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 Posted: Tue Jun 11, 2013 5:37 am
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Posted: Tue Jun 11, 2013 5:39 am
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Blood.
He could smell it cloaking the air, and he could taste it’s powerful coppery flavor.
His body ached and burned.
Glossy golden eyes cracked open to survey their surroundings. A clearing splattered with blood and dotted with bodies filled his vision. He twitched his limbs. He was not injured, just terribly sore. The blood was not his. Did he do this? Did he kill all of these soquili? It felt so wrong to him, yet he remained eerily calm - like he was used to such carnage. Was he? He couldn’t... he couldn’t remember.
The questions flitted through his muddled mind. Where was he? How did he get here? Who was he?
‘Mest’ A familiar, musical voice suddenly wrapped around his mind like a caress. He tried to cling to it mentally and take the small amount of comforting familiarity that it offered, but it danced away to the dark unreachable corners of his mind. He frowned at the loss.
Mest. He was Mest. But what did that mean?
He craned his neck a bit before wincing. A hiss slipped past his lips. He was wrong, he was injured. The initial shock had worn off and the faint, dull throb at the base of his skull had flared into an angry spiking pain. He suspected the large and unforgivingly sharp rocks around his body to be the culprit.
Mest sucked in a breath, steeling himself against the pain as he forced himself to his knees. His vision was blurry and his mind was... fuzzy. He could not remember who he was, where he was, or why he was there. All he had was a name. His name. At least he thought it was his name. The voice - the memory - had told him so. He trusted it. He knew that voice from somewhere.
Why was he alone? Were the bodies surrounding him his victims? Enemies? Friends? Mest let out a strangled cry as his head throbbed to the tune of his racing heart. His mind was shattered. The broken, lethal shards of his memories splintered even further when he attempted to push them back together.
He let out a small growl. This helplessness did not feel right. This wasn’t right at all. What had happened to him? To these bodies strewn around him? He had to find out! He had to... had to fix this! He had to find the one with the voice of music. And suddenly, that was his sole motivation. Something in his soul seemed to shift as his mind exploded into painful activity.
‘Find the voice. Find it. Find. Voice. The voice. Find.’ The words flew through his brain like hot spikes.
“F-Find. Have to f-find,” he rasped as he collapsed from his knees back to the bloodied ground. “H-have to... voice,”
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Posted: Tue Jun 11, 2013 10:24 pm
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Lazarus peered contemplatively at the ground, his eyes squinting with concentration. He was supposed to be a hunter now, but it was difficult filling the role when he’d thought he was an herbivore for most of his youth. Sights and smells he’d previously discarded as unimportant had to mean something to him now: noticing an anomaly as small as a tuft of fur on a low branch could be the difference between eating or going hungry for days. The latter was a bad enough outcome on its own, but now, he’d have to deal with Nellene’s wrath as well.
He bared his teeth compulsively at the thought before catching sight of a trampled reed. Upon closer inspection, he spotted a trail of them, and after checking the direction in which they were bent, he eagerly followed its course.
It took on a strange, winding path that confused him more than anything. He stuck with it for hours, but as soon as he thought he'd made sense of it, the tracks stopped, leaving him within a forest with no other trace left. He growled with frustration, fluttering his wings and searching for an exit, when a breeze picked up, carrying with it the heavy scent of blood. Curious, he followed the smell towards its source.
A sort of dread grew upon him as he neared. The scent was somehow familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it. He realized that it grew only stronger, too, and by then he knew a predator wouldn’t have allowed it if it was feeding. It was too smelly, and would attract competitors to it, as it was doing now. What could it be, then? Humans? A skinwalker? He began to question his decision to come and slowed, but he never stopped moving – at least, not until he heard the scream. At the same time, he recognized the smell for what it was: slaughtered soquili.
It was as if a charge of electricity was shot through him. He was shaking with barely contained energy, but was paralyzed at the same time. His senses seemed stronger than ever, and between a break in the trees, he could see a lone soquili rising amongst the dead. Despite the distance between them, he could tell the stranger was immense. It seemed a powerful, unstoppable figure, but just then it collapsed, and he could hear it call out faintly. Curious, but still wary, he approached the clearing, stepping carefully to keep himself unseen and unheard. |
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Posted: Mon Jun 17, 2013 11:30 pm
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Images and voices crowded his head. Mest set his bleary gold eyes to the sky above him. Everything was so wrong. His body knew he was not meant to be this weak. This cowardly. He couldn't give up and lay here like an invalid.
'Get up' The sweet voice at the back of his head whispered.
"I'm trying," he rasped. His legs were incredibly sore. He must have been running for quite some time. He moved to his knees once more, wincing as his joints protested.
'Get up, Mest' It prodded.
"Damn it! I'm trying!" he snarled. He stubbornly forced himself to stand, growling through the pain that shot through his body. He was strong, he could take the pain. The scars on his skin were enough to tell him this. But if he was so strong... how did he end up here?
- Snap! -
The small crunch of a twig caused his body to act instinctively.A normal soquili would not have heard such a quiet noise. However, Mest was not normal. Even in his amnesiac state, his warrior-honed body still recognized a threat. He tensed, whirling in the direction the sound came from. A guttural snarl tore from his throat. His ears were pinned back against his hair.
"Who - agh!" His legs wobbled and protested the sudden movements, and Mest was once again sent to his knees. He took a moment to glare at them before leveling his stare in the direction of the noise. Perhaps it was whoever did this to him coming to finish the job. His lip curled. Part of him hoped it was.
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Posted: Wed Jun 19, 2013 2:36 am
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Lazarus could easily tell the stallion was in a broken state of mind – why else would he be speaking so, as if the voices of the very dead were haunting him? But broken did not mean weak, and Lazarus was very aware of it in his current state. Trees above and all around: he would need some time before he could take flight if the need arose. Still, he could not help the questions formed, nor could he quell the stronger, darker realization that came to him: he could use the other. It was very likely the stranger was the cause of all the deaths that surrounded him and coated the earth like weeds; he could use the strength on his side, especially because it was something he lacked so much despite having a kalona’s blood within him. But it was a dangerous endeavor: one wrong move could easily lead to his being seriously injured, and he would have to play his part carefully.
Slowly and deliberately, he stepped towards the clearing, no longer making efforts to hide his presence. His countenance was one of concern and uncertainty, the former amplified when he reached the forest’s edge and saw the stallion fall.
Hiding his fear as best as he could, he ran at the other, his steps sudden so as to look impulsive, as if he couldn’t help but to try and help. He was good at feigning intimacy, and touch came to him as easily as breathing: he pressed himself against the other’s chest, propping him up and preventing him from falling any further.
“Are you all right? What happened here?” he said as soon as they’d touched, knowing he’d have to break the stranger’s guard quickly before he instinctively struck out. He looked for a long moment at the scarred stallion’s face, distressed, before he turned his attention to the rest of him, searching past the blood to see if there were any injuries. |
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Posted: Wed Jun 26, 2013 10:34 pm
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The stallion broke through the brush and raced towards him in a way that told Mest that if he was a threat, he wasn't a well-trained one. Before he could surge to his full height and lash out, the stallion... the stallion helped him up?
He winced as his instincts warred within him. Half of him was telling him that this was a stranger and he should kill them. The other half - the winning half - was saying that this was someone familiar. Someone he knew.
He tilted his head, taking in the appearance of the smaller male attempting to keep him up. His coloring was so very familiar...
Mest screwed his eyes shut against another wave of pain, but snapped them open at the sound of the male's voice. He stared into the bright blue cyan eyes with guarded interest. That color blue...
"I am okay," He chose to ignore the second question because he really had no idea what had happened. No use spreading potential falsehoods. He stared silently at the male. His internal battle continued to rage within him, before he noticed how warm he felt from the touch of the other male's side barely keeping his weight up. He snapped up to his full height, taking the burden off of the small one.
Knowing he could easily overpower the other stallion, Mest curiously circled him. He had run at Mest with concern and without fear. Mest himself had sensed a sort of familiarity with him. He could not entirely explain it. His mind was still a shattered and jumbled mess. Because of this, he couldn't help but want to cling to the first familiar thing he came across.
He completed his circling and tentatively brushed his side against the small one.
"You... know me?" he murmured, feeling shy and hating himself for it.
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Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2013 5:41 am
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Lazarus gratefully allowed the stallion to rise. Although he was full-grown, he had the lighter bones of a wind and had been weakened from an illness he’d contracted when he was in his basket. He hadn’t held the male up for long, but already he was tired from the effort, especially because he had flown and traveled a while before coming here. Despite his physical fatigue, however, he was inwardly thrilled. The stallion had not struck, it was even more clear now that he was confused, and he seemed to be buying his ruse.
The stranger circled him, just as Nellene had, but this time, he felt he held the power, especially when the male brushed up against him. His fear began to slip away, though not entirely. He wasn’t in the clear just yet. But if he let the emotion slip, he would at least be able to explain it on the corpses that littered the field.
“Of course. Don’t you?” he said, feigning shock.
“You told me you loved me, and...” he blushed and looked down. “And… I told you I did, too.”
He stirred then, looking again at the field, as if remembering them past his shyness. He shuddered and stepped close to the male. If the stranger did not know what happened, he'd have to make something up. There was such a large, concentrated number of them, and it was obvious they were a herd. But he’d never stayed long in a herd, and he had no idea how he’d be able to explain one. If he lied too much, the stallion might become suspicious, especially because he wasn’t sure what, exactly, the male knew. He’d have to brush the herd off and find out.
“Have you really forgotten?” he asked sadly. “You got hurt and we stayed here a while... What do you remember?” |
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Posted: Fri Jul 19, 2013 5:14 pm
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Lazarus nodded and smiled up at the large stallion, the expression pained and communicating the hurt he felt at knowing it’d been forgotten. He pressed his nose against the stranger’s chin, at once supporting the claim that they were lovers and rewarding him for coming close. Other proofs of affection were given: a brush of shoulders here, a winding of tails there – though the actions were smooth and casual, giving off the impression that they’d been together for some time.
“It is, Mest,” he said softly.
“And... you really don’t remember?” He bit his lower lip and his eyes seemed to grow damp. Mest, if that truly was his name, seemed much kinder than his current appearance implied. He wanted to turn that to his advantage, too, though he was still testing the boundaries. If he seemed too weak, would Mest snap? He turned his imploring eyes away but stepped himself closer, their necks touching and his face buried in the other’s mane.
“My name… it’s Lazarus.” Then, pleading, “Don’t look, don’t look – it wasn’t you.”
He pressed more heavily against the stallion, urging him to turn, to walk away. The corpses unnerved him, too, but the thought of having Mest, the supposed killer, as his protector... he was glad his face was still hidden. Weak and awkward as he was, it had been a while since he’d even felt a glimmer of power, and though his hold on it was precarious at best, it seemed unlikely that he should fail.
“We didn’t stay long enough to get to know them. I don’t know what happened here, either. We’d just left when you... you suddenly came here. I think you chased off whoever—whoever did this. I saw someone fly away when I got here,” he pressed. It was obvious that Mest felt horrified at the idea of him being the killer, and he didn’t want the stallion conflicted. It would be better if he thought he’d done his best to protect them, whoever they were. If Mest came to believe he tried to defend them and had failed, he could always be encouraged to grow stronger. |
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Posted: Fri Jul 26, 2013 12:16 am
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Lazarus. The name did not seem familiar to him, but the touches, the closeness - those felt right. So this Lazarus was his. This small weak stallion that was slowly leading his massive frame away from the carnage was his lover. He was in a daze. He hadn't killed anyone - he'd defended them! He'd found his love in such a short time. It all seemed too easy. Too good to be true. But this male... Lazarus... his movements were quick and instinctive, his feelings real. His explanations made sense. Mest frowned again as sadness flowed off of his small one.
"Lazarus," He looked down at the smaller male, into his bright blue eyes. "Do not be sad. I... I will remember,"
He straightened himself up, rising to his full height and ignoring the pops and groans his sore body made in protest. Time was all he needed. Maybe if he surrounded himself in familiarity he'd remember faster. Mest nudged the winged male gently with his nose.
"Where is home? Let's go there... together, Lazarus,"
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Posted: Sat Jul 27, 2013 8:33 pm
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Lazarus looked towards the stallion, his face brightening when his name was used.
“You will, Mest,” he assured, though whether the memories remembered were real or imagined would be up for debate. Already he was using what he knew of Mest to forge fake experiences between the two of them, taking events between him and his old lovers and replacing the previous characters with the new. That way, the recollection would come easy to him, and the chance of anyone finding holes in his stories would be minimal.
His lips spread into a slow, easy smile at the nudge and mention of home, and he cradled Mest beneath his wing.
((This was gonna be that million-page RP, right? xD Do we fast forward to when they’re near the end of their traveling / a bit before they run into Nellie? Or somewhere close to the middle where we can throw more plots in?)) |
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Posted: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:55 pm
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Posted: Sun Aug 04, 2013 4:43 am
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Lazarus returned the nuzzle, the motion so effortless it was nearly automatic. He missed the warmth of a friend and the touch of a lover, and though he knew – he knew – he was the one in control, he wondered if Mest held some power over him, too.
“Hey!” he called with a laugh, shaking his head in response to the stallion’s playful whap. A wide, genuine smile spread across his face at the sight of Mest’s dancing form, and he ran to catch up with the male, leaving the carnage behind without a second thought. An attack against his person was a heinous crime and he’d accept nothing less than a kiss to forgive the slight.
Yes, there was something about Mest that lessened Lazarus’ influence over the stallion. It was not physical strength: plenty were stronger than him, and he’d still lived to see another day, hadn’t he? No, it was his... everything. Mest was strong and brave and kind. He was Lazarus’ ideals made tangible. He was what Lazarus had hoped – still hoped – to become. And though Lazarus did not know this yet, was not aware of the tendrils growing in his subconscious and around his heart, he was falling for the stallion.
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