the Rift


[THROAT] the beginning of an end

Zhu Posts: 23
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16'3 :: 3yrs HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zuno
#1

This is wrong, and Gods if he knows it, but the ruthlessness is being sucked from his bones these days. Eyes still follow him like he's something to be feared, lingering at distances when something does catch his eye, pacing at the rear of a herd like the members of it will put up a good show for him, all of this carrying on until a point hits him where he loses the urge to flex his muscles that he has worked so hard for.
Everything that he has known, the wandering, the fighting, the haphazard caring fits for females and males that run into nothing after spending so long together, is falling apart. Life barely holds any purpose.
So, in his wallowing, resting somewhere far off where home is but a distant memory of his father's ambition and his mother's love and hardships, red sands and sea salt, a creature who can't keep a set skin, he makes the final decision.
The journey back itself is terrible. He hates every step of it, remembering how he must somehow conform once he returns, how he will have to discover a way to accept the constant accompaniment of anyone that dares to cross his path, but at least he can hope it will do something for him.
The actual return, though, is different from how he imagines it to be.
For what feels like the first time in his entire life, he finds himself hesitant, relying on thoughts and reason before he acts out. His hooves are shifting uncomfortably beneath him, long tail dragging over the earth as the ground takes hold of it, clinging weakly as if to ask him to stop. One fast rip upwards and brambles are hanging in it. He'll have to clean that out later.
Everything is so quiet, or maybe that's him, his ears swiveling at their best to find a grip on the birds, the wind, voices belonging to someone that he can harass into dragging him back south, because if his memory is correct, and it isn't always is, the only true way into the Dragon's Throat is via wings. No need for a check of the shoulders though, for he is aware that is something that will never happen.
Just do it already.
His conscious is betraying him. He's going to hate himself for it whenever the reality truly does set in, but that's for later times. Now, all he can manage is to take that first step, which is now currently being done as the life in this place whips it way back in, slamming him like a freight train to the chest.
"Megbasz."

OOC: crap post oops c':
SKULLFACES ONLY.

EDIT: RATED MATURE.
@Tyrath

Kid Posts: 122
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
Colt :: Equine :: 15hh :: 3 years HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
dark
#2
the boy king
I've let myself be forgotten— I've faded into the background, stepped off of my podium and let the world fall apart without any effort on my behalf (huh, that was easy). A benevolent god has risen from the ashes of beasts, a collection of various bones wearing the skin of a deity, leaving terror in its wake. And Helovia (hah)? It kept going, it acted like this demon was not rooting itself in the land, as if it hadn't planted a shrine, hadn't become a prominent power— malevolent as it crept along in the shadows, entangled its gnarled fingers into the dirt and flesh of Helovia, clung to the life force and took power where it could find it.

I watched from afar, I witnessed its work, the shrine that sits so hauntingly in the recently cleared Marshes, the heavy air surrounding it deterring me from getting any closer than I needed. I breezed past it only twice, because I could never linger there for long enough without feeling the blackness choking me, inhaled and crushing my lungs as I only stood helplessly (what good am I?). I have come too close to blacking out there, to slipping into the cold, thick black waters and letting the tainted swamp take me in, just letting it happen and doing lite to fight back (it's always so tempting).

But I don't, and I never will, let that need take me.

Instead, I search for good dick, because we all know that the one real cure to unshakable sorrow is a reaaal nice dicking. And that's what I set out on, a desperate mess looking for a good time, trying to drown the fear of failure beneath lustful moans and false smiles. I would get what I wanted, greedily desiring more than just a moment of passion and then fated goodbye— it wouldn't be a hit and quit, but a little more (I'm not talking about a lasting relationship here though, you psycho, I'm just so horny I might cum twice).

So I search for whoever I can grab, whoever I can mesmerize with swinging hips and mischievous grins, fleeting glances and rising tails. Who will it be? Bubblegum eyes track movement carefully, looking over each body with thoughtful consideration as I walk. Rejection isn't something I'll accept, even though there's always a chance of it happening, but with enough convincing I'm sure I could melt any man (drink me!)— they won't be able to resist me.

I bounce playfully as I trudge through the Threshold, the anticipation of stumbling upon that perfect man, lost and alone here in these foreign woods, the perfect place to scoop someone up for the night. What I'm not expecting, as I parade so confidently about between the trees, is to spot a black body I almost fail to recognize. The double take is immediate and rushed, almost in disbelief as I creep closer, terrified to be wrong, but also hoping I am.

I'm not.

"Szar!" The word comes out in a hushed hiss, ears falling back as I pick up my pace without hesitance, focused on the snaking ivory spine that makes its way up the back of the man boy before me. I almost want to just shout right there, but there's nothing for me to say to him (why the fuck are you running then?). I hadn't spoken to Zhu since our— run in in the Threshold (oh, what a coincidence), not quite sure how to speak to him now that I've gotten what I wanted out of him.

It had been, a peculiar encounter (his first?), one where I was still stinking like post sex, the smell of another man so obviously rubbed against my sticky skin as I ran up on Zhu— and it fell into banter, as it always does, but then, more. It was angry and rough, not passionate and sweet or timid and attentive the way stallions typically treat me (honestly, I'm not a delicate pansy! They can be harsh with me!). Once it was done, it was done, and we parted ways without so much as another word, and I could not complain. But what crossed my mind later, was the idea that we were blood, and that perhaps that wasn't the best thing for us to have done. But I liked it, so fuck it, right? It was such a bad thing, so morally wrong, but it had felt so good. And maybe that's just my sex addiction talking, but it fucking rocked.

I clear my throat beside Zhu, bubblegum eyeing his stiffened body as he exhales deeply, as though something is applying serious pressure to his body. A dark brow rises, questioning the way he stands only feet past Helovia's border, wondering if he had just entered. "Hol voltál?" The question comes out far more demanding than I had anticipated, rolling off of my tongue and resonating in my throat. I don't think my voice has ever boomed so much, has ever been so deep as I addressed anyone (am I just not used to hearing myself talk anymore?). I think I should be cracking a sheepish smile as I admire the way my voice sounds, how it sounds like the voice of a king. "Futottál el, mint egy csecsemő?" I crack a grin then, a corner upturned as pink eyes twinkle, teasing the younger boy as if it was second nature to me (it might as well be). I don't expect an answer (one that I'll like that is), but still stand and wait as if there may be one. I've momentarily forgotten my quest to seek out a suitable stud, replacing it with interrogating the brother I've never had a good relationship, but still narrowing my brows as if I'm concerned (the little shit can rot, I'm The One).

"Talk."
kid
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@Zhu SHOULDA SEEN THIS COMING

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Zhu Posts: 23
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16'3 :: 3yrs HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zuno
#3

Funny, how things always seem to go this way. Maybe if it had been someone else, say Tyrath, his prized younger brother, the only one that Zhu can imagine claiming as his own blood, then this whole situation might have gone differently. Zhu would have asked for return to the Dragon’s Throat, expecting to see his mother still wallowing away at the rank of Sun Physician, Gaucho still around to ignite the desert with the fire along his back, everything how it should be, like the world refuses to carry on without him.
Maybe then he could have wiggled into their lifestyle, taken his armor with dull pride but obvious boredom, and jumped straight into abusing them for his own success.
Instead, Helovia cackles in his face right as he steps in. It’s kind to return to him what is rightfully his(his magic, though there is a chance it never truly left him and his time away has made him forget its imprint on his soul), but leaves him to the wolves with the rest.
Actually, one wolf in particular. The damned little prince, as he can imagine he calls himself.
Every part of him scolds him for not paying more attention to the noises around him, for not using his magic when it’s meant to see out there when he can’t. Even while squinting, the world taunts him with its brightness, and while the birds and any crying insects are making their way into his ears, dull, distant, leaving him somewhat upset at the resistance, Kid slinks in like the snake he is.
The first sight of him since they had fucked is, well, he isn’t exactly sure if he has any leftover emotions for it. It only roared into existence through testosterone and hatred, the two of them finding some outlet for each other’s rich feelings towards one another.
Either way, he manages to keep his face stoic, only turning pale white eyes around into their sockets to look at him, the noise he’d summoned barely left to ring in his ears. I could pretend I didn’t hear or see him.
Eyes slide forward as nostrils flare, chest rising forth to drag in a long breath of air.
Megbasz.
Out pops out a question.It hits his ears and bounces off the inside walls of his skull, rattling his brain as if to further laugh at him. No, not today.
“Kopj le.” It’s a straight shot of relief, coursing through his veins as the words roll thick off his tongue, deep and dark like the part of the ocean that his mother has told him she fears, the part that engulfs Hobgoblin and spits him back ago. A spare thought is offered to the pair to imagine how they’re doing, if they still care for him, if she’ll cry when she sees him again.
She always does anyway, so what’s his point in wasting time to think it over?
The end of his tail coils around in that way it does when he’s frustrated, face already scrunching up into a mess of annoyed wrinkles as the thought of spending anymore time around Kid sends his legs moving, taking longer steps than usual but nonetheless keeping a slow gait. Not even an ear is cocked back as an offering.
And regardless to any body language he gives off, Kid is there, persistent.
Any sort of movement is halted as soon as the words strike his ears, brows sinking and hardening as his lips scrounge into knots.
Megbasz, megbasz, megbasz.
Yet, “Nem.” Short, brief, just as he’d like it to be, some sign of an attempt for him to prove that he has goals in mind here and has changed for them. “Soha nem tartoztam semmihez.” Spoken in the same rough tone as before, followed up by now lazier steps in a try to escape.

@Kid

Kid Posts: 122
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
Colt :: Equine :: 15hh :: 3 years HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
dark
#4
the boy king
Neither of us are the same now, standing here in the same place we parted months ago as young, reckless boys who somehow turned our hatred into an unhealthy, twisted moment of hormones, sweat and lust. There was no connection then, with monochrome hides sliding together in tense silence and aggravation, grinding teeth and power filling the quiet between us. When it was over, it was over, there had been no looking back or flirtatious goodbyes, no promise of a next time or a husky thank you. There had been nothing.

And I did not mind it, was not bothered by the emptiness that stretched between Zhu and I, the lack of anything between us. We were not inclined to cling to one another the way some children do, the way siblings so often do in Helovia (what's up with that shit anyway? Is it a trend?). He left Helovia's border that night without a word, and I returned to the hush of the forest, the cold dark nothing of my life and remained there for a passing moment or two before I too grew disinterested in the silence and familiarity. I no longer had my mother's incessant screaming to keep me occupied, to fill my mind with tedious critiques on what to improve on or how to perfect my existence as a whole - there was nothing. Sabre was whisked away by unspoken adventure, by her own curious mind leading her astray, guiding her to a place I, nor my mother or Volterra could find her, and it hurt to lose so much so fast.

I left Helovia on my own, some may call it soul searching, I just call it a change of pace, a look into the world outside of Helovia with it's flawed system and suffocating familiarity. I found that Helovia was so much less, such a small, sultry piece of the whole world, an insignificant speck among a million better places. I had been tempted to linger outside of its borders numerous times, when the men were spectacular, the faces were understanding and adoring, and the land was cultivated - some places had structures taller than mountains peeking above the horizon, looming over its residents and adorned with beautiful detailing, where thrones of gold for mighty kings resided in grand halls with servants at the ready. I had been quick to charm my way into a royal bed, sleeping with the highest powers with no shame in my actions, I'd had a prince and his sire wrapped around my finger and ready to obey my every command - but I left them.

It was not my time, I was not ready for the responsibility that would be brought on by having such power granted to me, by truly appreciating the crown atop my head, by giving it meaning. So instead I left them, abandoned my lavish lifestyle with the king and his son and returned to little Helovia. I chose to grow up, to mature before I stepped into such a high rank, I need to find stability before I can take on such an honour. When I am ready, I will find my place. But it will take time, time that I am still hesitant to commit, but ready and willing to do so.

Bubblegum lingers over the new wounds that have blossomed against midnight skin, the etchings of a warrior in training as Zhu towers before me with wrinkled features. I can already pick up the annoyance in the way he moves his body, twitching his tail as it coils and curls, the way his features scrunch up as he faces me. "Kérem," I scoff, rolling my eyes as the boy man looks down at me. "Teljesen hiányoltál." There's a grin there, coy and playful as I find comfort in the familiar once again, grasping at some old memories of casual taunts spat back and forth between us. It was never as fun as the banter between Ozzy and I, but it was certainly something - I wouldn't say I look forward to it the way I do with Oizys' insults, but I still manage to appreciate it.

I follow him with precise, planned steps, gait casual as I pull up beside him with the intention of continuing the conversation. "Fogd be," it's abrupt and serious, brows furrowed as he rambles something angsty about not truly belonging anywhere (cut the shit Edward, you pale fucker). It was ridiculous to me to hear him be so selfish, to act as though he had no place here (or anywhere), as though he was some free roaming spirit with no familial ties. Wake up and smell the shit, Zhu, there is a family here that's waiting for you whether you like it or not. Sikeax especially, all I can envision is the moment I stumbled upon her in the Fields, with sunken, sorrowful eyes and weary movements. She was ailing, she was pained, I knew as I stood before her that she had been through so much (too much). "Azt hiszem, anyád hiányzott neked." It made me almost mad that Zhu had so easily abandoned a mother who loved him, someone who cared, how could you throw that away?

Perhaps because I never had that, never had a mother that loved me, I felt inclined to slap Zhu upside the head and demand he open his fucking eyes for a moment to realize that he did - instead I just look at him with disapproval, speaking rather aggressively, unafraid of the response I may receive. "Te nagyon hülye vagy."

"Talk."
kid
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@Zhu

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Zhu Posts: 23
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16'3 :: 3yrs HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zuno
#5

He could pour every vice from his soul straight into his hatred of Kid(as if he doesn't already do that) and it would never be enough. His brother, the child, the wanna-be prince that he's never once seen make an attempt towards anything other than getting fucked in the ass by anyone and everyone, is going to be the source of his rage until he dies.
Kid manages to disappoint and infuriate him that much, and at the idea of pummeling him into the ground, listening to him to say that he would've managed to miss him, it brings a smile to his face. It comes across with the slide of a hand and with the smallest warnings. It burns a chuckle out of his throat as his eyes shut into a somewhat relaxed yet still tense posture as his head cranes up, drawing more out of it until it finally blossoms into a deep-chested laugh.
"Nem hagyhat ki valakit, akit nem érdekel." comes out as his breath shallows itself back into the usual, taking a few seconds after his outburst, barely retaining his previous voice. The need to laugh is still there, and while Zhu is notorious at being able to hide and control his emotions, that there is nothing something he can get a good grip on.
If you were to really pay attention, with your ears as forward as they'll go and your attention heart set on him, you might catch the little chuckles that hum into existence within his mouth, ringing against the back of jagged teeth. He can't stop, his smile blossoming further as his eyes go into a squinted mess as yet another out burst finally comes.
He probably looks like an idiot, but enough time around Hobgoblin in his warlord phase has made him where there is never enough fucks to give, if any.
Kid throws a command out. To Zhu's ears, it sounds childish, squeaking voice and upset feelings ringing in the tone. Not that it really is, because in actuality, it's enough to win him something special.
The man turns his head around to meet his lesser brother in the eyes, whites locked with the mocking colour of pink, barely stoic as his brows lift into a taunting position. His smile has ditched some, but it's still there, smug as ever. "Nem hallgatok szajhák."
He yanks himself away like he doesn't want to touch him, finding the gait in his steps again and making a slow beeline into the trees, mind centered on what exactly he's going to do when he frees himself from here. There's his mother, probably in the Throat, doing whatever she does with her time now, and then there's maybe his father, probably fucking everything on four legs and now a new hoard of children that he's got to be around, their minds diluted to believe that he actually enjoys their company when only one receives that pleasure. The idea of Tyrath makes his lip curl in and his brows tense.
Találom, látni fogom. He thinks over the sound of Kid's voice, reminding him that Sikeax misses him. Of course she does. He's not stupid. Past the muscle tone and the brutality driven by ruthlessness and an itch he's not particularly good at scratching without hate, there's a brain that works surprisingly well. It's just that it prefers to sit and watch as his body makes the best of a situation.
A quick debate occurs over whether or not he should leave it unanswered, the quiet trying to make a sickening feeling happen as Zhu keeps his work up, muscles rolling under the dark as his pace gradually increases, hidden behind the fact that each one results in some small extension of the next. Hopefully Kid will get the hint and fuck off, but there's no good chance of that.
He's almost free of it all too when it happens. While Kid might just be talking out of his ass(that one hole seems to do everything for him these days), it can't help but hit the right cord. The abrupt stop lurches his body forward, tenses his muscles up so that they bunch and coil beneath his skin. His mouth morphs into something of hate, but...
Hot air burns the soft texture of his lips as he sighs, shoulders laxing as his head drops down. Yea, pummeling Kid into the ground seems perfect right now, but there's better ways to do it. Zhu knows that his brother will never work to better himself in battle, and with a small pinch of patience that his mother has taught him about, he decides waiting will win him the match.
Maybe then he can kill him. stomp him into the earth and tear him to shreds til there is nothing left to be found of him.
Even the mere thought of it pleases him, but he's careful to make sure it's not known. His face goes gradually stoic through his thinking process.
"Ha én vagyok, nem érdekel." It's true, because those sort of things don't matter to him when his body can pull himself out of situations. Zhu was not born with the intentions to be wise and all-knowing, Sikeax has already done that if anything, with a firm mindset that knows far too well, so Zhu must play the other part.
Except, he feels as if it makes his father proud to know that his true firstborn, the one that deserves it if anything else, is going to be the most prosperous through war.
@Kid

Kid Posts: 122
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
Colt :: Equine :: 15hh :: 3 years HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
dark
#6
the boy king
I do not flinch at his words, retract at the callousness with which he says them, the bite back as a way to show he does not care. It is the laugh that makes me flinch, the guttural chuckle that sends me doubling back, the smile cracking over his lips as though I was a fucking comedian. I look at him with subtle bewilderment, whispering, "Megütötte a fejét? Őrült vagy?" I continue to stare, to look thoroughly at the new scars that are blossoming against his black skin, breaks in the midnight of his coat that collects the gentle sweat of travel, to the spine that snakes down his back, stark white in contrast to his coat, interrupted by more scarring. Perhaps he has been crushed by the pain? I never did think him as someone who would handle pain well at all, with Sikeax having healed every wound she could find on his body as a child - I don't see why that wouldn't condition him to be intolerant to the harshness of reality. I would ask where he has been, what he has done that would leave such wounds, but instead I am biting my lip and holding my tongue. What more do I say?

"Én sem hiányoztál," I finalize the disinterest between us, the thoughtless nights spent forgetting that I had a brother so close in age (and so close in body) - pretending that I was an only child, climbing my way up a tower of royalty to reach the top, the End, where I am the revered king standing mighty and proud. But I will not be that, not yet - I am too unprepared, too foolish and immature (but truly, will I ever be mature enough?) to take any throne. Patience is what I must learn, focus is what I will practice, manipulation will take me to my end goal, help me find a throne on which to sit.

So when he turns to me, smug, better, and the filth rolls off his tongue, I grind my teeth together as I step closer, reaching forward and snap at his face, teeth stretching to bite his big fat lip - to tear that expression right off as I lay my ears flat against my head and bubblegum deepens, burns against solid white that stares back. "Semmi vagy. Kevesebb mint egy kurva," And then I'm withdrawing, stepping closer but growing farther despite what little distance there may be between us if Zhu does not cower, does not run from me in fear. No longer does the sickeningly sweet, false bubblegum twinkle playfully, but I am churning with venom, with twisted hate and anger - the word that trickled from his lips leaves me choking, sour and wanting to wash the scum from my skin, to scrape off the syllables that left his mouth as I stare at him in silence."Mit jelent ez?" I speak harshly, hushed but burning beneath twitching lips as I drop my eyes to Zhu's chest, to the same chest that had pressed against my body during our night in the Threshold - bubblegum settles there as I whisper, "nem értesz semmit."

He's already gone by the time the sentence slips from my lips, poisoned and delicate sliding off my tongue and into the air between us - it catches fire on the tension, the steady friction and burning that lingers between Zhu and I, falling into uncomfortable silence that leaves me itching to spit. I am somewhere on the edge of leaving him behind, turning my back to Zhu and abandoning him altogether, and letting him bash his brains out in my company as I cling to him like a dizzy, stupid puppy - but I would suffer all the while over having to exist beside such a disgusting brute. With the way he is now, he is the kind of man that would care only for his own pleasure, pressing as far into you as he can get and ignoring your protesting until you're bucking wildly and threatening to shoot him in the dick (true story).

But then I hit him where I want, strike him dead in his tracks, and suddenly my eyes are catching interest in the black body, in the way he freezes so exactly on his warpath to wherever. I watch, I wait, leaning forward and eagerly expecting a snap, an outraged cry, or a single tear to roll down his cheek the way you see some men cry (it's fucking ridiculous). "Szórakozni csókolni a seggét," I snort, letting the insult fly as I begin to shift course, no longer pursuing after Zhu but instead heading down a different path, finding that the situation between us was no longer entertaining but disgusting, and the guilt and regret that began to pool in my belly left me sick - I could not look in his direction now, deciding that I needed to wash my hands (and body) of his presence, the hate that may cling to me even when we're far away from one another, to wipe away his words and forget him entirely.

"Talk."
kid
image credits

@Zhu
Megütötte a fejét - did you hit your head?
Őrült vagy - are you crazy?
Mit jelent ez? - what does that make you?
Nem értesz semmit - could be read as either "you mean nothing" or "you don't understand anything", honestly either works
Szórakozni csókolni a seggét - have fun kissing his (Volterra's) ass

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