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Post by Abba on Nov 23, 2011 22:17:13 GMT -5
And I'm so weak
Is it hard understanding I'm incomplete The golden mare slid through the forest. Her hawk was flying above her. It was a strange feeling, finally being able to see the world for once. and she felt safer, still having her sense of feeling that allowed the vibrations to slide through her body and alert of her of exactly what was going on hidden from her view. It's cold, milady. Very cold. Shouldn't we be finding some form of shelter soon? her hawk questioned and she shrugged slightly. No, darling. It's fine right now. Yes, there's a bit of frost on the ground, but nothing dangerous. There is no ice yet. So we are good. she responded, closing her eyes and trying to keep herself from thinking back to when Scath had left her. But, unfortunately it was nearly impossible not to. Not when she had grown so close to him. She had loved him... but he hadn't loved her back...
The wind was blowing in a nice, warm breeze. It was an odd feeling, especially in such a month as November. But it was existent and she was happy for it. Shifting her weight she easily clambered to her feet. Her back no longer gave her any problems, but she was certain Scath would stay with her. He loved her, right? Well, she was wrong there. As she moved forwards she felt strange, completely alone. She couldn't feel his breathing, but she could feel hoof-beats going out into the horizon. The only other horse that had been here was Scath. Immediately, she bolted towards them, moving with a quick assurance she had possessed only once before - when her old mate had to go to war and she was then cheated upon. When she hadn't wanted her mate to die and she pleaded for him to go. Was she always doomed to this fate? To fall in love and then lose them? To never have them return, not ever again? She wouldn't let it happen. Moving faster, as fast as her lithe little Arabian legs would carry her she called out to him. "Scathashoun! Come back! Please. Do-don-don't leave me..." she choked out, her voice breaking as she pleaded for him to stay. But she got no response. No looking back. Only the speeding up of hooves. And she couldn't go any faster. He was getting away from her. And she wasn't paying attention until she nearly tripped over a log. But, at the last second she caught her footing again. And she slid into a halt. "Don't leave... I love you..." she whispered before dropping her maw to the ground and allowing her tears to slide down her jowls and into the sooty ground below her. She stayed there, waiting on him to turn around, to realize that he had made a mistake, to realize that he couldn't live without her either. But, after two days he hadn't returned and she took on a new meaning to the phrase - "If you love them, you have to let them go... And if they love you, they will return to you..." So she moved around, staying deep in the north, away from the other lands. She was still vulnerable, especially without anyone else there to protect her. But, she did on occasion travel to the areas where the land started to show characteristics of the other lands. It was who she was, she needed to move. And that was how she would do it...
Her hawk let out a loud cawing noise, circling in front of her face. Forget him. Forget him. You have me now. You are never alone... The hawk reminded her, trying to keep her mind in the present. It hadn't been that long ago since she had found out she had one. It had been but a couple of weeks after Scath had left her there. She needed to be able to protect herself more than before. Something was wrong in the air. But she didn't know what. And her body had broken her soul in half. Her patronus was now here to keep her living as long as possible and make it harder to kill her off. Which would be a good thing, unless of course, it caused her to suffer longer instead of living as long as she wanted. "I know. I know. I'm fine... I have you... I can see. But... I still feel empty..." she explained, allowing her voice to curl around the corners of the shadows spreading themselves in whatever direction they wanted to go in. After all, she was alone. She was always alone... Nothing would ever change that. She had spent some time with a protector, but nothing serious. Nothing which had truly changed how she had felt. She knew for sure she had someone she could call upon if all hell broke loose. But she had found her patronus, and her patronus was really the only other thing she could truly count on. Her patronus and herself. Was that such a horrible life. Alone, for another thousand years. Watching others die. No. She would find a way to have someone else love her. She would find a way to get that person immortal. She wouldn't be alone. But the truth was:
She was alone and she always would be...
[/blockquote] ==Into the Mind . 904 words. . Famous Last Words My Chemical Romance . Poor Rasta baby.[/size] |
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Black Thorns
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Post by Black Thorns on Nov 26, 2011 2:17:36 GMT -5
It is in our darkest hours that we make the choices that decide the fate of our lives.
He wasn't needed anymore. His work was done. He glanced down at her, a golden form; heaven-sent to redeem him, to welcome him into the arms of grace, yet it was now that he felt grace being pulled away from him. He knew what had to be done, he had promised it long before; and yet he found it near impossible to finish what he had set out to do. He knew it would be better, that was an undeniable fact. It would be better. She wouldn't have to deal with him any longer, he wouldn't have to hinder her any longer. So why did it seem so hard, now? He closed his eyes, a warm breeze sealing his promise. He would leave her, and leave her before she woke. He was a coward, if anything; he was weak, easily swayed by her beauty, her enchanting ways. Should he choose to wait until she woke from her peaceful slumber, he was not sure that he would be able to accomplish what he had set out to do. Dropping his head, he lipped the golden mare's cheek affectionately. "Rasta, If nothing else, remember that I love you... I always will."
With that, he turned from her form and took the first step forwards. Yet instead of the euphoric lifting sensation, he felt himself being dragged deeper, deeper, Hell bound as he walked. He felt a sudden need to turn his head, but forced himself to keep forwards. A trot came, then a canter, then a flat gallop; a desperate reaching towards a freedom he may never have. The sun began to rise as he galloped, and he ran towards it; he reached out in a glimmer of hope towards a new future, a new being. He would be finally free of it all, be finally done with all that bound him to Rasta. Even as he ran, now, he felt himself drifting away. Rasta's name faded from his mind, soon nothing but an angel's image; that, too, wore away to nothing.
He heard it then, a voice he thought he once knew calling for him. Yet his gaze didn't flicker for the slightest moment, and he didn't care for the pathetically struggling hoof beats trailing after him. He was stronger; he would run, even when she failed. He didn't falter when he heard the hoofbeats slow, then stop; when he heard the choked cries for him to return. What would he return to? He had nothing here. Nothing was left. Rasta was nothing but a distant memory he wouldn't revisit unless necessary. Rasta was not his. Rasta was the warm air that kissed his cheek, Rasta was the sun that beat on his hide. She was the water that stained his legs, the grass that bent beneath his hooves. Rasta was the North... and he must leave it all behind. He knew where he was headed; word had reached him (though he kept this from Rasta) that a war was imminent. It was a promise, a duty; he was a planning man. If he should be chosen for the task... why, he would plot and scheme every second of their lives. Yes. This war would take him away from her, away from everything that once was. Should he be the fighting man, he might fight opposing her; and Ramaskith was the only way to go.
Ramaskith. He had met the stag before, at one time; he had very nearly pledged himself then. He had made a mistake, most certainly, suffering through seasons of... this, this love, this irrationality, this Rasta, and he chose then to change that. He would redeem himself to the Lord. He would be nothing but a Soldier.
Somehow he spent almost no time in finding the Lord. It took him hardly two days to find him, and he pledged himself nearly upon sight of the stag. It was Ramaskith who needed him to revisit. It was Ramaskith who sent him back to this Hell, this pleasure filled haven where he was good, where he was pure, where he was safe and loved. It was fake... It couldn't last. Ramaskith needed information, and he needed it immediately. Who would Rasta side with? It was a question that demanded an answer. Scathashoun tried to avoid heading North, heading back to the place he feared most, but Ramaskith laughed and forced him to go anyways. How was he supposed to know how to weasel out the information? "You'll figure it out. Don't blow it, or you're dead."
So Scathashoun, armed with a steel chest for his heart and the strongest wills he could summon, began the trek North. It was even more difficult than it had been to leave- and he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders as he moved. He could only remember her as he moved, remember her soft caress, her silken voice, the smooth muscles underneath her pelt. He remembered her beauty, her grace; he remembered tragedy, he remembered glory, he remembered it all. The horror as she was swept down the river. The terrible back injury. Bonaparte. Lying by the river, together. He remembered leaving. It took days, weeks for him to go north, never moving faster than a snail's pace, dreading every step. What would she do when she saw him? Would she welcome him? Hate him? Or would she treat him as a stranger- would she remember?
She remembered that damn Panic, didn't she? She'd remember him, right? Part of him ached for her forgiveness, ached for her love and for her to remember him- but another part of him hated even the thought of it. Everything was wrong. Everything was broken. He didn't want to fix it, even then. He didn't want her to remember. If she remembered, if she forgave him.. .he would be sucked straight back into that intoxicating promise, that dangerous love that threatened to swallow him whole. He couldn't bear it, simply couldn't bear it.
It was now that he arrived, at upon his arrival he took a sharp intake of breath. Was it- It couldn't be! Was it really what he had heard of? Was he really seeing it? The soft, white-blue glow, translucent body... it had to be. A patronus in the form of a hawk circled overhead, and it seemed to radiate Rasta from its core. He shuddered in anticipation, before melting into the shadows as he had so many times before. You are here on a mission, Scathashoun. You may not divulge into guilty pleasures... He was back to himself, the cool, collected, calculating Scathashoun. He watched with steely eyes as her golden body moved through the world.
"I know, I know. I'm fine...I have you... I can see. But... I still feel empty..." Rasta spoke to the patronus- something he could never hear. He would only ever know one side of this conversation. Scathshoun's heart beat dangerously in his chest, threatening to burst out and kill him. Oh, he could smell it. He knew it. And it was so deliciously tempting... The way her tail swished from side to side kept the scent wafting towards his nostrils as he stood there.
Dammit, Rasta, he thought, pinning his ears back, Must you be in heat when I need to keep from that?
He watched for nearly an hour before stepping out. He had a plan... Now, only to carry it through.
"Rasta?" He murmured, stepping out and towards the mare, "Rasta? It's Scath..." He sounded awkward, hesitant. Good. That's what you want...
If only she would stop swishing her goddamn tail!
He touched her hesitantly, trying to alert her to his presence as if he thought she couldn't see. He lipped at her mane gently, forcing himself to remain detached while doing so.
"Please, Rasta... Please forgive me. I'm so sorry... So sorry..."
--behind the post--
Finally got something. Not nearly as long as I was planning, only 1344.
no bowchicka-ing for Scathydear.  |
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Post by Abba on Nov 26, 2011 16:51:22 GMT -5
Pitter pat
the angel on my shoulder
is haunting me tonight. Tick Tock the clock is getting louder... Rasta had heard him coming long before he had showed up. His breathing falling down against the wind, sliding into her ears which twitched back and forth from the shadows where he stood back to the area where she was concentrating on standing. She snorted, wondering when exactly he planned on coming out. Her hawk, circling above sending out a few calls into the bright sky as it floated above the trees which he stood. "Just come out, smart one..." she hissed under her breath, shifting positions slightly before allowing her tail to swish away some flies which were beginning to aggravate her pelt beyond belief.
My darling, he is trying to decide whether to hurt you again, her Hawk warned her, And I wouldn't be worrying about him. Move on. Now.
But, she didn't move. She didn't want to move. Part of her still ached for him. No. He needs to leave those shadows again. I will get him out of there, you hear me?! she screeched at the bird in her head. Pinning her ears in annoyance she kicked up her heels and bolted forwards, shaking her head, ramming through the hawk who let out a call of laughter.
You can't get rid of me, Rasta-baby. You never will. I'm part of you now, he started, I'm part of your soul. The broken, torn, and messed-up portion of your soul.
Rasta let out a feral sound from deep in her throat as she snorted, falling back into a standing position, swishing her tail around and chasing the hawk for a few more moments before sliding to a stop near the shadows where Scath was. Why won't he come out?! He needs to come out. He needs to come out now and at least talk to me! she whimpered in her head, feeling her body trembling as a cold wind blew in. Though she wasn't shivering from the cold. She was shivering from the pain just having him within reach and not being able to do anything about it. She wouldn't dare go into those shadows and bother him. Not after he ran away from her... Not after he left her...
Finally. You are getting some sense in that little head of yours. I knew it would happen one day. Now, just leave him standing there, loafing around like an idiot, her hawk order, swiveling around her head and nipping at her haunches even though he couldn't really touch her. LEAVE! LEAVE NOW! he screeched, this time the cawing of his voice was able to be heard, but not the words. No, no one other than Rasta would be able to understand his words. Not unless this hawk ever-so-wished it to happen like that. Which, he didn't. and he rarely ever would because it would haunt him beyond belief. No one would know how much he was putting down this stag. Not the stag which Rasta was so in tuned to.
"I want you to shut up, you stupid bird! I never wanted you!" she screamed, pulling back a little bit before allowing herself to drop her head down. She could hear Scath finally moving from his post in the shadows, deciding it might be time to finally come to her. She felt a chill run down her spine as she turned to face him. "Rasta?" he spoke, his voice hitting her ears and causing her body to perk up immediately, her tail swatting away the last flies. "Rasta? It's Scath..." he sounding strange. He didn't sound himself, and she immediately backed away.
I told you. He isn't worth it. He doesn't care about you. The mongrel doesn't care! Why won't you get it through your thick skull?! her bird screeched in her ears, swirling around her head and then around Scath's. Stop hurting her! Stop breaking her heart! Why couldn't you have just stayed with her you lying piece of scum! the bird screeched in his ears, attempting to dig its claws through his flesh but failing as he dove right through him and into the ground.
Rasta pinned her ears at her hawk, shaking her head and stepping forwards again, preparing to speak only to have him reach out, hesitantly allowing his maw to touch her neck. Then, he slowly started to lip at her mane. She felt herself slipping back. To when everything was right again. When he had been by her side. When he hadn't dared to leave her.
That morning. The morning he left without looking back! Remember that. You don't care. YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT HIM! the hawk screeched in her head. Over and over again, as if it were a broken record. She reached up and snapped out at the hawk, only to have it circle them at a higher distance than before.
But I do love him. I do. And you can't change that! she fought back, defiance set harshly upon her face as she shifted places a little bit. She reached out, placing her maw against his chest, feeling his heart beat, feeling his chest expand and collapse with each breath he took. Her audits perked up highly. Much higher than before. She had thought it impossible for them to be so alert, but yet they were. And she was in total shock. He was back. He was really here. She could feel him. She could feel his breath upon her pelt. And she could feel his breathing, his heartbeat. She knew he was here. Now, it was just if he was going to stay...
"Please, Rasta... Please forgive me. I'm so sorry... So sorry..." he said, his voice breaking a little as he spoke. She let out a short breath, stretching her body up so that she could 'look' him in the eyes. "Forgiving is easy, my love, but forgetting is not so..." she whispered. Her golden body shook once as she forced herself to keep warm as the weather got colder. "I'm just glad you are back..." she finished and the hawk let out a screech of a complaint.
I told you. You need to forget him. You need to get over yourself. This is just going to hurt you even more. Get rid of him... Get rid of him now! he warned, swooping in between them and then hiding as Rasta went to go and attack him. Only, as soon as she had scared him into the trees she pulled herself back around and slid past Scath, allowing her tail to wrap around his legs, nudging him in the shoulder. "Now, why must you stay hiding in the shadows for over an hour. Trying to stalk me and break me even more than you already have?" she purred, looking up at him, obviously attempting to see what was going on.
Her hawk was warning her for a reason. And that reason she would find... [/blockquote] ==Into the mind .1193 words .The hawk is annoying, and Rasta realizes something is up XD .Pitter Pat - Erin McCarley[/size] |
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Black Thorns
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First Official Store Keeper
A writer starts a book. A reader finishes it.
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Post by Black Thorns on Nov 26, 2011 17:52:00 GMT -5
The first thing that came to him was the screeching of the hawk in his ear, and a pathetic attempt to dig its sharp claws into his body but passing through harmlessly. He snorted at the bird in annoyance, not truly caring for its words. It did not matter to him, no matter how much the hawk carried Rasta through this time, it did not matter to him. She did not matter to him. He knew that she couldn't be a part of him, that she couldn't hold his heart, his mind, his soul any longer. He wouldn't let her.
Why did he want it? He couldn't want it! He pressed the feelings away, killing the tree before it grew tall enough to hang him. His breath grew uneven for a moment as he felt her rest her head on his chest. He would lose it, oh he would lose it... How he wanted to... He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the possibility. No. He couldn't. He wouldn't let himself.
She stretched up, blind eyes unable to focus on him as she went through the motions of "looking" at the recipient of her sensual voice. Oh, god, he wanted her... "Forgiving is easy, my love, but forgetting is not so..." she whispered, body shaking in the cold. He rubbed her neck absentmindedly, trying to keep her warm- yet forcing himself to keep detached. The hawk screeched at the pair as she uttered her final words, "I'm just glad you are back..."
Scathashoun lowered his head, as if in shame- his tail drooped, eyes downcast. Yet something in him smirked, laughed; how pathetic she was! How ignorant! Oh, she could guess, she could try to understand what he was doing, but she would never get it right. He blew on her frozen forelegs, as if he was trying to warm them. He trailed his breath up her legs, across her chest, her neck... Just as he reached her delicate head, the damn hawk had to get into their business. He hadn't planned on the patronus... Rasta chased it into the trees, happily rid of the creature.
He stiffened as Rasta slid against him, her tail wrapping around his legs as her scent surrounded him, suffocating him, drenching him. God, didn't she know what she was doing to him!? He forced himself to relax, turning his head from her. Oh, good lord! He swung his head back around, unable to resist from touching her golden hide. She smelled so good... God, he wanted to tell her to stop, wanted to push her tail aside and- and- and no, Scath, you're on a mission, not here to go around and pleasure yourself! He stumbled slightly, weak, as she nudged his shoulder with her hindquarters. Woman! Lay off!
"Now, why must you stay hiding in the shadows for over an hour. Trying to stalk me and break me even more than you already have?" Rasta purred, pressing against him as she spoke.
"Mmmm... No, love; you know me. I had to gather myself, my courage, before I could speak to such a beauty as yourself..." Scath crooned, voice smooth and calm. Rasta was suspicious, he knew; the hawk was telling her things. "Why would I hurt you, love? I had only left to help you heal... You were dependent, too dependent on me... You had to heal mentally and physically. You weren't healing if I was there..."
As soon as the words left this mouth, he knew he had said the wrong thing. |
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Post by Abba on Nov 26, 2011 18:40:24 GMT -5
How dare you say
that my behavior's unacceptable
So condescending unnecessarily critical... "Mmmm... No, love; you know me. I had to gather myself, my courage, before I could speak to such a beauty as yourself..." he spoke, attempting to swoon her back into submission. She would have rolled her eyes back in laughter if she hadn't known better than to. She needed to control herself. She really did. But she knew better. She knew that her world weould end if she dared to get sucked back into this. Her hawk was trying desperately not to step back in while she went for it.
He thinks he knows you, well he doesn't... remember that, he said and she mentally agreed with the statement. He did think he knew her. He didn't know the broken, burned, torn up and bleeding part of her. The part where vengeance boiled in her blood. Where she was liable to snap at any moment. The part where she didn't show any mercy. The part where her bite was much harsher than her bark. Usually, she allowed her threats to hang in the air, though never acting upon them. But, those who had dared to do such things had never taken her heart, held it in their hands and attempted to strangle it, closing in on it and squeezing it until it could no longer work properly. Breaking it beyond a repair which was so easily stumbled upon. Yes, she would forgive his little ego. His ego that caused him to leave. But she wouldn't forget. And she would never allow him to forget just how much he had trampled on top of her soul. On top of her mind. On top of her heart...
Let him think he has won this battle, and then retalliate... I remind you, you know what he might move. And you are quicker than his frame can allow for, use it, her hawk reminded her before falling silent as the stag spoke once more. Spoke with a viciousness which caused any of her politeness to snap into a million pieces as he had done to her heart...
"Why would I hurt you, love? I had only left to help you heal... You were dependent, too dependent on me... You had to heal mentally and physically. You weren't healing if I was there..." He seemed to believe he knew what he was talking about and she pinned her audits immediately. She spun around on her haunches, striking out with her hooves. "Dependent, on you?" she voiced - shrill, clashing noises filling the air as her hawk cried out into the sky. "Dependent upon the thing that broke my heart?!" she screeched, lurching forward like a cobra and allowing her teeth to grasp onto a piece of his flesh and then snapping back, taking it with her as she slid out of his kicking range. "I had to heal mentally?! Mentally?! I'm not some mental patient! I trusted you. TRUSTED you! And you dare ask me why you would hurt me?!" she hissed, her hawk sliding in in perfect timing, landing upon her back with a shrill cry to the sky. One which pierced eardrums in warning.
Exactly. You understand how silly it is to trust him now, don't you? her hawk said, his laughter filling the air as she reared up, her hawk taking to the sky again.
"Must I remind you, my dear Scath, that you are the one who has previously hurt me. With absolutely no true reason." she said, circling him, lifting her tail up and releasing more scent to annoy Scath. She knew he was coming out, losing his hard exterior he had planned on coming in here with. And she planned on breaking him. Breaking him as he had broken her. "I am not as weak as you wish I were. I am not as stupid as you would imagine. I never needed to heal mentally! I needed to heal physically. I needed to heal a broken back. I had finally started to get better. And you left me. You scum of the earth. SCUM!" she screeched, kicking out one last time at his hind legs before pulling away, tail swishing elegantly behind her haunches. "I remind you, Scath, that you are in my lands. I remind you that your warrior soul just might be liable of breaking here..."
She snorted, swishing around and trotting off into the shadows, knowing he was still standing there. Her heart, bleeding more, having had just told him off. But how dare he call her weak. How dare he say she needed to heal mentally. How dare he come here to tell her off. How dare he come back here to rub the fact that he had left in her face. Whatever he wanted, he would not receive... [/blockquote] ==Into the Mind . 822 words . Rasta pissed. XD . Harder to Breathe - Maroon 5[/size] |
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Black Thorns
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First Official Store Keeper
A writer starts a book. A reader finishes it.
Posts: 254
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Post by Black Thorns on Nov 26, 2011 21:14:17 GMT -5
Does it kill?
Does it burn?
Is it painful to learn?
That it's me who has all the control? The breath was knocked out of him momentarily as she struck out at him, furious. Oh, this would be fun. It didn't, as she likely believed, peel away his exterior; merely it pulled it tighter around himself, thickening his skin. She wouldn't get to him, oh, no she wouldn't touch him any more. "Dependent, on you?" she shrieked, her hawk crying out in euphoria at her hatred. Scathashoun smirked, swishing his tail in amusement. She reminded him of an angry kitten, thinking itself a tiger. "Dependent upon the thing that broke my heart?"
"Why yes, love, you very much were. Don't deny it, sweetheart-" he spat the term as if it were the foulest curse he could summon- "You know that you were. If you had not been dependent on me, why did it break your heart when I left?" He laughed as she tore at his shoulder, blood leaking down his leg.
"Oh, how very viscous, miss Rasta!" Scathashoun mocked, nodding his head as if he were praising a small child, "Oh, that hurts very much, can't you tell?" he asked sarcastically, stepping up to her retreating body. He nuzzled her neck gently, pressing his teeth against the mare without pressing hard enough to break the skin. "How I could make you all shades of red..." he muttered, mostly to himself. The more she raved, the easier she made it for him to refrain from wanting her. How clever she thought she was! He pressed deeper into her skin, feeling blood trickle over his lips. He drew away, teeth marks marring her golden pelt.
Holy angel heaven-sent, come to me this Christmas morn...
She raged again, screaming at his face like a spoiled child. "I had to heal mentally!? Mentally!? I'm not some mental patient!-" Scathashoun snorted at this, interrupting her.
"I beg to differ, love. You seem to be rather in need of mental help. I don't believe anyone else talks to voices in their head..." he teased, but she paid no attention to his words.
"-I trusted you. TRUSTED you! And you dare ask me why you would hurt me?!" she hissed, her little friend piecing his ears with a shattering cry.
"That would be your mistake, miss Rasta. You may be an Alpha, Rasta, but you are nowhere near the smartest nor the wisest of the horses. I doubt anyone else would trust someone who had murdered, raped, destroyed before..." His hot breath trailed down her body as he began to circle her, overpowering her small frame as he pressed against her.
"Oh, Scath!" he mocked, voice high pitched and screechy, "Save me, Scath! Oh, aren't you just so haaandsome? Oh Scath! Scaaath!"
He stopped at her shoulder, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "Guess what, sweetheart," he whispered, voice heavy, "Your Scath isn't here anymore." He trailed down her back, pausing at the slight unnatural dip marking her now healed injury.
"One blow, my love; one blow and you won't live to see tomorrow. You won't die unless someone injures you fatally... and I know very well how to do that."
He was in control. So. In. Control. Right? He moved away from the mare casually, pausing back where he had been before. He smirked as she reared into the air, shrieking in anger. From behind him came her voice again, scrambling to be back on top in this argument. He shook his head at her pathetic attempt, laughing quietly at her words.
"Must I remind you, my dear Scath, that you are the one who has previously hurt me- with absolutely no true reason." She circled him, lifting her tail and letting her scent invade his nostrils.
"Why yes, I know so very well- and it appears you want me to do so again, miss Rasta. As I have said before, I'm not above pleasuring myself against your will. I do believe that it would be of your best interest to keep the fact that you are in heat to yourself." He pushed her tail aside, threatening to do as he said. "Yes, you should very well stop waving it around..."
He rolled his eyes once more as she continued to rant. Would she ever shut up?
"I am not as weak as you wish I were. I am not as stupid as you would imagine. I never needed to heal mentally! I needed to heal physically. I needed to heal a broken back. I had finally started to get better. And you left me. You scum of the earth. SCUM!" She kicked out at his legs with the last words, screeching at him.
"I'll give that a six out of ten. Poorly organized, lack of flow, difficulty with word choice... You really need to improve on your ranting insults, dear. Perhaps you should practice with your imaginary friends."
He growled as she continued to swish her tail, walking away from him. Did she freaking want him to!? "I remind you, Scath, that you are in my lands-"
"Oh, no, I came up to the North without knowing that the Alpha Rasta actually was here! I didn't know you actually had these lands, I thought we were just pretending!" Sarcasm dripped off of his tongue. She ignored him, continuing on.
" I remind you that your warrior soul just might be liable of breaking here..." Oh, so now she wanted to 'break' him, huh? Like she could. Kill his family, he didn't care- he hardly remembered them. He had no lover. He had no children. Torture him and he will hold firm. Kill him. He would not, will not, break. No matter how hard she tried she wouldn't be able to break him.
He wouldn't let her.
"Oh, so you're going to break me by walking away? Oh, how terrifying! How I weep at this loss! I'm going to go talk to the people noone else hears about how much I miss you, how empty I am, how much I neeeed you back!"
--behind the post--
1010 words
I laugh at your fury. |
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Post by Abba on Nov 26, 2011 22:17:44 GMT -5
Now I know
that I can't make you stay
But where's your heart? But where's your heart? But where's your... She allowed her golden body to slink between the trees, her hawk floating around above her, shaking his head as she fought against herself. Tears slid down her golden pelt as she navigated the slightly bumpy terrain before her. I'm alone... Always alone... she thought. First Panic betraying her. Then Scath. She should have known better from the start. But, she had. Then, her conscience got in the way, feeling bad for pushing him away. She had known he wouldn't be good for her long before this whole entire thing happened. It was better to get away from everything now. Away, as far away as she could. "I want someone who cares... someone who actually gives a crap about me..." she whispered, holding back a sob that threatened to emerge. Her audits flicked back, his taunting words repeating themselves in her brain.
"One blow, my love; one blow and you won't live to see tomorrow. You won't die unless someone injures you fatally... and I know very well how to do that." he had told her. He knew how to kill her and the majority of her mind told her that he was oh so very willing to close that deal, prove that statement true...
Keep moving. Keep on moving, her hawk told her. And she did. If anything, she hoped she would come across Apodis once more. He could help her. But, she knew she wouldn't come across him. He was probably far gone now, as far gone as everyone else was from her. She was sick. She was a poison which no one enjoyed. Scathashoun knew how to kill her, and Rasta knew how to kill herself. Might that just be an option? Sliding out of the world before it could take her? She shuddered, remembering the pain she had been in when the tree had fallen. If she didn't kill herself the first time through she wouldn't be able to go through it. And it was better that she not attempt it rather than just doing so and wishing it might work. She wouldn't ask Scath to do it, though. Because he would simply find pleasure in it.
She quickened her pace, feeling the tears come quicker the faster she allowed her hooves to move. So fast even that she was soon at a gallop, speeding away from the area which they had met again. She couldn't deal right now. "Screw you Scath. Screw you." she said, choking on her words as she let out a tiny cry, her hawk circling around her head, trying to preoccupy her. "Why is it that every, single time that I think I finally have someone I can count on they turn on me? she pleaded to her hawk who simply laughed.
You think no one can be like Panic. You believe it can change. And yet, it doesn't. It never does. Why can't you see that no one is trustworthy, the hawk explained and she felt her heart shattering. Her heart that already had been broken, twisted, torn, burnt, mutilated, and bled out in front of her. She could not let her heart get in her way anymore. Her heart was her Achilles's heel. She needed to pull herself away from who it was she was with and turn it towards what they were doing. She needed to trust her gut more than her emotions.
But she knew that would be nearly impossible. Her emotions made her who she was. She wanted to help people. She wanted to save them. She wanted to make them better. She wanted to help those who asked for it. And she wished that they would return it to her. I love you. You love yourself. That is all you need, Rasta-baby. Her hawk interjected and she closed her eyes, shaking it fervently. She needed someone with her. She needed that person she loved to love her back, even if it wasn't Scath. Even if it was someone she met in the future. She needed to know her love wasn't given at random to those who didn't deserve it. She needed it returned. And she needed to be able to know that her life was not in vain. For if it was, she would have someone kill her. Someone other than Scath. Someone who looked like they cared. Someone who wouldn't relish in her demise. Someone who could take over her lands so that she knew it was in good hands. Someone who wouldn't let it fall to Rama.
Rama could not have her lands. Rama could not take over again. For, if he did, the world would be a horrible place. The world would be inhabited by those with fear. The world would be a place where foals were born to succeed their parents. To take over as much land as possible. The world would becoming a brewing pot of war.
War. The word left a bitter taste on her tongue. A taste which caused her to grimace as she continued to gallop on, not caring that her muscles were beginning to burn under the strain. She was still as quiet as before, cautious not to step upon ice in the process. She was willing to fight. Fight to ensure war didn't return. Fight to ensure that the world didn't turn into a place where it was the only thing that happened. Fight to make sure it didn't becoming like a feudal system where those with the largest manors ruled all. She would try and change it all. She would try and save those foals who couldn't fight for themselves. But she would need help. And she would try and gain it, by being herself. By caring. By having emotion instead of being like Scathashoun. "You broken, steel-chested, iron-hearted, disgusting mongrel who cares not what happens to others. You vermin that kills simply for pleasure. That goes around and kills foals who have had no chance to live. You don't understand the world. You don't understand one thing. And I hope - I dearly, dearly hope - that you burn and rot in hell..." she called out to the empty lands, not caring if Scath was near her. If he was, all the better. He would understand she no longer loved. He would understand all of his bitterness had changed her. She was no longer who he saw her as. And he better remember that. He better remember that what goes around comes around. That he is simply receiving the backfiring of his horrible deeds.
She no longer loved him. She no longer cared what happened to him. He was simply an outlet to which she could realize what was going on. She was becoming as bitter as he. Except, she wasn't going to kill the innocent for pleasure. She was not a killing machine. She was nothing like him, and he was nothing like her. She wanted nothing to do with him. But, if she must play around with him, play with his mind, she would. She would need to have him believe she was still the same. So that way - when her betrayal came to his ears - he would be seething with the pain she had felt when he had betrayed her.
If he came back - if he dared to follow her - he would have a mare who had cried her eyes out and could no longer cry. If he dared to continue to bother her. He would have a mare who felt nothing but love for him, not understanding how he could be so crude. It was something she was good at. She had done it to Panic when he had returned. But it had not been something that had changed her mind about the world. She had believed that Panic had just been a rotten apple in the batch of stallions. She had believed that others stags were out there in which she could find that would care for her. She hadn't believed that everyone was evil. Hell, she still didn't believe that everyone was evil. But, it was for the better. It was better that she now knew that most were out for their own pleasure - in one way or another. Whether it be through lust, through killing, through running through a field of daisies, or through dancing in the blood of their enemies - everyone was out to fulfill these desires. Some of them but natural - most of them evil.
Shaking her head she attempted to rid of herself of most of these thoughts before realizing she was still crying. Her pelt was still wet. She didn't know exactly what was going on, but she knew full-well that she was still heartbroken. Torn apart that she no longer had anyone even though he had just reappeared in her life. He was worse than before. More hell-bent upon torturing her than he had been before. Before he had at least shown some affection. Now - by the cuts and scrapes along her pelt - she knew that he cared none for her. Or what little care he did have didn't change anything. He was no longer there for her. And she would no longer be there for him. That was how it worked.
So with a new understanding in her mind she allowed it to change back to the war...
A war was coming soon. A war was coming immensely close. If Scath was acting as he did now he had more than likely taken Rama's side. She didn't need to be in love with someone on that side. It was now, yes now, that she would begin to trick him. If Scath asked her what side she might take allegiance with she would alert him she believed in winning and was taking Rama's side. But, really, as soon as Oser called on her she would be there. She would find Apodis, he would help her train. She would pull Rhise back, and she would have people there to help fight Rama. She would not let Rama win this war. It was not in her blood to do so.
Rasta now had a mission. One she planned upon accomplishing...
Slowly, with a new take on the situation, she allowed herself to turn around. She wasn't completely sure how she would go about this. But, she didn't want to just stand there anymore. She couldn't keep running from everybody. She had to face things, even though she didn't really want to. She had to be stronger, stronger in will and stronger in body It was a weird thing. A really weird thing, and she wasn't quite sure how to accomplish it. Maybe finding someone who was willing to teach her would help and suffice the situation. though, she highly doubted it. Closing her mind off for a second she could hear the hawk circling the sky and the vibrations of the water as it rushed down the nearby stream. The world here was good. It was cold, the snow taking over her lands and blanketing it in white. White, something that was all but deceiving. Something told her that it would not be white by the end of winter, that it would be stained a nasty color. A color of blood, of pain, of sacrifice. But, hopefully not in vain. Hopefully all would have gone well.
Feeling the land she had just covered she shook out her coat, feeling everything closing in. She had run s far while trying to keep her mind from thinking. But, her mind had wandered and she had pushed her muscles until they were burning. Her pelt, not even a drop of sweat because of the cold weather. Though, she was really tired. Kicking up her heels again she allowed herself to lope back, taking time and allowing her stamina to fall back into place. She was grateful for her Arabian lineage, even if it have her a little bit of a weaker back.
She had been so stupid - so utterly ungrateful and stupid - when she had run out in that storm, falling in the rain and having a tree fall on her back. Bon! She needed to find Bon, alert him of this war, get him prepared to help. He would be willing, wouldn't he? Bobbing her head she set forth again. She would play along with Scath, let him know that she was joining Rama - to be on the winning side - so that if he did win she had a chance to unseat him from his throne. It was simple, and it sounded much like her in the fact that she would not like the world he created and she would want to change it. But, of course, Scath would not be very happy once he realized that she had lied to him. But, screw him. He deserved it. He deserved all the filth that this world could hand him.
Speeding up, her muscles over the burning she allowed her body to take full force, jumping over logs and slamming into the snow, allowing it to swirl around her. Allowing it to blow out behind her, splaying up as she made soundless movements through the snow.
Her audits perked as she took a moment to feel out the clearing again. Scath was still there. What was he planning? Why was he still there. He obviously hated her. And she hated him. She had given him time to remove himself from her lands - so unless he somehow planned on redeeming himself he should expect to be banished from here without as much of a warning. She didn't need someone who could kill her right under her nose. She didn't need that around her. Slowing down to a walk she shook her body out, clearing the snow off of her pelt. Though, small flakes of it were attached to her maw and her eyelashes, building up each time she blinked. A light swish of her tail to clear the rest of the snow, way out of his scent range, before she continued on towards the clearing. Slowly, she moved in and out, between and around the trees in her way, allowing the wind to chill her and keep her alert.
"I would presume that there is something of utmost importance if you are so dead set upon staying here..." she said, venom dripping from her maw. "I do not enjoy having those which cannot control their tongue around me. So either explain what is so pertinent or leave now."
Her hawk swirled down, landing upon Rasta's back and letting out a shrill call of warning. It would not be all too long before she found a way to get to him - either by causing his hard exterior to break, or by causing him to finally feel regret. Any of those options was especially pleasing to her ears. She let out an airy laugh, no longer bothered by much. "And don't worry, I don't plan on breaking you. You can break yourself if you so wish. Or, well, Rama just might accomplish that for me." she said, perking her ears up.
Pretend nothing matters. After all, you already know of the existing war. Rhise has taken it upon himself to warn you, and you have heard of his trek to see you. So you are simply holding off until he gets here. Then, you can gather those who you need to protect yourself. You can fight, but not that well, not against Scath most definitely. But you can fight those mares who think they know it all, her hawk alerted it, causing Rasta to laugh once more. Yes, that was true. She did know Rhise was coming, and he was coming quickly. He would be here to help her soon, but Scathashoun did not realized that.
"So spill, my darling. You have saved me before which has earned the right to allow you to speak before I ask you to leave these lands one final time..." she finished, standing up a little taller, her breathing back down to normal as she shuddered out her coat. Her body warm, muscles aching to move again after the long run she had just taken herself on.
It was time to play a little game. A game called revenge...
[/blockquote] ==Into the Mind . 2747 words . Started off really sad... had a mental change and now I'm pissed...[/size] |
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Black Thorns
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First Official Store Keeper
A writer starts a book. A reader finishes it.
Posts: 254
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Post by Black Thorns on Nov 27, 2011 22:08:51 GMT -5
Why?
That was his only question, anymore. Why? Not how, or when, who, what, where- why?
Why was he chosen for this task? Why was he chosen to destroy the person he loved? To destroy himself?
You fool, he thought to himself, You utter fool. You know that the Lord will break you, shape you into exactly what he wants you to be. When he tells you to jump- your only question would be "How high?" You fool! You fool! Everything, everyone will hate you here. You shouldn't stay. You shouldn't.
But he had to stay. If he left without the information- and that information being entirely true- he would be punished, severely. He had to find her, dissect her, pull her apart layer by layer until he understood her inner workings absolutely. Break her into a thousand pieces so that he could piece them back together into the Rasta he wanted.
Did he really want to?
He loved her for the fact that he didn't understand her. If he knew everything about her and had no reason to question her, to wonder, to stay up for hours in the night wondering about her, would he even love her anymore? DId he really want that Rasta, the one who would bow to him and serve him? Whose only want would be to please him? His ego screamed yes, his superiority complex agreeing- but his heart, his mind, they disagreed. She wouldn't be Rasta...
Scathashoun twisted his head, touching his bleeding shoulder. God, he had so much of her scent on him! He'd be damned if some stag didn't come in here thinking there was a mare in heat around.
A crashing came through the trees, a large, pale stallion stumbling into the clearing. Oh, great, was he some type of physic now? The stallion began to approach him, almost confused- looking.
"Move it, buddy. I ain't the mare you're looking for, she just decided to rub all over me. Get." He rolled his eyes, the stallion turning and running back in shame. Thank god he hadn't decided to try anything. He'd be rather surprised when Scathashoun didn't have any lady parts. He promptly forgot about the scene and turned back to brooding.
He wanted to break her- but he wanted to break him. Oh, how wrong she was. It couldn't be done with simple beating at him- he'd never break that way. Love him. Love him and love him through everything he did, forgive him; it broke him, turned him soft. How soft was he? He hadn't touched another horse in hatred, hadn't hurt another horse for months, seasons. He hadn't because there was always the thought of Rasta in the back of his mind- how would she think of him? What would she think of him? Would she hate him?
Oh, she hated him now. Why did he let the stallion go, then, instead of doing exactly as she had thought he did? Why didn't he show her exactly what he did before he met her? His jaw set in a hard line, eyes cold as he went off in the direction of the stallion. Yes. He would do exactly as Rasta wanted him to do.
"Hey, mate!" he called out into the trees, hearing the slow footsteps stop. "Hey, that mare? You'll wanna come with me to find her! Quite a pretty thing- and she's real good, if you know what I mean!"
Scathashoun smirked knowingly to himself as the steps came closer. "Hey, thanks man. Where is she, exactly?" he asked, stance relaxed, open, friendly. He really couldn't tell if it was due to the lingering pheromones on him or just the stag's demeanor.
"Come on, I'll show you." Scathashoun set back out for the clearing, the stag walking next to him. He stopped once they reached th clearing again, turning to face the stag. Time to turn on his charm, make this stag believe he was safe... Oh, sometimes he made them believe he loved them! How hilarious those were!
"It seems that she didn't come back as she said she would..." Scathashoun murmured, supposedly to himself but loud enough for the other stag to hear clearly.
"What does she look like?" asked the stag, eyes locked with his.
"Oh, she's beautiful. Delicate little arabian, golden coat with pale, silken mane and tail... She's cold, though. They can't stand this weather. Scathashoun stepped closer to the stag, glad that Rasta's scent surrounded him. "But you, my friend.. you'd be rather... warm."
The stallion was confused for a moment, before stepping back. "Oh, no, you see I-"
"Don't worry, my friend, do you think I want you that way?" Scathashoun laughed, then, and the stallion relaxed. Scathashoun stepped very close again, his tail wrapping around the legs of the stallion as he circled him. Suddenly, he sank his teeth deep into the stallion's hindquarters, blood staining his lips and the stallion's pale, pale coat. Pale like the snow... so innocent, so pure. He wanted nothing but to destroy it, to feel it break and bend beneath him. As the stallion turned around in horror, aiming and missing as he struck out, Scathashoun could imagine nothing but the screams of the stallion as he died. Scathashoun laughed, rearing up and striking out at the stallion's shoulders, ripping the flesh and sending the stallion to the ground.
He tsked, shaking his head at the horrified stallion as he pinned the stag by his neck. "Buddy, weren't you told not to trust strangers?"
"Who- who are you? Why are you doing this?" the stallion choked out, Scathashoun standing up and rearing up again. His feet slammed down, hard, on the skull, feeling it break and crush beneath him. He did the same to the stallion's spine, smiling at the red snow around him.
"Me? I'm Scathashoun," he said to the dead horse, "And I do it because I want to."
"You broken, steel-chested, iron-hearted, disgusting mongrel who cares not what happens to others. You vermin that kills simply for pleasure. That goes around and kills foals who have had no chance to live. You don't understand the world. You don't understand one thing. And I hope - I dearly, dearly hope - that you burn and rot in hell..."
Rasta. He heard her, distantly. He smiled at her words, opening his mouth and shouting out to her in return. "I know I'll be seeing your sorry face in there!"
She understood nothing.
THey didn't deserve it, didn't deserve the life given to them. They were stupid. They were pure, innocent- and he had never been allowed that, never. Why should they? Why? And so he had to take it away from them... He tried, first, just hurting them- but that wasn't enough. He wanted more, needed more, turned to taking everything away from them. From anyone. From the sweet, innocent mares that he stumbled across, the young stallions, the foals- he killed them all. And it wasn't until Rasta that he had ever regretted it.
He stood before his kill, smiling to himself as Rasta began to emerge from the trees. "Oh, look! Isn't it the queen? All knowing and just- so- perfect!" he sneered, stepping forwards and closer to her.
"I would presume that there is something of utmost importance if you are so dead set upon staying here..." she began, ignoring his words, "I do not enjoy having those which cannot control their tongue around me. So either explain what is so pertinent or leave now."
"Oh, love, I very well control my tongue. Wouldn't it be wonderful to learn all the sorts of delightful language I could use on you if I so wished?"
She laughed lightly, caring nothing for his words. "And don't worry, I don't plan on breaking you. You can break yourself if you so wish. Or, well, Rama just might accomplish that for me." Then she laughed, again. He rolled his eyes at her pathetic attempt.
"Little arrogant there, aren't we? Thinking you can break me? Oh, wait, you're going to have me break myself, have Rama break me. You're too weak, I see it now. Too scared to even try. I've proven I can break you, as many times as I want- hell, you're trying to seem tough now, trying to seem cool and unconcerned. Yet I can tell, right now, you're more broken than anyone I've ever seen. And I know, I know, you won't even try, because you're too soft, too weak, too scared. Admit it, Rasta! You're nothing but a coward." He hissed, stepping towards her and snapping at her face- close enough that she could feel his breath, but far enough away that she knew he wasn't going to actually touch her.
"So spill, my darling. You have saved me before which has earned the right to allow you to speak before I ask you to leave these lands one final time..."
"Or what, you'll cry me to death? What can you do? You know that I could kill you in three seconds flat if I wanted to. You may be fast, love, but I am stronger. I have and will kill, and as you said- I'm a vermin who kills for pleasure. Remember how horribly I killed for boredom? Imagine how I would when I am truly enraged..."
He paused for a moment. "Anyways, I have a gift for you. Care to look down for a moment- you're standing right next to it."
He stepped aside, revealing the entirety of the body. Scathashoun shook his head. "What a pity that he stumbled across me, I wasn't quite in the best of moods." Scathashoun pushed the head with his hoof, examining it. "It's nowhere near my best work, hardly anything to show, but I do remember how you hate gore... It's best that your gift isn't anything too horrifying."
Scathashoun, euphoric almost for the kill he hadn't made in so long, slid alongside Rasta. "Now, as you so many times suggested we might..."
--behind the post--
disgustingly short
horrible stuff
i didn't know what to write
blehhhh
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Post by Abba on Dec 3, 2011 21:26:46 GMT -5
But where's your heart?
But where's your heart?
But where's your - and I know there's nothing I can say Rasta slowly backed away from him. "I'll cry you to death?" she repeated, her audits slowly falling back against her cranium. As he had snapped out at her she did the same before resting her maw against his for only a few seconds. Then, she allowed herself to step back out of his range. "But, darling, you wouldn't dare kill me. You don't have the steel heart you claim to have. It still feels. It feels for the time we had spent together. That's breaking you enough for me. Breaking you is just making you feel. And, I've already accomplished that my sweet, sweet Scathashoun..." she said, closing her marble-eyes and shaking her head slowly.
With a low growl from her lips as he mentioned her little gift she snapped out, threatening to come at him. "You think I didn't realize it was there?! Do you think I'm that blind?!" she hissed, gently dropping her maw down and closed the poor stag's eyes. She stepped backwards, away from the corpse as she looked snorted, looking at him and shaking the snow off of her coat. "I'll just miscarry again. It's a cycle I'm stuck in. Do you want more pain? Oh, wait. That's right you do. I'll be sure to find you when that happens, so you can laugh and leap around in joy while I writhe in pain. I think it's best you leave now." she growled, snapping out at his chest, this time really taking his skin and breaking it. With one swift kick to his jowls she spun around, staying out of his kicking berth and circling him, her audits pinned. Taking him in and sizing him up she found a weak spot in his ribs. His floating ribs to be specific. And with one quick, cobra-like kick, she slammed those ribs in. So much so that she could hear them crack again. She let out a tiny snort before going to the edge of the berth again. Of course, she could continue to go at him, now that he was in some pain and shock, but she wasn't the kind to fight unless she had to. "I would highly suggest you leave, unless you want to lose all chances of ever reproducing with another mare..." she growled, trotting away slowly and allowing her frame to make her seem as if she were floating as she slid through the snow, kicking pieces of it up around her. Her hawk letting out a warning call and gliding down onto her back, hovering just above her with a laugh on its lips.... [/blockquote] ==Into the Mind . 451 words . FLW - MCR[/size] |
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Black Thorns
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First Official Store Keeper
A writer starts a book. A reader finishes it.
Posts: 254
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Post by Black Thorns on Dec 4, 2011 21:02:19 GMT -5
"But, darling, you wouldn't dare kill me. You don't have the steel heart you claim to have. It still feels. It feels for the time we had spent together. That's breaking you enough for me. Breaking you is just making you feel. And, I've already accomplished that my sweet, sweet Scathashoun..." Scathashoun's expression darkened, his breath hot on Rasta's face. "Oh, so I feel? Who decided this?" He drew back his lips, pressing his teeth into her skin and leaving thick, bloodly lines down her face and he scraped them down. "I feel for our time spent together, hmm?" he spat, surely causing the fresh wound to sting, "I feel nothing for you but for hatred. If I had not orders, you would be dead. Nevertheless, you will be dead soon. No, it will not be swift. It will not be painless. If I had the time, you would beg for your death before I gave it to you. It would be best if you would remember where you belong, miss Rasta. Six feet under."
He let out a laugh at her, as she exclaimed about her blindness and miscarriage. "Oh, I don't want children. That is far too much of an inconvenience for me. I just want a little... fun, you see. Foals are far too much of a hassle.. though surely, if I wanted to, I could eliminate them. It's rather simple... just a well-placed kick."
He dodged her first kick, caring little for her bite and snickering as she circled him. Oh, she was so cute when she tried to hurt him. All he could think about was an angry kitten... He let out a sharp burst of air as she kicked out at his floating ribs, re-breaking a freshly healed injury. He hissed slightly at the pain, before whirling around and striking at her back- careful to hit just around her injury, not on. "Try me, Rasta. Just try me. Next time I'll hit just the right spot."
"I would highly suggest you leave, unless you want to lose all chances of ever reproducing with another mare..."
He snorted, unable to control his laughter. Like she could even try. "Oh, Rasta, how you amuse me!" he managed to get out between laughs, slowly letting up on the fit. "I doubt you would try."
He shook his head at her as she trotted away, snorting at her pathetic hawk.
All he wanted was her dead, right?
He wouldn't let himself ache for redemption.
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