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 Posted: Fri Jul 25, 2008 4:30 pm
Perhaps it was for the best.
After all, he understood exactly what it is he could do to a soquili, even a full grown stallion. Though he was burdened with chains, Shyam found his movement wasn't nearly as restricted as some might believe. Though he often moved slowly, never in much of a hurry or rush, the stallion often struck swiftly and without warning. It was true he was unfit for society, nothing but a predator with morals twisted and knotted like his tangled chains. He would never be saved from his curse. . . he craved blood and flesh to fill the emptiness within; he was unable to step away from carnal desires that many secretly kept in check.
Oh, he was a wretched soul. . . . but such was his sin. He had chosen his path, he had chosen her and thus was the story of his life.
Thankfull for Shyam, he wasn't bothered by lonliness. It didn't hurt that he was sneered at, run out and turned aay; it didn't upset him that he was destined to live a life without her, whoever she was. . . . Well, all right; sometimes the latter bothered him. He sometimes remembered such devotion he had freely given, only to just as swiftly remember the hurt of his deception.
Ah, but that was a lifetime ago. He was no saint, no angel any longer; instead he had chosen a different path and such was the only place to roam. Step by step, the soquili trotted further within the embrace of the forest. The striped male had earlier lingered near the borders where the open plains and woods intersected, but an approaching summer storm changed such plans. Simpler dwellers had sought out refuge underneath the forests canopy, and his presence wasn't tolerated. . .
Long story short, a fight had broken out, and though Shyam had made a rather poor presentation - more than likely killing one pompous and young stallion, and maiming another - he wasn't invinceable. He couldn't take on a whole herd, and after a thorough beating he had retreated.
Though the pain was just as enjoyable as the blood that stained his tongue and muzzle, his pride had been bruised at their demand he leave. Honestly he felt no guilt for the loss of life he very well might have caused; had they just let him alone he would have happily let them be! But they had to assume the worst, prepare for battle and taunt him to kill. . .
Would they never learn?
He walked with a limp, pausing now and then to catch his breath even as thunder rumbled overhead. The rain would soon wash his wounds clean and rid the world of his thick scent of blood. Pity really. . . . The scent of blood was sweet and a bit invigorating. Ah, but even Shyam couldn't stop the rain.
As the first thick droplets pushed their way from the sky and through the canopy, Shyam paused to lap at his bruised and wounded legs. He was hungry, but not ravenous; for now he'd settle with a sip of his own blood until a new opportunity to feast would present itself.
A flash of lightning. . .the storm was drawing closer and looked to be severe.
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2008 6:39 pm
 It was with a heavy heart that the dark mare made her way across the thickly forested area, a heavy limp hindering her walk as dulled silver hues stared, unfocused, into the distance ahead. Her frame swayed unsteadily from side to side as she moved, a dark trail of crimson painting the dirt path behind her.
As the rain began to fall, Amaya lifted her face to the sky, taking comfort in the cool droplets that littered her fur, sliding off of her blood-splattered mask and falling to the ground. There was little happiness to be had in her present situation, but the rain had always brought a certain sense of contentment that calmed her nerves.
Shame and agonized self-hatred burned through every inch of her body and soul, eyes sliding shut briefly in grief as imagery flickered through her mind. She had attacked the only herd to ever welcome her into their midst, to offer her shelter from preadators and rain and cold... she had nearly killed almost half of them... one of them a mare with child.
A pitiful whimper rose in the back of her throat as she stumbled on weak legs, but she silenced the shameful noise before it could escape into the cool air. While she may have been weak, injured, defeated... she still had her pride, no matter what sort of heinous sin she may have committed against those who welcomed her.
A muttered curse escaped his lips as her dented leg armor snagged on a bush, tugging it loose visciously in her frustration, and wincing as it cut into her leg. Heaving an irritated and pained sigh, her eyes slid closed for another brief moment as thunder rolled in the sky above.
Perhaps, if she waited here long enough, the rain would wash away her sorrows.
A snort escaped her nostrils at the thought- she was not naive enough to actually believe that was true.
A curious expression adorned her features as her gaze lifted to rest upon the bloodied form of another stallion, concern immediately overtaking her masked features before an aloof stoicism replaced it. His wings were unfamiliar, and the chains... was he some sort of hybrid? Her first thought had been that perhaps he was injured... but she had never seen or heard of a soquili with four wings, and horns like that... there was a possibility that he was hostile. And that the blood belonged to someone else.
Her hackles rose as she eyed him warily, taking a hesitant and shaky step back. This was bad. She couldn't fly, and in her current condition, she probably couldn't manage to run very far. If he attacked, though... she would die fighting.
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2008 7:57 pm
The stallion's ears pricked forward as a figure began to take shape through the rain. Thunder rumbled over head as the heavens had opened; rain came down in sheets, washing away blood but showing bruises and deep gashes and wounds instead. Puddles stained crimson beneath him but the stallion thought little of it or the stinging, throbbing pain that wracked his body. No, he was curious about the figure that finally made itself known. . . .
And wasn't she a sight!
Crimson gaze caught the scent of blood not his own; it was rich and delicious and seemed to have a variety of flavors. A small part of him wanted to do nothing more than lap up the crimson that stained her armor. . . . but then it occurred to him that she was wearing armor! Some sort of knight, perhaps? Throughout the silver rain he caught ebony fur and a silver mane and horn. . . . . But her wings were that of a kalona, and harbored horns not quite unlike his own.
Unusual . . . . Different. . . . .
But was she her?
That thought always crossed his mind when he crossed paths with a mare. There was a constant hollowness within his soul that seemed to reach out in an attempt to find the missing piece. He wore a small chain around his neck, a small pendant that was scabbed over and kind of stuck to his chest. . . Te piece was important, it was the key to his one loves heart. . . . And yet he just didn't know who she was; in fact, he knew nothing of her except of a love they once shared, and an adoration that haunted him in clips and fragments.
Every now and then the stallion wondered if perhaps he might have killed her himself, feasted upon her flesh and missed a great opportunity and chance. . . . . but the thoughts often were forgotten soon after and life resumed its daily procession. Passions and lusts for blood, corruption, and a constant pain and emptiness.
It was the story of his life.
For a moment Shyam watched the mare, curious to see what might she do. For a moment, past the heavy clouds of rain, he caught an expression he couldn't easily place. At first she'd looked curious but what was that odd look? . . . . it wasn't anger, it wasn't aggression, it was . . . . something he hadn't seen in a long time. He couldn't place concern, he couldn't understand it fully but he watched with relief as she soon found herself overwhelmed by a coldness. Instead of forward she retreated a half step, telling him that she was afraid . . . . that she already harbored expectations of what he was and what he could do.
Pity.
"Afraid of me too?" He questioned, taking a clumsy step forward. He too was weak and not quite up to his prime; quite the pair they were, both broken and damned. If they fought, it would be quite the battle. "You bring it on upon yourself," he calmly explained, albeit a bit tiredly. "You want me to fight, to chase, to attack?" He asked, allowing his teeth to bare. "Than do it. . . like all the rest. Pull back, retreat. Run."
Maybe he'd let her go. Then again, maybe he'd feast upon her flesh. If she wanted to assume he would kill than far be it for him to prove otherwise. If she wanted him to be a killer than who was he to deny her unspoken but very obvious wish?
Just because he killed didn't mean he was heartless or unsensetive to another's needs. Shyam was still an angel in such a way - he gave the world exactly what it wanted.
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2008 8:40 pm
Frame trembling unsteadily under her weight, she lifted her head slightly as her gaze rose to meet his proudly. "I fear nothing." The statement, while not false in the sense that she meant it... was not entirely true. She feared herself, her kalona instincts- the beast that dwelled within... but she did not fear anything physical, any beast or soquili that may challenge her.
It was something in his eyes, though, that made her stop and reconsider. The posing of the question struck something deep in her memory. She had always been feared and shunned for what she was, and had hated those who simply judged her and fled at her appearance. Was it possible that this stallion had experienced the same?
Guilt flooded her senses as her silver gaze softened, taking a small step forward and dipping her head briefly in a wordless apology. She knew... she knew the pain and strife of that type of rejection, the loneliness and the self-hate that came with it, and it was something that she would never wish upon another being, enemy or not. That she had done it herself to another made her a hypocrite.
"Sumimasen... forgive me, I should not have judged so quickly." She pointedly ignored the baring of his teeth, although her muscles remained a bit tensed in case he attempted to attack her anyway. If she had offended him so already, he might simply do it out of pride... and she could well relate to that, even if it was something she herself would never do.
A deep, shuddering breath was taken as a haggard cough was expelled from her lungs, dotting the ground below with speckles of blood. Her knees shook beneath the strain of continuing to support her weight, but she ignored it, folding her torn wings back against her sides in a stubborn refusal to yield to her injuries.
There was a part of her that wished for him to attack, to take her life... to simply end the agonizing torture that she sought to escape from. There was no repenting for her actions- she had sinned far too much to ever escape from the justice that would undoubtedly catch up to her eventually. But then... her mother had always told her that taking one's own life was the coward's way out- that living was the most difficult. Besides... she still had to apologize... to okaa-sama, to Ezriel... the only two beings that had ever believed she could be something more.
"I will not run. You may do what you wish... but I ask your forgiveness for my thoughtlessness." Her eyes spoke of a dulled hope somewhere within, that perhaps this stallion might turn out to be a kindred spirit... perhaps he had suffered like she had. "Atashi wa... my name is Amaya."
The giving of her name could have just been so he could remember the name of a victim... but somehow, she doubted he would attack. She hoped... no, she wished that it could mean that perhaps they could acknowledge one another... as acquaintances, if nothing else. Companionship was not something common to one such as her... but it was rather farfetched in most instances.
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2008 9:23 pm
Forgive me? While her earlier announcement of fearing nothing almost caused him to snort his disbelief it was her next statement that did truly cause the stallion surprise. Was she truly asking for his pardon? The stallion gave a small shake of his head, stomping at the earth and causing his chains to shake again.
Oh, the memories such a phrase tangled him in. For a moment the crimson eyed stallion seemed overcome by a reverie or daydream; his gaze that had bore in to the unikalona softened as he thought of a time long past. There had once been a time where he had offered forgiveness to the broken, to the damned; where he had taken them underneath his glorious wings and had assured them of the goodness they possessed. There was once a time when he lived to spread hope and guarded the souls that had strayed. . . .
But such days were long forgotten.
Many who asked for his forgiveness and mercy begged it only when it was too late; only when his teeth was at their throats and his hooves shoved deep within their flesh. Battered, broken, and only pushed so far did any cry out for his change of heart. . . .
So to hear those words come so simply, so easily. . . .
Quite frankly the stallion was surprised. Her thoughtlessness was nothing more than a reaction built in to the majority that walked the world. He didn't blame her for her retreat and initial assumptions, but he did know of the hurts that would follow should have continued down such a road. Shaking himself from the reverie of his golden years, of a time when such words brought him joy and a need to comfort, the stallion felt nothing but remorse and his emptiness renewed.
He could offer no comfort . . . he could give no assurances. . . . if he did they would be nothing but lies. "If it truly matters," he heard himself speak, "than consider it granted. I harbor no ill feelings towards your reaction," he continued, ducking his head to lick again at a stinging wound upon his leg, "but I feel no desire to hunt and can only assume you feel no desire to die. Too many have cast judgment this day. . . . " And wasn't that the truth.
Despite his logic in almost chasing Amaya, despite his long fall from grace and curse to drink blood Shyam wasn't without manners. The stallion studied the unicorn creature before him for a moment before dipping his head. ". . . . Tis a pleasure, Amaya, if you might believe a creature like me can feel such a thing." Oh the misconceptions of the damned; he held every emotion any other softy could feel. . . . The only difference was his morality. He had very few rules to base his life upon. . . . but etiquette was one of them. "Allow me to introduce myself as Shyam."
His voice was tired and strained, but one could hear the velvet laced within. He wasn't a vain creature but like she proud; and where he wasn't willingly going to kill her unless she gave every indication that she desired to be chased or hunted, he had no trouble exchanging names.
He might have been born a beast, but he was certainly no monster. She looked weak and she coughed up blood; part of the stallion was pained by a desire to drink such fresh liquid; to throw himself upon the ground and lap upon the crimson spittle. Ah, but he would restrain himself for now. . . it wasn't good manners and he wasn't that desperate.
Not yet at least.
"It looks as if you've had quite the day." There was no judgment in his voice, only a mild curiosity for her disheveled and crimson stained appearance.
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2008 10:16 pm
His eyes spoke of a deep pain, of a past that she could not well comprehend... and against her own volition, she found herself wanting to understand what had made him this way. Perhaps they had more in common than their mixed origins, and the appearance that drove others away.
Common sense intervened then, and Amaya shook her head as she realized what exactly she was contemplating. It didn't matter what she thought, what kind of creature he was, or if he had a kind heart somewhere deep down... she was dangerous, as she had proved only hours ago. Companions were not simply scarce and unlikely... they were tremendous risks. If she attacked them... she could not even fathom the kind of guilt that she would carry.
How would she have dealt with the burden, if it had been Ezriel-san or okaa-sama that she had attacked? She would likely never be able to overcome the shame and grief. Silver irises dimmed as she began to withdraw emotionally, expression masking itself metaphorically beneath the literal steel mask over her face.
A soft sigh escaped her at this revelation... but for now, with her instincts currently in check, she would indulge the selfish desire to bask in the company of others. It wouldn't be for long, though... she would have to vacate soon, and it didn't seem as though he would have a problem with it.
A tiny smile adorned the dark features beneath her mask as he offered his requested forgiveness, and his name. The comment of, 'if you might believe a creature like me can feel such a thing,' disturbed her a bit, and she felt the need to reassure him. "If anyone implies that a 'creature' like you might not feel such a thing," she stated, stressing the word 'creature' with no small amount of contempt, "they would have to say the same thing about me."
There was no doubt in her mind now that this was a sort of kindred soul that she had longed to meet, even more than Ezriel or her dear okaa-sama. The idea brought her happiness, even in its smallest amount, and she felt the veil of grief and shame lift the tiniest bit from her darkened conscience as she responded further, metallic hues warming at his polite introduction.
"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Shyam-san." And it was. Perhaps the day wouldn't be so abysmal after all... although she was sure that once he was gone, the sadness would hit her like a tidal wave once again, and she would be forced to deal with it alone. For now, though... she would enjoy what she could.
"It has been... trying," she managed, cringing at the mere mention of the incident. Abruptly, however, her attention shifted back to his own wounds, and the concern that had been masked previously returned unhindered to her expression. "And you? You don't look particularly well, either... are you all right? I have... never attempted to heal anyone before, I'm not even sure I can... but I could try."
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2008 10:04 pm
Shyam didn't know where Amaya came from, and though he was curious about the blood stained ebony mare, he didn't feel a demand to push. She was nothing but another stranger, a new face, though there was a new sense of intrigue that was beginning to stir within him. She spoke using phrases he'd not heard, and her expression and features were guarded.
She was a mystery, but as of yet he felt no pull or draw to attempt to solve.
Just because she too was stained with blood meant little to Shyam; such stains were the story of his life and thus he found it more peculiar when a soquili wasn't so soiled. She looked like a violent sort, a hunter, a predator similar to himself so why shouldn't she be banged up from battle? She wore armor. . . it made little sense that a soquili wear such things and yet be so unprepared for damag.
His ears pricked lightly as she spoke almost vehemently about others comments; oh, Shyam was no fool and he didn't blame them. His feelings weren't painted in black and white; he was a wretched creature unfit for even the fleas to bite. His sense of morality was skewed compared to the vast majority he met and therefor many dubbed him heartless, cruel and unfeeling. "They do more than imply," he chuckled, giving his nubby and tattered tail a bit of a swish. "They speak freely of their thoughts and expectations so I do what I can to oblige. . . but, I do believe their confusion stems from misunderstanding." And wasn't that the truth. Those that cast their judgements cast it out of fear; but they only grew afraid because they didn't know and couldn't possibly understand a creature like him.
This Amaya seemed different. . . but it didn't mean she would be any closer to understanding his plight than he might her own. Those of the damned, the wretched and the broken were often so shattered even like kin couldn't piece one back together. Shyam didn't expect the unicorn mare to understand. . . . sometimes even he didn't understand himself.
Ah, but he did feel. The problem with the stallion was he felt too much; he couldn't control such feelings and desires when they began to sprout. From a lust for blood to a need for attention or affection or a desire to inflict pain and death. The stallion didn't often hold back or find himself restrained. . . . it was but his curse and one that was hard to fight. Corrupting others around him, encouraging them to fall to their passions and lusts required a stallion that lived for just the same.
As the mare spoke Shyam unconciously lowered his head to lap once again at the gash in his leg. The taste of blood was soothing, albeit watered down from the rain.
"It has been...trying,"
Well that was some sort of understatement. Still, his rich voice chuckled with amusement before he added, "Life often is, I'm afraid. But seeing the armor that lines you, at least you've come prepared for the bumps and bruises you shall receive." Glancing down, he nipped at one of the chains, giving them a little shake before turning his eyes back upon her. "I fear you chose the hardier wardrobe between us."
When the darker form turned her attention to him and offered her abilities, Shyam was almost surprised. Healers, especially those made up of night, weren't often willing to give him the time of day. Oh, sure, sometimes their close proximity caused him to falter and fall prey to his inner carnage but one couldn't blame him - he didn't always purposely mean to harm. Sometimes it just . . . . happened.
Those whom didn't know his fate often weren't accepting of such an asnwer; the death of any soul shouldn't 'just happen' but for as much evil as he chose to commit there were also many times he strove to behave and be good.
"I . . . appreciate the offer," he started quietly, his surprise apparent, "but your magic, no matter how great, would never be able to stop the pain." While sometimes such words applied to the soul and spirit, and while he was certain she could understand such a thing Shyam was still referring to his physical agony. He had been cast out from the heavens. . . he was not allowed to live without discomfort, without agony, without pain.
His chains burned against his flesh and no one else; his soul was tattered and in pieces and the agony of his once broken body constantly throbbed. Physical pain was little more than a nuisance to the stallion. . . .but somehow he doubted Amaya's horn could ever ease the hurts.
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Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2008 7:35 pm
"'Misunderstanding' isn't the half of it," she murmured, contempt briefly flitting through her silver hues... although an almost imperceptible flash of guilt followed it. Although misguided, those thoughts and views on their race wasn't completely unfounded, after all... would she be carrying this burden, this tremendous shame, if they were? These wounds... they were a physical manifestation of the scars marring her own soul- proof that the critical views of the others held some merit to them.
An absent glance was cast downwards at her armor at his comment, eyes darting curiously towards the chains adorning his own pelt. She wondered why he wore them... they offered no protection, after all. Perhaps some sort of sentimental reasons? She could relate to that, she noted with a look down to the sterling necklace hanging from her frame. Pondering what they could mean to him, she paused for a moment, only to shake away the thought with a toss of her head.
He would tell her when he wanted to. If he ever wanted to.
His admission of his own inner agony made her cringe visibly, although she doubted she could comprehend what he felt. Perhaps they were kindred souls in some manner, but their pain stemmed from entirely different circumstances. Against her own will, she found herself wanting to understand what made him hurt so much, carry such a heavy weight upon his broad shoulders... but she would never ask such a question. Amaya had more respect than to believe he would simply volunteer that information.
Perhaps... in time. Granted her instincts didn't drive her away, and his own persona didn't reject her completely.
A small nod of acknowledgement was her response to his polite rejection of her offer. She wasn't at all surprised, although she couldn't seem to prevent the slight feeling of sadness rising in her battered heart, beneath her protective armor.
All she had ever wanted was to be like her hahaue... to help those who needed saving, to bring light to other souls that seemed to be lost in darkness. She had given up that illusion long ago, when her mixed heritage proved to be too big an obstacle to overcome for others. Kalona were malicious creatures... and no one seemed to be able to look past her feral exterior. So she had accepted her fate, remained in darkness, gaining what acceptance she could... until now.
True acceptance only came with the unspoken promise of her suppressed dark side. That she had failed to do so rightfully took away that acceptance, and she could do nothing about it.
But perhaps she could offer it to others.
Metallic hues shone with a compassion that she had not felt in a long time, and they settled upon his battered form as the tip of her horn began to glow with a faint light. "I may not be able to ease your torment, but... at least let me try to heal what I can." 'It's all I can do.'
Her near-silent plea spoke of more than simply her desire to stop the pain of his injuries- she wanted to know the soul beneath the rough exterior. Whether or not he would allow her to see that far was entirely up to him.
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Posted: Fri Aug 15, 2008 8:39 pm
Amaya was a mystery.
In fact, the stallion found himself at a bit of a loss as the unikalona pressed a second time her desire to heal. The horned fallen had experienced many reactions as he walked through the mortal realm; he had felt disgust by his peers and an arrogance and contempt unrestrained from those that still walked within the clouds. He often was received by fear and hatred by the mortals he often encountered, was driven away without any allowance for explanation or discussion. He was no angel and he fit in with no kalona or skinwalker; he wasn't beautiful, he wasn't glamorous, he wasn't pure. In fact, there were many things Shyam was not and could never be. . . .
But he was hated, loathed, despised.
Oh, a small and very rare few tried to reach out to him. A few sought to harness his power and use it to their advantage, to which Shyam refused to allow. Though he could easily destroy he was no tool and the corpses of those that tried to use him as such told exactly how he dealt with such fools. Others had done their best to harvest light within him . . . though he could humor them for a day or two Shyam's soul was dead. There were some things that could never be harvested, he could never walk in light even if his heart and soul yearned for such redemption.
There were some things that went beyond 'choice'.
Crimson eyes studied Amaya, a new curiosity lighting his gaze. In fact, his surprise was visible as he slowly quirked a brow and canted his head questioningly to the side. His expression was light despite the gravity of their conversation and the bruises and blood that stained the pair of them. Blood and pain was an everyday norm for the male. . . . but to be healed?
To be offered such a service not once but twice?
To have the warrior before him practically beg to ease his hurt, even just a little. . . .
Well, Shyam found himself baffled and a bit dumbfounded on how to respond. Ah, but thankfully the cool and silken tongued stallion wasn't out of place for long. If healing was her desire, if it was something she craved and wished thann Shyam could only happily oblige her soul and spirit. Minding his manners, the stallion dipped his head in a bit of a bow, chains rattling in protest to such movement.
Giving his wet bangs a bit of a shake, his eyes lifted once again to capture her silver regard once more. "Forgive my hesitation, but I don't believe I've ever been so swiftly offered such a reprieve. But if the lady wishes to try, than I offer my wounds freely." Stepping forward slowly, he allowed his tangled and nubby tail to swish slowly behind him.
"They may not heal, but if such is the case think nothing of it; the fact you are willing to try is . . . . . new. Compassion is a rarity...." The words were foreign to his fanged lips, such graciousness having long been silent. The stallion used to be filled with such kindness and love and hope but as of late his soul had been hollow . . . empty and oh how he yearned to fill such a void. It would never truly be filled but he could forever attempt to seek out such a fill. . . .
Blood, death, pain, corruption, deception. Nothing did the trick and nothing ever would. . . But Amaya was already easing such a void, even if were but a temporary fix. Just because he was shrouded in night didn't mean he couldn't remember what compassion used to feel like, what power ran behind good, peace, and love.
A small part of Shyam desperately mourned what he had so swiftly given up. . . . . And only now, faced with the memory of compassion from one who could freely give it without soiling and tainting such a feeling with corruption, did the stallion wish for just a moment that maybe things could have been different.
And oh, how such a thought hurt.
"Thank you." His own voice dropped to a whisper, sincerity lacing his words despite the hiss that broke through his fangs. His expression darkened and for a brief moment the good in him squirmed and writhed at such exposure; though Amaya fought with her own light she radiated more good than she realized. . .. more grace even amidst the bruises and bloodshed and tears.
Shyam was a creature of night and such reflections of day burned.
But oh, what he'd give to feel that wretched and ever so blissful pain.
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Posted: Fri Aug 15, 2008 9:55 pm
Although it was miniscule, and the acquiescence of the bloodied stallion seemed to be with some reluctance, the dark mare's features lit with a warmth that had not graced their depths in ages, relief softening the stiffened muscles of her frame. Despite her exhaustion, despite the pain of her own injuries stinging and throbbing with the fall of the cold rain, her resolve strengthened, and the faint glow to her silver horn grew brighter.
She had never had use for her healing powers before. She could not heal herself, and no others had ever allowed her close enough to even try- and with her mixed bloodline, it was hard to tell if she even would be able to heal.
Amaya didn't know. But she would damn well try.
His words touched something in her that had long been numbed over with cold- the unfamiliar sensation startled her, but her face showed nothing but a shared longing and sadness- barely visible through her steel mask. He truly was a kindred soul, though it seemed blatantly apparent that her own suspicions about how deep his suffering truly went had been confirmed.
The warm glow from her horn lit in her eyes as his softly uttered whisper of gratitude reached her sensitive ears- although remorse welled in her heart at the subtle indication he provided. She had had a rough upbringing, yes, and an even harder transition into adulthood... but even she had attachments here and there. It was becoming more and more clear that he was even more unfamiliar to kindness than she was. What would she have done, had she not had her hahaue to guide her, had Ezriel-san and okaa-sama to accept her?
That he was not completely cold and untrusting and malicious was something that astounded her.
She was convinced, now more than ever, that there was a warm heart beneath that bloodied exterior- that a kindness not unparallel to her own existed somewhere in those dark depths. Perhaps it was buried to the point of no return... but the point was that it was there. Things like that never simply vanished into nothingness.
They did mutate and transform into other things... but she didn't think that was the case, here.
A small, almost invisible curling of her lips followed his whispered 'thank you', and she responded with the lowering of her horn to the deepest of his wounds- gently and carefully- as she spoke in low, unhurried tones. "It is my pleasure... to help one like me. Although... you can thank me by healing, Shyam-san."
She meant more than simply the closing of his wounds, but it was something she left open-ended... it was rather forward of her to comment on, after all. Whether or not he could be healed, both physically and otherwise, would be his choice alone- she could only do so much, if he even allowed her to see what needed healing.
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Uta rolled 1 20-sided dice:
15
Total: 15 (1-20)
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Posted: Fri Aug 15, 2008 10:29 pm
Shyam's crimson gaze watched with intrigue as best he could; he had once provided such healing himself though it went without the use of a horn. To see a mortal harbor such a blessing was intriguing to the stallion and he watched with an almost foalish fascination. The radiance of her horn was alluring in a sick sort of way; the light reminded him once again of everything that he once had. . . .
Light had been everywhere while he walked in the clouds; light had been their guide, their hope, their everything. And yet here was one made up entirely of night; in fact, she looked as if she were a star cut from the heavens itself, lost and drifting upon the mortal plane. A daughter of night, stained with blood and burdened with the pain for the world. . . . But even she possessed good. Even she possessed that eternal light a part of Shyam wanted nothing more than to capture.
Her horn glowed. . .the reflection of her armor seemed to sparkle even amidst the rain and storm.
It was very difficult not to be jealous. . . and further taste the bitter sweet bile of regret.
As her horn touched the gash upon his neck, the stallion allowed his own features to twist in to what was almost a boyish smile. There was a slyness about Shyam that would never leave his features, a sense of knowledge as if he possessed some secret that one would never know. Perhaps he did. Either way, he couldn't help but chuckle at what sounded like a reprimand. . .
"I will do my best to fix my wounds," he acknowledged lightly, fangs gleaming in bemusement. "But I do fear you're asking me to conquer quite the challenge. By the time one wound heals there are double as many new to be fixed." Craning his neck a bit, he tried to get a better look at what exactly she was doing. . . .
Was it working?
It certainly stung enough that he had to imagine it was doing something useful.
((So I figure he's cursed by the gods and she's not used to using white magic; Imma roll a number 1-20 and 1 being like . . . OMFG you practically killed him, 10 being Eh-there's some healing and 20 being "Wow. o.o; It worked. . . mostly" Feel free to edit/adjust/comment about the wound/gash in your next post. ; D I figure he got bit REALLY hard near his neck during his fight, as that would be the best place to try to kill him would be. . . .))
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Posted: Fri Aug 15, 2008 11:02 pm
A wince followed his almost casual comment of how her healing would do little good, but she stubbornly continued in her endeavor, hoping beyond hope that it would at least make some sort of a difference. Her vision blurred under the strain and effort as her strength wavered, but the glow only grew in intensity in response to her desire to help him.
Impossibly, the gash appeared to slowly be closing.
Silver hues blinked in incredulity at the sight- she hadn't expected it to actually work- but a brilliant smile, the likes of one she hadn't worn in quite some time, adorned her dark features in triumph. It wasn't much, but it was something... and perhaps her acceptance and genuine desire to do some good for him would make an impact.
His own smile made a brow arch in curiosity, wondering what sort of secrets it held from her. None the less, he had agreed to it, if not in a somewhat roundabout way. She would settle for it, for now, as long as he kept his word.
A breathless laugh fell from her maw as she withdrew, glad to see that the deep gash had dwindled away into a much shallower cut- although it was still there. Pride and warmth consumed her, though she barely noticed when the healing glow flickered and died... but she did notice the sudden unsteadiness in her posture.
Her vision darkened, and her limbs trembled beneath her weight as a heavy breath was expelled from her lungs. Having never healed before, on top of the injuries she had acquired- it had taken more of a toll on her than she thought. Before she had even comprehended what was happening, her forelegs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto her knees with a pained grunt.
"I expect you... to keep your word on that," she breathed, still smiling foolishly beneath the shining mask. Her pride was still intact- but there was nothing wrong with overlooking the sudden weakness in comparison to her accomplishment over his wound. It was a small victory, but a victory despite.
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Posted: Sat Aug 16, 2008 9:06 am
The throbbing in his neck had turned to an irritable sort of itch, but most importantly the wound had lessened considerably. In fact, the stallion was almost as surprised as the mare to see that her healing had actually effected his body. Somehow Shyam hadn't expected the gods to be so generous. . . .
Giving his head a little shake, flipping his long bangs out of his crimson regard, the stallion gave a little snort in surprise. Well fancy that. . . . he could be healed and not just by the angels from above. Perhaps there was a little mercy in the world after all. . . . Then again, what did Shyam care about such an emotion, such a feeling? He needed no redemption in his life; he was more than content to embrace the shadows.
Any surprise and sharp thoughts were suddenly and very swiftly replaced as Amaya stumbled. The stallion started, as if to lean forward and catch the mare but there really was little he could do - she was down before he could offer much support. It was one thing to watch a mare fall because of his choice; to push them over, to cause them to squeal in pain and fright, to rip in to their delicious flesh and feast.
But this was not one of those moments. Shyam found no pleasure in watching Amaya stumble. There was no pleasure, aside from the trouble she might be in had he been any other predator; to fall so abruptly placed her in a vulnerable position. Certainly she had fangs and horns and hooves but that made little difference to a killer. . . Her weakened state only made her more delectable; thankfully though, the fallen angeni wasn't going to abuse her in such a manner.
It just plum wouldn't be proper.
"You leave me no choice," he announced, head lowered so he might be able to better look upon her. "If I should prefer you alive and well you needn't continuously be subjected to tending my wounds; therefor I need be on my best behavior. . . or at least my best game." He couldn't be thought of as a genuinely sweet guy but he could at least try. Given, it didn't occur to Shyam that Amaya might just as swiftly become but a stranger as soon as they parted, but if she expected him to keep his word than there was no reason he couldn't or wouldn't. Just because he was a shadowed spirit didn't mean that he was dishonest or unfaithful. . . .
Shyam believed himself to be a proper gentleman when it came to etiquette.
"But many thanks again," he murmured, pawing lightly upon the ground. The stallion's ears had pricked forward and he found himself rather stunned and captivated by the smile that had lightened her features. It had been something lovely, something beautiful amidst the shadows and overwhelming darkness. Even as the rain fell around them, thunder rolling overhead, there was something ridiculously strange and foreign near Amaya; there was something . . . . . beautiful.
And Shyam could certainly appreciate it.
How long had he come across a smile not his own? How long had he come across something genuine?
Always inclined towards mares, there was something captivating about Amaya. In a way she was as fallen as she, an angel cast down and cursed just as he. Unusual in appearance, stained in blood, the stallion couldn't think of a more lovely vision. "Can you stand?" His broken and tattered wings spread lightly as he stepped closer, as if to guard her from the pouring rain.
Angels weren't meant to look so exhausted, so overwhelmed, or so shattered.
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Posted: Sun Aug 17, 2008 4:21 pm
The tensing of his muscles, the subtle shift of his frame as she fell did not go unnoticed by the injured mare as she fell, preoccupied though she may have been- and the sentiment, even as tiny as it was, made her heart rise a fraction. He did have a good heart within that jaded exterior, lost somewhere within the dark depths of coldness.
The smile that had faded as she struggled to steady her breathing and assess her injuries made a brief reappearance at his words, clouded silver hues lifting to look into his own crimson gaze. "Good." Metallic irises glittered with a bit of good humor as she added to her simple statement, "I would hate to have to kick some sense into that thick skull of yours myself."
She wasn't typically in the business of joking around, but her elation at her small success, combined with how his momentary kindness seemed to put her completely at ease, and the prospect of having a companion who could offer a simple, quiet understanding seemed to do wonders for her reserved nature... not that she wouldn't look back on it and flinch at her forwardness, later. It was good to enjoy the moment while she could, though... right?
"You are welcome," the sincere whisper fell from her lips with a much softer smile, letting her eyes drop to his half-healed wound briefly before meeting his gaze once more. The prospect of healing someone, of offering herself for something more useful than simply an ear to listen, or a tool of bloodshed... it warmed her in ways that she had never truly felt before. She wasn't deluded enough to think that she could simply heal every soul that was in need of it, or that they would let her anywhere near, but she would savor the small encounter with the stallion who had healed her, inadvertently and unintentionally, as much as she had him. Not enough to make a large difference, but much more than time would have been able to on its own.
She barely noticed the unfurling of the graceful wings above her until the rain ceased to fall upon her exposed back, and her gaze darted upwards in surprise at the small, kind gesture. Onyx-furred ears twitched forward at his question, and she offered an unsure nod, shifting her weight as she began to lift herself from the cold, damp ground.
Letting loose a heavy exhale of breath as she hauled herself back onto all fours, she locked her bruised knees back into place as they steadied themselves beneath her once more. Glittering ebony wings unfolded to keep her balance as her frame teetered precariously for a moment, but steadied itself once more with a stubborn look, and a shift of her body. Gratitude shone once more through silver eyes as she turned to lock gazes with him again, still wearing the warm smile upon her shadowed features.
"Daijoubu... I'm sorry you had to see that. It was well worth it, though."
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Posted: Fri Aug 22, 2008 9:35 pm
There was a sense of good in Shyam though such a thing would never be enough to make him pure once again. The residual slime of thoughtfulness and compassion was merely left over from the soul that he had once been - a shining angel that had devoted his life to the gods, the spirits, and the good of all.
He had been a protector once, a valiant fighter and a beast made entirely out of goodness. But nothing gold could ever stay and it wasn't long before the stallion devoted himself too much to the one mare that had ever truly touched his heart. Nimue had changed his life and he had fallen from grace for her without a second thought. Though he had been confused, though his intentions had tainted and turned selfish, to take so much good and transform it in to corrupt was no easy feat. Shyam might have been rejected from the heavens and turned from grace but that didn't mean he couldn't be polite or be considerate.
He was his own soquili afterall; he made choices and judgements everyday and followed no higher power or guideline of morality. He chose who to kill and who to let be; he destroyed and corrupted the innocent just as soon as he was to defend anothers honor. He was labeled a freak, rejected on all sides but such was his choice. He could never be labeled good but he wasn't so corrupt to not understand feeling. . .
In fact, it was through the use of feelings that Shyam corrupted the world. How far could he push a soquili to their limits? How sweet could he speak to corrupt the innocent mares and stallions, to get them to taste their darkest desires? It was a game Shyam lived for and something that could never be avoided when crossed with the fallen. . . .
Even the rain soaked and exhausted Amaya might indeed fall prey to his endless curiosity and corruption. Even if it wasn't necessarily now. Lowering his nose as she struggled to her feet, he offering his head as a bit of steady support, ever careful of the jagged and blood stained horns that rose from his skull. His own features held a gentle, albeit fang-filled expression, and he couldn't help but chuckle at her previous words.
"It would be quite the battle I fear," he added, pierced nostrils flaring slightly at such a thought. She was indeed a skilled huntress just as he was a predator; she was made of armor and leather while he of feathers and chain. Thankfully though, he had no intentions of mauling the unikalona. . . none in the least. "I've been told I'm quite hard headed."
Keeping his wings unfurled and wrapped lightly around and above the winged mare, Shyam couldn't help but be pleased by the light in her expression. She had gone from broken to shining with life, even amidst her exhaustion, and something within the stallion was pleased.
Very pleased.
Odd for one made up of night as such pleasure didn't often come without death. Was Amaya merely stumbling upon him on an off moment or was she genuinely causing him pleasure? Only time would tell and unravel the beginning chapters of a mystery Shyam couldn't quite understand. She was a mare, afterall. . . .
Maybe she was just a little more special than the vast majority he had met. Maybe she was the one he had been looking for. . . the nameless, faceless beloved. He couldn't remember who it is he adored but Shyam always felt certain he'd know her when he saw her.
Was Amaya it?
. . . . who knew.
"No apologies are necessary," he assured softly. "You offered me health, a killer, one looked upon nothing more as damned. You risked your life and entrusted me not to slice you open while you were down. . . . and for that I am truly amazed and impressed. It isn't often angels are discovered covered in blood and metal much less around the likes of me. It seems the gods overlooked such a blessing gracing my life."
Even for just a moment, there was a shining moment. He was condemned to a lifetime of torment and pain, of hurt and wounds. So why he was allowed to be healed, why he found one who risked her own health for him. . . well. . . it was baffling to say the least.
Completely and utterly baffling. But Shyam most certainly wasn't going to complain.
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