Denouement [Eoin]

[Laute]

Timestamp: 7th Day of Summer, 511

Something was stirring. A low voice growled, in the dark, dank cave, and as he landed, he could feel a hot breeze escape into the cold air.

Standing outside the cave, the sun setting behind him, Laute gazed on into the deep. Sharp ears detected the sound of claws scraping against the jagged rocks, of a tail swiping behind the beast. Whatever it was, it was coming closer.

And the smell of the beast, a strange combination of leather, herbs, and wet fur, filtered the air.

How strange. He had yet to smell that particular combination before, could not imagine what would make it.

Already, his mind wandered, wondering what the flesh of such a beast would taste like. Tougher than an elephant, perhaps, more muscle than fat. Not as tender as the flesh of a child, as easy to chew and tear apart.

Or maybe it was something new entirely. It didn't matter either way, he'd find out soon enough when his claws tore the creature apart.

His wings remained open, his silhouette oddly tiny in the dying light. Sniffing the air once more, his mouth quirked slightly as he glanced around the mountain top, trying to find another perch to stand on. This ledge, though large, was far too close to the cave, and there were not trees on this stern landscape.

And he needed to find another spot to stand, to watch his prey and ambush it as it tried to leave.

Before he could, however, the creature emerged. It was a small rabbit-like creature, and its head cocked curiously as it stared at the Zith.

[Eoin]

He wasn’t sure how, but wandering had brought the Inarta to a clear meadow, silent aside from gentle breathing. The air was stifling, and the birdless skies unnerving, halting his progress to nowhere. The land was unfamiliar, but he sensed no danger despite knowing better than to rely on apparent safety. Eoin was unsure yet unafraid, a strange comfort hovering over his fiery red hair. Then suddenly in the distance, he saw the slightest tickle of movement forcing the shrubbery ajar, a striking white against green. Considering his current, weapon-less state, he saw no reason to investigate lest he finds an unwelcoming presence. Rather, Eoin found himself much too vulnerable standing in the middle of an open area, and was about to move into the trees when a small tuft of fur hopped through the parting in the leaves. Curiously, the rabbit-like creature perked up both ears and sat on its hind legs, its eyes a deep purple as it stared back at the human before passing through the hole once more. Wait, purple? Eoin blinked in confusion, uncertain if it was merely the light, his vision or the truth that just escaped him. The man was intrigued, and with so little purpose otherwise, he was inclined to follow the creature. Once he made it through the surprisingly dense shrubbery, he found himself standing before the entrance of a cave framed with mould and protruding roots from the trees above. At the edge, were two of the rabbit lookalikes, one darting after the other once they noticed the hairless ape following. No longer did he wish to continue his brief adventure, for the cave was an even more dangerous area than the last. The warning signs were all there, the lure of mysterious creatures, the dank tunnel smelling of wet fur and leather, the lack of self-protection. Eoin dared not proceed further and go against his judgement, deciding to first secure food and shelter in this strange land before Leth entered the skies. He looked into the abysmal dark, before turning his heel away, venturing toward the bushes once more in searching.

[Laute]

It was his nose that warned him of the approaching creatures. Tensing where he perched, carefully blending in with the darkening sky as he peered down, he watched as two figures emerged from the bushes nearby. One, a rabbit like the one in front of the cave, the other a human.

Disregarding the latter, he watched as the two rabbits interacted. They were no ordinary rabbits, of that he knew. They didn't have the same smell, the scent of fear and wild grass that came from being the bottom of the food chain.

Instead, they spoke of danger and the predator in him roared in response. It had been a long time since he had hunted something so interesting.

The bushes rustled once more, alerting him of the human's departure. The two rabbit-like things swiftly followed, disappearing into the foliage. Spreading his wings, he took flight, watching as the rocky hill transformed into a grassy meadow.

He couldn't see the rabbits anymore, only hear the soft thumps of their footsteps. They circled the meadow, remaining in the woods that surrounded it.

It was then that he noticed movement in the grassy field. The rabbits were not the only ones intent on following that human, it seemed. For uncoiling slowly in the grass was a giant snake, its body curved around the entire meadow. Rising now, its head unveiled to be that of a cobra's, its tongue flickering out to test the air. The coils curved closer in, trapping the human, for the girth and width were twice that of the man's body.

Observing the man, his fiery hair and slim build, Laute could not understand why these creatures were so interested him. He smelled of spices and clear mountain air, skin pale and muscles barely there. Nothing special, just another human. Yet, in the skies, he could sense another creature approaching, and two more in the woods nearby.

Even if he did not understand, Laute was never one to let others win. Especially if this prize was wanted so.

Tucking in his wings, he dived to the ground, swooping down to snatch his prey.

[Eoin]

Eoin followed the line of bushes scanning for any sort of berry, occasionally glancing upward at the trees nearby, only to see barren branches all around. He grew nervous with his hands free and stomach empty, knowing that the next step he’d take could lead him to a merciless predator. For the moment, the man was so worried of his own movements that he failed to remain aware of the surroundings, easily falling victim to the gigantesque cobra that had stalked him since the cave’s entrance. Sliding into a crippling embrace, his eyes widened in fear as his mind fought to catch up. A serpent this size had managed to trap him, and escaping would be impossible with his limbs bond and weapon non-existent. What could he do but wriggle in desperation with fast filling lungs, his logic unable to compensate for so many inadequacies? Even his stubborn nature could not ignore the impending suffocation. His eyes dimmed, blind to the deadly grin of his predator, his breath growing shallow. Dizzying thoughts soured his mind, chewing and spitting him out, vulnerable to the horrors that festered within. A bright, rare smile of a young girl, her eyes a deep cerulean, laughing at his blunder. That same girl again, now biting back tears that only he could see. She then shifted, aged perhaps, her hand blackening to a burnt state. The woman screeched as flames erupted behind her, but grew eerily silent as they ate at her flesh, her smile coy and endless. From the ashes, sprouted a looming black rose, its height comparable to his. Unravelling slowly, each of its layers fell slowly at first but almost seem to fly at him toward the end. Bloodied hands, his hands, attempted to shield himself from the sharp petals. They only shed more crimson, but there was no sting, no pain, no feeling. Peering through his fingers was a familiar face, a girl similar to the first, her expression shifting from playful to malevolent to seductive. Rather, they were masks placed on top of one another, nearly seamless in transition. So quick in fact, the faces blurred to a thick black that oozed down her chest, spreading in every direction. Slowly it crawled, relentless and cruel in its speed, constricting every muscle. It neared his lips, but it was too late to scream, for the ooze had already entered his body, feeding on his spirit. Sound was lost to him, his sight following suit as the darkness spread, encircling, ending. He was defeated, conscience leaving him as sleep took over, desperate to restore the body of its inflicted damage. Nearly breathless, Eoin’s frame grew limp within the serpent’s grip, blackening out entirely. Nearby, two Glassbeaks appeared from the center of the woods to their natural hunting ground. Despite hunting in packs, only two had wandered close, a length's away from the winding cobra but eyes fixated on its human prey. They could sense a battle commencing, and knew that there would be carrion to feed on in the end. Unless of course, the Zith creature steals the human away, then they would be more inclined to engage for the sake of their emptying stomachs. Above, flew a Wind Eagle, possibly riderless but it was difficult to confirm from its height. It seemed aware of the situation below, but hadn't quite made up its mind to help the Inartan despite the connection to their people, circling in the meanwhile.

[Laute]

The man went limp in the snake's grip, the snake hissing in pleasure. Its forked tongue tested the air, a strange cunning in the creature as it confirmed that the man was unconscious. The rabbits had not moved from their vigil and below him Laute could see the Glassbeaks stalk in small circles, waiting.

As though that would help them--the man didn't even make a meal, there would be no left-overs when the snake was done.

Not that the snake would get him. Laute carefully angled himself, hovering for a brief moment before tucking in his wings. Diving, he ignored the cries of the birds behind him, watching the snake slowly move to look at him. Then, no more than a hand's width from the man, he grabbed the man's arms, jerking him out of the coiled body as Laute's wings spread once more. There was a small snap, his arms straining at the opposite force and the man's weight, before he managed to move past the snake and hover lightly over the ground.

It was surprisingly easy. The snake's grip must have been weaker than he thought, and this man weaker still. Collapsing due to that, what did his prey see in this creature? The man remained still in his arms, offering no answers.

Nearby, he sensed the rabbits move. No, not move, change. The oddly heavy sound of their footsteps was starting to become clear. A strange metallic sound accompanied this, chains rattling clearly through the crisp night air.

Before he could react, however, the Glassbeaks screeched their dismay, powerful legs propelling them through the field. He was still low off the ground when they arrived, jumping eagerly to catch their prey. Their beaks snapped at him, one jarring his arm, and as the warm blood started to seep out of the scratch, he let go.

[Eoin]

The glassbeaks cackled noisily as they hunted, biting into the Zith’s furred flesh with razor sharp cuts, their crimson beaks eerily beautiful in the moonlight. Relentless, they dragged the creature down with violently pulls, spilling blood onto the human’s body. Meanwhile, one of the glassbeaks took notice of the separated human and began to peck into its soft body, only a precursor to the tearing and bloodshed that would follow. Recovering from his haze, pain sawed itself deeper into his skull as consciousness returned, soon accompanied by repeated jabs to his stomach. Still groggy, Eoin tried his best to run from whatever it was that was attacking him, but was easily chased down by one of the glassbeaks while the other continued its work on the Zith. Wishing to secure its prey, the giant bird placed its foot on top of the fleshy creature, resisting its constant wiggling with ease. However, in their greed, the two predators had forgotten about the large serpent still miffed about having its meal stolen. With one fell swoop, the cobra brushed aside the tiny creatures with its thick tail. At the same time, Eoin had attempted to lift himself up and was hit with a dizzying force of strength, forcing blood to spurt past his lips. The man was bleeding heavily, large wounds covering his abdominal area, each crying with excruciating pain. It was then he noticed another creature, a humanoid that resembled both a bat and a man that was also tossed aside by the serpent, but was quickly returning to its feet. Deep, inexplicable fear suddenly hit him, for it was yet another beast that wanted to tear his body and devour its bloody remains. Logic cruelly abandoned him, but instinct persisted, forcing his limbs to move and his lungs to breathe. Eoin stumbled many times, distressed by the fact that he was literally being hunted down by multiple predators and disturbed that his hand almost seemed to sink into the wide wound in an attempt to put pressure to the cut, hoping to slow the blood flow. The glassbeaks knew better than to challenge such a large foe, but that did not mean they would stop their pursuit. With their speed, they easily outran the cobra, but with its size, it wasn’t far behind. The distance he made was impressive for a man bleeding out so quickly, but Eoin felt as though the pain wasn’t entirely real, as though it did not truly inhibit his will as a true injury of this severity should. Despite the incongruity between how he ended up in such a place and the strange assortment of gathered creatures, he was momentarily unable to put the pieces together that this was a dream in itself. His mind, never having experienced injuries of this magnitude, was unable to replicate the pain. Thus, Eoin had almost gotten to the woods edge when the leading glassbeak began snapping at his heels.

[Laute]

He hissed, a sharp noise that cut through the still air. Their beaks were sharp, piercing his skin, and where they hit he could feel the warm rivers of blood matte his fur. The pain was there, no doubt, that quick, violent initial shock. As he flew higher it changed into a more deep, throbbing sensation that ran its course until he could feel a headache growing.

Steadying himself, he assessed the damage. Not as deep as he expected, considering the pain, and he could move his wings. His hands. His legs. He would survive.

He didn't see it coming. The snake lashed at him--a green mistake, he knew since his first hunt to keep an eye on his surroundings--and its tail batted him out of the sky. Crashing onto the ground, the dust flew into his ears and eyes, trying to filter his senses. Winded, he lay there, his breath gone from the sudden attack.

Nearby, he could sense that man, that human that cause this mess. Fury rose, stirring him to his feet. Slowly rising, Laute coughed, a terrible sound, the dust that started to cake his mouth escaping. After a good shake, his head was clear, and he could see the creatures had already started moving, heading to the edges of the wood.

A flap. Two. His wings creaked and complained and he rose. A murder of crows rose from the trees, screeching caws erupting as they did so. The human yelled, the glassbeaks and cobra coming upon him.

And Laute, scarcely ten meters away, was able to see what they couldn't. For out of the forest, a giant shape took form. Impossibly large wings grew, fur took on metallic dagger-like edges, and what was once a pair of rabbits was now a set of monsters.

Larger, they grew, one of ice and water, the other of fire and molten rock. Their scent didn't change, still of wet fur, leather, and herbs, even as the clouds of smoke started to cover their skin like a second layer. Growling, they shook the earth, and the first one swiped a paw at the human.

Laute, for all his curiosity and experience, couldn't shake the warning in his bones to flee.

[Eoin]

Even in the midst of this horrific chaos, Eoin was able to pinpoint a single sound, one that caused a noticeable tremble through his body. It was like nothing else he had ever heard, deeper than a man’s voice, rougher and more gravely, hacking as though the creature was trying to dislodge its own lungs. Fear had already taken over his every movement, his hands once strong now shook with urgency, his eyes wide and haunted, yet somehow this one sound threatened to send the man over the edge. He spat, another pool of blood marking his trail, weighing heavily upon the tainted air. He dared not look back for what he’d see coming after him, knowing all too well what did. One took to the air, its wings beating irregularly, and for a moment he thought he was spared of at least one more enemy. Hope wavered precariously, teetering, on the edge of his thoughts, all of it vanishing in the next moment. Just then, they came. He screamed, no longer able to supress his desire to plead and to fear, screaming as those beaks drove into his back, the wounds nearly deep enough to meet the others. His fingers dug into the earth, the nails bloodied and beginning to shatter as he tried to move forward and away from the beasts. He could feel the tickle of their glass lips to his organs, brushing and teasing, like a playful lover’s kiss. He cried out once more, eyes welling with water, his entire body burning and trembling pathetically. In one meagre attempt at defense, Eoin grabbed a handful of dirt and tried to fend off his attacks, its aimless trajectory barely fazing the creatures from their meal. Disturbingly, he thought he could hear them cackling in laughter at his weaknesses as they fed. More than once, the man had prayed for safety, but he knew not the god he pleaded, screaming silently toward the woods. A great gust passed, flattening the crimson grass easily, each blade rocking in unison to a song only he knew, his eyes bleary as he watched their hypnotic dance. A heavy squawk, and then he rose, his body shrivelled and limp as large talons cradled him to safety. His eyelids were weighted with stone, sinking further and further into the subconscious sea. The last of what he saw were the skies lit with fire, and the clouds frozen in ice, both shifting in the air, breathing. The last of what he smelled, was that creeping scent of herbs and wet fur, the familiarity nearly shocked him into consciousness if it were not for the gaping holes in his fleshy body. The Wind Eagle had come to his aid, but to what end? Had the rider or the creature had enough of his mental torment, sparing him from pain just this once? Or had it merely been one single act of mercy, to remove him from harm only to leave him to bleed out in stranger lands, leaving a husk of a man in the end? His world sighed with wisdom, but spoke of nothing else. Behind, the two, large winged creatures did not pursuit, but instead merely observed from their lofty position, their eyes the same stalking purple. Below, the predators cast their disappointment on to each other, resulting in a brawl to the death, the serpent finally able to exact his revenge. All of it was meaningless, no matter how they were, no matter what they did, for the land around them began to waver in unison with the flapping of fiery and icy wings. Deep, amethyst irises held a flicker of light, but retreated behind the very threads that held the world together. No longer was he wounded, or pained, his breath regular as he rested alone upon a cot. The creatures had dissipated into imagination, all but one, fateful visitor.

[Laute]

A scream tore threw the air, guttural and fearful. It was the cry of prey, when they knew death was approaching. Death was almost inevitable and he could hear it in the sound as it echoed through the air.

That was to be his prey, not theirs. Angrily, he followed the pained cries, the cloying scent of blood keeping him on track. Then another sound occurred, silence, and Laute felt his rage build. Growling, he flew lower, ignoring the threat in the forest. For the moment, they were doing nothing, and recapturing his dying prey was more important.

Faster than him, though, was the rush of feathers and the sharp talons that picked the man off the earth. The bird flew off, its silhouette clear against the bright moon that had risen during their fight. He could still see it and was planning on giving chase when the glassbeaks turned on him.

Unlike that weak human, though, he had his wings and claws and even as they tore at his skin, he dug into their flesh. Once preoccupied with one bird, the other would come to attack from behind. A blur of feathers and fur, he forgot about the snake, the rabbits, everything but the escaping prey.

Fur soaked in blood--theirs, his, he knew not--as he attempted to fly out of there. Already weakened from the previous fight, he knew that this fight could go either way. And there was still the escaping prey to capture.

Unnoticed by Laute or the glassbeaks, the snake made its move, snatching one glassbeak into its open mouth. The other, dismayed at its loss, squawked and attempted to run before the snake's waiting tail curled around it.

Seeing this as the chance it was, he rose, ignoring the pain that came from the numerous cuts and liaisons that laced his body.

And still the rabbits did nothing, the forest burning around them, the skies growing dark and pregnant with rain.

The eagle was barely visible when he gave chase, almost out of reach.

Before, though, he could get very far, he saw their move. Or rather, didn't. The fires grew, engulfing the forest and the field. He could smell the snake's burned flesh as it unsuccessfully attempted to escape. The rain and lightening fell. A stray jolt nearly hit him, the air ripe with electricity, and he knew he had to land.

Nothing was safe, though, as the reds and blues mixed together, the world changing. And as he watched, afraid, this time a jolt hit him. As he sizzled, as he burned and shook and fell, he could still see their unblinking eyes in his mind.

When he awoke, he was still outdoors, oddly healed. There were no fires, no storm clouds anymore. Just the bright moon, a dark violet in colour. The forest was edging the sandy shores he sat on, the sound of the waves lapping the land loud and familiar.

He could smell the salty sea and disturbed, he got up. Checking over his fur, he noticed no scorch marks nor gaping holes. The blood that once soaked it had disappeared as well.

The feeling of being watched didn't, though, so he walked up the beach, leaving the sea behind him. Ahead, a small hut stood, and inside it he could smell his prey. Also healed, for the scent of blood and death had left him.

Entering, he watched the man as he breathed.

"What are you?" For he couldn't just be a man. Not after all that interest those creatures showed in him, not after he survived.

[Eoin]

“An assistant chef. Avora.” He replied tonelessly, eyes vacant and free of sorrow. There stood a beast that had preyed upon him, hunted, but there was no fear, no twisting of emotions, no hesitation. The conversation seemed to dwindle as his vision blacked, and soon the man was asleep once more, lips gently parted and lids fluttering in dreaming. He awoke. A female snapped at the monstrous humanoid, her tone furious and biting as the man’s lips moved in sync with her words. “Petching bastard, where is Noelle? What have you done with her you…” It shrunk, its confidence and volume and following. “My beautiful child…” There was a tear, and then it vanished, leaving only a drop of blood upon the wooden floor. He closed his eyes, if only to shield himself from the world around him, hands flying to cover his ears. But still he talked, and screamed, and shrieked, wailing like a newborn. The air grew heavy, not from the growing scent of tears in blood’s clothing, but from an essence that radiated from the man’s very skin. His hands shifted to cover his mouth, trying to swallow the words and noises that he continued to spew, but the rancid, bitter taste caused a natural reflex to activate and instead, the human was bent over the side of the bed, retching out the rest. “A stranger in my home, masquerading as a son, bedding my daughter, then killing her!” He coughed, for the remainder of his speech itched persistently within his throat, clawing to resurface. “You beast, you inbred shyke! What did I expect of you, one who claims that he is your sire?” It grew foggy, dark smoke bellowing past his lips, staining his chin with tar. The once tranquil resting ground was now laced with disease and festering, black vomit. Despite the hot air, the Zith would feel a terrifying chill permeate his body, as though a spirit had passed through his very core. Finally, his answer was found. Fear. The creatures that feed upon it, top-level predators, could taste the belittling scent from their homelands, gathering together in a stranger place to find its source. All that were immune to the man’s attractive fumes were the innocent or the wise, the rabbits, the phoenixes of fire and ice, the Wind Eagle. The others lacked self-control, unable to resist the smoke that crept through the man’s orifices, seeking for escape. Within, the emotion had festered to the brim, the floodgates open as every worry, anxious thought and deep-rooted fear expelled from his mouth, then ears, then eyes. He grew nearly unrecognizable under the thick layer of tar and clinging ash, blackened hands scrambling for safety, causing him to lose balance and fall off the soot-stained cot. What was it he looked for? There was nothing in the hut but the two individuals, a handful of herbs, drying fur and a leather-bound journal.