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His smile was stretched too wide. His nostrils were clogged with blood and gore, so that each thin breath he dragged in burnt metallic down to his throat. There was a fire in him, in his chest, in his limbs. The wild was upon him.

He was barely aware as he stumbled through the swamp but the birds fell silent and the insects stopped calling and the creatures of the earth ran from blood-soaked death. Big Bad had reached the apex, the pinnacle of his madness and he was drowning in it.

Chrystali wrote:[imgright]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/images/phoenix/fluke_uncert.png[/imgright]
The Swamp was drowning in blood, and it took the doe many heartbeats to sort out that it was reality and not just her memory or dreams overwhelming her senses.

She remembered the silence of it all.  There was something heavy and acrid about the taste of it, a weight of knowledge that something was there that shouldn't be.  The doe swallowed around the touch of displacement she felt, something surreal about the smell of blood soaking in the earth, blood that was (hers) not hers, the world (so dark) still dark, even with the press of warning against her neck, her pulse flighty.

Fluke could hear it, whatever it was: an unnatural draw of breath of something, as if the Swamp itself had drawn in all life and all that was left was the thick breath of (her gasps in her own ears) it.  And it was too late to retreat or act on the warning the Swamp had provided, the stagnant air of the thing clinging to her coat.

She was there, vulnerable, blind, exposed.

She stared at him, seeing nothing, and showing everything.

He stumbled to a halt, legs spread to hold his trembling weight, seemingly useless in this heightened state. But no, he was aware, even past the rush of blood in his ears, he felt her fluttering heartbeat and in response his jaw snapped open in preparation. Another life would make no difference now.

His eyes finally caught up, looked and found her there, focused in on the weak points that he knew would make the most mess. He snorted and gore splattered free of his nostrils, dragging in her scent now that he could.

The prey would run or shout or cry or whimper; it would do all or any of those things and that was what he was waiting for. He teetered at the edge, strength gathering in his limbs, ready to fall even further.

Chrystali wrote:It was waiting for her to react, or at least, that's why she assumed she still drew breath.

Curious.  She could smell him and the taste that came with it, a cologne of blood in fur, meat and marrow.  There was something else that clung that she couldn't pinpoint, but she'd never been so close to a sickness, a madness, before.

He wanted to chase, and she wouldn't let him.  Not because she was stronger, or unafraid, but because he had the chance and he didn't take it.  She was not the predator - he was - she had survived another who(se teeth had smelled like death, much like this one did) hadn't waited for a game to ensue as this one had.  The doe had an inkling of an idea that if he hadn't had his teeth in her throat yet, he wouldn't.  Not then.  Not yet.

Fluke's long tail arched gracefully away from the dirtied earth and, turning her head away, she walked on, a slow movement of careful hoof placement and a touch of shin to root before stepping over it.

His jaw snapped shut in disappointment and a tongue idly licked the blood from around his jaw before disappearing within again. It didn’t matter. If the prey didn’t run, it would still die. It would still bleed and maybe it would be nice to ease her down slowly into death, an intimate embrace of teeth.

But he was seeing her now, not just looking, rising from the deep dark with each harsh breath. He took in her delicate movement, the uncertain turn of her head, each slow and measured step. Finally he took in her face with the soft pink nose and the broken eyes.

He saw her and she didn’t see him.

Chrystali wrote:The breathing changed.  It was subtle, but it was enough in that silent stretch of eternity that the Swamp provided.  She could feel its eyes on her - or she assumed she could.  In the darkness, everyone looked the same.

An ear lifted towards the heavy sound of moving air, a pale eye in profile; she heard a bird chirp, once.  Probably a warning.  It's too late for some of us.

She was still breathing.  Curious.  She was as vulnerable to him with her back turned as she'd been standing there with her throat displayed.

But still...she was whole.

The sun wouldn't stay up forever, and she needed to find a sanctuary, preferably one that didn't smell like the innards of its previous tenant.  The doe drew in her own softer, but still audible breath, and pushed on beyond the bloodied proof of existence.

She was wide open, almost begging to be taken but she was too soft, too sweet. Now he wanted to drink in her scent, be closer, feel her warmth and make her his. It was a different fire that took over his blood, filled him with new strength, enough to fight the darkness.

Big Bad clawed himself up and out, a violent mental effort that had his entire body shaking. It was the smothering of the wild, pressing it deep down again and replacing it with the façade. His legs nearly gave way, his heart thundered in his chest. This process took time and he was forcing it, for her.

But he triumphed and before she could disappear from view, he said, in voice that held no blood or malice: “Hello.”

Chrystali wrote:Hello.

A voice.  It had a voice.

He.  He had a voice, and the creature the stunk of many lost lives was suddenly not just a nameless force.  He was intelligent.  He was more dangerous.

Fluke gave pause, moving with caution; she was but a leaf, and he was a waterfall.  He would carry her with him whether she had something to say about it or not.  She was not, however, rude or the type to see the worst in all there was - her handicap wouldn't allow such ignorance.

Her delicate jaw lifted, eyes of pale moonlight sightlessly turned towards him, as if she were indeed holding his gaze.  "Hello," she returned the word, full of the softness and delicacy that her poise suggested.  She didn't offer further words, not yet - though his voice carried nothing that her other senses told her, she was mindful.

Fluke knew she couldn't run if worst came to worse.  She was a child of the land, and he...he was a sinkhole.

And with a simple word he had won.

Despite still being the blood-soaked monstrosity that had first stumbled upon her, Big Bad would swallow her whole and make her his. There was no doubt, no possibility of escape. The only question would be if she came out at the other side in one piece.

He forced his still weak legs forward, closer and closer. “I need to wash,” he said as he came close enough to touch and deliberately rubbed his body along hers until she’d been stained with red, “and so do you.”

There was nowhere in this Swamp that she could hide from him, no where she could run, not until he’d had his fill.

Chrystali wrote:She sucked in a quiet breath, undoubtedly audible to him: surprise at his enormous size, a mouthful of the gore he was caked in.  He'd marked her.  He'd marked her with death.

It wasn't the first time.  But that time, it had changed her life, forever...MotherFather help her, she couldn't imagine that this wasn't going to jilt her to her core, either.  The next day seemed so very, very far - and even blind as she was, she wasn't certain her eyes would turn towards the sun the same way again.  He knew that.  Now, so did she.

It all passed in a heartbeat.  Another breath was drawn in, this one trembling slightly, her tail curled in and against her back legs as though to protect herself from being mired.  "No thanks to you," she replied, her voice gentle and absent of the malice the words might imply.  Fluke tried to be lightly joking, but it came out sounding more stark, wary, pointing out the obvious.

And MotherFather, he was obviously not the direction she should be following.

Lifting her chin, she drew in one more breath, not as shaky as the other two, and turned towards him, facing him the best she could.  "Which way?  You must lead," she said softly, effectively handing over the reins of her time - exposing her vulnerability.  She might as well have put her neck against his teeth.

When she lifted her head, he nearly broke. It nearly crippled him on the spot and sent him spiraling back down. But his new need was stronger, powerful enough to step into her space once more and press his gore-stained nose to the soft pale flesh of her throat, to hold it there until the trembling in his gut subsided. Until he could unclench his jaws without using them.

"I will show you the way," he spoke into her flesh, a dark promise for the future.

And he did. He used his body, pressed against her side, his voice a rumble and his breath hot against her cheek. He was careful and almost tender, ensuring there was nothing in her path to her or trip her. Nothing in this world would hurt her while she was his.

Chrystali wrote:His nose pressed against her throat, and she swore -- swore this would be the final darkness.  Fluke could practically feel him trembling like some barely restrained thing, one stiff breeze away from unhinging entirely and swallowing her whole.

But he didn't.

A promise spoken into her fur was almost as good as a bite, but she was very much aware that it wasn't his teeth he was using, but his words.  His gestures.  The doe was many things, but she was aware of choices more than most.  She did not offer her voice again, but instead followed him, or rather - walked next to him, lead and guided with all the care and gentleness of a friend and mate.

Fluke's steps were careful but measured with his lead, into territory that was unfamiliar to her but with little choice in the matter.  Despite her fear of the creature caked in the unfortunate timing of others, his guidance served to give her focus, an ease in relying on him.  There was still a tremble in her step, but she was more attentive and less afraid of being his next meal.  Could it be that bad?

"Who are you?" she asked after a time, voice between caution and curiosity.

He hadn’t been expecting the question.

His lips curled back, revealing those sharp teeth, even as her gently guided her around the remains of a rotting tree. It was a blessing that she could not see him, would not witness the tears in his facade. In a few days, they would be patched up but his shift from madness had been too sudden and perfection took time.

Who are you?

The dream; a looming shadow, darkness absolute and a promise of death so certain that there was no point in even struggling. Fangs in the darkness, blood everywhere, can’t run, can’t hide, everywhere, big teeth, big claws, big bad. His name always gives the game away.

"Just call me... Friend."

Then they are there, the scent of fresh water cutting through the mud and the iron bite of blood. "Here. Now we will bathe." His touch is insistent, leading her into the pool.

Chrystali wrote:"I did not ask what you are," she replied, the lightness of her tone suggesting a faint thread of humor, an ease misplaced.  "But if you insist, Friend, so it shall be."

Not like she had any means to go against him; not physically, not otherwise.

The clean scent of wet was a welcome one, and with ears turned forward towards the soft sounds of the water brushing against the earth, she was half-lead, half-leading towards the sound of her salvation from the blood that left a sick heat against her neck, some sort of stain of their paths crossing.  Fluke felt the ground slick beneath her hooves and, careful, she felt her way along the mire until she sunk ankle deep into the liquid.

"Ah," she breathed with gratitude, the rest of her body following suit easily into the water.  She pressed forward, ever careful with where each hoof was placed, until she was knee-deep.  Once there, she coiled her slim tail around her side and laid down, submerging most of the bloodied part of her body.  "Have you had your fill to eat?" she asked once she was settled, more or less testing those waters, to see if she was just prey being cleaned or...anything at all, of his intentions, of him.

“I do insist,” he hissed through his teeth. The lightness of her tone almost triggered another explosion, the beast angered by her lack of fear and the emerging self pleased with such quick progress. It wouldn't be long until she was relying on him entirely and he could take everything he wanted.

They entered the water side by side until she sunk down and he continued on, ignoring her question and leaving her behind to duck his head down and watch with eyes still open as blood seeped out of his fur, his mouth, his nose. It turned the water around him dark.

Cleansed.

Big Bad returned to the air and breathed in deep.

He returned to her, laid at her side and pressed his nose into the hollow of her throat. “For now,” he promised, filling his nose with her scent.

Chrystali wrote:The doe cleaned herself slow and mindful, trying to rid herself of that remaining sick heat, the feeling of warmth that made her tremble in ways she could only hide by remaining seated.  He returned to her side and Fluke could feel his size -- he was much larger than he had even sounded, like he could cover her entirely, effortlessly.

Subtly lifting her head at the touch of his nose to her neck, she exhaled slowly through her flared nose, and touched is briefly along one of his ears, leading to his mane and spiked brow.  Fluke could not even give words to what he was, having never seen a Kiokote before her sight was taken, but she felt like he was a beast of legend - a proverbial dragon, a real life wolf.  "You are...quite large," she said in a voice that felt a bit more thready than she wanted to give on, "...Friend."

He wasn't going to hurt her, that much she gathered.  Even with his care, his carefulness -- why was she letting her guard down?  Then again, what choice did she have?

The water rippled round their forms, lapping at their fur, blood still staining the water, as if it oozed fresh from Big Bad’s skin. Big Bad kept his nose pressed against her throat, snuffled slightly, dragging her scent down his nose and into his throat. He let her explore him with her nose, held in place, only his ears giving small involuntary flickers.

When she mentioned his size, he hummed in agreement. He liked the sound of her voice, the slight strain. Big Bad’s tongue flicked out, along her throat, testing - it filled his mouth with a taste other than blood and death.

There would always be something in the back of his mind, something singing under his skin to rip and tear, sink his teeth into her and tear at her flesh but but he had another interest, just as primal, that was taking the fore. 

Chrystali wrote:Maybe she was aware of the change of appetite, or perhaps she hoped to offer something to dissuade the meal of flesh that ended between teeth and gut.  Survival ran between them and the touch of fur, and hesitant, Fluke flit her tongue over his brow, almost immediately regretting the action.

Her throat, tight from his proximity to it and knowing what would come next, suddenly felt like it had closed entirely.  The blind doe attempted to take some steps back, wavering in the water, not able to get away really -- not from where they were, and certainly not from him.

He let her step away, turned his head to watch her progress. Like the cat that let’s the mouse go, just to pounce on it again. The spot she had licked burned with feeling.

Big Bad watched his doe, traced her face with his eyes, studied her innocent, fragile perfection. A growl rolled through him, swallowing up the word he had been about to utter, that floated on the tip of his tongue, mine.