[PRP] Well, This Day Used to be Pleasant (Soren and Senga)

[ramenli]

Soren looked down at the flowers from where he towered above them, a speculative look on his face. Was the plant with more blossoms the most hardy, or the one that had grown the most, with a fair amount of offshoots and a good bit taller. Of course, he had no where to actually put the plant if he took it now, which reminded him that what he really needed to be doing was looking for his own land to claim and put a dwelling on, so he could gather a few plants as well as plant the seed he had found with Lifen and really start work on his personal tribute to Astridr.

It might have looked odd, a large, bulky guardian to stand stock still for several minutes staring at a couple of plants, but things had not been precisely normal lately. Something in the forest made a noise and he started visibly before looking around. It was not precisely late, but it was a bit later than he had expected. It would probably be best if he began to head back to the temporary camp in the near future, just to make sure that nothing needed to be done before nightfall.

Kupuritama

It is technically a start? :'D

 

[keiifuu]

Nightfall was coming.

Senga had learned quickly enough to decipher the times of day here in Halloweentown despite the constant twilight hanging low and burnt orange in the sky, but still he felt most active when the darkness came. Restless, even. The voices in his head surged and bucked, wordless and meaningless and loud all at once. The sound of hoofbeats and rattling skulls reverberated through the forest, and Senga bent low to avoid branches as the elk leapt far over the fallen trunks of trees, guided by his quiet words and silent hands.

He rarely summoned his mount anymore, and the ride felt like the quickest way out of the reserve, out of the sounds of the clans all so close and so heavy on his skin, putting him on edge and tearing at his patience, his nerves. Only the sound of someone else made the young executioner pull at the reins, the elk sliding to a stop, thinning away into nothing as Senga swung a leg over and dropped to the ground. His skulls clicked hollowly together before he spread his wings and took a gliding step forward, carrying himself through the forest and closer to the sound. He wasn't one to pry into another's business out in the shadows of the forest, but the static noise in his head was only growing louder and louder still, drowning out thoughts and memories and begging for distraction.

Hush, hush, baby, Words like knives cycled in and out of the static, hollow and poison in his skull, gohomegohomegohomelittlewolf,you'reunwantedhere -

He slammed into something hard.

Oh no.

Senga's eyes cleared to the sight of something strange; something beneath him. His wings snapped closed and folded close to his side, tawny wingtips dusting the ground. Oh, and it was alive too, the thing he'd run into. That definitely wasn't good. Senga tensed, sitting up slowly and staring down at Soren from his perch... on top of him.

"Oh."

This was awkward. Maybe.

"Hello."

ramenli

OMG I HOPE THIS IS ALRIGHT /facepalm/ sorry for senga being a derp q v q !!

 

[ramenli]

Soren was a rather large and heavy horseman. So for something to smack into him with enough force to knock him down? Well that was rare indeed. Just the sort of rare of having a fellow horseman fly into him. Completely taken by surprise he was not braced for the impact, and quite frankly did not know what was happening. It felt as if he had been racing multiple laps with Seabiscuit, and it took several seconds for the events that had just occurred to register.

Horseman. On top of him. Who would surely get up as soon as he had gathered his wits about him. "Hi," he answered tersely. His eyes settled on a rather magnificent pelt that the other was wearing, and he could not help but wonder if, like his own, it was a trophy of some sort. His own had come from a rare creature, a stripeless white tiger, but rarer still in that it had managed to wound a horseman to the point of scaring. Still, the fur would only capture his attention for so long, and he quickly turned his fully attention back on the one wearing the garment.

"Comfortable up there?" He asked in a tone that was completely flat, clearly waiting for some personal space.

Kupuritama

Bring on the derp~ Sorry you had to put up with one of my awful horse pun/saying things :'D I kindof presumed he had that on, if he doesn't let me know and I'll edit?

 

[keiifuu]

Compared to Soren, Senga was little. The young executioner became morbidly aware of this quickly, his wings puffing up in mild defensiveness towards the thought. There had always been a reason for his nickname, the little wolf. Compared to the strong, proud horsemen bred from his clan, he was nothing but a child, a thin shadow at the edge of the crowd. His eyes flickered to the horseman when he spoke, trying to place his own clan; Death seemed the likely choice, for certainly he was too darkly clothed for Conquest, and too clothed in general for Famine. Rumbling a soft growl in the back of his throat, Senga shook off the hood, tawny strands brushing against scarred skin.

His eyes settled first on Soren's face before slipping to the pelt that he wore, transfixed for a moment by the similarity to his. Of course, Senga's was from a wolf; a proud creature of the jungles of War that he himself had slain. The pelt itself had been a gift though, a trophy made by crafty hands to present to the young executioner. Ghosting his fingers over the pelt, Senga's eyes only lifted to Soren when his flat voice echoed out. "Hmmm." His wings fluffed, one stretching out to brush over Soren's head curiously, like a third arm and not just another appendage. "You are more pointy than preferred." He said quietly, shifting his perch slightly, the skulls rattling hollowly against his skin. The static in the back of his head surged, angry and hot and berating all at once, making his fingers tense and his body quiver restlessly.

"Who are you?"

He tried to distract himself more. Whether it worked or not... well, that was something only time could tell.

ramenli

LOL <3 no they are perfect C8< <3333 and yep, he does! n u n

 

[ramenli]

The strange and almost eerie feeling of the feathers moving over his head was not appreciated. Nor was the legitimate answer to his question. While the size of his assailant meant that he could probably just shift him off, if not just pick him up, he would prefer not to manhandle strangers when they were perfectly capable of moving off on their own.

"Soren," he all but snapped back. It was hard not to notice that the horseman on top of him appeared as though he was maybe less than fully infested in their conversation, not that Soren was know for his own conversational skills. "Get up," he demanded, when it seemed as though things were not progressing as quickly as he'd like. "I'm willing to use force." The threat was there, not that he'd actually harm another horseman just for this. They were an endangered species, and mainly he just meant that he'd get him off of him. Though perhaps explaining that fact would have gone over better.

Kupuritama

Falling asleep typing this, hopefully its in English and makes sense outside of my sleep addled brain!

 

[keiifuu]

Senga nearly reeled at the snappish tone the other took, but instead, some frightfully instinctive part of his mind took over, and his nails all but dug into Soren's frame like claws. He stared down at the other wolfishly, hungrily, on the edge. Something in the back of his head was crawling out, out of the static - a monster taking over every muscle in his body, every breakable bone and sensitive vein. Insecurity settled like a blanket on his skin, sending shudders up his spine, pupils dilating until the gold seemed to swallow his eye whole.

And then the words pricked at his skin like needles, and he all but bared his fangs. "Is that an offer for a fight," He asked without really asking, his tone taking on a sharpened edge, eyes half lidding even though they did not shield the intensity in his eyes, a rough palette of amber that seemed to shake with insecurity. Maybe even fear. His hand moved up, nails biting into the base of Soren's neck. "Do you think you can best me?" Do you think I'm that little of a threat?

Every bone in his body ached for a fight. To prove someone wrong - anyone wrong. Did this horseman expect so little of him? Did he see him as a kid too? Senga's wings seemed to shudder violently, feathers sharpening like spikes.

How dare he.

ramenli

omg sorry for crazy senga sobsob /gives ramen a pillow Q U Q

 

[ramenli]

The horseman on top of him did not look entirely stable, especially with his eerily golden hue that seemed to be entirely taking over his eyes. It was somewhat understandable, the past bit for them had been a trying time. But at the same time, Soren did not like to feel threatened any more than Senga did, and while he was not plagued with the same affliction as the other he still did not take it lightly.

The question and hand, no claws almost, reached for his neck, digging into his flesh. At that point, even though it seemed as if there was something wrong with the other, Soren could no longer ignore that insult that was offered to him. "It is," he said shortly and with a glower as he reached up to wrap his gauntleted hand around the other's wrist, determined to remove his hand from its hold. Insults could be taken, but Soren was not going to just back down at the first show of force. He was a guardian, he could not simply back down so easily.

Kupuritama

OuO I like it I like it

 

[keiifuu]

Soren's grip on his wrist was like a burn, and Senga reacted like a cornered wolf, his eyes swallowed entirely in feral gold, tawny wings spiked and angled close to his body like armor. At the same time though, the retaliation of touch anchored him, drew his mind back from the static and set him on one single task. A task forged of insecurity, but a task nonetheless. His nails scratched at the fragile flesh at the base of Soren's neck as though looking for a pulse. He was too unstable to find a real opinion of Soren; instead he only felt the overwhelming urge to prove Soren wrong.

"Hmph." Senga twisted his hand in the others grip, claws biting instead into the gauntleted hand. His wings unfurled and gave a sharp flap, and the wolf shoved himself upward, hauling them both to their feet. The skulls against his torso clicked hollowly together, bones rattling and reminding him of home. "Why do you all expect so little of me?" It was a question misplaced, but it had been said already, and Senga couldn't take it back, even though it was meant for a ghost, and not for Soren himself. The boy wrenched his hand away from the gauntlet grip, staring in accusation at Soren, the grey along his skin vibrant and sickly. Every bone in his body ached to fight, muscles chorded and ready to spring as soon as Soren moved.

ramenli

aaa sorry this took so long q___q

 

[ramenli]

The little horseman was a slippery type, his sharp little claws sinking into his flesh where they could and he was managing to work at the little chinks in Soren's defense. It was aggravating. Soren did his best to stop him, trying not to let the thin wrists move in his grasp. The power in his opponent's wings was surprising to him, as unaccustomed to wings as they were. But once he was on his feet he planted them, almost daring the clansman from War to try to do more.

The boil was backing off, but by his pose Soren could tell it was merely a momentary respite. There was something seriously off about him, especially now that he could get a good look at him. His skin, tinged gray, was the most concerning. "You are brash, angry, foolish," he said flatly, not bothering to sugarcoat his words. "Why would I think highly of you, a Horseman that attacks his own kind." The look on his face was unimpressed, verging on a sneer. At the same time he was wary, waiting for the boil to attack again, not bothering to consider that he would back down.

Kupuritama

No problem~

 

[keiifuu]

Senga blinked at the words, his mind temporarily stilling to the sound of such foreign... descriptions. In the War Isle, his clan would have described him as the exact opposite. Cold, controlled, distant. Had this foreign land really changed him that much? The wolf's eyes half-lidded, thick gold heavy and vibrant beneath dark lashes. The grey fissures in his skin weren't just there for show, that much he knew for certain. A laugh bubbled in his throat, a quiet and hissing sound. It died soon enough though, flat-lining beneath a cold glare. "That's rude." He returned waspishly, baring his fangs in retaliation to the sneer.

For the moment, Soren wasn't his own kind. Death was as foreign to him as the Halloweentown citizens, and as much as he wished for some sort of inner self-control to pop back up and reel him in, his body and his instincts reacted much faster than logic. His lunge was quick but not deadly, his hand lashing out to catch the cloth and fur and yank Soren close, his wings half uncurled around them. "You may be my own kind but that doesn't make you anything to me." The war horseman didn't have anything against the other clans, no, not at all, but Senga was on the edge and tipping off the side with every exchange, every movement here in the middle of nowhere at all. His eyes were cold and angry, something that he nearly always had under layers and wraps. Soren just had the bad luck to catch him when his self-control had abandoned him.

Senga would regret it all later, but for now he was caught up in the moment, no matter where it chose to go.

ramenli

q v q <3

 

[ramenli]

Rude or not, that was what Soren had seen of the young clansman. And that meant that that was all that comprised his opinion of him. Well, that and the way he had first acted, when he had not seemed quite so aggressive. But that was overshadowed by his current mood. Overshadowed by the way he was pulling Soren toward him, the way that he was dismissing the bond that Horsemen shared. They were the remnants of a decaying race, there were base obligations that they owed to one another, and if he was ignoring that than Soren did not feel obligated to him either.

The cold anger that he faced, the aggressive little clansman from War, all struck Soren as being unfair. It was a ridiculous notion, like children crying foul, but it was there nonetheless. Why had this little upstart been spared when others had perished? When Astridr had perished? What was the point in his survival? Soren's gauntleted hand reached up, similarly grabbing on to cloth and fur, the similarity lost on him. Senga might have had an excuse for losing control, but Soren's was diminishing the longer he spent with the boil. "Your own kind is all you have," he practically spat, fist clenching ever tighter. "Those that abandon the Clans are useless. I should dispose of you and reap your Fear so that the Clans may get some use from you.

Kupuritama

I think they need to have a sleepover and braid each other's hair *A*

 

[keiifuu]

Senga's eyes flickered briefly over the others face when he spoke next, his lips pulled back into a half sneer before his body seemed to shake and fold. Your own kind is all you have, He'd said. It was almost laughable, really. They were a decaying race, on the verge of extinction. Could that really bond them, the proud horsemen, together? And even if they could, what part did Senga have in any of it? Why had he been one of the ones to survive? He was just a young pup, a little executioner in the shadows. Why hadn't his parents survived, or the chieftains, or anyone but him? It was a question the Insanity burnt into him every day, leaving him sleepless and haunted and restless all at once. Why you, the little wolf with nothing to give? Maybe he was being childish, maybe it was unfair. But he wanted answers, and all of the ghosts of the lost Isles couldn't give him one, nor the horsemen here. No, never.

"You should," He said quietly, fingering the fur the other wore. It wasn't like his; no, it wasn't a gift, a prize, a trophy. His eyes blinked up to the Death horseman, honey gold and devoid of the cold anger from before. His lips turned up into a small grin, and he tightened his grip, yanking Soren close, nose to nose. "Would you though? Would that make you happy? Would that put your hate to rest? But then, your actions would make you the hypocrite." The static exploded in his mind, surging through his veins like a poison filled with words and insecurity, hate and anger and fear. Soren was right, the voices crooned, you are so, so very..

"Why are useless things born?" The words were hollow in his throat, a question he didn't expect Soren to know the answer to. His eyes flickered, vibrant and empty all at once. His free hand found Soren's own, pressing the gauntleted fingers sharply into his own abdomen, giving enough pressure to break skin. It was laughably easy how fragile they were beneath their pride and powerful words. The Four Clans, the crowning jewel of all creatures bred of Fear, and yet they broke just as easily as humans. In the end, everything would fall apart.

"Make me useful, if you want then." The voices hissed and spat, and told him it was alright, it was okay if he died at this mans hand, if he was extracted for a greater cause. Was it though? Was it really? What's wrong with me? Senga rumbled quietly. "If that would put your mind at rest."

ramenli

LOL YES I approve *A* sleepover bonding time via braiding hair and other sleepover-y stuff y/y emotion_dowant

 

[ramenli]

Soren's hand flexed lightly against the boil's abdomen, digging just a little bit deeper into the flesh. He wanted to do it, destroy this useless little creature. Reap him harvest his Fear, present it to the Clan so that they could be stronger, perhaps this little waste of a body giving them that boost to survive a bit longer. Long enough.

But something stopped him. It was no great sense of justice or some memory from before the Isles were destroyed. No, it was the boil himself. Soren could not simply ignore how he seemed to flicker, burning fiercely one moment, dimming the next. Hot and cold almost, threatening to kill him with a hand on his neck to almost begging the guardian to go through with his own threat. There was a slight metallic tinge to the air, revealing just how close they really were to the destruction.

Would this act put his mind at rest? No, nothing truly would. Well, perhaps taking over the human world again, letting the humans know that they were nothing more than worms under their feet, that insubordination would be met with Death. Maybe then his mind would be at rest. Killing another horseman...yes he could harvest the boil's Fear, but it would not be enough, and if he thought for just a single moment he knew that. Knew that it would be killing one of an endangered race for no gain.

His hand relaxed, but did not withdraw.

"Useless things are born to be killed, harvested." Soren was a horseman of Death after all, killing was part of him. "There's only one other reason they'd be born. So they can change and have purpose." He gave the wolf-pelted clansman a disgusted look. "Horsemen don't let themselves be useless." He removed his hand finally. "You're wasting my time." It seemed like this exchange was bringing out the words in Soren.

Kupuritama

You know that realization you have no idea wtf you are doing? I had that. Also, I think they need manicures for their slumber party.

 

[keiifuu]

The pain of Soren's gauntlet in his flesh broke the static in half, tuning his mind to the physicality of pain instead of the whispers and shouts in the back of his head. His throat rumbled with a half-formed growl, lips parting to gather breath, but none came. He stared at Soren with an expression that couldn't hold solid form; it burnt from hot anger at the other for talking such big words and failing to follow through to resignation, to the emptiness that the grey fissures in his skin sometimes made him feel.

His wings uncurled around them, sending a chilling gust through the air. They had always embodied his own personal emotions, but now they grew restless, giving gentle shakes here and there, feathers still angled and spiked. They were nose to nose, and Senga could taste how close to the edge he was. In the back of his mind, he wondered briefly if Soren was close to it too. It was painful, his blunt words. But it was refreshing too. It sparked a burning anger inside of him, more alive than any other emotion he'd felt in a long time. But at the same time, it wired the young executioner with fear and uncertainty.

The wolf rumbled at the answer, having not expected it at all, and his eyes flickered briefly with irritation at the idea of being lectured. Ah, but he'd asked for in the first place, hadn't he? What situations he got himself into... This the most difficult of them all since he'd come here, to this foreign place. "That's a fascinatingly bland explanation." He responded waspishly, if only to respond at all. He raised his stare to Soren's eyes, frowning at the other as he removed his hand. "And yet you wouldn't harvest my Fear. I doubt its because you have faith that I could change." He didn't relinquish his hold on the others fur just yet, his hands void of the bandages he usually wore. Scars criss-crossed each other beneath the cracks of grey, reminding him of what he once was. Had he had a purpose back then? The voices all jeered inside of his head, screaming no! all at once. They mimicked the voice of his father, his mother, his sister, his so-called friends. Senga, the runt. Senga, the little wolf who couldn't run with the pack and was left to the forest, to the dark.

His eyes closed, body physically jerking back away from Soren, wrenching out of the others grip, the silence drowned in the sounds only he could hear. The voices all rose in unison, a nauseous headache that he couldn't dispel. His wings pumped steadily to keep him balanced and away from tipping dangerously to one side. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, and the flight-or-flee instinct bled into his mind, against his better judgement. He didn't want either, and this man wasn't a threat... was he? Senga pressed the heel of his palm to his head.

"You're annoying, and loud." He returned, hissing. "If I'm wasting your time, you could have just left." He took his hand away from his head and glared at Soren from his spot a few paces away; a wolf cornered, a wolf unsure and afraid. Alone. "Which begs the question of why you're still here. I'm useless after all, right? You have better things to be doing, right? You're from Death. Your kin are always finding uses in some way." After all, Death was what connected everything together. Because nothing lived forever. There was no such thing as eternity. Every kingdom fell to ashes. Every creature had its time. Senga growled, dizzy and tense when the voices began to make little sense in his head, jabbering in the mimicking voice of Jay and Iyari and crooning songs in twisted, jumbled letters and words. "So leave. You seem to want that." His tone dripped with poison and tense uncertainty, but beneath it a brittle layer of self-loathing and hurt slipped through. The voices continued to ricochet in his skull, howling and laughing and whispering and jeering all at once.

You waste everyones time, they sang happily, that is why you have always been alone.

ramenli

hi i am noiresu and i have no idea what i'm writing LMAO /SOBSANDAPOLOGIZES/ we can just start a club together, the what-are-we-doing club y/y -- also yes >8C and board games and truth or dare ALSO I AM SORRY THIS POST IS FULL OF RAMBLY ANGST /punches senga to the moon

 

[ramenli]

Soren was done. The boil was right, if he was a waste why was he here. It could not be about honor, this one did not matter that much. Soren knew who he was, was comfortable with himself, and there was absolutely no reason for him to say. Well, maybe it was a bit about honor, as he did not want it to seem like he was following his orders. It was just time to admit that this one was a few humans short of a Happy Fear Meal and go about his day.

He was ready to leave, starting to take a step back, refusing to let his eyes leave the figure in case it tried something unexpected, but the damn horseman's voice continued to ring in his ears. The sound stripping away until all he could do was think about that thin layer that tinged the entire speech. That sound of pain that was there, insecurity. Why oh why did he have to be a guardian? It was a job meant to guard priestesses to be sure, but it also was a reminder that he cared about others, tried to protect them. So why did that nasty little voice make him want to help him no matter how awful and bizarre the other acted?

It was rather like the stray little puppy in the neighborhood. No one actually wanted it, but if it came to the doorstep one would feel guilty enough to feed it. That was not going to be him, he would not be the sucker that gave in..."Man O' War be damned," he swore, staring at the youngster (or so he presumed). What was he supposed to do with this? If the boil was really suicidal could he risk leaving him?

No. No no no no no. This was not happening. Those angry little eyes staring at him meant nothing to him. He was just imagining the hurt in that voice. So why did he see his ungauntleted hand reaching out to cuff the boil? Why was his voice speaking, by Seabiscuit's lineage what was he saying? "If you've got time to wallow in self pity you have time to help rebuild. Come on you're helping me gather materials." He thought about reaching out to grab onto the boil once more, but thought better of it. Then, completely against his better judgment, he was turning his back to the boil to walk away. To lead him to wear some lumber was that needed moved. Would he follow? Would he simply attack him with his back turned?

Soren was not exactly old, but at that very moment he felt much to old to be doing...whatever it was that he was doing. He probably needed to get his head examined.

Kupuritama

Just...this Also, they should bake cupcakes.