|| Prompt Thread. || [Prompt: Posted]

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Kingdome Come (Song prompt)

Sat Mar 23, 2019 12:07 am

ldldld dld ldldldld ld dldld ld dld dldld dld

The gods have long stopped watching us. They no longer listen to prayers or cries for help. A woman stood on the edge of a cliff thinking just that. She looked out to the sea of houses and the castle in the distance. The entire kingdom falling apart at the hands of a king who sat on a throne that was not rightfully his. Her violet eyes scanned the buildings that were burned down. The ones that still stood but were too run down due to the poverty that struck them all. Then she glanced to the castle so dark and isolated. “Princess,” A man said from behind her. Turning those sharp eyes to the dark haired male the woman dressed in a black cloak and fighting leathers smiled smugly and he smiled back. She pulled the hood over her long blonde hair and walked passed the man and for a moment, she hesitated.

“Raphael…I believe tonight a kingdom will fall then rise again.” She said before mounting the white stallion. She gripped the rains and turned the horse her companion following suit with his brown mare. They traveled through the forest with only the sound of hoof beats surrounding them. That is until the princess brought her stallion to a halt and held her hand up to stop Raphael. The man stayed quiet as the woman then stood on top of the saddle and climbed up into a tree and looked out onto the path that leads to the castle and there in an expensive carriage sat a nobleman who was just as much a part of the problem as the king. She moved quickly through the treetops like a cat silent and deadly before judging her odds at success. With a vicious grin, she pulled a dagger and waited a long moment twisting the blade between her fingers. The metal glinted due to the sun and she saw her reflection within the blade. The violet eyes of the woman returned to the carriage before she let the dagger fly through the air and straight through the open window. None of the men guarding it even noticed but she knew she hit her mark.

When she returned to her companion, she dropped onto her horses back and the pair continued in silence towards the shadow-filled castle. Raphael wanted to say many things. His princess had changed so much from when she was a child. From when her father was killed by the current king, her own cousin. Raphael knew there was nothing he could say to ease the pain that the princess felt knowing she would soon kill her own kin. Therefore, with that knowledge, he stayed silent until they reached the castle leaving their horses behind as the skilled pair snuck onto castle grounds.

Today was King Williams wedding and the princess planned to make it a memorable one. She watched the nobles walk in wearing fancy jewels and clothing. She stayed hidden in the shadows of the room having perfected the task of being invisible. She watched as the high priest talked of the matrimony between the king and his bride. The gods won’t be able to save him…it’s all an illusion. She smirked at her thoughts and waited as the king stood to stand in front of his throne and waited for the bride to walk down the aisle, but he would not be alive to see it. He stood looking at his subject and as his eyes drifted to the isle the woman in black stepped into view as she pulled her hood down. The king's eyes widened in horror.
He had made the kingdom believe that all lines of royal blood died in an accident, her being here changed everything and he knew it. “Surprised to see me, cousin?” The princess asked with a cold smile. On instinct he pulled a sword from a castle guard and held it up “stay back!” he yelled but she only took calming slow steps forward. A guard came at her from the side and with a flick of her wrist a blade sored through the air pinning him to the wall “tsk tsk tsk…this is between me and him…” she scolded before spinning another blade through her fingers.

The king stepped back afraid of the woman in front of him as she then let the dagger fly through the air piercing him right through the heart as he slumped to the ground. She walked forward and kicked the sword out of his reach as he slowly died “it really is such a shame…I wanted to make you suffer” she said as the light faded through his eyes. She turned and faced the crowd of shocked nobles and sat on the throne that was rightfully hers. Every person in the room bowed their heads scared to protest. The forgotten princess had taken over and was now queen. Now the world belongs to me. Were her final thoughts as her trusted friend stood beside her throne and she looked out at the world she was determined to fix. Image
family means
▬▬▬▬▬▬(no one gets left beind)▬

Salutations, you can call me DG
or Danger if you wish. I enjoy RP's
of all types. I enjoy coding and
reading books. I am really busy
with my classes most days but
I usually find time to get some
writing in. If you have any ideas
you wish to try out with me just
send me a message.

"You cant pick and choose which
parts of her you love" -Sarah J. Maas

or forgotten
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❖ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ

Sat Mar 23, 2019 9:09 am

  • Image
    mentions;; faye, silvester | tags;; mentions of violence, torture | word count;; 1,090

    "You cannot do this!" His voice was full of anger, yet something akin to fear or worry could be heard lying under his words. The man's brown eyes were wide and bloodshot, teeth grinding against each other in frustration. In spite of that, he looked powerless. "Unhand me this instant, witch!"

    A pair of blue eyes settled on the man's unruly face, evaluating his appearance. The woman's calculating gaze slid across his pale skin, lingering on the fresh cuts and bruises she had inflicted moments earlier, a smirk finding its way to her lips as the silence continued hovering between them. Finally, she raised a finger to her face, tapping her chin lazily, almost as if she was considering letting him go, only to shake her head. It was quite amusing to witness the spark of disbelief reflected in his eyes, his jaw dropping as reality finally sank into his prideful, arrogant being. He couldn't leave.

    "Do you take me for a fool, Captain?" The brunette chuckled softly, raising an elegant vial filled to the brim with a deep purplish liquid, watching it swirl inside of the container. Her eyes were full of amusement, a smile dancing on her lips as she watched the man tirelessly pull at his restraints, desperate to free himself. She was in no rush to resume her punishment for his cruel deeds. Watching the youth suffering at the hands of someone he despised was much more entertaining. "You have caused me great pain, Silvester Berryann. Without rest, you hunted my kin for years, not leaving a soul as you created this path of destruction. And you are naive enough to believe I would let you go? Truly, you are a very interesting soldier, Captain."

    He looked at the youth, evaluating the determined yet playful spark reflected in her blue eyes. If anything, she was toying with him, urging the man to do something foolish and get himself into more trouble. But for now, all he could do was to continue tugging at the magical ropes wrapped around his limbs, cursing at the witch standing in front of him. The man's efforts were fruitless, only making his restraints tighten, digging into his skin. He didn't say anything, watching as the youth moved closer, eventually leaning over the wooden chair, smirking wildly. "I have spent months looking for ways to capture you. Days were wasted in order to set a flawless trap and bring you here; all of that, I did on my own. Because not one single sister was left alive, cut down by your swords. Letting you go would be a complete waste of my effort, Captain. I would much rather see you squirm," she explained calmly, leaning away from the man as he tried to smash his head against hers. It was amusing to see him desperate enough to act without his blades, doing all that he could think of if it gave him a chance of survival. Of course, his mortal body meant nothing to her magic. He was just an insect.

    "Of course, there are ways you could be of use to me," she continued, looking at the glimmering crystals hanging on the walls, chuckling at the fairly disturbed expression present on the Captain's face. It would have been easy to drain his life and lower the morale of his hunters, creating an obstacle their foolish hunts would find difficult to pass. A cold smirk found its way to her lips as the slender witch leaned on a nearby table, tracing the cracked wood with her fingertips. "If you so desperately yearn to remain alive, I would gladly take it upon myself to ensure your safety. Everything you care about would belong to me; your world would become mine to command. In exchange, you would remain alive and well, bowing down that prideful head of yours to me," she grinned, tilting her head to the side as she waited for the soldier's reply. It was a good offer; one the human had to take.

    "And if I refuse?" Silvester's reply almost made her snort; the man thought her to be a fool. He was willing to risk everything he cared about in order to uphold some foolish belief he was better than those with a natural affinity for magic. Retrieving a dagger from a drawer, she tested the tip against her fingers, watching as a single drop of blood trickled down her pale skin. In what seemed to be a flash, she was straddling the man's lap, pressing the sharp blade against his throats as her blue eyes shone with wild, untamed fury. "I will gut you like a fish, Captain. You have taken everything from me and did not lift a finger to check if your actions brought any consequences to the stability of our world. Because of you, I had to begin dabbling in the forbidden arts, desperate to find a way to survive. And you were the cause of all of my pain. It is only fair that I rob you of the same things, no?"

    The soldier remained quiet, stoically pressing his throat against the blade until the fight left his body. Calmly and without any arguments, the warrior slowly lowered his gaze, looking away from the witch in hopes she would understand. "You drive a hard bargain, Ma'am," even if his tone was stubborn as well as arrogant, she could easily notice the defeated spark gleam in his brown eyes. Even though it was rather unusual to witness a man like him give up this quickly, she heard no dishonesty in his voice. A pleased smile found its way to her lips as she quietly undid the ropes, pressing her hand against Silvester's chest, her eyes lighting up. "Very well. From this day onwards, your life belongs to me. Everything in your world is mine. Your life is meant to protect mine, no matter what happens; if you fail to follow my orders, I will end you. Is that understood, Captain?" She grinned coldly.

    He nodded. There was nothing else left to be said, only his undying loyalty to help the infamous witch in her quest for revenge. Even if Silvester wished nothing to do with the brunette and behead her as soon as he could, there was nothing he could do at the very moment. For now, he bowed his head and looked everywhere apart from his new master's face, grinding his teeth quietly when she laughed. Everything of his belonged to her. All of it.
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"you are not alone. you will never be alone."

Fri Apr 12, 2019 3:13 am

it isn't a peri prompt unless it's in a spoiler box! themes such as abuse and sadness lie ahead, read at your own risk~
based off of the plot of Esspe and i's roleplay.

Hidden text.
They lay in bed side by side, silently basking in the high that came after intercourse. Arwen would not dare refer to it as “lovemaking”, because it was not quite that. There were many extenuating circumstances surrounding the two in that moment, circumstances that could not possibly add up to love. For one, the man that she had just willingly let into her bed was not the man she loved. Yes, the physical body was the same, but in every characteristic beyond that he was but a stranger to her. Danaus – it felt unnatural to refer to him as “Naz” now – briefly leaned over the bed to rifle through his discarded clothing on the ground. The female witch watched his bare back as he faced away from her, imagining how the sex would have been different had it been with her true familiar. The man next to her was her ancestor’s familiar, stooped deep in darkness and wickedness Arwen could hardly describe with words. Her body could describe it clearly, however. Bruises began to form on her wrists, easily noticeable against her pale skin. Her deep red hair ached at the roots from the intensity of the yanking it had endured; and, when she licked her lips, she tasted blood. Danaus always drew blood somehow, just to draw energy from her body until it was sapped. As rough as he was – so unlike her Naz – there was a sick part of the witch that found herself liking it, wanting it. When she was with Danaus, she could pretend it was Naz. She could try to will him back into reality. She could try to forget that he did the same thing to her reincarnated ancestor Deirdre, only hours before. She could pretend he was hers again. That was why she let him do the things he did, and that was why she would continue to do so until the true Naz returned from somewhere deep in the recesses of Danaus’s mind. It was fucked, and she knew it. Yet she just couldn’t stop herself.

The click of a lighter flicking open made her realize that Danaus was lighting a cigarette, and the heavy cloud of smoke that suddenly filled the air confirmed her thoughts. She feared that Naz had not returned, not this time. The raven familiar rested himself back on his pillow was a heavy sigh before taking another draw from the cigarette. He turned his head and blew the smoke directly at Arwen, who briefly closed her eyes to avoid them from watering. The smoke clogged her senses for one long, dizzying moment. “What’s got you down, Red?” He murmured, even his voice sounding lower than the original Naz. The blood witch took a few seconds to contemplate her reply. “I’m just thinking about how fucked up this is,” she finally responded honestly, turning to look into his golden eyes; eyes that were supposed to be blue. Danaus stilled for a second, his eyes scanning her naked body slowly and with leisure, a smug smirk on his face. Then, it happened. A switch flipped. Her heart fluttered – this was what she waited eagerly for every time they got under the sheets. Danaus blinked rapidly a few times, then frowned. “No-!” He growled, low and harsh before shaking his head. However, it was too late. Golden eyes turned to blue. If only for a few minutes, her Naz was back with her. Precious seconds passed as the two looked at each other, staring into each other’s very souls as though it was the first time they’d seen each other in years. Her familiar broke his gaze away first, eyes once more looking over her body. This time, instead of pride, all Arwen could see was remorse, guilt, and even some anger deep within the azure depths. Tentatively, he reached out with his free hand – the other still gripping the cigarette as though he didn’t even realize it was there – and lightly traced the bruised on her skin. Arwen wasn’t sure what to say, the sensation of him touching her leaving her momentarily breathless. “Your hand is shaking,” she whispered. Danaus scoffed quietly. “That’s the first thing you say?” He countered back, a small bit of his true personality peeking through despite the situation they were in. Arwen didn’t have the heart to smile at the sentiment. “How are you doing?” She asked instead, her face showing the same concern as her trembling voice did. Danaus’s hand paused its tracing of her skin, the man caught up in the own trauma he faced in his own mind. When he remained silent, Arwen silently took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. She could feel his energy, though severely weakened, pulsing against her palm. They were made for each other, and the comfort she found when she was with him was unlike anything else. “You can tell me,” she prompted, providing a comforting squeeze to his hand. It was unlike Danaus to actually tell her his troubles, so when he began to speak it was only a telltale sign of his own torture slowly breaking him down. “It’s hell,” he breathed, “I watch him hurt you using my own hands, and the things he does with Deirdre-” Naz broke off and took a deep breath before continuing. “I just go to the corners of my own mind and shut it all out. It makes me feel so…”

“Alone?” The redhead guessed, sensing Naz’s reluctance and difficulty to admit his feelings. When his silence confirmed her answer she scooted closer to him, wincing slightly as the pain in her aching legs and limbs. “Listen to me right now Danaus, and listen good,” Arwen told him, keeping her voice hushed while still trying to be firm. “You are not alone. You have never been alone. You never will be. Know that whenever I look into his eyes, I’m looking for you. I need you back here, with me. I need you to fight. I need you to keep going. We did not make it this far to lose it all, not now. Please, please keep fighting him. I know you can do it, you have to. I-” A sob cut off her babbling, and she pressed herself closer to him. Danaus held her close, two souls clinging to each other for dear life. Their hearts beat rapidly and yet in sync, each reliving their own separate tortures while trying to live for the other as the witch's cries turned to quieted sniffles. “I will, Wren,” Danaus finally whispered, pressing a fleeting kiss to her forehead. That simple brushing of lips against her skin said more than any words he could have said in that moment. Then, he was gone, the stranger taking his place once more. He shoved her away from him with a hiss of disgust and rage, pushing himself to sit up before turning towards her. Arwen laid limp, staring up at the ceiling with a gaze devoid of feeling; he had been ripped from her grasp once more and it filled her with complete and utter emptiness. “Stupid girl,” Danaus snarled, pressing his dimly lit and burnt down cigarette right into her bare skin. But the witch felt nothing but numbness.
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❖ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.

Sun Apr 14, 2019 8:56 pm

Imagexxx "To live alone is the fate of all great souls." -- Arthur Schopenhauer
"Why did you bring me here?" Her voice was quiet, yet filled with eerie confusion. "These are just ruins."

Blue eyes gazed at the remains of his past. Aged columns stood before him, a thick layer of dust covering what had once been expensive marble. He spoke nothing, choosing to focus on the abandoned stronghold looming over them, his gaze searching. If not for the woman's presence, he would have stood there for hours, watching as the sun illuminated what had once been his own safe haven. A place that was always open to hide him from the injustice of their world, filled with those who understood his burden. Now, it was a shadow of the past.

"Follow me, Princess," he spoke quietly, afraid of disturbing the ruins further. Elegantly and without sparing one glance towards his companion, he walked forth, enthralled by the scene. "You will understand everything."

The stronghold was derelict, its scorched walls towering above her as she followed the man's brisk pace, eager to keep up and not get lost in the memories of what had once been a powerful, respected family's home. She had grown up listening to stories about England's most feared warriors, always unable to forget the legends of those who stood behind the King from dawn and ran in the woods after dusk. To her mind, fuelled by logic and reality, they had been nothing more than silly tales meant to keep children from misbehaving, but now, as she gazed at the wolfish ornaments, she was beginning to doubt her own judgement. Perhaps it had been more than gossip or means to keep the King of England as fearsome as he used to be in the past before his downfall to the Lehenard family. As her cornflower blue eyes settled on the black-haired man, she could feel the tension in his joints and the importance of the ruins to her companion. A soft smile found its way to her lips; once again, she had been fooled by his demeanour. She had known nothing.

"You have no need to hide, wolf," he froze as the nickname escaped her throat, glancing over his shoulder with those captivating bluish-green eyes of his. Now, she could easily see the feral, untamed spark in his gaze. How blindly did she have to live not to see his predatory nature earlier? "I know the legends of the King's guards and their wolfish skin. And I know that not a single warrior survived the fires set to their home thirteen years ago. But back then, you were no warrior or guardian, Hawthorne."

His eyes shifted; for a moment, she could feel the man's hesitation. Uncertainty crawled under his skin as the man battled with the monster living inside of him, aching to unleash the blood of a feral animal and take off into the nearby woods, disappearing the celebrate many endless nights of peace. But looking at the girl approaching him, her blue eyes focused on the mark of his family, he felt momentarily at peace. It took but a chaste touch to his forehead for him to kneel, the skin of a man disappearing in favour of a black beast taking its place. She watched him change, not looking away as the bones began snapping and morphing, his size growing into what could only be described as monstrous. And when he lifted his muzzle to look at the brunette with those familiar oddly-coloured eyes, she saw only a loyal wolf, prepared to lay down his head if it meant protecting her. As he spoke, the guttural growl never left his tone, serving as a reminder that he was no man. He was no servant. He was a guardian.

"I have been watching over you for many days," he grunted, unused to the fangs escaping the boundaries of his mouth and gleaming in the harsh sunlight. "Kept the nobles from going into your chambers and keeping your mare away from the camps of bandits. I chased the hounds sent after you and tore apart the assassins that wished to take your head. All these years, you had no loyal guards apart from me; a child with a power he could barely command. A lonely beast waiting for a royal's orders."

She knelt down in front of him, pressing her hand against his chest, listening to the powerful heart beating under the black fur, watching the wolf's expression. Despite not having any recognisable features, she could still feel that it honestly was the sarcastic assassin hiding under the mask of a beast. Life had an interesting way of changing one's thought process and while she would have felt wary of the monster years earlier, she felt at ease. Shaking her head at his words, the young woman squeezed his wrist gently, knowing that it had taken a lot of courage and determination to shed his disguise and open up to her as a beast her own father had sworn to eradicate.

"No," she disagreed calmly, sinking her fingers into the soft black fur. "You are not alone. You have never been alone. Even if those you have known as your family are gone, they have not left you alone. They are watching over you; their knowledge runs within their veins and they are proud of you for choosing the right person to guard. I am not royal in these lands and Lady Evelyn should be your priority, but in the end, you chose me. And I could not have asked for a better guard. You have done well."

He didn't answer, instead, bowing his head to her in a silent plead of mercy and gratitude. As the woman stood up, he rose with her, towering above the royal who looked frail and defenceless next to him. But even in her small frame, he could easily feel the power and determination coursing through her veins, the courageous glint in her blue eyes reminding of the people he had once known in life. Time went on without waiting for anyone left behind and if he was to become lost in the sands of his past, he would end up truly alone. Now, even if those with the same wolfish instincts were gone, he still had people standing by his side. Perhaps they were human and could not join him under the silver moonlight, but they were family. For all that it mattered, he had found a way to surround himself in a family. For once in his life, he felt at peace.
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|| Prompt #oo5 || [ You Are Not Alone ]

Fri Apr 19, 2019 1:25 am

xxxxxxxxxxxxYOU ARE NOT ALONExx characters;; palla xx, (: // words;; uh...1800-ish?


    • “You are not alone,” Something had whispered in the dark, its metallic words carried on the wind. The smell of blood wafted through the open window, dripping copper on his tongue. The taste slid down his throat, scalding his chest and his heart and his stomach. The burn moved outward, reaching for his ten fingers and his ten toes. “You will never be alone.” It insisted, closer now, right below the window he’d snuck into. The moon, heavy with secrets, peered into the library, pinning Palla to his seat. She knew who his tormentor was, and yet she stared with merciless indifference. She lay him awash with silver light, draining every ounce of heat from his body. He shivered, his finger tips tingly with anxiety. There was a pounding in his ears; his heart or the steps of whatever monster lurked in the darkness, he wasn’t sure.

      “I’m alone,” Palla whispered it at first, his eyes closing tightly as he doubled in on himself. His hands cupped over his ears, a vain attempt at blocking out all the static in the air around him. “I’m alone,” he said again, so the books could hear him and their silence could agree. “I’m alone!” He shouted this time, his voice reverberating off the curved walls of the library, bouncing back to him with a shriek that wasn’t his own. You’re alone! The echo roared, and Palla felt it deep down to his bones and to the foundations of his soul. He stood up in a rush, his palms slamming down onto the table and jostling everything upon it. The sound of it echoed up, up, up, until it shattered against the ceiling and fell around him in a million tiny pieces.

      And then there was silence, deafening silence, so heavy it pushed him back into his chair. Not even his breath registered in the air around him, save as vapor when the temperature began to decline. His arms went limp, hands dropping heavy into his lap. Palla lifted his face upwards, waiting one, two, three seconds before he risked opening his eyes. The table was clear before him, save for a well worn copy of Richard III. The book was flipped open to a random page, red lettering spelling out Despair and Die! in hyperbolded scrawl. The red of blood spilled down towards the spine, leaking onto the table and creeping toward the edge of it. It dripped onto his hands, sticky like syrup and rotten to the touch. The stench assaulted his senses, billowing inwards and outwards and circling back towards him, compounding on itself until Palla felt the burn of bile rising in the middle of his chest. The quiet was broken by the scratching of claws on tile somewhere behind him, getting closer with each breath.

      “Are you ok, little fox?” A new voice this time, a child-like voice right by his ear. Each of its words were like the click of a key on a typewriter, punching his fear into him like a tattoo he didn’t want. “No one can hear you, little fox.” It taunted him, scuttling beneath the table, bashing his knees as it moved from one side to the other. The force of it pushed the chair, the legs grinding against the floor and threatening to snap. “You’re alone, little fox.” It cackled, the sound of it harsh and grating and starting to morph into something deep and demonic. The laughter rose in pitch, delighted with the despair it was beating into him. The thing it belonged to dipped into his space, a shadow dancing in his peripheral, the foul breath of it hot against his ear. “I’m going to tear you apart, little fox.” Its laughter turned maniacal, a hyena taunting its prey. A hand, all bone and tight, fraying, graying skin, crept into his view, claws tearing at the pages of the book. The trickle of red turned to a rapid, rushing over curls of torn paper and spilling into his lap and pooling on the floor beneath him. The laughter got louder around him, encapsulating him in it, and he flung his hands over his ears. His eyes shut tightly, and Palla drew his knees up into the chair, burying his head between them in a hopeless attempt at blocking out the sound.

      “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Palla begged, but his voice didn’t make any sound, as silent as the books that watched him suffer. The laughter morphed to impossibly loud TV static, and then to a crowd of whispers, as though an audience had come to watch him at the gallows, passing judgement he could hear all too clearly but had no hopes of comprehending.

      “Palla?” Altea’s voice rang out like a gunshot, silencing the whispers. Palla sat up ramrod straight in his chair, his eyes settling on the cluttered table for a short period of time before jumping to where Altea stood delicately at the edge of the library. He watched as Altea risked a step closer, like Palla might bolt if he moved too fast. Then he took another step, and another one after that, until he’d closed the distance between them. Palla reached for him, half expecting his hand to pass through like he was some sort of vision, a reflection in a pond and nothing more. He broke when he reached solidity, when Altea proved real beneath his hand, with arms real enough to wrap Palla in the comfort he so desperately needed. “Palla, what happened? You’re shaking.”

      “Can we leave, please?” Palla mumbled into his chest, his hand gripping Altea’s shirt so tightly he took away all of the slack. “I don’t want to be here.”

      “Yeah,” Altea said, trying his best to hide the confusion in his voice. He didn’t understand the fear that gripped Palla, and he wouldn’t. Palla wouldn’t tell him. It was better that way, he’d decided. “We can leave. Of course we can leave.” Altea thought for a moment, glancing around the library as he thought about what to do. He looked at the table, picking up the book on it and slipping them into the bag slung over his shoulder. “I’ll take you back to my dorm.” He wrapped his arm back around Palla, who pressed into the touch with fervent desperation. They slipped out quickly, and Palla didn’t dare look back at the too-wide grin that he felt leering at him from the stacks of books.


      The doors to the dormitory clicked shut behind him, locking with an echo that resounded off of all the buildings in the little plaza. Palla drew in a sharp breath, watching as the leaves of the bushes rustled at the edge of the forest. He hoped it was his demon, prayed it was his demon, knew deep down that it wasn’t.

      They emerged neatly, one by one like ants on a log. The first one was massive, the joints of its legs clicking with each step. The second one climbed over the mass of its back, its limbs long as spiders and just as thin. It’s grey skin was tattered, torn away completely at its throat so that darkness spilled out like fog rolling down from the mountains surrounding the school. It leaped from the first one with a cackle, hitting the ground hard and blowing up dust where it landed. The third one moved the fastest, floating through the silver moonlight as peacefully as a flower on the surface of a pond. As it got closer, it filled the plaza with a roaring static, threatening to spark the power lines leading to the buildings.

      Palla backed up against the door to the dorms, growing more frantic and helpless with each foot they covered. He closed his eyes as the clicking and the laughing and the static got closer, and just before it could merge into a single roar, it cut out completely. Palla opened his eyes at the sound of a train’s bell ringing, a large black mass sweeping through the center of the plaza and barreling into the creatures with a ferocity he half didn’t expect.

      In an instant, the three creatures dispersed, scattering into the forest in whatever way they could to get away from the black beast. It ran a large circle around the plaza, as if double checking to make sure they’d all really gone before doubling back towards Palla. The tension bled from his shoulders as it approached, the shadows compressing into something fox-shaped but not quite. Her legs were a little too long, her muzzle a little too narrow and her mouth a little too big. Palla often found her to be phasing in and out of tangibility, a trait he was sure would have been useful if one was fond of trickery and bullying others into giving up their souls. She was, after all, a demon, no matter how protective of him she got.

      “Next time,” She spoke to him like they were old friends, a teasing lilt to her voice that was grating to anyone who wasn’t used to it. Palla’s ability to catch it only proved that they must have been, even if he felt suffocated by her st times. “I will eat them.” She finished with a nod, sitting just before the steps to the dorm began, her tails splaying out behind her in a halfmoon shape. The simplicity of the statement was almost too much for Palla to bear, and his light chuff quickly turned into near full blown laughter.

      She watched him, her ear flicking in faint confusion, as Palla skipped stairs to get to flat ground. He closed the distance between them fast, diving against her chest and wrapping his arms around her neck. She hesitated, her back straight as a rail, and then she too relaxed, her head dropping onto his shoulder and the sound of wind chimes eminating from her throat. He stepped away from her, huffing once and wiping the tears from his eyes. “Are you ready?” She asked, rising to four tiny paws and raising her tails toward the sky. She nodded when he did, taking a few steps back and crouching down.

      Palla lifted his face towards the sky as she jumped, resigning himself to the shadow that engulfed him mere seconds later. It dispersed quickly, whisping away like smoke on the wind. Checking around once more for the spirits that had been chasing him all day, he began his trek back to his hollow. He stopped at the edge of the forest, looking towards where the moon was dipping below the horizon. He lifted his muzzle in defiance of her, his tails slashing the air in vague annoyance. Then, with a snort, Palla turned and disappeared into the trees.
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