Eat the Rude
live deliciously 🐐
|
she/her
|
4,257 posts
|
points
|
|
|
|
|
|
Underworld Lead
|
Post by A z z y on Jul 24, 2024 7:41:23 GMT -7
Another dark night had fallen upon The Keep, another night where sleep had been a long time coming for the hag. Her mind dwelled on what had come to pass and what was yet to follow - her decision. With Selven still unaccounted for, with her babes still lost, with their assailants still at large… it felt wholly wrong to choose the next king to rule beside her. First Joker, then Selven, not to mention the hordes of names lost to time. Xerxes, Grizmar, Incognito…and the list goes on. She had been presented with two choices, two stallions, one known, one not. Neither left her with a positive taste in her mouth, neither left her with the desire to entrust the safety of her kingdom to them. One craved war, bloodshed and carnage, the other… well the other had been little more than a thorn in her side since he had emerged at her coronation all those moons ago. A soft sigh was pushed through her nares as she stood alone in the grand hall where not so long ago she had announced to the herd the disappearance of Selven and the stringent rules she would be implementing in the wake of his loss. Her gilded optics peered into the shadows before glancing ever hopefully at the doorway, hoping for those blue eyes of Selven's to emerge and make this all go away. With an exasperated huff of disappointment, Thomasin shook her elegant crown, a wry smirk curling her lips at the childish notions of her thoughts.
Slicing her tendrils against the curve of her hocks, she turned on her haunches and made her way towards the darkened corridors of The castle. Marduk swooped from his perch on high and made purchase upon the withers of the monarch. As she strode on in contemplative silence, the cold night air caressing her inky hide, the corvid plucked and tousled her obsidian tresses. It had come to be something the regent found soothing, reminding her of how Black Phillip had once groomed her as a babe. As she breached the towering, solid oak doors of the citadel, she inhaled the crisp oxygen, her lungs and oesophagus searing from the chill. It sharpened her senses, her pupils seeming to dilate as she turned her gaze to the mountains. The sky behind them was paling, the dawn approaching soon. A dawn that would bring a new monarch to the Dark kingdom and a new obstacle for her to overcome. As she ventured on, she allowed her thoughts to swarm - Malice was what she envisioned beside her, he reminded her of Xerxes, he reminded her of the generation of darks her father had been ruled over by. A generation of kings that had fallen.
And then there was Belial, her skin seeming to flinch subconsciously as she recalled their relationship. Tumultuous would be a fair surmising of their encounters. He had been loyal, if loyalty involved breeding a helkaer, if loyalty meant disrespecting her and her word. It had left a sour taste between them, and even with his return from being held captive, she still could not fully allow that ice to thaw. Could she even trust him? Her muscles worked in perfect harmony beneath her pliant flesh as she trailed the familiar route to where Black Phillip lay resting eternally, his one broken horn left atop the mausoleum as a reminder that he was real… her golden globes turned towards the rising sun. It wasn't about her needs and wants, it was not about what was best for her, but the Kingdom. Could they endure another blood thirsty ruler or would he be better suited as a commander for now? With a brisk shake of her embodiment, a long and deep inhalation of oxygen was taken before she looked over her shoulder to Marduk. Bring Belial to me, she whispered to the corvid, her mind made up. With a blink of his ruby eyes, his wings outstretched, Marduk took flight into the morning sky, dipping below the mountains to seek his target.
TAGGED - The Quiet One WORDS - 678 MUSE - good NOTES - Marduk has been sent to bring Belial to meet Thom at BPs grave ❤️ Speech
|
|
Don't my steal characters,their mates and offsprings unless willing to plot.
|
|
Dark Royal
|
Post by The Quiet One on Jul 25, 2024 14:42:26 GMT -7
BELIAL Come Feed The Beast
The wait might have been tortuous to some. It might have created a gnawing anxiety within the pits of their stomach. For the beast, it did neither for the end result would not change things. Regardless of whether Thomasin picked him to rule beside her or not, the beast would continue to serve her with equal dedication. Perhaps his return from captivity would help prove to Thomasin that the pledge he had made at the very start was one he intended to stick by. Perhaps it wouldn’t, but either way the beast would remain steadfast in his service to her in whatever capacity she allowed. Unlike last time, the beast had not allowed himself to drift close to the keep while awaiting the news. He had instead kept most of his activity to the outskirts of the herd lands choosing to either patrol, or hunt when the burn in his throat was too much. As night marches on the beast sets off choosing to leave his resting place in favour of dispelling a brewing restlessness. There was no clear destination in mind, only the methodical stretching and pulling sensation as his limbs carried him forward. The breaking of dawn registers, and yet still the beast allows his limbs to cross him across familiar terrain. At some point a cry breaks though the state of tranquillity, of simply existing that had settled upon his consciousness.
The seemingly harsh sound has the beast resurfacing with a slow blink, his limbs instinctively pausing in their movements. A flurry of obsidian feathers swoops past his cranium before the offender comes to rest upon a branch close by. When his mismatched orbs come to rest upon them a wry smile is quick to form. Trust it to be Thomasin’s feathered friend. The creature seemed to have a deal of dislike towards the brute making its display unsurprising. The fact that it had come to find him could only mean one thing, however. "Lead the way then". With a hint of amusement lacing his velvety tones the beast allows his cranium to motion ever so slightly. Whether it be his words or the motion of his crown the obsidian hue bird takes flight once more leaving the beast to dutifully follow. With there being very few places within the herd territory that the beast hadn’t explored multiple times, it was only a matter of time before recognition had hesitation stirring within his gut. Of all the places Thomasin could have chosen she had to pick this one. Was it to remind the beast of his failures? Was it to make a point?
With each step, the turmoil within only grows until it was a gnawing pit that had instinct screaming at him to turn the other way. Yet the beast presses on only pausing long enough to pluck a few flowers free from the earths embrace. As the beast begins the final climb the corvid chooses to leave him behind no doubt in favour of returning to its master. It has a chuckle threatening to break free, but instead the beast settles for the slightest amused shake of his crown content enough to cover the final leg on his own. Soon enough, perhaps too soon if the beast was being honest with himself, Thomasin comes into view as too does the grave of her former companion. The sight of it has a heaviness forming in his limbs yet there is no turning back. With such a fact in mind, he makes his final approach, long strides carrying him forward until he is level with the Dark Queen. Wordlessly the beast allows his skull adorned facade to lower enough to gently deposit the flowers gathered by the broken horn. For a moment, his crown lingers in place as regret begins to pool within his gut before it rises with a slight exhale. "I regret that day just as much as I did back then."
The velvety tones are quietly spoken, the vocalised regret echoing in the what feels like a fragile space between them. Whether it be the ghosts of the past, or the uncertainty of reason for being summoned, the beast does not turn his gaze towards the obsidian and ivory femme. A part of him cannot bear to see her expression. Not when this very spot and the death in her beloved goat had been the catalyst for the breakdown of their relationship. Instead, the beast retreats until he is a respectful distance giving Thomasin the space she most likely craves. "How may I be of service?" Forcing the inner turmoil aside, the beast turns his attention back to the matter at hand. The inquiry, when it comes, is evenly spoken. There is very little of the over confidence that Thomasin was used to, only a somewhat respectful query that allowed her to take charge of the conversation.
"He Speaks"
Words: 800+ OOC: had to be by bp'S grave <3 A z z y
|
|
Eat the Rude
live deliciously 🐐
|
she/her
|
4,257 posts
|
points
|
|
|
|
|
|
Underworld Lead
|
Post by A z z y on Jul 26, 2024 7:34:47 GMT -7
The witch queen watched her companion as he floated along in the ether, dipping beneath the low hanging clouds that clung to the mountain. Thomasin waited, silently, her golden optics eventually peeling from where Marduk had descended, her ribs rising and falling as a soft sigh escaped her. Slender limbs carried the monarch closer to the edge, the sheer drop at the other side a daunting sight but an almost tempting prospect. Never had her thoughts darkened so much as they had done in recent months - this was her duty, her reason for being. Yet having lost so much, having her heart repeatedly ripped from her bosom and shattered into pieces was beginning to take its toll. Thomasin peered over the edge, the tips of her front hooves cut into the rock, small pebbles breaking away and tumbling down the rock face. They made it look effortless, a pain free descent into oblivion. She would not be so lucky. Taking a step back, her features stoic, she twisted a single lobe towards the path Belial would be using no doubt. A distant screech upon the wind was signal enough - these melancholic thoughts must be laid to waste, for now she had a bigger task at hand.
Positioning her mass so that the lengths of her obsidian tendrils draped over the edge of the cliffs, wafting gently in the breeze, she waited. With her halcyon pools honed in on the only route up to this spot, she waited patiently, the repetitive echo of approaching drum beats grew ever louder upon the rocky path. First to emerge was Marduk, his pied wings bracing before landing upon her withers with a purr. Then, only moments later, Belial too. Her gaze did not falter as he glanced at her, then made his way almost silently to the tomb of her fallen companion. His mug outstretched, she felt her lips threaten to twitch into a snarl, yet she stifled it, quelling the usual ire. It was an unnatural feeling - to suppress her usual reactions, to silence her instincts. "I regret that day just as much as I did back then.” A muscle in her jaw jumped slightly, a single tower twisting to face him as her scrutiny bore into him. As do I, she admitted, but she did not expand further. The past was now the past, she, they, must move forward…
The hag watched in silence as he retreated from the monolith, his stature did not radiate the arrogance he usually bore, for once he was almost personable. Her memories recalled how she had told Selven of his rise to power, she recalled the promises made and how they had fallen short. How would she deliver such news to Belial? "How may I be of service?” He queried her, pulling her from her thoughts as those eyes of molten gild fell upon him, a dangerous shimmer flashing across them briefly. Keep your word, for a start, she mused, her regal tones holding a slight tone of jest. A wry smile curled her lips then, as for the first time since they had encountered one another did she lower her crown to him. Holding it only for a moment, she rose then to look at him, her features emotionless but calm. You are a King now, Belial, she began, choosing her words carefully before taking him fiercely into her gaze. It is not just me you need to protect, but an entire kingdom, she mused, watching him closely for a reaction to the weight of responsibility she had bestowed upon him. Are you up for the challenge? Marduk twisted his skull to look at the chromed beast then, his ruby eyes blinking as if he looked straight through him.
TAGGED - The Quiet One WORDS - 624 MUSE - good NOTES - ❤️ Speech
|
|
Don't my steal characters,their mates and offsprings unless willing to plot.
|
|
Dark Royal
|
Post by The Quiet One on Aug 4, 2024 15:08:14 GMT -7
BELIAL Come Feed The Beast
As the beast approaches, Thomasin is quick to notice she is no longer alone. Whether it be the return or her winged companion, or the sound of his footsteps, she is quickly turning to face him. There’s a brief moment of recognition at just how close she seems to be to the cliff edge before the beast is averting his gaze. When his crown lowers towards the resting place of the obsidian goat, the beast does not miss the way the femme tenses. It is a reaction that he can understand. Thomasin would always link him to the death of her beloved companion and the pain associated with it. Still whatever ire she felt, whatever instinct she had to prevent the beast from encroaching further, the femme does not make a lunge. Instead, she simply watches as the beast places his offering. The white petals make a stark contrast against the sea of green they rest upon. When the beast allows his admittance to slip free, somehow the intensity of Thomasin’s gaze only grows stronger. For a moment time seems to still. “As do I.” When her admittance comes, the beast allows his lungs to deflate releasing a breath he had not realised he was holding. They were on the same page, for now, it would seem. There was a temptation to push, to dig a little deeper and see if her walls would lower enough to give him some honest answers. Yet he does not. With equal footing so difficult to find with Thomasin it was not worth the risk of disrupting the fragile peace. Especially here. Thomasin remains silent as retreats, her gaze almost contemplative. For a moment she seems almost lost in thought. If the beast had harboured any doubt about the nature of her summons, they certainly would have been disregarded. When the beast offers her his question it seems to draw Thomasin from her thoughts. For a moment, there’s a dangerous glint in her golden hued optics. It passes even as her kisser part to allow a response to spill forth. “Keep your word, for a start.” There’s a slight hint of jest to the musing tones, and a wry smile that follows suit. There’s an answering question, a probing remark at the tip of the beast’s tongue. Before it can be utter Thomasin is lowering her crown. The sight seems so unnatural, so far beyond the realms of reality, that for a split second a all thoughts evaporate from his consciousness. By the time her crown rises once more is mask is one full of surprise.
There is no smugness, no self assurance that she might come to expect. “You are a King now, Belial. It is not just me you need to protect, but an entire kingdom.” There’s no open emotion in her expression when Thomasin breaks the growing silence. Instead her mask remains calm, her gaze holding him with a degree of furiously as she verbalises his new appointment. It has the beast instinctively holding himself a little straighter, a little more self assured, as the weight of responsibility settles on his shoulder. Twice he had sought the mantle. Now that it was he would bear it with the respect it deserved. “Are you up for the challenge?” Her question has a half smile forming upon his kissers before they part. "I’d like to think you have already decided I am my Queen, but you have not held me in high regard for quite some time." For the first time since his return there’s a slight playful edge to the velvety tones, the barest hint of the cockiness Thomasin had been used to. It is quick to pass. Humour was not what Thomasin needed, after all. "I will not fill your ears with promises like the two Kings before me most likely did. I imagine if I did they would be meaningless with all you have endured."
Each word was weighted. A seriousness clung to the velvety tones that filled the space between them, his mismatched optics hardened by determination. For a moment he pauses giving his counterpart enough time for his offering to sink in before pressing on. "I intend to spend every day respecting my position and the responsibilities that come with it. I intend to put duty before personnel pursuits, whether that be my duty to you or to our subjects. I intend to support you as your counterpart and share any burdens you wish to share. I intend to never leave you in the dark even if the conversation may seem difficult to have. With time I can only hope that such declarations give you the confidence to put your trust in me, even if there are times where the journey may not be a smooth one." Promises Thomasin may not accept, but perhaps heartfelt declarations of his values as King would give her some small comfort. They were vows in their own way, after all. They were markers that she could still hold him accountable to, and yet they did not promise perfection as other may have. Such a thing was impossible.
"He Speaks"
Words: 800+ OOC: <3 A z z y
|
|
Eat the Rude
live deliciously 🐐
|
she/her
|
4,257 posts
|
points
|
|
|
|
|
|
Underworld Lead
|
Post by A z z y on Aug 6, 2024 2:53:59 GMT -7
When he didn't press her on her admission of regret, she was silently thankful. The sun was rising, on a new day and a new partnership, one of which she could not allow old ghosts to haunt. Easier said than done, even she would admit to that, but for now, she would let the hatchet remain buried. Her reaction to the sight of seeing Belial and the bloodied cadaver of her beloved companion had been too much to bear, in hindsight, knowing what she knew now, perhaps things could have been different between them. But things were different now. The release of oxygen from the virile did not go unnoticed, clearly he expected her wrath and felt some relief that on this occasion, he would not experience as such, lest it was truly deserved. Thomasin kept an easy eye on him, the veil of her swarthy locks twisted in the breeze, framing her beautiful features as the gilded rays of the sun doused them in a gentle glow. It felt foreign, to be in his presence and not have the urge to skin him alive, to pull his flesh from bone where he stood. Yet, even as her heart ached for Selven, her lost babes… she knew she must channel it. No more could she stew in her sorrow.
As her crown rose from its dip, she could not help the smirk that curled her lips, the two gems in his skull widening in what could be construed as shock. Who could blame him? If she were to be honest she could not recall a time when she had felt inclined to exhibit such a gesture. Needs must, however, on this occasion. If they could commence their rule with as little bad blood as possible, it would work in both their favours, or so she hoped. As she announced the title he held, his stature seemed to grow, his eyes setting upon her as the gravitas of his newly bestowed crown weighed upon him. She posed her question to him, taking a step away from the edge of the precipice and towards him, allowing her to halt comfortably, resting a hind dagger on its tip. A small smile curled his lips beneath the bone piece that masked his features, her own brow quirking silently, readying herself for his reply. "I’d like to think you have already decided I am my Queen, but you have not held me in high regard for quite some time.” A small expulsion of amused oxygen left her nasal passages, before they flexed once more, drawing in a long breath before her gilded optics landed upon him, deliberating if the truth or a bending of such would be better. Perhaps not, she began carefully, But I am laying down my arms in the hopes that you will not disappoint me, she admitted truthfully, her shoulders rolling slightly. With a mischievous flash in her eyes though, she quickly followed it up with, Again, a wink sent his way as a smirk curled her voluptuous kissers.
"I will not fill your ears with promises like the two Kings before me most likely did. I imagine if I did they would be meaningless with all you have endured.” He continued on and for a moment she considered a retort, but instead remained in contemplative silence. To gain her trust entirely, to work one's way into her small,yet ironclad, circle, actions over words were needed. She needed to see change, to see it upheld and maintained. She needed plans and schemes to come to fruition - the dark kingdom must prove sovereign overall, there was no room for worms in her apples. The rot must not set in. Her silence fed into him continuing, a single lobe twitched upon her atlas towards him, listening intently as he spoke. "I intend to spend every day respecting my position and the responsibilities that come with it. I intend to put duty before personnel pursuits, whether that be my duty to you or to our subjects. I intend to support you as your counterpart and share any burdens you wish to share. I intend to never leave you in the dark even if the conversation may seem difficult to have. With time I can only hope that such declarations give you the confidence to put your trust in me, even if there are times where the journey may not be a smooth one.” Thomasin ran the end of her tongue along the inside of her incisors, flicking her obsidian tendrils against her hocks as she deliberated his words.
Those are pretty words, she began, her tones even yet neither cold nor warm. There was a pause as the witch queen deliberated on what to address now - surely he understood her hesitations when it came to him? What is done is done and cannot be undone, so we must move forwards, a muscle in her jaw jumped, as if already the can of worms was about to be opened and thrown around this momentous occasion. With that in mind, and knowing the helkaer as I, we, do, what will you do when the truce between us and them is over? What of your children with Harlan? She asked easily, blame free, her concerns no longer of his loyalty but what that link would mean for the kingdom. It pained her, knowing children he had sired could be, and likely would be, used against them. As her own children had been used against her. Her enamels peeled at the thin flesh of her inner cheek, peeling a strip away before her gilded optics bore into him a little harder than before, the seriousness of her words reflected in those magma eyes of hers. That is my only true concern, She admitted, hoping he might understand given that he now sat upon the throne beside her. With a soft exhale, her one genuine worry about him aired, she readjusted her weight upon a hind dagger, What of you? She quizzed, wondering how sneaky Belial had been in his time both before and after being captive. What would you like to know to get up to speed?
TAGGED - The Quiet One WORDS - 1030 MUSE - good NOTES - ❤️ Speech
|
|