[PRP] Pleasure from Fear [Leif x Velvet]

[Amorpheous]

It is much to quiet in this corner of the forest. It is a small clearing, barely large enough to be called such. It is dark, as if-


"Hello." Bright green eyes peer at the other yearling beseechingly. "Come play with me!"

His voice is bright and he smiles and-


The trees surrounding the clearing have crowded down, changed from when the clearing's inhabitants had first entered.

It is smaller now. It is closer, more claustrophobic. The trees are shivering, but no, they are just-


"I know a place, it's perfect! We can play whatever game we like!"

His words remind her of her brother, happy, beguiling, eager. She cannot deny him. Her brother disappeared several days, weeks, moons, ago, and she misses the company of a rambunctious buck.

"Faster!" She laughs and she knows what he means is Come on! Let's-


He is standing. Still. The trees bend to touch him. They shift closer. Capture him.

He is meant to protect. To protect he must-


They wind farther and farther away from where they started. She has lost her smile somewhat, but whenever she catches sight of his, she can't help but continue.

He just wants to-


Except he doesn't want to. He didn't come that way.

He just wants to-

He wants to-

He needs.

He wants, needs, loves, craves, cries to-

He does.

He stands there and the trees shudder as he looks around at them.


He leads her to a clearing. It's small, but not too small.

He turns and smiles at her. She smiles back.

"What do you want to play?," she asks.

"Can we play hide and seek?"

"Of course, I love hide and seek!"

"You seek first! I'm a really good hider!" He is already dancing away and so she acquiescence to his confidences, smiling, she would indulge him. She was a little older after all.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5-


Something said that he was Leif, but he didn't want that shackle. He was unto himself. A beacon of light in the darkness. Warmth like blood. Cutting like the night wind. The avenger, the hunter, the end, the ultimate, the sun and the moon. He should be everything. He was not meant to be confined to this little place, to this little body. He grew each day, but not enough. He could not engulf the-

He could try-

He-

He grew each day, but not enough, but he could engulf their lives.


She is laying there. Her eyes are wide, but he has done something to her throat. She can't speak.

And he just looks at him.

What is his name? He never gave her a name. What is his-


There is blood on his hooves. It is smeared in dark slashes on his face. He has smeared it deliberately on his sides.

Her life must become his. It belongs to him.

He stands there, so still, and he stares down at her. She is prettier this way with her sides splayed opened. Butterflied. The insides of her precious body gently set to either side of her in artful arrangement, so very pretty. He likes the way her eyes look now. He looks down into them and gets lost in the beauty, the knowledge, the fantasy. The whisper sight of satisfaction crawling along his sides as drying blood. It is done and he feels alive. He feels-


His hooves were sharp, he kept them so for this very purpose.

When he slashes down at her with a neat stroke of one leg, his blood sings to have hers meet his flesh. He can't help but let out a breathy sigh.

She can't cry out but she feels it, her legs, broken and mangled, pressed to the ground, out of the way, the spasm despite themselves. He smiles at her, eyes wide, he's having fun. Isn't she?

He goes slow. He wants to show her everything, he wants her to-


It is done. And he stands there. The trees try to imprison him, but they are his.

And when he steps away, not now, he wants to savor this moment, he needs to, they will swallow up her body. She will return to the forest, her blood a sacrifice to his greatness, and when he engulfs the forest, she will be his again.  

[Cynnybun]

A flash of caramel broke up the pale trunks of the trees as the little yearling ran through the forest, her bell-like giggles echoing in the silence. She would stumble occasionally, but thought next to nothing of it because she was too busy chasing the little blue bird that seemed so fond of her. Its little chirps joined with her giggles and calls of 'Slow down!' and 'Wait for me!' as they dodged tree after tree. But a yearling can only run so long without being tired, and eventually Velvet came to a stop. Her little chest heaved and her breath curled around her face in the cool morning air, but the grin on her face showed that she didn't care about her lungs desperately trying to get enough oxygen. Her legs twitched as they recovered from running at full tilt, and she decided to simply lay in the grass.

Folding her legs beneath her little body, Velvet let out another huff and craned her neck to grab a mouthful of clover with a twitch of her tail. The bird returned shortly, settling in the grass next to her and she smiled down at it. Its little wings were damp from the dew in the air, and she bent to lick affectionately at its feathers, earning a few little chirps. "Oh hush, you don't need to be damp and cold!" Her soft voice pierced the silence around her as she lay there, simply breathing for a few moments. The seal point doe closed her vibrant blue eyes and turned her face to the canopy, ears perked up tall as she soaked in all the sounds of wildlife around her. It was a relatively quite morning, but the occasional small rustle of leaves or chirp of a bird could be heard. "Oh, it's so boring around here," she murmured to her companion, who was currently grooming his blue feathers and puffing himself up. She rose to her feet again, socked legs picking their way through the dewy grass and launching her over a small shrub. "Come on, let's find something to do!" She called, prancing around the trees and listening for any signs of other deer. She'd seen a flash of something a while before she'd stopped; maybe they were still there? With another high laugh, Velvet turned on a dime and trotted back to where she thought she might have seen another soul. A soft weight on her rump alerted her to her little companion's presence, but she didn't mind. As long as he didn't dig his little talons into her hide too hard, that is.  

[Amorpheous]

Leif stretched his neck back, licking his sides and tasting the blood that had dried there. His is careful, very careful to lick off as much as he can, both because he relishes in the taste of blood but also because the blood is suspicious. It wouldn't do to have another deer see him smeared with blood. They wouldn't understand. They couldn't. Their little brains, confined to the stars and the grass did not know how to see the world the way he did; they didn't know how to live. Working off as much blood as he could on his other side, Leif's mind seemed to still, sharpen to a razor point. He didn't feel so cold and angry now, warmer, like the searing point of a stick that had been put into the fire with a sharpened end. When he could no longer reach the blood that remained on himself, Leif shook himself, ears perked up and he placed a smile on his face. He needed to find some water to wash the rest of the blood off.

The smile always kept others at ease. They glazed over the details and let him pass, the blood was just markings they told themselves like the imbeciles they were. Leif nearly sneered, but he was better than that. He didn't need to wear his emotions on his face. And even if he did, he never had to show the disgusting emotions that others seemed to feel that he had no inkling of. He was walking sedately, calm, he never felt the need to run. He walked until he found a pool; it was only ankle deep, but he stepped into it anyway. He folded his legs beneath him, settling into the water before slipping to the side, then to the other. He righted himself and stood up. Going up to nearest tree, he dragged his side against the bark before checking for blood and then doing the same for his other side. This ritual, coming clean, feeling warm, being alive, it satisfied something in Leif that had been empty since the day he gained the ability to recognize it.

Clean.

Staring at himself down in the pool. Leif practiced his smile, mouth twitching at how sickening the expression was on his face. It made him look stupid. He hated it.

And yet. He needed it to get them to come with him. They never suspected anything when he had his smile on his face. Or one of his many smiles. He practiced a few more until he was sure no one could tell the difference between his and theirs.

It was early still, too soon after the kill to be killing again. He always paced himself. He didn't feel the need now. But he could still find himself another precious little doe to flay open. He followed them. Sometimes for days, unnoticed. He found out what they wanted, what he needed to do in order to get them to come with him to a corner of the forest where the trees were helpless to stop him, where they helped him with their close grouping rather than hindering him.

Yes, he would find his next doe now. And then he would watch her.