[PRP] Moonlight and Madness (Jezabelle x Laertes)

[Faithofthefallen]

This is a PRP between Derivative's Laertes

and Faithofthefallen's Jezabelle

 

[Faithofthefallen]

The night was young

As the sky darkened, bright pinpricks of starlight became visible and the moon slowly rose to it's zenith, bathing the forest below with spectral brilliance and illuminating the pale form of Jezabelle; curled up neatly within a circle of trees, their long slender branches creating a kind of lacy wall that concealed her from sight. At the center of the circle shimmered a pool of crystal clear water, it's surface peppered by a scattering of silver-blue leaves shaped like the blades of spears. Her eyelids fluttered open as the moonlight struck them, the scarlet pupils were large and bright, framed by thick black lashes and startlingly distinct against her pale features. She blinked a few times and yawned, unfolding her slender legs, she pushed herself to her hooves and stretched drowsily.

The mare was small. The top of her head barely brushing the chin of most average sized mares but Belle wasn't bothered by her small stature; It made it easier to find safe hiding places to sleep when dawn approached. She stood in the clearing for some time, gazing up at the stars and letting her thoughts wander. She loved the night, relished it, but there remained within her a keen sense of regret that had persisted ever since her debilitating photo sensitivity had forced her to leave the daylight world behind. Yet another quirk that set her apart from the rest of society, forcing her to accept the wandering isolation her mother had embraced before her.

Within her unfurled the hunger, asserting itself as a dry burning sensation at the back of her tongue and down her throat. It was unpleasant but not overwhelming, she fed once a night to satisfy the craving. Although it never completely went away it faded to a mere whisper once she fed and was easily ignored. Tonight, she would hunt, and then perhaps head over to that glorious waterfall for a swim. Twisting to reach into her saddlebags, she pulled out the gleaming steel blade that was her tool in these expeditions, icy ripples playing across the surface of the tempered steel as she gripped the marks on it's handle between her pointed eye teeth. Tossing her pale mane she stepped out of the circle purposefully, her eyes scanning the darkness for prey.
-----
Sometime later, Jezabelle knelt over the prone body of her quarry. Her cleaver stuck point first into the moist earth at her feet. At some point the silky indigo ribbon that bound her hair back had unwound itself and her long ivory curls fell foreword to veil her actions but as she glanced up to identify a strange noise, the cherry droplets glistening at the corners of her mouth were clearly visible.

Teepee  

[derivative]

He had taken to wandering the night, as when the sun was at its highest in the sky it burned his eyes and heated his coat long past the point of comfort. His mane was long and heavy, bound as tightly as he could away from his face, but there was little comfort to be had as he traveled under open skies, the sun blazing its way through the cloud cover. He made better time at night, too, as there were less creatures stirring about, and those that were seemed disinclined to disturb him. The small nocturnal creatures were quiet, frightful of approaching the large stallion, and the ones that hunted soon found that he was much bigger quarry than they were accustomed to hunting. Largely, he was left alone, and that suited him; it gave him time to his thoughts, which were as long as the shadows cast from peaceful, still trees.

Leaving his sister behind was never easy, and he had promised her to take her on an adventure the next time he returned home. Laertes was no fool, however; for one as delicate and unschooled in combat as his sister, he would have to be careful where he took her. She seldom ventured far from their parents, and he didn't want to frighten her on their expedition. That in mind, he'd taken to traveling in the hopes of finding a route that would be pleasant and far from perilous, and so his hooves had taken him to a prettyish sort of wood.

He thought Radi would enjoy the scenery and the quiet peace that seemed all around it. He wanted to show her that the world wasn't all full of things to fear, and though caution was necessary, there was also great beauty to behold. This place seemed ideal with its long, winding paths, and he'd taken to following a river that threaded through the trees. Perhaps it would lead to a lake or a waterfall? Both would delight Radi, he was certain.

He ventured further into the woods, careful to remain vigilant as he walked. All seemed calm and peaceful, perhaps too much so; that should have been his first indication that something was wrong, in retrospect.

When he came upon the mare, at first, he assumed she had been injured. Her mane fell around her like a glossy veil, shielding her face from view, and there was evidence of blood splattered on the ground around her. Her coat, white and pristine, didn't seem to bear any large wounds, but as he approached, it became clear to him that something was amiss -- she kept her head down far too long. His first assumption was that she bore a wound on her face, and though he was only partial unicorn, he could be of some service to her.

He stepped into the clearing, moonlight illuminating his features, and she looked up. There was blood on her face, certainly, but it seemed that no wound was its source; gathering at the corners of her mouth, it stained her muzzle, harsh and bright against her pale coat.

Between her hooves lie something -- his eyes flicked downward, but the brief glance wasn't enough to identify the creature -- but it was obvious that she'd been feasting on it. Feasting, and yet...

She bore no demonic wings, had no horns curling from her brow. She seemed as devoid of Kalona traits as he, and yet she feasted on a small animal as though it were necessary sustenance; he could only imagine that she'd also killed it, needlessly, for her body could not have possibly required flesh to function. His stomach rolled, and his golden eyes narrowed from behind a sweep of bangs.

Still, despite the contempt he might have felt, his voice was steady and calm when he spoke; soothing, almost, for its low pitch and even tone. "What happened here?"  

[Faithofthefallen]

Belle felt a little jolt of something like recognition as their eyes met. It had been so long since she'd encountered another soquili, perhaps too long. She felt a sudden rush of shyness when confronted by this massive stranger, especially under the circumstances. She gazed into his eyes for a few moments, prudently stepping away from her meal although she reached down unabashedly to pick up her cleaver, carefully wiping it off before sliding it back into her pack for safekeeping. She had no way to know how this stallion would react to what he had just witnessed, others had responded violently to what many viewed as an abomination. She hoped that would not be the case tonight, she was tired of living as a recluse. With that thought in mind, Belle lowered her eyelashes and gazed up at him demurely, her face artfully and automatically adopting its most appealing expression beneath that intense scrutiny.

She could detect no trace of disgust in his question, surely he would sound more angry if he meant to attack? Relaxing slightly, Jezabelle let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. 'What happened?' she mused silently, arching one slender brow and shaking the curls out of her eyes, Now there's a loaded question if ever there was one.. Well if he was brave enough not to run she would do him the courtesy of being honest with him...

"Exactly what it looks like," she admitted blandly, "I needed the blood, so I did what was necessary to to get it." her voice was a musical contralto, despite the level look she directed at him, there was a traitorous shakiness to her words belied her apparent confidence.

"We all have our little shortcomings..." she conceded with a small smile.
 

[derivative]

Shortcomings..?

Something inside his chest tightened, and the muscles at the corners of his eyes did the same; though the action was slight, it would have betrayed his feelings to any who knew him. Before this mare, however, he merely appeared silence, though perhaps in possible judgment: it would be impossible to tell until he spoke again, and Laertes was sparing with his words.

She seemed to be a regular, and by his knowledge of the world, would need blood to survive no more than he did. However, this was surely her doing, not the work of some depraved other that she felt to cover for, as he'd seen her replace her butcher's knife with all the calm and collect of a seasoned killer. Small game, certainly, but that didn't make the value of the life any less, nor the horror of taking it any more acceptable. Had there been a true need, he might have forgiven it, but her biology defied it. Unless there was blood coursing in her that compelled her, but --

But he'd been taken in before, and he wasn't willing to be quite so accepting this time. She seemed sane enough, but then, that was often true for the ones that were most dangerous. They lured you in, got you close, and you barely noticed their depravity until it was staring you directly in the face.

Perhaps this mare was... simply misguided. He couldn't be certain, but he thought he might have heard a tremor in her voice. Wishful thinking? Perhaps. At the heart of it, Laertes wanted to believe that the world was just and good, and that the evil in it simply needed a nudge toward the light.

Some nudges, understandably, had to be larger than others. And in some cases, even he had to admit that salvation was beyond them... but this mare was no skinwalker.

After a tolerable silence, he took a step forward, shaking his mane out of his eyes. Calm and golden, they swept over her face, down the line of her legs, then back up again. No, for all appearances, she seemed to be lacking any semblance of Kalona heritage.

"What need does this blood fill that nothing else can?" He asked, wings rustling at his back. "What justification is there to slaughtering an animal when you, just as I, should be able to subsist on grain and fruits?"  

[Faithofthefallen]

One glistening fang protruded from the corner of her mouth as her lips pulled back in a resigned grimace. She had noticed the stallion's seemingly surreptitious glances. She knew what he searched for, what everyone searched for; the tiniest hint of a Kalona heritage that would render her bloody habits understandable, if not entirely acceptable. He would find none, no bony protruding horns hidden under her silken tumble of milky curls, no leathery wings, her hooves were smooth and round instead of sharply cloven. There was no tricking the male into believing she was anything but ordinary, physically. But beneath the surface beat the heart of something darker, more sinister than your average mare. A regular with a taste for blood. Not flesh, never flesh; her stomach twisted at the thought, but she needed blood the same way her poor unhinged mother needed meat, in a way that was almost indescribable to those who had never possessed the craving.

She glanced up hotly at his words, she was many things but she was never casually cruel. She killed out of necessity, not out of desire. Had there been any other way to take what she needed without extinguishing an innocent life, she would have done it. "I wouldn't say that it fills so much as it soothes" she admitted grudgingly, but her eyes burned into the stallion's with resentment at what she took as a thinly veiled accusation, "The craving tortures my mind as well as my body if it is not sated regularly...I was born to it" She wouldn't divulge any more about her mother, who had been hunted in her youth and driven away from civilization for her oddities. Belle still felt strongly protective over her and she refused to leave her vulnerable to more aggression by revealing Jessamine's identity.

"I suppose I could exist merely on fruit and grain as you suggest, I'll admit I have tried to deny it before... But the effort quickly saps away my vitality and I am left feeling listless and grey.Life can be sweet, even for one such as myself, and I won't cage myself within that mockery of an existence. I suppose preserving life is a worthy cause but for one reason or another I was born with the urges of a predator. To deny them is to deny myself and I believe that would be just as wrong. So I hunt."

Belle felt an overwhelming sense of melancholia and more than a little guilt. Her mother was the only soquili she had ever met who understood her, who accepted every part of her without reservation, and she had abandoned her. Like her father and the unnamed lover before her. It was betrayal, and yet there had been no other option. She would not live out the rest of her life a prisoner simply to appease her mother. Jezabelle belonged to no one but herself. This stallion would simply have to learn to accept that.

"What are you called?" she wondered aloud after a moments silence.  

[derivative]

It troubled him that this mare seemed to think that her bloodlust was a necessity, but at the same time, it gave him hope. Perhaps she could be educated and shown the right path, taught how to be stronger than her physical urges, if someone took the time. He had never considered himself to be anyone's savior, but his father had raised him to believe that if you could help your neighbor, you did. He hadn't met many on his travels that would benefit from his company, and so he had done little but pass through the lives of others. Perhaps he had reached a point where that would change?

The idea of spending time with a mare who feasted on the blood of living creatures revolted him, but she was no natural predator. He could see that with his own eyes, his countenance somber as he glanced over her features once more. There was a prettiness there that might have shone through had she not had blood on her face, and something about her eyes that made him believe she was misguided, but not wholly evil.

Detestable, just then, but not fully reprehensible.

After a long silence, he stepped closer, lowering his head a bit so that they were closer to eye level. "Laertes," he said, shaking his mane from his face. "And what is your name?"

He didn't believe her account, not fully, but going on the offensive would hardly do him any good. He saw before him a wrong that needed to be addressed, and if there was goodness in her, he believed she would allow him to help.

After all, he hadn't gone running or stricken her. No, he was just quiet, quiet and mostly still.  

[Faithofthefallen]

Her heart thudded within her chest as his golden eyes swept across her features. As she gazed up at him she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of sorrow that she could not be more than who she was, for him. A feeling that was so quickly reigned in and hidden away that she couldn't be sure she hadn't imagined it.

Laertes she thought quietly, tilting her head slightly as she watched him. the name was strange to her, but it suited him.

"Belle," she replied simply, "Jezabelle is my full birth name," she admitted after an awkward pause, "I was named after my mother, but its too much of a mouthful for everyday use." she attempted a smile but it felt false, so she let it her features school themselves into an uncaring mask, one that revealed nothing of the emotions whirling beneath her apparent calmness.

There was a stream off to their left. She could glimpse the reflection, silver in the shadows, at the edge of her vision. She nodded towards the water to indicate her intentions, no need to spook the stallion by moving suddenly, and wove her way through the trees to the small creek. She dipped her head down until her mouth and nose were submerged beneath the surface, she closed her eyes briefly as the swirling and eddying waters washed away the blood staining her glossy fur. So easy to erase all evidence of her families deepest secret.

Finished, she turned back to face the stallion, the blood from her meal already diluted and rushing downstream. She strode closer until she could feel the heat rolling off his body, her head barely reaching his chin. She tilted her head back and fixed him with her crimson orbs. "Am I a monster then, Laertes, to allow myself to be ruled by that which would destroy me otherwise? For wanting a chance to live my life fully? Do you despise me for that wickedness?"

Her voice was low and musical, her breath sweet as it clouded the brisk evening air and tickled his ear.

"....Do you fear me, brave stallion?" the question was deceptively mild, but there was a slight mocking twist to her half sided smile.

derivative