#equos

--- Winter Court had taught her many things; the callous chill of shutting away your emotions and remaining apathetic in the face of your kills. Court itself prided upon assassination and the ease in which they do so, unlike the other courts there is little else but the frosty atmosphere and cold, hard orders that one must follow. Youth (could she be called as much, at nearly 900 years old) had her own agenda though in following after the Sun- a whisper upon early breezes.

--- Famine. Famine. Famine. The words resonated in her ear, causing a flicker of dysphoria to spread through her mind, an uneasiness at her own identity; for centuries, name had been buried beneath packed snow and ice, unspoken by any. She'd taken moniker of a being once named mother, for acting in such capacity, she had. Blade is lifted to pale throat of her captive, single eye leveled at those jeweled mirrors. They held little warmth, and thus, little familiarity to her now.

--- ' I will not. ' a soft and somewhat hoarse tones of her vocals are...frigid and strained, if only so that the other could hear. Waves of heat and warmth radiated from the other, her discomfort at it making a snort and a squirm slip free. ' My intentions are my own...though perhaps I will release her if you...answer my questions-- ' she'd begun, with the intention of extracting information instead, half willing to sacrifice the target she'd been ceded.

--- Such thoughts were derailed sharply, her name causing a hard and physical reaction. Centuries, centuries, centuries...that's how long it had been since she'd heard it. Breath came in a gasp, a blow to her gut at the sheer power that came with knowing her name and having it spoken aloud so easily. Eliminate her. Eliminate the one that knows. Mind reeled, though could body comply when there was something tingling in the tips of fingers, begging to touch?

--- Unable to lie, she could not simply convey that that wasn't her name, though lips are pursed into a thin line before she'd shoving the dark haired captive away from the both of them. ' That is not the name I go by! ' a snap, vicious as she ignores target in favor of nimbly closing the distance between herself and the other petite figure, frozen blades wielded both front and back handed in a dual swipe towards smaller's throat.

So peaceful ... it was hard to imagine that this area wasn't even that far from the city. He set on the grass, legs folded while he tried to meditate. Something he had done a lot more recently while walking the earth, among the humans whom he had previously delivered many messages to on behalf of the Lord.

"Oh? Seems like I wasn't the only one enjoying the silence of the night." Kin's sky blue eyes opened, looking directly at the face of someone that could be described as 'terrifying' to many. "Fascinating ... " In his centuries alive he had seen many things, some worse than the other and therefore it didn't inititaly frighten the angel.

"Hm. Not often that I find someone observing humanity. They are rather interesting things, aren't they?"

Izumi placed a hand on a tree, humming softly as they looked at the village, aglow with light. They supposed it was moments like this that made their decision to stay within the human realm worth it. They were still learning, but that was okay.

"I've always find their quiet moments to be the ones worth viewing."

parrying each and every move so effortlessly however, does create room for impatience. and yet.. - and yet.

' .. huh. ' a huff, a breath released. balancing on the fine ( yet thin ) line, of laughter and wrath. familiar. something is familiar about this.

' - were you taking lessons, from a barbarian? ' / ( from oleander ! )

It was no use. Nunnally knew she was no match for him. No matter what she tried, no matter what she did, it seemed like a childish game for him. As if Oleander could look inside her mind and see every move, every attack she could come up with before she could even think about it. Was it how she moved that gave him all the information the stallion needed? Nunnally was getting tired, her cheeks were red from fruitless efforts, the sweat was running down her spine like an unstoppable mountain stream. Her every attack was parred, she could not touch him, not even surprise him and his mocking words were the least of her problems.

“Obviously I am not trying to hurt myself.” – she hissed at him – “And I am doing pretty good job at it. And it doesn’t seem you are able to reach me with your sword either.” – that was an open bluff. A tease. She knew Oleander did not want to touch her. He did not attack her even once, only parrying whatever she could come up with. It was not a lesson anymore (Or was it ever? Perhaps that was exactly what their sparring was to be about.) but the pure demonstration of the stallion’s force and domination. And an increasing frustration on her side.

It would have made Nunnally feel much better if Oleander had fought her back at least once. She would not mind getting hurt. Bruised and left in pain. At least that would show that she was not a joke for him. Yet, he did not and Nunnally was wondering if he did want to (assuming she was not worth even that much) or simply could not because of Lord Oseis. She was not entirely sure what the links between the two of them were (or perhaps she knew but it was just something she was not ready to admit) but she realized Oleander would not go against Lord Oseis’s wishes. Not matter if it worked in her favour or just on the contrary. Lord Oseis! – an unexpected though crossed her mind. Oh, that was perhaps the answer. Her only chance?

She attempted to calm her breath and tried another strategy. To bore him. She did not expect she’d stop the match before she asked for it. And she would not hold her position much longer. She became repetitive. Not clumsy, but she was not trying anything. Her actions – since it seemed Oleander disrespected her so much – could be easily explained by her tiredness and inexperience. ( "Underestimate me more!" ) – she wished silently trying to figure out if that was the moment. And then she attacked. Just as Lord Oseis taught her. No, she was not truly successful. She did not reach him, he parred that one as well. But she was satisfied. It took him off-guard. He did not foresee it coming. She was close enough. She could not expect to do any better. Patience was what she needed.

But his next words were like a slap in her face. She hated it every time Oleander talked about Lord Oseis, or rather about her and Lord Oseis. Whatever it was, as she herself would not dare to describe or more importantly name the relation between the War and her, it was not for Oleander to discuss.

“Of course I am.” – she said calmly but her voice was showing she was pleased with herself – “I am sparring a barbarian right now, am I not?” – she deliberately pretended she did not understand whom he meant.

“And I have not had the last word, yet.” – she did. For today. But he did not have to know that.

(“Attack me!”) – she pleaded silently in her mind; Nunnally only hoped she’d survive the first one as she would definitely loose her sword if he needed to attack her for the second time.    

“How about calling it a draw for today?”– she teased after a moment of Oleander not following her wishes. Nunnally was aware that was not exactly a draw, but giving the difference in their skills (and his mocking behaviour from before) she decided it was fair to call it a draw. She deserved it.  

≥ INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM: @equos ( "SOURCE" );

classics. / ( consider. lues and/or lykos caring for ig's wounds. if you want! )

CLASSICS - muse a tends to muse b’s wounds with more care than necessary

" i didn't want you to see me like this, " he chuckled, but the amused sound was quickly followed by a hiss of pain and discomfort. always putting on the strong front. at first, he'd tried to push the steed of conquest away— he was never good at letting others to take care of him. especially when there was blood involved.

it wasn't even that bad, he'd insist— a simple spray of bullets, nothing more. bullets that had simply just melted inside his body the moment they broke skin— it was more of an annoyance than genuine concern. as per usual he first tried to reason with his assailant ( 'don't do this / you know you can't win / lucius has sent you on a suicide mission' ) but they never listened. it saddened him, but at the end of the day, ensuring his his mates' safety was his primary concern.

it wasn't even that bad, he'd insist— despite one of the bullets hitting right through his collarbone, causing cracks to ripple along the markings covering his shoulder, and revealing the demonic beneath. just a hint— a little smudge of charred skin, the characteristic trio of spikes that normally sprouted from the spot. something that needed to be mended, he just... thought he could do it alone.

" i'm sorry i didn't tell you. but there's certain people that want me dead. i wanted to keep you away from it. you and lues, " gaze flickered to the horseman by he and lykos' side. words were strained as the other applied pressure to the bleeding spot. instinctively, he raised his own hand, and it came to rest over lykos' in worry. an attempt to push him away once more, but the stallion didn't relent— offering insistence of his own, that he'd see the injury patched up.

he knew what it was like to be in love. to be devoted to another so completely. one, he didn't want to endanger his friend— second, he didn't want to endanger his partner.

" ... at least be careful. it burns. " silence followed. the hound was so unneccessarily tense, making for yet another obstacle for lykos to actually properly take care of the wound... but he was so gentle. careful in the way torn scraps of clothing were removed, already-scarred skin wrapped up in gauzes enchanted by none other than the horseman themselves— he'd learned, that this one didn't use their gifts to destroy. something weaved by such a timeless being, it was effective in dealing with the infernal's molten blood.

maybe that alone was the most jarring? that he could put his trust in another like so, to not have to worry about appearing weak or somehow incapable. wouldn't that be hypocritical of him, anyway, insinuating that the people he was protecting himself were incapable— when that was never true? it left much to self-reflect on, the thoughts distracting enough that beyond his own stubbornness, he stayed put, eyes falling closed. yet another sign of trust.

once the deed was done ( and with the care put into it, it hadn't even caused him to squirm one bit ) ruby hues fluttered open again, to be greeted by the visages of rider and steed alike, and the hound managed a fleeting smile, head bowing in his gratefulness. " thank you. really. " a further apology sat at the very tip of his tongue— sorry for making you worry, sorry for having to deal with this —but he'd managed to swallow it back.

--- The attention to her head is brief and without tenderness, though she expects very little ( if any ) when it comes to her darling Aster. Femme had not been so kind in life, and undeath like this had improved nothing in that department. It was of no consequence to the Duchess, though, their contract mutually beneficial in many ways and Gremory suffered no delusions when it came to the nature of said relationship. As...tense, and amicable as it could be, at times...it was also business.

--- ' You wound me. ' Sarcasm drips thickly from tongue in response to others own as petite frame is pulled flush and attended. Taps to chin and nose nearly have her purring as a fang filled smile curls at the corners of lips, broadening even more so at just how disgusting companion considered her words. Only when Aster pulled away, calling her little more than a helpless duckling with whom she didn't have the patience to deal with, did the twitch of muscles twist within jaw.

--- A silky smile followed her pout. ' Don't be like that... ' she trailed, reaching to hold one of the vampiress' hands, cradling the appendage in both of her own in some vague form of reverence. To bring it to her cheek so she might nuzzle into it, humming faintly...and then to draw the others index past her own sweet, plush tiers and into warm cavity of mouth. A suck is given to the finger, sensual and borderline erotic in nature...

--- ...before jaws clamp down on the digit viciously. Fingers are a vice grip around Aster's wrist, to hold it in place while fangs all but saw through undead flesh and bone, tearing the finger from its placement and pulling bloodied maw away to spit it out. Free hand is lifted, curling swiftly and tightly around taller's throat and squeezing with just enough pressure to make a point. ' I'll put you back in the ground, Astal'fa. ' a low, threatening sound, akin to a growl but far more infernal in nature, as she stands upon toes and presses bloodied kiss to the others pale cheek.