blank space { OPEN }

[Shade]

darling, i'm a nightmare

M E D E A

dressed like a daydream

Silence draped over her form like a cloak, shrouding her in feelings of doubt which was odd for one of her sort. She was growing older, her prime just slightly passed and she was alone. Her dreams had never been of conquest, she had never felt the desire for power..only knowledge. Only to be strong and independent of any who wanted to use her, to control her. And yet, in all of her years on the earth, she had never felt as alone as she did now. Nephilim was gone, presumably dead after the beating she had given to him. He had become too concerned with the way that she lived, had sought to belittle her and she had taken care of him. Still, it was an unsettling silence for even Medea. She had become accustomed to his silent company, and even though it was silent...it was company. Her steps took her from the paths worn into the earth's skin, her dark pelt littered with scars easily recognizable from a distance. She was large, dark as ink, and rather frightening to most. 

The warm breath of her nares rustled the weeping willow's limbs; velvet nose pressing through the curtain of foliage. She was eager to explore this new place, yet another new place for her, her soul as restless as her mind. Ears pinned back against her skullery, the bones rattling in her mane as her head lifted to scan the horizon. Someone was coming. Her dark eyes slid from the waiting horizon, her large body sliding between the curtain of willow branches. Every step brought a rattle of bones clinking against one another, bloodstained teeth finding purchase on the bark. It was such a meaningless thing to be doing, but she had very little meaning. None of this was meant to be saddening, no...not truly. Her life could have held plenty of meaning, should she decide to find such a thing. She simply was in an adjustment period, learning to live without the son that she had birthed for Selven. Well, the son she had borne in order to torture his bride at the time. 

She needed a new hole, a new home again. She had no interest in ruling the Imperium or the Altus. She had never been too fond of being royalty, and besides..what point was there in being such a weak title? The title was seized often, and that was no way for her to live. She was instable, but that didn't mean she preferred instability. "What do you want, lurker?" She said aloud, her voice grating and gravelly. She had no patience for fools, and anyone who dared approach was surely a fool. "Be gone before I decide to take your pretty bones for my home. She said, her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth.

ooc: open, blah
words: 472

[♕BEFERA]

S T Y X
here from the king's mountain view, here from a wild dream come true,
feast like a sultan i do: on treasures and flesh, never few.

The dappled brute was alone again, away from his mother. She had dragged him into Lostmoor, the land of the dead, just a few days ago, and no ghosts or ghouls replied to her call. Styx wanted nothing to do with the dead, not really, though he was curious as to if he could meet his father deep within the swaying ocean of grasses that made up the wide pasture. Fiery whipcord dangled at his hind flints as the now two year old Grand Prince of Imperium strode into a land that he had only visited once before, but one that held an important memory for him. This was where his mother had taken him to learn one of the greatest lessons he could learn about being a ruler: to be kind to your subjects and not to rule under the cloak of arrogance and fear tactics.

Indigo visionaries scanned the dark and dismal Hall as greyed hooves carried the stallion along slowly, carefully. The last time he was here, the only father figure he really had joined in on the lesson. Ranjit. Styx looked up to him in a way, but he never truly saw him as his father. The brute was full of wisdom over his life and his past life, and had given Styx additional tips on how to be a "good" ruler. The Imperium heir was determined from that day on to make his reign a righteous one. But he felt pressured, expected to be a certain way. This wasn't what he wanted, not really. Nirvana had been furiously, ravenously coaching him since he was old enough to walk, and it was getting exhausting. Maybe, he thought, if he came here again by himself he could learn something new without his mother's guidance. By guidance, he meant her all-seeing, all-knowing violet eyes. The darkness beneath the Hall's canopy was unsettling to the young stag, but he pressed on, his mind racing.

He didn't see it at first, but a figure appeared before him along the narrow passageway's heavily-trodden trail. Styx halted, squinting his indigo occulars, trying to make out the dark form before him. Suddenly, it spoke, she spoke. The voice was laced with annoyance, but there was a power, a savagery behind her words that struck a tinge of fear into the dappled hessian. He stood tall regardless, and he replied, his tones matching hers in spirit. "You're the one lurking. I'm just passing through." Styx said in his typical, snarky tone. He didn't care for formalities at this point. He didn't know who this mare was, and if she was planning to attack him out of some fucked up antisocial bullshit, he would pay her no respect. The dappled brute attempted to move past her, catching the scent of decay on her form as he neared. "Don't mind me, I'll be out of our way in a minute," he said, more quietly now, more assuringly. His indigo orbs locked onto the mare's void-like gaze, a blackness far darker than the Hall itself. A lone white splotch, a small moon glowing between her black hole eyes, adorned her otherwise starless pelt. Her stature was astoundingly large for a mare, Styx thought, and he was suddenly a bit intimidated, standing a full hand's length shorter than her.

words: 550
tagged: Medea
muse: good :D

[Shade]

darling, i'm a nightmare

M E D E A

dressed like a daydream

Youth.

She could practically smell the innocence rolling off of this one, a wee bairn under her gaze. Her rough tongue gave a final roll behind her teeth, her dark eyes settling on the fair, dappled brute. He looked nothing like her Nephilim, who had inherited the banshee’s inky looks. She had only one small spot of brightness on her otherwise dark pelt, the white star on her forehead. It was mostly hidden beneath matted locks, but every once in a while one might could catch a glimpse of it. ”Watch your tongue, little one.” She snapped, her temper short in such times. She had earned her right to be irritable through the years of her life. ”Before I decide to eat it.” She offered him a gruesome and cruel smile, cackling at her own dark humor.

She had not yet moved from her place beneath the willow, bones rattling as her whip swished after her hocks. She was a full hand taller than the brute before her, and her eyes traveled down him. She always preferred to be the tallest in a conversation. It gave her a certain edge that she rather liked. He meant to go around, to leave her alone just as her son had done. Her movements put her directly into his path, effectively keeping him from going by her without a test.

The beast moved her jaw for a moment, getting comfortable before opening her maw again to speak. ”All of you children, such odd, pretty things…and so full of disrespect for the elders of the lands.” She said, her tone losing some of its harshness. Her voice was gravel, and quite low but that was just the way that she was rather than any sort of ill feeling towards the young brute. ”Worry not. I never had respect for my mother.” She murmured, thinking of Vicello.

”She died slowly, with my teeth in her belly, taking her skin piece by piece. Her skull hung in my home for years, a prize for certain.” She laughed wildly, clearly amused. It took her a moment or two before she could bring herself to speak again. ”And still Queens of old mean very little anymore do they, sweet one?” She cackled, taking a step toward him. ”Just another bit of blood and bone.” The thirteen year old mare tossed her head, the bones giving a mighty rattle like a war cry as she cleared her dark visionaries. Her nares flared, taking in the scent of him despite the distance between them.

The wind was shifting between favors, like an unfaithful lover unable to decide who it favored more. She gave a bloody smile, her teeth bloodstained from years of flesh tearing.

”Your scent is familiar to me, although I’m not entirely sure why.”

Medea had only met Nirvana once, but smells had a way of sticking with her. ”Explain.”


tagged: styx
words: 470
muse: wtf is this >D

[♕BEFERA]

S T Y X
here from the king's mountain view, here from a wild dream come true,
feast like a sultan i do: on treasures and flesh, never few.

The ebonite witch's voice was quick and terrifying, though Styx kept trying to press forward away from her abysmal gaze, his steps careful but erratic. She smiled, teeth darkened with what looked to be dirt, muck, blood. The dappled Prince's dark-tipped auds pinned to his poll and his lip turned up his disgust, glaring at this mare who had threatened him not once, but twice. His mother had taught him to never allow himself to be overpowered, to never allow himself to be threatened by an underling. This mare wasn't an underling, per se, and Styx wasn't sure if he could fend off an attack from her. She was far older than him, so maybe her bones were frail, maybe her muscles were weak, maybe she was slower due to her stature. Styx's battle training kicked in as this clearly delusional, crazed bitch blocked his path and jerked her skull about. The rattling of what appeared to be bones reached the orange-tressed brute's ears, and he stared at the yellowed and dirty chunks of something that seemed to be tied up and tangled in this witch's mane.

Her voice slithered out from between her stained teeth again, but this time she seemed far less angry, annoyed, whatever it was. The elders? Styx wondered just who this mare was. He kept silent and stopped trying to pass her up, knowing that it would be a struggle now because she was clearly on her guard. He would have to endure whatever she had in store until he could escape, most likely. Maybe it was a bad idea to come to this territory on his own. What the wicked demoness said next startled and worried Styx, as he had never heard of such a thing. He gathered from her jabbering that she had killed her mother in the womb, and had kept her skull. He wondered just what this home was. The bitch's wild cackling was an awful, painful sound to the young brute, and he wanted to get out of this darkened Hall more and more with each word that poured from the mare's mouth.

But then she said something that interested the dappled hessian. Queen? Styx took a step back and his harks lifted, curious. She stepped closer to him then, and he wanted to take another step back but resisted, figuring she could get agitated again at any moment. Up until this point, it seemed as though she was talking to him as if he were an apparition, not capable of response. She was babbling away about a bunch of things, posing questions that weren't really questions. Then the finally addressed him, asking him why his scent was familiar to her. How should he know? This wasn't something he could explain, not really, but he tried, fearful that this monstrous witch would strike him if he didn't. "I'm not sure." His words were quick and worried, but his voice trailed as he tried to think of something that could suffice as an explanation.

What did he know about her? She was a former Queen, apparently, by what she had said, either that or she was delusional to the point where she thought she had been Queen. If she was a Queen of old, then it was clearly of the Darks, judging by her menacing appearance and attitude. Styx might be young, but he was put through rigorous training for a reason, and it was so he knew how to react to situations like this. So if she was a former Dark Queen, then how could she know his scent? He never would have met her or seen her or been around her, that's for sure, but maybe he carried the scent of someone she had met. There it was, his explanation. He would use his mother as a cop-out. He had no idea if they had met, but it was his best shot. After all, Queens talked with other Queens, right? That was normal, wasn't it? "Maybe... maybe you've met my mother? Nirvana? Imperium Queen?" Styx's voice cracked embarrassingly, a squeak that showed his fear of this mare. If his mother was here to witness this, he assumed she would be disappointed. He waited, auds flickering to and fro nervously, whipcord tucked slightly between his hind pillars.

words: 714
tagged: Medea
muse: great! :D

[Shade]

darling, i'm a nightmare

M E D E A

dressed like a daydream

Medea was quite happy to keep him where she wanted him, never really considering how she might be angering the young stag. She was accustomed to respect, or at the very least patience on the part of her son. She had to remind herself that this was not Nephilim, however, but another. The brute could have easily turned his heels and gone back in the direction as he had come, but that might have prompted the old witch to give chase. She rather enjoyed the sport of a chase, her large bodice quite nimble despite the size. Mostly her stature was a nuisance, but she wielded it as though it were a weapon. Pink tongue snaked from behind the wall of teeth and out onto inky lips, tasting the air. She kept an eager pace with him, quite enjoying the dance of old. One didn’t quite get reaction and interaction like this when they were alone, and perhaps the mare was a little starved for attention. Dark audits swiveled back for a moment, listening to the quickening tone of the youth.

He was nervous, and that was perhaps very wise. She appraised his dapple hide, trying to discern the lineage, but with the strange looking equines of this day it was very hard to know what flesh came from where. “Do not look so nervous, sweet. I only teased about eating your tongue earlier. It’s the eyes and the heart that are the sweetest. Tongues are full of filthy lies, quite tough if you’re eating them.” She gave a hearty laugh, her whipcord lashing against her hocks. “My father had quite the liking for tongues, I think. But I don’t care for them.” Medea listened with interest when at last he gave up something worth her time. The beastess let a new smile curve her lips.

“Ah, darling Nirvana.” She said, stepping closer until she was within striking distance, noticing the tense posture that he held. “Rather unimpressive for her son to cower.” She said, maw curling up in a sneer. “Even to a crazy old bat like me.” Her nares flared, taking in the scent of him and now knowing just to whom he had come from…well it made him untouchable in a way. Medea wanted to keep on the favorable side of Nirvana, not out of fear but out of respect. Queens had to stick together, even those that the crown had passed from. Besides, Medea had felt rather proud of Nirvana, the one time that they had met in passing.

She had been impressed, and impressed was not something that Medea felt often. Her thoughts turned back to the man in front of her, her audits pinning back against her skull. “Speak your name, son of Nirvana.” She demanded, her voice once again harsh. “Swallow your fear and speak up, speak proudly as a prince should. You fear nothing, no one, or I will make certain that you learn the true meaning of fear.” She snapped, stomping a pillar in his general direction. “If you are the future of the so called Imperium, then you have quite a lot of learning to do, my young. I am not even the worst of the old world had to offer.”

words: 541
tagged: styx
note: o.o uhhh sorry, styx/bef >.> She got all preachy on me, aaaaaaaand might need an attitude adjuster >D

[♕BEFERA]

S T Y X
here from the king's mountain view, here from a wild dream come true,
feast like a sultan i do: on treasures and flesh, never few.

The Grand Prince watched with a still stunned expression as the giant ebonite witch before him lapped her tongue out upon her kissers, watching him. She seemed to be looking him over, maybe trying to figure out if he was really Nirvana's son. Unfortunately the silvered stag had taken more from his father's pelt than his mother's, and truly he and the Queen looked nothing alike. He assumed she would think he was lying, but the scent of Nirvana upon him must have led her to believe him, as she didn't seem to dispute his suggestion. Odd rambling poured from her maw again, speaking of eating tongues and the like. Styx hated that sort of talk. It disturbed him. He imagined what eating a tongue must feel like, chewing on it. She was trying to assure him that she wouldn't hurt him, and it calmed the brute down a bit, but not much. The sheer stature of this monster-esque titan of a mare was enough to make Styx worried, but her demeanor and her babbling about consuming flesh was what really worried the Prince.

A grin appeared upon the starless sorceress's facade then, clearly pleased that he was Nirvana's son. Styx came to realize at that moment that his mother might be a bit more important than he thought, and so, this mare might be more important as well. Why would the Empress speak to this wild old fossil, as hellish as the ebon mare was? Why did Nirvana meet with this creature? Styx immediately imagined a series of circumstances where they could have met. Styx was two years old now, and he had been mostly attached to Nirvana at the hip for his entire life, so they must have met before he was born. The witch stepped closer to him, and he could hear the bones tangled in her mane rattle and clank against each other. His auds flattened, still concerned about what this bitch could do to him, especially in a place as dark and confined as the Hall. She spoke, calling his display unimpressive. She took in his scent deeply then, and Styx could feel the mare's breath upon his muzzle. She seemed to be satisfied with who he was then, the more potent scent confirming his identity, his lineage. The fire-tressed stallion felt lucky then that he was born from royal blood, and from the proper royal blood. This encounter could have been fatal otherwise.

Styx drew in a quick breath as the dark witch before him demanded he speak his name. Swallow your fear. The dappled hessian's auds pricked up and he tried his damndest to stand a bit taller. This mare was giving him orders like she had the authority, but in a way, she did. Styx knew that even if he tried to fight this mare that she would strike him down, and if she did strike him down, it was doubtful that she would kill him right away. No, this devilish creature would surely consume him, bit by bit, picking out her favorite parts to eat, before she would finally release him from the confines of his mangled body. Styx shook his head slightly, blinking a few times. He needed to stop imagining the worst. He caught the last bit of what she said: the old world. The world before Nirvana disbanded the Lights and changed these lands forever. There was a term for it now. The old world. Styx swallowed hard, as directed, thrashing his fiery whipcord behind him, bringing his tail up out from betwixt his hinds. He spoke, his tone noticeably different, but he was nowhere near fully confident quite yet. Nevertheless, it was progress. "I am Styx, Grand Prince of Imperium."

He felt much better after speaking, and took a step back from the beastly mare, hoping she wouldn't continue to approach. He didn't intend to run away now. The prince grew curious. This mare knew his mother, and it wasn't often that Nirvana associated too much with lowly herdless mongrels or with those of other allegiances that weren't strictly royal or directly related to or serving said royal. Styx knew his mother better than anyone, and it was strange to him that this mare knew her. A stroke of bravery allowed him to ask a question that was burning his mind. "Who are you, and how do you know my mother?" He realized as soon as he spoke that everyone knew his mother, or most everyone. Well, maybe not knew her, but new of her. Regardless the dappled brute stood and tried to steady his breathing as he waited for the bone-bearing witch to answer him.

words: 776
tagged: Medea
muse: good, sorry this took forever xD