blind eyes still wandering slightly, having trouble placing him. "Despair, anger, lust... something that sets you apart and permits you a name. Or did you steal it in an effort to disprove your own irrelevance?"  

[demon_pachabel]

Kurogi finally turned to face the 'king of the forest' (( )), holding her head no higher, physically, but still seeming to be holding herself in a way as though she was above him, looking down in curiousity -- not boasting any 'better than thou' feeling about it.

Just.. looking. However, his mocking seemed to not bother her in the least, shaking her head again to release the glowing 'specks' of light, from her. Certainly it wasn't meant to be a display, but for her, once the flecks had 'faded off' from normal vision, they were still visible to her own eyes -- that's why she did it. The flecks were an extension of her vision -- the only things she ever really did see.

'A nomadic pauper' huh? She rather liked that title, to be honest, chuckling merrily, however with that same lack of humor to it.

"I stole it." she answered flatly, amused by the idea of it -- stealing a name. Yes, she rather liked that answer -- had she actually stolen it? She couldn't remember, it was simply a title.

However, she did at least grace the darker figure with more answer to his inquiry. "I don't feel things in the way that one with.. 'nerves' would." she explained. "The only thing I feel is what I need to keep myself alive -- nothing else really matters."  

[Lady_Ourania]

It hadn't occurred to him to suspect there was a function behind her molting, something more than the spectacle she made of her movements. He only knew that she did it often, shrugging them off like unwanted, idle thoughts, the kind that would have harried her and made words less decisive. He did, however, notice that she didn't seem to shrink away from him, even when there was no doubt that she was seeing his daunting figure, observing the deceptively equine pose of a wood-clothed monster. He was larger than her, weighted by it, but that did not make him any less formidable. Unless his opponent was staring at him with a hint of incomprehension, trying to reduce him to shapes and standard meanings in the dark.

Another laugh forced its way from her mouth. She was as predictable as the half-petrified muscles in his face, allowing a smile and taking it away, mirth without a trace of tangibility. Every effort to get a rise out of her was parried, sliding off her back and down the long bamboo taper of her tail. On the surface, he was satisfied with her smooth responses, even as he shifted nearer, dragging his substantial weight on stiff legs. "Good." He paused once his shadow loomed over her, sheer and dark grey, even with the light-killing canopy overhead. "It is a poor marriage, you and your name. Such a choice only advances the theory of your failings." The taunting was not good-natured, only an edge by which he could test how much worse it might become.

But the additional confession surprised him, his knotted brows crawling into his hair at the idea. Nerveless, then, exempt from certain sensations. Even he could feel pain, the distant echoes of a blow, something that rooted around like a hog in the dirt and pulled at the bedrock of his being. He was well-acquainted with rage, self-loathing and rashness, occasionally even something as neutral as excitement. That was his lot, dabbed on by a curse of perceived betrayal, deadened but not dead. "And what are those essentials, little corpse-light? What does one need to live, if one could pick and choose as you do?" If he was any quicker, he might have circled shark-like as he spoke, but he merely intoned the question over her head, directly into her triangle ears. The sapling that curved up from his knee was close enough to rake her chest if he lifted it an inch or so. Her flesh would probably snap a leafy end and banish it to her amorphous insides.  

[demon_pachabel]

She probably wouldn't have felt said contact either. But again, she was ready for his disapproving words -- or as close to 'ready' as she could feel for the situation. "Well some more simple-minded beings must rely on such things to communicate." Kurogi churred right back at him, almost as though she was making fun of him. He had been the one who had implied that names were needed, afterall.

What sort of 'emotions' did one require to survive? She could think of very few ways to word her limited palette of emotional function, however, she still made the effort for him; "Curiousity, Hunger, Desire, Greed, Apathy...." Kurogi again shook her head to dispell some of the glowing lights, feeling a certain degree of churning inside of her stomach -- the infestation was growing bothered. "Particular lusts.."

This actually caused her to crinkle her nose a bit. Yes, she felt no need to raise and coddle children, but she was also highly aware that her line was not to end with her -- perhaps the infestation would move on as well.

"The direction of said feelings may change over a course of days, a change in scenery, the presence of another.... So I cannot answer precisely about them either."

It felt like a pointless explanation, as it would likely just cause him to open his mouth and announce some other little fault he had observed in her glowing form.  

[Lady_Ourania]

The purred reminder hardly deterred him, accustomed to hearing pleasantness while the words themselves contained barbs. "It is less a matter of communication than it is one of ingenuity, my dear. That you either have, or you lack." His insinuation rang clear, a smirk scrawling up one side of his face. But it was soon gone as she went down the list, and he patiently ticked them off in his head. More than he had expected, though apathy seemed to rule her in particular, everything else caught in shining carapaces upon the web of it. But he was pulling responses out of her, inexpertly or otherwise, and that was an important aspect of their meeting. A mute strand ran beneath it all, capable of unraveling the rest if he cared to investigate it. Still, he couldn't help but note her creased expression, the way she hesitated to mention the last of her mortal vices. Another shake of her head and her skin-flecks spattered noiselessly across his chest, sticking to his chin and neck as if to check for absent vitals.

"Is that so?" He murmured when she paused, feigning disinterest. Such a slippery tongue she had, if she possessed one at all. As far as he was concerned, her last reply had fully admitted his talent for drawing her out, making her react when she might have preferred solitude. And she was being influenced, whether she was aware of it or not. This entire scene was raw with the unspoken, his questions unfocused to best trip and see what spilled out of her when she fell to her knees. But it was already too involved, and he had wasted time enough being civil. The forest was still arguing over her composition, unable to settle on something as simple as living or dead. There was an easier way than petty theft, taking only what she allotted. It seemed that the woods became increasingly dull as time went on. Fortunately, he did not suffer from the same problem.

Mephistopheles' jaws opened wider than speaking required, the seething space behind his teeth thick with darkness like black-furred bees. The sheen toward the back of his throat was not wetness, saliva one of the many things he'd been robbed of since his guardianship had been stolen. He aimed to take her ear between his jaws, the flimsy flesh an appropriate sample. His eyes, too, were akin to little mouths, closing and opening on sharp edges as he clamped down. Pain had not been on her list, had it? Perhaps he could be the "presence" that would change that as well.  

[demon_pachabel]

The sudden..'silence' from the forest-y male caused her to frown, perhaps out of a perplexed observation of his strange actions. Whatever it was he was doing, it didn't stir her infestation (her guts? They were perhaps one and the same); they would have reacted immediately if it had required her to flee.

Which it apparently had not. But the sudden clamping on her ear caused her to start in surprise, jerking her head back and away from him -- it had certainly caused a small uprising of the 'glow' that seemed to whirl in panic at the sudden stinging sensation (Pain? Perhaps it would be aptly entitled such).Bleeding was not something she enjoyed doing, nor was it a common thing. But broken 'skin' meant it would happen.

Heck, she even bled like any 'normal living' soquili, give or take that it was very..shiny. Not like Unicorns-in-Potter-realm shiny, it just glowed with the same radiance of everything else that made up her very being; as expected. But none the less, it was blood.

But Kurogi was less than pleased by it all, lifting leg to actually stomp the male before she shook her head again and frowned. "THAT would be mine. I did not give you permission to eat it."

Alas, it would be some time before something or other actually told her blood to CLOT as well; the unfortunate side effect of things.  

[Lady_Ourania]

The toothless threshold sank without much resistance, and he felt a welling against his mouth, neither warm nor cold, but his precise temperature. She tore away and the liquid stayed, gliding back along his cheeks and sliding into the parched narrows of his throat. Most of it was absorbed before it hit his belly, swirling amidst the grain of his insides in milky way patterns. Turned inside-out, he would resemble a star chart. Still, it was copper-flavored, thick and heavy with an undercurrent of marsh. Looking down his nose permitted him to see where some of it had smeared, her blood bright as bioluminescent maggots. The color was disappointing in a way, but it seemed appropriate, and with her transparent flair, it would have been strange to find her blood dried opaque and brown as he.

Mephistopheles watched her face, catching the frown, the elevated hoof. His eyes crinkled at the corners, deriving more pleasure than was appropriate from her restless state. He smacked his lips to a noise like clacking femurs, thoroughly enjoying the taste. "No? Then I suppose I stole it." His voice was deeper toward the end, taking the ooze of her blood, her words, and turning it black. Names, essence, it was really all the same when it boiled down: a sticky, atrocious mess of being. Not so dead, then. He fed the information back into the terrain, listening to it absorb the idea. She was alive, tapping into irritation, wanting to hurt him back. The last piece was perhaps the most outrageous; that she even thought she could.

And blood continued to dribble down from her ear, arcing along her neck and through her wary expression. It was almost compelling, if he had been unaware of its cause, thin ribbons of flesh lodged in his murderous mouth. The demon advanced again, his bulk rustling with leafy echoes, jaws parting. He stopped just short of reeling the ravaged ear in, needle-points ghosting along the torn flesh. "What do you feel now, Kurogi?" The question was laced with humor, strangled and diluted though it was. He had delivered her into pain, and he could smell the perfume of it on her. Fear typically followed, toddling like a foal after its physical brother. Would it be there, or did he need to do more?