[1v1] Empires (SengMeng) (violent)

[keiifuu]

Meditation was, in fact, an indescribably perfect way to pass time. The hours bled off, and the sky turned a deeper orange before finally wilting into the darkest shades of night. Yes, meditation was a perfect way to pass time. It was not, however, a perfect way of calming down, no matter what ones purpose for it might have originally been. Senga opened his eyes with a slow, irritable exhale of breath, bright gold glowing against the shadowy canvas of vines and branches and all of the spaces in between.

Below, he could hear the slow hum of activities grinding to a halt. Bare feet shuffling and wingbeats hitting the air in tandem until there was little left but the crackle of distant fires and small flecks of amber-red in the distance to signify any form of life. A familiar welt of anger and aggravation scratched at him, needling open his veins to the heat of impatience. Shrugging off the pelt, Senga stretched, animalistic nearly beneath his skin.

And then he took off.

For others, it was the time of night for sleep or intimate privacy, leaving the Sanctuary quiet and empty. Ever since they'd been trapped here after the Shadowlings decimated the Lair, Senga had grown more and more restless. The woods and the paths and the areas laid out for separate clans had bled together into a stagnant cage, scratching away at his patience bit by bit.

Landing on the outskirts of the reserve, near to the forest edge, Senga rumbled, stretching his wings until their tips rested on the grass beneath his bare feet.

What a boring, tiresome cage.

kurotomato

BAD INTRO HERE U GO

 

[kuropeco]

It had taken Mengyao some time to recover after the last incident with Senga, but that did not mean that he had not stopped thinking about it. In fact, it ate away at him, gnawed at him, settled down in his very bones, as though he had little else to keep him occupied. And his little situation with Lifen notwithstanding, it seemed nothing else in Mengyao's life could possibly go the way he wanted it to.

Which was why he had tried to take a walk to cool his head, soothe his mind. He doubted that it would work as it once would have, but there was little else to do in the reserve; it was not the Isle of Conquest, there was not a great deal that could settle his nerves. Walking late at night had become a habit of his, but lately they did hardly anything except possibly make him more aggravated.

Especially when they were interrupted by the arrival of the very person that Mengyao both wished and did not wish to see.

The swooping of the colt down to the ground several feet in front of him was unexpected, but Mengyao felt the fury creeping back into his throat, still bandaged from their earlier fight. He stood silently - Senga's back was to him, and he doubted the other had noticed his arrival just yet.

Quietly he moved forward, then reached out his hand and seized the war horseman by his own neck, wrapping an arm around his throat and pulling him back so that his face was pressed against the side of Senga's from behind.

"What a nice evening to run into a dog like you," Mengyao murmured into his ear, closing his eyes and letting the breeze of the evening flow around them, everything else still and silent.

"Senga."

keiifuu

YEAHHH

 

[keiifuu]

Oh, so this was the prize at the end of all of his hard work? A hand around his throat and a knife-like voice in his ear? Senga resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Meditation be damned, as soon as he stopped, the source of all of his troubles somehow managed to reappear.

There were, as there always were, options.

Be the wise and mature one, or of course, be the savage.

Senga turned his head against Mengyao's, his mouth splitting into a feral grin that seemed only to accent the elongated canines beneath his dry lips. "If you're going to greet someone like that, at least follow through with something satisfactory." As though to rile Mengyao further, the Executioner nuzzled the warm skin and hair. "Oh, but I forget, how you're all just play. All bark, no bite."

If he played the wise and mature card, Mengyao would just treat it like a child trying to grow up too fast. And really, what fun would that be? If Mengyao was here for a fight, Senga wasn't going to dance around the subject by opening himself to spiteful jeers. Tilting his head away, Senga ruffled his wings, allowing them to fluff up, the bones pushing into Mengyao's heavy clothing. Always one to dress up for a party, that one, if little else.

"Ah, if you're planning to try and do anything to get back at me for last time, you'd best start trying. I imagine it will take awhile for your blows to make a mark." He turned his head back slowly, pressing his maw against Mengyao's ear, scratching at it with his teeth. The voices hissed and crackled like fireworks in his mind, jeering him on. And what use was it really, to hush them up anymore? Mengyao would only scratch at them until they woke up again, and then they would get angry. Angrier.

"Come now, lamb," He bit the sensitive cartilage until there was warm blood in his mouth. "You need to learn to let go."

Oh, a savage part of his mind hummed, I've been waiting for this.

kurotomato

ASDFGHJK ALSO I FORGOT TO ROLL BUT MENG CAN ATTACK FIRST IF U WANT

 

[kuropeco]

The grin was just as animal-like as the rest of Senga's actions, the way he spoke, the way he moved. The savage creature inside of him made Mengyao inexplicably angry. How could one lose themselves enough to have devolved so rapidly and so fully into something that was merely feral, merely emotional?

He could not lose himself like Senga was, but the Insanity would not let him make that choice.

Mengyao's eyes narrowed, resisting the urge to pull his head away as the colt's teeth grazed his hair, which at the moment was free, flowing down his shoulders and partway down his back. He had not made an effort to pull it back, but now he wished he had; though at least he kept his clothes as they should be, a proud member of Conquest with deep reds and gold threads that made him feel as though he were who he was supposed to have been all this time.

Himself, not the Insanity he was becoming.

He felt heavy wings pressing against his midsection as Senga twisted, and then sharp canines were on his ear, and Mengyao gave a sharp, angry hiss, his fingers clenching around Senga's neck, already feeling the blood begin to trickle down his face.

"And you need to learn that you are not the wolf you pretend to be."



[ HP: 40/40
Target: Sengyaoi-chan
Damage: ....meng plz i d e
FEAR: Y2 Chill ]

keiifuu

gj kupu gj

 

[keiifuu]

"Not at all," Senga exhaled with a laugh, his mouth turning feral, "but why should I bother being anything else? You'll see me the same, even if I wear a different skin. You'll still call me feral - too young, too ignorant, too useless, too little." His jaw tensed, a low hiss of breath escaping when Mengyao tightened his grip.

His wings curled, the tips pressing tight against Mengyao. "Why did you come here if not to try and play at a game you'll lose in the end?" He laughed, and it sounded mocking. "What other purpose would you have for seeking me out the way you have?"

In a flash, he twisted, his entire body a predatory blur. His lips curled, hands fisting against Mengyao's robes and shoving him back. Senga used the momentum to drive the other up against the trunk of a near tree, his eyes a burning amber-gold that seemed aglow. "Don't come here and pretend to be the noble Conquest pest you usually are." He dragged one hand down, ripping at the clothing Mengyao wore. Annoying little s**t. "If you're here for a rematch, you should at least learn a thing or two about how to battle first."

He tilted his head at the other, a slow smile curling against the pale of his face.

"Come on, Mengyao. You wouldn't want to disappoint anyone a second time, would you?"

HP: 40/40
Target: Mengyaoi
Damage: 2
FEAR: Y2 Battle Cry

kurotomato

damn it mengyaoi

 

[kuropeco]

They were not themselves anymore, both of them succumbing to the grey Insanity that threatened to consume them, swallow them whole. He could do nothing to stop it, so why try anymore?

Why not just give in? whispered a voice in his head.

"That's because," said Mengyao, his voice low, right next to Senga's ear. "You are not a wolf. You are a horsemen; or rather, a poor example of one. You wear the pelt of a wolf, certainly, but no matter how hard you try, you will not be one of them."

He had let down his guard, let his fingers loosen, just a little. Senga's body twisted and without warning, Mengyao felt fingers in his robes and suddenly he was thrown backwards, feeling his back hit something hard and rough. His head snapped back unpleasantly, his hair spilling over his shoulders, and Mengyao let out a low hiss of pain, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Who's disappointed?" he breathed out, his hands reaching for Senga's to stop their movements, encircling one bony wrist and twisting it sideways, yanking the colt forward so that they were practically nose to nose. "Stop acting as though you hold the upper hand in all of this. You beat me once - that does not mean that you are in anyway better than I am."

I am a member of Conquest. I am of the Noble line.

The layers of clothing were half protecting him from Senga's scratching claws, though he'd already ripped one garment. Mengyao glowered, his gold eye glowing brightly.

"You are stubborn, I'll grant you that, but you are the disappointment, not I."



[ HP: 38/40
Target: Sengyaoi-chan
Damage: 3
FEAR: Y2 Chill ]

keiifuu

#boys plz

 

[keiifuu]

Senga sighed, uncurling his fist from Mengyao's robes and taking a step back. His wings shuffled, his eyes wholly swallowed in the unhealthy amber-gold. "This conversation is tiresome." He complained mildly, crossing his arms over his middle and allowing his weight to side to one hip. "Not a wolf, not a man - you keep going around in circles with your words, making the same argument with different variations to the subject you get sucked into." His lips curled into a slow, bitter smile.

"And that does not mean you are any better than I am either." He laughed mirthlessly. "Oh come now, and don't be so ignorant, you vapid creature." His eyes flashed angrily, and he stepped towards the other, his lips drawn into a thin line. "I'm not one to deny all these claims because I know I'm a disappointment. This grey in my skin, these scars and these voices - they're enough to say so, aren't they?"

Senga shrugged one shoulder, and spread his arms to either side, inviting Mengyao to try his best.

"What do you tell yourself that they are, those things in your head and those markings on your flesh? A trophy prize? Who are you trying to kid?"

HP: 37/40
Target: Mengyaoi
Damage: 0 gj gj
FEAR: Y2 Battle Cry

kurotomato

ilu bb

 

[kuropeco]

"And you just keep flying in circles," said Mengyao, as Senga took a step back. He inhaled deeply, letting his lungs fill with air he didn't have a moment ago, and leveled a cruel smirk at the colt. "Always flying, but never landing."

He pushed himself away from the tree, standing still for a moment. But then he started walking, carefully untying the top layer of his voluminous robes, discarding it on the ground. Layers of clothing made it harder to injure, but also harder to move in, as Mengyao had so obviously found out.

"You feel it, don't you?" He said, That restlessness in your bones. You're never satisfied with what you are or who you are or where you are."

He was down to the basics now, a simple, sleeveless tunic, though his hair was still loose. "They're not anything," he answered. "They're an infection."

His lips curved upwards. "They're a token."



[ HP: 38/40
Target: Sengyaoi-chan
Damage: w/e meng w/e
FEAR: Y2 Chill ]

keiifuu

idek

 

[keiifuu]

Senga bared his fangs at Mengyao, his wings unfurling as though he were going to lunge -- and then the motion deflated, the wiry anger and tension burning out as quickly as it had come. His mouth opened into a sigh, and he stretched his wings out and let their tips brush the grass, tilting his head back to expose his scarred throat. Bare of his pelt and bandages, that was what he was; a scarred, broken creature.

If one were to take away the grey fissures, they would still find marks and deep marrs in his skin. Raised skin, hardened silver scars that lapped over each other on his chest, his shoulders, his back. What were a few more, he wondered briefly, if Mengyao was so keen on getting back at him for those bruises and cuts in his still healing skin.

"Hmm." He tilted his head at Mengyao, bright eyes pulsing a sick golden hue. "And look at you - submitting to yours." His lips curled, but not into a smile. "I'm not going to do this - this back and forth banter for children. What do you want from me, Mengyao?"

And then he lunged, driving his knee into Mengyao's middle and summoning his dagger in one quick gesture. Grabbing a fistful of hair, Senga yanked the Noble's head back and pressed the dagger mercilessly to his throat, cutting a thin line of red into the fragile flesh there.

"Or shall I just let history repeat itself again?"

HP: 37
Target: Mengyaoi
Damage: 8
FEAR: Y2 Battle Cry

kurotomato

... oops

 

[kuropeco]

Talking was getting neither of them anywhere, but that was what Mengyao did - he talked. He was not a fighter, not like those decrepit savages of the War Clan who brutalized all they could. Those of Conquest were higher than such things, held themselves in better esteem. They did not lower themselves to such petty vendettas.

Not all of them, at least.

"Are you implying you're a child?"

Mengyao's breath escaped him in one gasp that turned into a hiss, Mengyao staggering beneath the hit. He felt fingers in his hair and then something sharp against his neck, his neck snapping backwards, eyes staring up into the bright, golden ones of Senga's.

A smile stretched across Mengyao's lips, too wide, too feral for his face.

"Certainly. Let us repeat all of our past mistakes."

He grabbed Senga's wrist, twisting it to get the knife away and then kicked out, slamming the other against the tree, a look of wild anger fervent in his dual colored eyes.

There was no talking now.



[ HP: 30/40
Target: Sengyaoi-chan
Damage: 4
FEAR: Y2 Chill ]

keiifuu

wat

 

[keiifuu]

"Oh, come now, Mengyao, are you really asking that?" Senga flashed his fangs at the other, a mockery of a smile. "After telling me my place every time we meet?"

He shrugged a shoulder, glad that if there was one thing they could agree on, it was that words were not necessary for them when it came to their animosity. After all, it was better to let the cold anger and violent urges grow than to try and hold them back. Especially when his opponent was so eager to rile him up.

Grunting when the other slammed him back into the tree, Senga lifted his head, wild eyes hungry for the thrill of the hunt. Here on the outskirts of the reserve, there was little to get in their way. No horsemen to judge their fight, or try and stop them. The scent of dirt and sweat and blood burned something in him, eating away at his core until nothing was left but the base cravings of an animal.

Senga snarled, and lunged.

He caught the other in the stomach with his foot, claws digging into the cloth of Mengyao's tunic and pulling him forward so that they were nose and nose. "Our mistakes?" He laughed, his tone animalistic and hungry. "Oh, I think I'll eat you alive this time, you poor little thing."

He flipped his dagger between his nails and drove it upwards, slicing Mengyao's skin in a cruel mockery of a slash, though with none of the usual smooth movement that came with an average hunt. He pushed his hand against the open cut and dug his nails into the wound, tilting his head up at Mengyao with a vicious, hollow grin.

Fight back. He wanted to say, but he knew Mengyao got the message. Fight back so I can kill you this time.

HP: 33
Target: Mengyao
Damage: 7
FEAR: Y2 Battle Cry

kurotomato

idk bro

 

[kuropeco]

With no one to judge him but himself, Mengyao had little reason to hold up any appearances he might have once had. His eyes, already wild with the Insanity that grew inside of him, flowing through his veins, burned feverishly bright, and he could almost taste the fight on his tongue.

Senga's foot hit his stomach, and Mengyao staggered back a few steps, only to be pulled forward once more, their faces mere inches apart. He smirked, the height difference between them even more obvious now, and leaned closer, a smile in his voice as he said softly, "I thought we said no talking."

The blade sliced through his clothes, across his collarbone, and then Senga's fingers were digging into it mercilessly, and Mengyao gave a scream of pain that reverberated throughout his body, flames of agony sliding through him, his own weakness galling him. He let out a furious gasp and seized Senga's wrists again, twisting them back and throwing him away, one hand rising to press against the blood on his throat.



[ HP: 23/40
Target: Sengyaoi-chan
Damage: 1
FEAR: Y2 Chill ]

keiifuu

/throws up hands

 

[keiifuu]

Senga laughed, snapping his teeth at Mengyao like a wolf. "Oops, my bad." There was a sickly pleasure in tearing sound out of the other man, and his fingers dug deeper and deeper, claws biting into open wounds. He wanted to cut Mengyao open and bleed him, and burn a memory into him that would last.

Leaping back as soon as Mengyao tried to get rid of him, Senga landed lightly on his feet and ruffled his wings, his body wiry and thin. He looked like a starved creature without his pelt, all skin and bones and blood. The scars that ran across his body stood out like prominent landmarks, memories, trophies, tokens. His lips curled into a slight snarl. But there was no way he would let Mengyao of all people leave one on him.

He wasn't worthy of that sort of thing.

Feeling the bloodlust surge again, Senga lunged, unfurling his wings and leaping into the air a moment before he would have rammed into Mengyao. Vaulting behind the other, Senga laughed, one hand on Mengyao's shoulder, forcing him down, to his knees where he belonged. With his other hand, he pushed the dagger to the small of Mengyao's back. The blade pressed in slowly, drawing blood before he raked the blade up, drawing a thick red line all the way to the nape of Mengyao's neck. His arm curled around the nobles neck then, and he bowed his head, pressing his chin into the crook between his collarbone and his neck.

No words? That was fine with him. His mouth hitched open into a grin too wide and too savage for a human expression, a sick sound of amusement and mocking laughter breaking from his throat.

Was this all Mengyao was worth anymore?

HP: 32/40
Target: Mengyaoi
Damage: 8
FEAR: Y2 Battle Cry

kurotomato

 

[kuropeco]

He could taste the metallic copper of blood on his tongue, strong and acidic, and it made him simultaneously nauseated and angry, Mengyao leaning back against the tree as he tried to catch his breath. The fight was already a losing one, but he was not about to merely lie down and take it easy.

He would go down leaving as many scars on Senga's face as he could.

But he was too slow, too damn slow, and the colt was already behind him, a hand gripping his shoulder, and then Mengyao felt his knees hit the ground, a blade at his back, and another scream of pain wrenched from his throat, raw and agonized, swallowed back mid-cry as Mengyao forced himself to breathe, to not let Senga see him at his weakest.

That was too late, and they both knew it.

Leaning his head back onto Senga's shoulder, Mengyao closed his eyes, breathing in a sharp, shaking breath before they fluttered open again, and he stared up at the branches above his head dazedly.

Since when have I fallen so low?

What has happened to me?

He reached up a hand, his fingers curling around the back of Senga's neck, and then he jerked forward, rolling into a somersault and pulling the other with him and slamming him down, Mengyao sitting on top of him, his breath leaving his throat in hitching gasps of pain and satisfaction as he wrenched the knife from Senga's hands and pressed it against his own throat.

"I'm not done with you yet."



[ HP: 15/40
Target: Sengyaoi-chan
Damage: 6
FEAR: Y2 Chill ]

keiifuu

D<

 

[keiifuu]

Senga hummed, the sound reverberating in the hollow of his throat. His eyes were sharp, burning amber that seemed almost unnaturally bright against the tawny hair and the pale skin. His head slipped back, his throat bared to the steel of his own blade. A taunt, maybe. A joke, a game.

How many times had he been here, inches from death? And how many times had he been refused? How many times had the opposition backed down? It was a sick sort of pleasure he derived from it all; a rush of adrenaline that surged and made him feel more alive than the voices coiling and crooning in the hollow places in his mind.

What would it be like to meet the silence at the other end of death?

How peaceful would that be?

Senga laughed, his eyes sliding closed. And what a fool he was for dreaming of it. He still had so many miles to go, so many things to do before he could lay down and rest. And he knew that Mengyao's threats meant little; the Conquest Noble above him could cut and tear and bleed, but death was a thing that hadn't tainted his hands - at least not the death of another clans member. Cattle, perhaps, if little else.

"You aren't?"

He tilted his head to the side, the scars across his face so prominent, jagged as it stretched across his eye.

"Than what are you doing?" He laughed, reaching up to stroke almost tenderly at Mengyao's face. "Don't make threats you can't go through with, Mengyao. We both know that blade in your hand is just an act."

His hand slid down to the red lines in Mengyao's skin, his nails scratching at the open wounds. His body stretched, skin pulling taut over lean muscle and making him look all the more inhuman. Gently, he pulled his hand back and pushed it beneath the hand holding the blade, pushing with enough force to bring it back up to Mengyao's throat. He leaned up, propping himself on one elbow and grinning at the man.

"Death is something you could hardly imagine trying in your wildest dreams. You're too tame, too inexperienced. Don't play with me, Mengyao."

His voice was hollow and aching. It said all of the things he didn't, as the blade slid against his fingers and cut open red lines in his skin, held against Mengyao's neck even as it did.

I'll destroy you if you do.

HP: 26/40
Target: Mengyaoi-sama
Damage:
FEAR: Y2 Battle Cry

kurotomato

asdfghgds