#mkoshi

FAUNA ( @mkoshi ) said, “ where did you come from? ” here / accepting

𝐈𝐓  was  the  question  he  tended  to  dread  the  most:  where  did  he  come  from?  there  was  the  practical  answer  (the  terrible  answer)  of  a  hundred  dead  and  a  red  moon;  there  was  the  dishonest  answer  of  his  mother’s  loins;  there  was  the  typical  answer  of  a  small  hamlet  village  or  the  name  of  a  lesser  house  he  had  since  moved  on  from.  he  had  come  from  all  of  those  places  and  none  of  them,  for  he  was  without  house  or  land  or  merit.  all  he  had  was  a  dragon.  pity  that  the  world  seemed  fit  to  call  that  enough.

said  dragon,  he  was  certain,  was  lingering  about  somewhere.  pamon’s  wings  had  grown  sore  (or  so  he  assumed  by  the  beast’s  low  groans  and  a  similar  pain  brewing  between  his  own  shoulders)  and  so  a  rest  had  been  needed,  but  the  beast  had  never  been  the  sort  to  merely  lay  down  and  recuperate.  pamon  had  to  move.  one  moment  the  black  fiend  was  near  but  the  edge  of  the  grove,  and  the  next  he  was  wholly  vanished  into  it.

and  thus,  as  any  decent  dragoon  ought  to  have,  cináed  gave  chase  -  if  one  could  call  it  that.  it  was  more  of  a  lumbering  pursuit  that  had  him  cursing  pamon  from  tail  to  tip  with  every  step  taken  after  the  first.

he  did  not  know  what  he  expected  to  find  beyond  his  dragon  no  doubt  using  a  tree  as  a  chew-toy,  but  a  person  was  not  one  of  them.  far  from  a  fool,  he  knew  how  his  own  looks  might  have  implied  a  treachery  or  several  brewing  about  in  his  frame.  cináed  raised  his  hands  with  his  palms  to  the  woman,  noting  her  strange  visage  first,  then  remembering  how  to  speak  once  the  initial  shock  of  antlers  passed  him  by.

❛  a  fishing  town,  ❜  came  the  knight’s  response.  ❛  i  don’t  mean  any  harm,  nor  to  cause  any  trouble.  my…  companion  has  wandered  off.  i  mean  only  to  find  him,  then  i  will  be  out  of  your  hair.  you  have  my  word.  ❜

Who? Struggling to stand -- half-animal, his bascinet torn off, blood jeweling in the fan of his lashes -- he fears it's them, those men with their language so curiously round. Jesus Christ, he scarcely know where his sword's fallen, his grand tumbling down the cliffside having thrown him askew. He'd been trying to lay an ambush, too ambitious but a wolf stood alone to an army, but there: he was guided by anger and knightly stories...!

stephen’s voice stays steady, even as the world around them threatens to pull apart at the seams.

“ yes, i have a cape, ” he answers first, a small flicker of humor slipping between the cracks of the chaos. he offers it like a distraction, something simple for her to latch onto while everything else spirals.

his hands find her arms a moment later, warm palms rubbing over her sleeves, grounding her with a touch that urges calm. he leans in just enough for her to hear him over the noise, over the pulse of danger closing in from every direction.

“ let’s get out of here first, then i’ll answer your questions. it’s dangerous. ”

dai's smile disappears . well - liked ? for what ? he was a lover of dragons , who never stood for anything . charming , perhaps , but she'd always found his gaze more lecherous than anything . and the way he 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 , when he saw her scales ... even the thought of it makes her see bright red .

she's such a fool , to have ever believed homura could 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃 her , see her , love her . a sudden wash of overwhelming despair overtakes her , sickening to her stomach . she collapses , folding into herself , a foul imitation of the kneeling expected from her — and yet , once more bowing to homura , princess , ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ .

slowly , with excruciating weight , she raises her gaze ⸻

⸻⸻ ❛ what's wrong with you ? ❜

she means for it to be a biting retort , full of venom . but homura's eyes defang her , strip her of both scale and skin . it's a sad attempt to fight back . 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘 , really .

𖤝 … @mkoshi ( fauna ).

⸻ The witch does not enter the grove with ill want nor need. He doesn't start this way, at least. He wishes only to acquire a handful of leaflets for a spell. This is as innocent as he's ever been.

He's not alone. In the forests, one never is. A truth he acknowledges and oft pays no mind to. Yet, the presence that lurks near calls for pause. The power radiates, palpable. Intriguing.

Uncharacteristically, he brushes the soil from his palms onto his trousers, movement of his legs stiff and slow as he rises from the ground. His present task is momentarily abandoned in favor of curiosity. Where there is earthen force, he must be. Nature seeks to ruin him at this age, and still, he is coaxed like moth to flame.

It doesn't spend much of his time to locate the source, fair-haired and seemingly oblivious to his own presence. To someone as wretched as him, this is an advantage.

And so, he watches. He waits, with a smile that's an effort. It doesn't reach his eyes, dark and intense in his brazen gazing.

he  is  working  in  knots  on  her  back.     cautious  hand  movements,     expertly  manipulating  the  red  rope.      it  was  striking  against  her  skin,     a   gorgeous   shade.   for  all  the  work  put  in,        he  knew  that  the  final  product  would  be  worthwhile;     all  to  have  her  completely  helpless  under  his  hand.      she  wouldn't  be  able  to  move  her  wrists  from  behind  her,     tying  them   tight   -     enough   to  hurt  gently.        he  didn't  want  to  go   easy   on  her,         but  he  certainly  could  have  been   worse.      it  was  a  middle  ground,     making  sure  that  the  restraints  would  stop  her  from  being  able  to  control  her  movements.      

𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔰𝔨𝔰: accepting, always.

 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ Victor's eyes are wide in an uncharacteristic fear,  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ a fleeting flash of vulnerability as he stares into the barrel of a gun that's leveled with his head.  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ He blinks,  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ his gaze flicking from the gun to Anabel with shock. ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎❝   How the tables have turned.   ❞  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎He whispers,  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ feeling a heat build inside him as a twisted,  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ angry grin stretches across his lips.

 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ He's sweating,  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ pale as he watches her finger tighten over the trigger.  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ He holds his breath as her arm stiffens,  ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ watching her face closely, ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎  as if daring her to pull the trigger and end him... 

 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎And then she lowers the gun. 

the forest lures you in with a sense of comfort, trust. wild birds chirp in the distance as the morning sun rises. you almost feel at home. but this is far from your home. wherever you’d entered from has seemingly disappeared — more trees and shrubbery having taken over. there seems to be nothing else but flora as far as the eye can see. however, a chill runs down your spine. something is watching you, but you can’t see it. the branches have stopped swaying and time nearly stands still. what was it?

something he can't explain has drawn him here, out to the edge of the city where he has not-so-freely chosen to abandon his boots, leaving them beside a fallen elm's trunk so that he can walk more easily along the soft grasses that pull him in. there is no path, no winding way to follow where others have walked before, and yet aelthalas finds himself taking every step as confidently as if there were a line drawn before him.

linen wrapped feet pause only once, as two fawns perk their heads to stare up at him in unison - one black as night, the other a white purer than snow, both with florals decorating along their too-large antlers - and despite the oddity of the sight, he cannot claim to have been phased.

the once-monk is in a trance, nearly, the blades upon his back ignored despite the natural instinct normally present to wield them in such places as unnerving as this. onward, he continues, deeper into the forest that does not seem to end, and that he can feel has not seen the likes of him in some time.