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 Posted: Thu Oct 26, 2017 8:46 pm
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 Warning for descriptions of violence.
Clack-clack-clack.
Clack-clack-clack.
Hræsvelgr's claws tapped on the floor of her cave as she scrutinized her newest decoration -- perhaps, though, it would be more appropriate to call them trophies. She didn't bring just anything back to the cave she called home to make it feel more... comforting, no; each was a hard won prize attached to a fond memory. This one, here -- she ran her claws through the thick fur, clumped together and stained by dried blood. A warhorse -- maybe a draft? -- with their winter coat. She'd skinned him while there was still breath to give in his body. It had been delightful. His tortured screams, ah, yes! Such music. The joy of this trophy faded, and she moved on to the next.
That one had been a familiar. A delicate little bird, but all that was left now were bones. Hræsvelgr had carefully strung them up in her cave in a mockery of the bird's from in flight, as though the creature were still alive and hadn't had it's meat picked clean by her own beak. The familiar's bonded soquil had cried and begged and wailed, but they had trespassed on her territory. They should have known better; they should have seen the streaks of blood on the trees and turned away. She had spared the soquili their life, if only to prolong the suffering of their loss. With a shiver of joy, Hræsvelgr couldn't resist snapping up one of the bones to crush between her sharp beak, enjoying the satisfying crunch. The remaining bones rattled as they swung back and forth, tangled now in a twisted formation more akin to how the bird had perished.
Hræsvelgr became bored again.
Her next prize. A bloodied basket.
It was starting to rot. She'd have to get rid of it, soon; leave it on the edges of her territory to warn others away from what belonged to her.
The next trophy was the leg of an usdia. A little pixie, if she remembered correclty. Hardly a challange, hardly a very satisfying memory. She had gotten carried away, and it had died too quickly. Hræsvelgr's face twisted in displeasure and she shoved the leg away; perhaps she'd strip off the meat and dry it out for storage. Her newest prize was dragged into its place, a hefty sized rack of antlers; meat still clung to the base of it, flesh torn for the beast she'd torn it from. She'd gorged herself on his body after she'd watched him slowly die, writhing and twitching through each agonizing moment. Stepping a few paces back, she admired the new decoration with a covetous gaze; what a wonderful kill that had been! It was a shame she hadn't been able to make his pain last longer, but at least the meal had been fine, and she was satisfied with her full belly.
There were a few too many scratches from her beak on the antlers, though. She frowned, adjusting the display to try and hide them, already feeling a familiar disappointment settle deep into her bones. No, no, this wouldn't do at all. It wasn't good enough, not for her den of trophies; she'd just have to replace it with something new. She loved new things. So shiny and fresh. It was astonishing how quickly her precious trophies seemed to rot in front of her eyes, bored of the same old memories of the same old victims.
She'll just have to keep replacing them, again, and again, and again. |
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Posted: Thu Oct 26, 2017 9:11 pm
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Having one of his own familiars betray him in such a devastating manner had infuriated Asmodeus to the point of blind rage. Not only had Hródolf caused him to lose out on all of Nymphalidae's baskets, but he had nearly killed Asmodeus' most trusted familiar. He could only hope that Hródolf drowned in the river at the bottom of the canyon where he'd left him. It was a relief to find that Malphas would recover from his injuries, but Asmodeus felt he had to choice but to purge his remaining servants. If he couldn't trust Hródolf, how could he trust any of them? Many of them fled once they realized he was killing them all, but so few managed to escape his wrath that it hardly mattered. He didn't wish to waste any time hunting them down when he had Malphas and a basket to watch over.
Asmodeus was starting to wonder if the ruse had been worth all of this. He'd lost all his servants but one, and only came away with one basket with only the chance that it would inherent demonic powers from its father. He would need to begin to make preparations to have the foal cared for soon. While he would have a hoof in raising the foal, he was in no mood to play baby sitter. He could teach it to hunt, to obey, and to find what kind of dark magics lay inside of it, but nothing else. He would have to find new familiars to follow him -- ones he could trust. Maybe he needed to turn to soquili to aid him. After all, his parents seemed to work well enough together. Master and servant.
But not this one. His shadow fell over the trembling unicorn as she fearfully worked on healing Malphas, Asmodeus' presence a constant reminder that he would make good on his threats if she didn't complete the tasks he demanded of her. Perhaps she would have done it if he'd simply asked, but his encounter with Nymphalidae had left him with no patience left. He would either get exactly what he wanted, or more would die. That was all there was to it.
"M-Malphas is improving quickly," the young unicorn assured him, keeping her head down, unable to meet Asmodeus' eyes. "I should have them fully healed by the morning." He could tell she didn't want to stick around for that long, but he nodded in silence. Good. He would stay up all night if he had to; he would not lose the only servant -- his most loyal follower -- that he had left, especially not to some weak unicorn.
And if she failed, well... she would be joining his old servants. He would see to that personally. |
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Posted: Thu Oct 26, 2017 9:35 pm
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Cat-like, Tyrian stretched out his body across his perch on a large rock, wings spreading out to catch the rays of the sun, pleasantly warming his feathers. His flock had found new grounds to make their home in; it was larger than the last, more room for growing families, and several high spots for patrols to keep an eye out for danger from. Almost idealistic, truly, and Tyrian found he almost couldn't be happier.
... almost.
Coming into this new land and seeing several other soquili closer to himself has left him feeling confused. Tyrian always imagined that one day he'd meet another velociraptor and fall in love, and make offerings to the wishing star so they could start their own family. But now... it had been so long, and none had shown interest in him. Perhaps none ever would; he wasn't, after all, a velociraptor himself. Not truly. He was raised by them, lived with them, learned their ways and culture, helped raise their young -- he was one in spirit, if not in body. But maybe that was enough to be off-putting. Maybe they all expected that he would find a soquili and -- and leave the flock.
It was strange to have this anxieties now. He'd never even considered them before. Were they all waiting for the day he would leave? Did they even know he felt he was just like them? Maybe -- maybe it was time for him to start spending time with other soquili. Ones like himself. If he could learn to be more like them, perhaps he'd start to feel like them, too. All of it could be learned, right? If it was for the best for the flock, he'd do it. He'd never want to bring pain or discomfort to his family. They were his home, and if they could leave their home behind -- then it was possible he would have to be strong enough to do the same, some day.
But... surely his mother didn't want him to leave. She had been the one to find his basket and make the choice to bring him into their flock and raise him herself, as one of her own. And while she made certain that he knew what he was -- at least physically -- she also made sure he knew that he was loved and welcomed. It was possible that all his concerns were just in his head. Moving to this new land had caused a lot of emotions for everyone, and maybe he had been more affected by it than he had realized. Maybe he should seek her guidance before making any rash decisions.
After all, she had never steered him wrong before. As the leader of the flock, Tyrian knew she was wise enough to know what he should do, even if just enough to ease his conscious. |
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Posted: Thu Oct 26, 2017 10:22 pm
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Gabrielle had always dreamed of having a big family. She was hardly able to believe it, now, that everything was coming true. She had a wonderful mate whom she loved more than anything, and four strong, healthy children they had raised together in the Thunderbird Herd. She was hesitant to tell Leonhart, but she very much wanted to have more children. It always left her feeling as though she had an empty nest the past two times their children had grown. They had all stayed in the herd, of course, and were never very far -- but not having young children to bring joy into their lives, to teach and raise and care for... she loved it. They were both young, so it wasn't as though more children would put them at risk, but -- well, she knew Leonhart wanted a big family too, but how big was too big?
Gabrielle tried to picture it. There was no set number she could imagine. She had always been an independent mare, and though she'd known she wanted a large family, it was still a surprise to her just how much she adored being a mother -- and how quickly she'd taken to it. Biological clocks were funny, fickle things, different for each and every soquili, and Gabrielle was glad she'd found someone so compatible with hers. She wouldn't have to worry about the "we've had too many foals" talk for a while yet.
She was glad, too, that Leonhart was happy to share responsibilities in raising their young ones. She had heard of lazy stallions who believed foal-rearing was solely up to the mares to handle, but her mate proved to be different from them. Yes, she adored children, but Gabrielle had her own hobbies and role in the herd she wanted to continue to pursue and grow in. She was glad she was able to balance that with raising children and enjoy doing both. Making jewelry with the help of the herd familiars was a calm, enjoyable task she didn't see herself getting tired of for a long time.
She was... happy. So happy she felt like she could burst from it. Life wasn't perfect, but Gabrielle never expected it to be -- she knew, though, that was was incredibly lucky to be where she is now. She was in a large, strong herd, had a loving, strong mate, and wonderful children that made her proud every day -- she couldn't ask for much more, only that the joy continue for many more years to come, but she wasn't really worried. Not with all the wonderful soquili in her life, and a great many things more to come.
With any luck, more foals. But she was patient. |
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Posted: Fri Oct 27, 2017 5:23 pm
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Leonhart had always had mixed feelings about the weather. He had fond childhood memories of chasing his siblings through freshly fallen snow, hearing it crunch beneath their hooves, the sounds of their voices almost muffled in the quietness this kind of weather brought with it. Joyful laughter, flushed cheeks, noses bitten by frost -- it was the kind of thing he hoped his own children would get to experience, too. As an adult, though... the cold brought with it aching joints, stiff feathers, and lethargy, wanting nothing more than to sleep through the cold days. But Leonhart had a job to do, and he wasn't about to abandon it in favor of a little comfort. Besides, he had a family -- and the rest of the herd -- to help keep safe. Patrols were the lease he could to do repay them for his own protection and a place to call home.
And maybe sometimes the sun caught on the snow just right, temporarily blinding his vision, some days. Others, he could feel the cold air creeping into his lungs as he few, short of breath and needing to land for a break more often than usual. Unpleasant, yes, but necessary. Certainly a far better option than making a blood sacrifice once every 10 years -- and it wasn't just the cold that caused Leonhart to shudder this time. If that was how life under the ocean was, he was glad to have wings and be part of the sky.
Besides, it wasn't as though being adult took away all the fun there was with winter. After a long day on patrol, he was often greeted back to his den with something hot to drink and warm blankets to snuggle up to his mate underneath. He suspected it was his mate who gave the most, her body like a magnet that he pressed up against from hip to shoulder with a happy, satisfied sigh. Gabrielle would often laugh and lightly shove him away, complaining that he was still cold, and the melting ice was seeping into her own fur, but Leonhart would just grin and lean right back in. Neither of them really minded; they were saps at heart, and each would agree that their own love was more than enough to keep them warm during the winter, fires and blankets be damned. Who needed that when they had each other?
Leonhart tucked his frozen nose beneath Gabrielle's chin, and she shrieked in surprise at the sudden cold, laughing as she shoved him harshly away and leapt up to run. If he wanted to stick his cold nose on her, he'd have to work for it -- besides, maybe the run would warm them both up!
With a joyful grin, Leonhart moved to give chase after her. |
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Posted: Fri Oct 27, 2017 8:17 pm
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Witsedutsei's wings snapped out as she reached the end of her dive, sending her quickly gliding along the ground at top speed. She could feel the grass whipping around her hooves and ankles and knew that if she tried to start running now, she would seriously injure herself. She may be brave and reckless, but she wasn't foolish enough to try a stunt like that. Breaking a leg could leave her grounded for weeks, if not more, and who knew what else she could injure in the tumble? Witsedutsei flapped her powerful wings, catching the updraft and swooping back up into the air. She clipped over the trees and kept going -- up, up, up -- until the tips of her wings touched the moisture of the clouds above.
She threw her head back and laughed. She loved this. Loved it. There was, certainly, no greater joy than flying, than feeling the wind through your mane and the powerful gusts and thermals against your wings. Sure, she liked other things. She liked to run, even. But nothing compared to flying -- day, night, sunny, stormy. It didn't matter. The sheer exhilaration of the act made her blood pump and her heart beat rapidly in her chest, and while the exercise broke her out into a light sweat, dampening her fur, the breeze of the wind kept her nice and cool. She would be feeling the strain on her muscles later, she knew; as the Angeni of Flight, she was luckier when it came to this -- flying for longer periods of time, higher than anyone else could -- and she couldn't help but feel a little bad that no one else but her could experience this wonderful gift. At least the winged ones got a taste of it, but it still couldn't compare, could it? Not to this. It felt like if she looked down from this high up, it was as though she could see the whole world. She knew that wasn't true -- but the vast amounts of land that sprawled out beneath her made it feel that way. As if she were back in the Heavens, looking down on the Earth before she'd decided to descend.
She was so, so glad she had. Meeting and joining the Thunderbird Herd had been the perfect choice for her Domain -- a herd of winged soquili, who could share her joy of the sky? It was as though it were fate! Where else would she have gone, save for wandering the world aimlessly? She'd had enough of that. One taste was enough, for now, and it wasn't as though she were restrained to stay only in the herd lands.
You couldn't pin down a heart -- and soul -- as wild as Witseidutsei's. Not forever.
That didn't mean others didn't still try. |
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Posted: Fri Oct 27, 2017 11:29 pm
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Two steps forward and the shore of the ocean was lapping at his ankles before retreating back over the sandy coast. Three steps back and Coviello was on dry land again, the fur of his legs dripping with water. His mate and their daughter were currently in the ocean. Fighting some... unimaginable beast. And, while neither of them expected him to join them in the fight, Coviello couldn't help but feel like he should have. What is something happened to them? What if they were hurt, and if only he'd been there, he could have helped? But every time his hooves touched the water, fear gripped his heart and froze his trembling body. He wasn't a fighter. That was supposed to be okay -- even if it didn't feel like it. He knew, entering this relationship with Aizuri-e, that there would be times where his mate would have to risk his life. He understood. He found it honorable, even, that his mate was so strong and so willing to stand up and protect others. The Order of Celestial Light were a group that protected and helped others. Their protection extended to him, but he was not expected to join.
Instead, he had to stand here, waiting. Worrying. Hoping. Kalona and skinwalkers were terrifying creatures, but they were familiar. This massive deep sea monster with long tentacles was new -- he'd never heard of anything like it before. And he had no idea of his family would make it back alive, let alone in one piece. How were they going to deal with the beast? Kill it? From how it had been described to him, the feat seemed impossible. Trap it, then? Convince it to leave? Did it even understand their language? It seemed like a hopeless task, and Coviello's throat felt thick from holding back the tears that threatened to fall.
The last time they'd seen the Wishing Star, they wished for a daughter. He wished it was in the sky again, now, so that he could beg it to bring his mate and daughter home safe and sound. That this monster would never hurt another soul again. All he wanted was his family back with him, standing at his side.
He knew he didn't have to bare this worry alone; the rest of Aizuri-e's family was here, too, waiting -- watching. Not knowing what would happen. When news came back that the water had become breathable when the beast awakened, more of them tread into the ocean to offer their aid, until only he and Parthenos were left at the shore. Coviello appreciated Parthenos' silent companionship; they both had loved ones risking their lives in the ocean, now.
With any luck, the whole family would be together again soon -- and, hopefully, after a success in the deep. One way or another. |
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Posted: Sat Oct 28, 2017 4:17 am
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Warning for descriptions of violence and horror.
"Who's there?"
The old man from Kawani village raised his torch and squinted his eyes, trying to see better in the darkness that surrounded him in the forest. The tall trees didn't help much; his light caught on the thick trunks, ending abruptly to conceal the night beyond them. He shifted his hold on the game tied to a length of rope slung over his shoulder; the night's hunt for a meal tonight for himself and his brothers: Two rabbits and a pheasant. But all thoughts of rejoining his hunting party at their camp drifted from his mind as he strained to listen for the noise he'd heard only a moment ago; a soft crackling, as though someone with light feet were following him, crunching the fallen autumn leaves in his wake.
But when Dyami had turned around, no one was there. A chill that had nothing do to with the weather that night ran down his spine. "Rodents," he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the direction of the camp. Despite his self-assurance, his pace moved a little faster this time as he continued to walk.
Cr-unch.
Cr-unch.
Cr-unch.
Dyami stopped again. His heart was thudding, palms dampening with nervous sweat. Whirling around again, he thrust his torch forward to where he thought the sound had come from, hoping to scare whatever it was away, but... but -- again, nothing. For a moment, he could have sword he'd seen a fluttering of dark red (like blood), but it must have been from the flames of his torch. "I've a group of hunters not far from here," Dyami warned, his voice strong, wanting to intimidate the stalker if they were beast instead of man. "If you fight me, you fight them, too." Silence greeted him, and with mounting unease, Dyami tightened his grip on his torch and broke out into a jog.
Cr-unch! Cr-unch! Cr-unch!
Every time Dyami's footsteps sped up, so did the thing that was following him. His breath was coming in harsh pants, the cold air freezing it as it left his body into puffs of white smoke. Just as he began to run, stabbing pain lanced through the back of his calves as though a knife were driven through them, dragging him to the ground. His torch landed in a damp patch of leaves, and Dyami scrambled to grab it with a pained cry, but as his fingers brushed the handle he was abruptly dragged back several feet.
Just as suddenly as the knives -- no, claws? -- had dug into his legs, they were gone, and Dyami's only company was the dark and the trees. The corners of his eyes burned with tears, the pain from his legs still thrumming through the entirety of his body. He pulled his bow from his back and rolled over, drawing back an arrow he'd taken from his quiver, ready to take aim at his attacker -- a wolf? A skinwalker? What could it have been? And --
Shadows, shadows.
Nothing! Where was it? Dyami barely choked back a hysterical laugh before he started screaming for help. He didn't think he could run with his legs as damaged as they felt. "Something's in the woods! Help! It's got me cornered, I can't walk!" he called out, hoping his brothers would hear his cries and come to his aid. He waited, panting, listening --
Cr-unch.---------------------Cr-unch.
The shadows moved. Dyami felt his face go white with terror. The pale -- face? -- of a beast emerged from the shadows, and from how dark it was, seemingly had no body to accompany it. Instead, a single stream of blood appeared to be pouring from the... thing's... throat, floating in the air. His hands squeezed tighter around his bow and arrow before he took aim and fired. The shaking of his arms made it difficult to aim properly, and the arrow whizzed past the slender beast's body. Dyami could have sworn where his arrow passed through the shadows that it should have hit something,
It moved closer, and Dyami could see now that the creature did actually have a body, but the shadows seemed to move with it, squirming and writhing in strands around it like the tentacles of an octopus. The thread of thick blood swayed as it moved (was it blood? something else?), and Dyami felt too frozen with terror to move, even as he screamed at himself in his mind to RUN!
The creature opened it's mouth, and -- oh, by the spirits, by the Gods, there was smooth flesh where its eyes should have been, an X crossing out his face as though it shouldn't be looked at -- but it was too late, Dyami had already looked and he felt as though just that one glance was enough to doom him for life. Even if he did escape, this beast would follow him and haunt him to the ends of the earth, in his dreams, in his nightmares, all the way to his death bed. Dyami's hands scrabbled in the wet leaves as he struggled to get back to his feet, crawling weakly when the painful pressure on his injured calves proved to be too much. The slender horse's claws sunk into his thigh next, then into his back (Dyami was screaming, couldn't stop screaming) and then to the back of his neck and --
Cr-unch.
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Posted: Sun Oct 29, 2017 7:42 pm
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Having never been in a relationship before, Idris wasn't really sure what... to do. Certainly, his romantic parents were a good example to follow, so he wasn't completely hopeless in that regard. Apparently he was enough to draw Nise-e's attention, anyway, but he really wanted to do something to make her feel special and to show her he could be a good mate. This was going to be for life, after all; he didn't want the romance to ever fade. Just looking at her sweet face made his heart flutter as fast as her wings did, made him stumble over his words, finding himself suddenly clumsy with things he never had been before. He'd asked the Gatherers of the Thunderbird Herd to help him find some beautiful flowers to give to her as a token of his affection. He didn't know why Nise-e chose him, but he'd be forever grateful for it. Getting to see her face first thing every morning was like -- like seeing an angel. Oh, that was a good line -- maybe she'd like that? Or... no, maybe it was too cheesy. It sounded cheesy in his head. Ugh, he was no good with this.
At least flowers were straightforward. They sent a clear message: I care about you. I adore you. Thank you for wanting me. One of the raccoon familiars of the herd was helping to arrange the flowers in a beautiful, colorful pattern, with occasional input from Idris as to which flower should go where. He didn't really know the names of them, but the Gatherers knew that they were all safe -- and he knew they were pretty, just like she was. Idris couldn't help flutter his wings a little in excitement, eager to show Nesie-e his gift for her. The silky, pale blue bow tied around the bouquet finished the look. It was perfect!
"Thank you so much," Idris gushed over the gift, fawning over the perfect way the colors were arranged, and lowered his nose down to inhale the sweet fragrance of the flowers. Ah, so soft and beautiful. Just like -- well. Just like Nisie-e. His brain really did just turn to mush at the thought of her, didn't it? Maybe as long as the words were from him, she wouldn't laugh too much at his silly attempts at flattery and flirting. Idris just really, really wanted to make her feel even a fraction of what she made him feel. It was the very least he could do in return for getting to share in such love. He gently took the bouquet in his mouth and bowed his head in thanks to the familiars who had helped him, then flapped his wings and took to the sky in search of his darling lifemate. |
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Posted: Wed Nov 01, 2017 10:22 am
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It wasn't quite so surprising to hear of a lost city in the ocean. It was a vast thing, full of mysteries -- no, the true shock was that they... sacrificed their very own. Amaterasu shuddered at the memory of was Aizuri-e described to her. What kind of God or Goddess would demand such a thing? Why would they protect their people themselves, instead of giving them the means to their own protection? It didn't sound like a deity at all. To her, it sounded like a monster -- and she could do nothing to help. Her family, at least, was willing to step up to the challenge, and for that she was immensely proud. Even Ikigai, after hearing what kind of horror occurred, had puffed up her chest and went straight to the ocean to offer her own help. Amaterasu knew that Aizuri-e and his mate weren't very thrilled with the idea that their daughter would be joining the defense, but at the same time, they knew she needed to learn life's lessons too. Shielding her from everything would do no good, and in the end, only harm her.
It was hard, watching your children grow. Amaterasu knew this, even if she had missed out on seeing her first children become their own. She could only hope they were doing well; that they weren't trapped with... Anju. The name still caused an unpleasant shudder to roll over her body. Finally, though, she had been able to move on; what had happened was in the past now, and she liked to believe she was stronger for it. She knew now that not every soquili with a silver tongue could be trusted. She knew, better, how the spot the signs of true evil versus the misguided.
Waves licked over the tips of her hooves, and she stepped away to look towards her family. Tarashikomi was speaking animatedly with Parthenos, and Amaterasu, despite her worry for Aizuri-e and Ikigai, had to fight down a small smile. It was lovely to watch new love form. The small pixie stallion admired Tara so much, and it was clear that Tara had eyes only for him. Amaterasu could only hope that they realized their feelings for each other soon; they needed more light in this ever creeping darkness.
And a part of her couldn't help but hope for more children. She may have missed out on her first three, but she felt so blessed to see her small family grow larger now.
No longer able to spot Aizuri-e and Ikigai as they swam off, Amaterasu made her way back over to her land-bound family. At least she would not be alone in her worries, and an exasperated smile grew on her face when her familiar, Issun, finally spotted her and jumped up to his feet to wave at her wildly, as though she had been gone for an eternity.
A long time ago, perhaps, it would have felt that way. But with new strength, Amaterasu wasn't afraid to be alone -- but she was happy to have her growing family at her back, too. |
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Posted: Thu Nov 02, 2017 10:02 pm
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Not knowing what lie inside the basket was the most difficult part of the wait. He'd seen what the father looked like from afar, the strength in his horns -- but also his disappointing wings -- and he'd had stories relayed him about the violence he'd wrought. Perhaps the wings could be looked over for such strength in other areas. Asmodeus took to dripping the blood of his kills over the basket, hoping to infuse the foal inside with the violent nature he hoped it would be born with, and the strength to kill without mercy. It became an almost ritualistic habit after every meal, squeezing every last drop onto the lid and watching it soak down between the woven lid, the foal's markings that had colored the basket becoming stained dark red. He was careful not to drown the thing, making sure the blood leaked out the bottom so it didn't collect inside into a pool.
What kind of demonic powers would the foal possess? Were the demons a new breed, sent to the upper world by Kalona himself to aid them? Hallow's Bane certainly seemed to be in His image enough that he was similar to a kalona, with only a few... small differences. But he'd witnessed the glow of his hooves. Asmodeus had a similar gift, but he knew it wasn't common among his breed. It had been an inheritance from his father, so it was hardly a defining sign that the demon was more powerful than he was.
Asmodeus curled his tail protectively around the basket, drawing it close to his body to share his warmth with the growing foal inside. Whatever powers the child had, he would see to it that they were nurtured. He would see to it that the foal trusted him, that only Asmodeus could be trusted, to follow his orders because he knew best. A sinister grin spread across his face at the idea of having a demonic servant, his fangs flashing as they caught the moonlight in the night sky. Malphas glided down and settled atop the basket to sleep; the only one Asmodeus trusted enough to let this close to it. The foal belonged to him, after all.
When Asmodeus eventually drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of a great, giant beast of immeasurable power, fire swirling at its feet and powerful jaws that tore his victims to pieces -- but only at Asmodeus' command. They burned down the human villages. They slaughtered the great herds of the Kawani lands. Those who swore fealty to him were allowed to live -- everyone else became a meal for his beast. Asmodeus became more than a king; he was a god, and the beast was his pet.
It was a good dream. |
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Posted: Mon Nov 20, 2017 8:19 pm
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As a forest guardian, one had to adapt to survive. Oubliette had developed a language entirely her own in order to communicate with the creatures of the forest who weren't blessed by the spirits; how else could she see to their needs and their protection? She has learned to chirp and sing like the birds, yip and yowl like the wolves -- or, at least, mimic their sounds enough until they had a basic understanding between each other. Most of the time, they just lead her to the problem and she was able to figure out for herself what the issue was. It worked well enough, and it wasn't as though there was a lack of spirit-touched creatures in her forest if she truly needed someone who spoke words she really understood.
Despite the abundance of life in her forest, other Soquili did not seem to stay for long on her territory -- perhaps it was her wolf-like features, perhaps it was the way her eyes glowed in the night, he pelt blended with the darkness, or maybe it was the way she followed them for the duration of their travel, always watching them to make sure they didn't bring trouble to her forest.
As a hunter herself, Oubliette's job was not to prevent death entirely. Death was as natural as life, but needless slaughter was not. Typically, only skinwalkers caused such chaos, but Oubliette had seen her fair share of other Soquili come with only the intent to do harm that she had to be cautious of everyone who passed through. She would let them stay, too, if they so wished -- as long as they were respectful. Regardless, they always seemed to be scared off by her domineering presence -- and the wolves that followed her.
Her pack.
After years of offering her protection and bonding with one of their own, the pack of the forest welcomed her into their fold and aided her in her daily tasks. Oubliette could not protect the entire forest on her own, but with their help, it was as though she had eyes and ears everywhere, to the farthest reaches of the territory. No one entered her forest without her knowing -- nor did anyone leave it.
As a foal, Oubliette dreamed of the forest she would one day come to protect. Her family had always been deeply connected with nature, and took it upon themselves to appoint themselves protectors of the forests and keepers of balance. Once she and her siblings were old enough to venture out on their own, they set out to find unclaimed territories to protect; to fight off both good and evil seeking to eradicate carnivorous hunters or commit mindless killings. It was their duty to allow the balance of life to occur naturally, where there was no 'good' or 'evil' -- only the cycle of life.
And now that Oubliette had a territory of her own, it was everything she'd ever hoped for.
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Posted: Tue Jul 16, 2019 9:45 pm
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Crowley didn't hate being a demon.
In this case, the word demon was meant much more figuratively than literally, regardless of what his side believed. He wasn't a spirit, or a beast that crawled out of the Cursed Tree; he was the child of an angeni and an ulun'suti. Rather, what made him a demon had a lot more do to with the company he (unintentionally) kept than anything else. He didn't like his boss. He didn't even like his fellow co-workers, or their territory, or their hygiene (and lack-thereof), or how boring they all were. It was safe to say that Crowley didn't like any demon other than himself (and often, even then, that was a stretch). He didn't like being called a liar solely on the basis that he was a demon; so what if he lied sometimes? He didn't always, and never to some soquili.
But he liked to cause chaos and mischief. He liked to create situations in which there was clear right or wrong choices and see what would happen. He was supposed to do these things to lure souls into joining his boss' armies, but instead he did them because they were fun, and he was perhaps not very nice. (He was a demon, after all.) It was fortunate for him, then, that he didn't have to report to said boss anymore. Sure, if Crowley ever ran into his boss again, he'd probably be killed on the spot -- but that was a minor little detail he didn't like to focus on much.
You see, it all came to a head rather quickly; his side and the other side were thirsty for war, but they were also very obsessed with tradition. Old traditions, at that. The circumstances had to be exactly right in order to start their war, and if they weren't, well, then they just couldn't have it, could they? There were rules and rituals to follow and they couldn't be broken -- which was funny when you thought about it long enough. Demons were all about breaking rules -- except for these, apparently. Crowley was very careful not to mention it. He didn't really want a war. It would be messy, and bloody, and a lot of soquili would die -- in fact, if either side had their say, most soquili, and humans, and familiars would die, because after the war was all said and done they would rule whatever was remaining of the Earth.
Crowley thought it was a little too ambitious. He also kind of liked things just as they were, so he and his angeni friend Aziraphale -- okay, his only friend -- okay, his best friend, who just so happened to be on the other side but also did not want a war -- both played a part in disrupting the very important traditions that needed to be completed to stop everything.
Thankfully, if you asked Aziraphale, they were both fairly incompetent and didn't really do all that much or else their respective sides might have succeeded. Other forces were at work, it seemed, and accomplished a lot more at thwarting the would-be war than they managed. They did help, though. A little.
Enough to land themselves on destroy-on-sight lists on both of their sides, at any rate. It didn't stop them from celebrating with fine food (mostly Aziraphale) and even finer wine (Crowley and Aziraphale), and then maybe a little more wine afterwords, which is where Crowley finds himself now, an ache pounding in his head and the realization that neither he or the angel could stay where they were safely anymore. Aziraphale, who was stubborn and didn't like change, would take a lot of convincing, he suspected. If Aziraphale wouldn't run away with him to escape the war before, why would he do it now that it had been averted? Or, more importantly, why with Crowley?
It all left a rather bad taste in his mouth that wasn't just from yesterday's wine. |
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Posted: Wed Jul 31, 2019 6:53 pm
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Being an angel, it seemed, was not all it was cracked up to be.
Aziraphale loved being an angel -- or, at least, he liked to strive towards the qualities that were supposed to make up an angel. In this case, the word angel was just another word for those who made up the ranks of Heaven. His side. His herd. Or... former herd, he supposed. He had wanted, desperately, to win the approval and love of Heaven and his superiors. They never seemed satisfied with his work, though. Or -- or at least, the very core of what made Aziraphale, Aziraphale. He had spent his entire life obeying their orders, no matter how terrible they seemed. It was for the greater good, after all, and as an angel -- a domained one at that -- wasn't he incapable of evil? It stood to reason, then, that nothing he did could ever be wrong.
This was, of course, directly contradicted by his continued contact -- and even friendship -- with the demon Crowley. They were meant to be hereditary enemies; Crowley had once been an angel too, part of Heaven's ranks, but was cast out of the herd for disobeying. For questioning the higher authority. And yet, upon their first meeting, Crowley didn't try to attack him, as Aziraphale had been lead to believe would happen -- instead, he had struck up a conversation. Time and time again, every time they met. Conversations eventually led to shared meals, shared wine, commiseration over how their respective bosses treated them, and even, sometimes, a secret smile.
It continued like this for years. Occasionally, Crowley would step in and help him with his orders. Sometimes, Aziraphale would do the same. Their Arrangement was comfortable, even if Aziraphale sometimes had moments of panic that his superiors would discover their secret.
Then, suddenly, things started to fall into place for the war. Aziraphale's fear grew. If he disobeyed, Heaven would cast him out -- but if he obeyed, innocents would die. Crowley would die. And -- that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Aziraphale couldn't imagine his life without Crowley in it anymore, no matter how insufferable he could be. He had to swallow down his fear and finally make a choice. So he did. And maybe it didn't matter too much, in the end, but the war was stopped and now Aziraphale had no place in Heaven's ranks anymore.
Despite knowing he made the right choice, it still froze him with fear. If he wasn't a part of Heaven any longer, then what was he? Was he still an angel? Where did he belong? What was he supposed to do without their orders? He took the time to indulge in his pleasures from time to time, sure, but there had also always been orders to follow.
And now he had none of that, which was good, because he had stopped enjoying his work a long, long time ago (had he ever?) -- but it also felt like he had nothing left. Which wasn't, strictly speaking, true. He had his books and scrolls, didn't he? And he had Crowley. Maybe. Aziraphale didn't know what Crowley planned to do, now that they were both flying solo. Perhaps the only thing that kept them close was their shared misery. Part of him hoped that wasn't true. Hadn't Crowley said they were on their own side now?
But that didn't mean he'd be staying, Aziraphale's traitorous mind supplied. You have nothing in common anymore. |
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