big black dog 'n big spotted cat

people piss you off, some you say you love

A hunt, it'd called her out of the workings of morning, and into the fields. Waving winter grasses nipped at her legs, long and proud as they were, the eastern borne sun bore down on her golden pelt, longnight grew closer and closer and there was so much work to be done, so much to collect. How much would be enough? Aisha had no idea, she could only hope that what she collected would do the trick.

And so she gazed through the brush, salmon pink nose sniffing the ground after a trail of pheasant, seeking and searching for their whereabouts. Finding them was the longest part, the catch was the thrill she sought, the brief but electrifying moment where she was just a predator, making the kill.

---

Deimos

AISHA

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

A call to the wilderness, rapacious and edged, lined the breadth and breath of his movement. Were it evening his predacious efforts might have been completely erased and eclipsed by shadow, silent, drumming motions in the barest glimpse of piercing, blue eyes; but the morning called and he sank into its siren song then too – vehemence and violence, a streak of sedition, blending him into grass, into dried stalks. He could maneuver underneath or beside with little effort, hunting manifestations akin to the near-wolf regard of his form, the hound conspiring upon edges, upon boundaries, upon fringes, as scents inter-mingled, and he was forced to regard something other his enticements and temptations.

One was distinctly fowl, perhaps pheasant, traipsing its way through the brush, likely gathering whatever discarded roots, seedlings, or plant-life it could muster through the yards of snow. The other was familiar, but only through other moments, other days, where techniques and tactics were mustered in human conflagrations.

On amusements, he followed the latter first, intertwining through the fields, ignoring the aching press of memories, of ghosts haunting the fragments, and only coming upon the leopard when she was suitably distracted, probably tailing after the same prey. Aisha, he rumbled, sitting some distance away, quiet, hushed, not intending to unfold any threat – mere amusement arcing through.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

people piss you off, some you say you love

Aisha had caught notice of another scent, but didn't pursue it. It was only vaguely familiar, and she was so locked in on the hunt, communal ventures could wait. But not for them, unbeknownst to her the black dog followed nearer, and when she heard the voice rumble through the bond, her predator's trance was broken, her gaze snapping back and hackles raised with a light startle.

She'd never seen Deimos in his creature's body, though she'd known he had many. This specific form was as intimidating as he, though knowing him she didn't fear it. Still, it would breed fear in any who crossed him; dark, volcanic, brooding. The leopardess ducked her head to the general, then straightened out with a flick of her tail, "Deimos." She let her eyes roam freely over his shift, "You know I think this might be you're most friendly form yet."

AISHA

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Likely due to his intimidating, reticent prowess, his shifts maintained the same semblance, no matter which animal he chose to regard and inhabit. This one being the newest, it held a certain enigmatic trace in his muscles and sinew, in his brawn and barbarity, an open gauge of calamity and vigilance, violence and entropy. A release of vehemence and brutality, a schism of those hollowed ventures he once resided within, a breath of the past, an opportunity for wilderness and untamed fragments, where viciousness presided, reigned, and declared, rather than merely brewing, brimming, beneath the surface of his skin.

For now, it chiseled and sculpted just there, a barrage of ferocity longing to unwind, unfurl, relish and rampage – but he tilted his head instead, every inch the predator, the hound sought from hell, before the traces of amusement. He offered her a brief snort, might’ve given a singular wag of his tail at the comment, and otherwise shrugged his shoulders. There was a quip, some reign of sarcasm, bridging through his mind, but then he pushed it aside, savoring the opportunity instead. Hunting? That he’d obviously interrupted – not bothered in the least, because there was still time, moments, to stretch and chase, to bombard and maul.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

people piss you off, some you say you love

Aisha herself had yet to discover a second shift, a second form in which her mind could possess and mould to her own. She'd always liked the idea of wings, of being able to take flight and see the world from above. Though looking now at the raw power that Deimos's power possessed, perhaps she should be raising her bar and wishing for something greater than just wings.

If not for the canine traces of content, and the voice down the bond, she very well could've been amused. However the way he acted now even in this skin translated very well to the man she'd come to know. Lip curling a tad in a feline grin, "Hide n seek," was her reply, sarcasm and cheek laced through the bond, "Wanna play?"

AISHA

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

No unwinding of pestilence and persecution here, not yet, and he was forced to reside in the skin and build of a predator biding their time, analyzing, circumventing, speculating his options, weighing his decisions. That Aisha would think to play a game didn’t surprise him, and he noted it in the back of his mind for later perusals and precisions for training outlets, other experiences to hone in and reflect. I already won then, came first, and were he in human form there could’ve been a grand snicker, an enigmatic smirk, a twist of his mouth indicating the foundation of laughter (for she'd been found; immersed in the plains). Instead, she received a rumble of amusements, the slightest tilt of his head that could’ve been a shrug, a taunt, a goading circumstance (closest allies and friends knew he was overly fond of agent provocateur endeavors).

With no other vehemence or outlet, he wandered forward, an undulation of movement, motion, and maneuvers, calculated strides whispering back into the melee of dried reeds, decayed, withered grass. The Sword’s nose lifted, catching the scent on the cold, chilling wind, as it pushed back obsidian fur, ruffled against paws – primordial, ancient longings and stirrings of another time, another place, in winter’s clutches. The pheasant remained, and so that was where he would go, unfurl, contort, and manifest destruction. Besides, I have dinner plans. Purposefully devilish, impish, in return, Deimos gave her one more glance, and then ducked beneath some longer stalks, following the pathways of the fowl, determined to ambush, catch, and maul.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

people piss you off, some you say you love

So confident in his response, in his rumbles and taunts as amused as they were. Aisha only let out her own growling laughter, a cacophany of crackling yips and a hum down the bond, "I'm not the one hiding, or don't you smell the pheasants?" she teased. It wasn't his fault that her sophisticated metaphorical humor had gone over his head, it was just significantly funnier this way.

Dinner plans? So the general had cheek of his own! Aisha purred as he moved on by, watching the hellhound slip rather miraculously into the undergrowth. She followed close behind, weaving through the foliage to stalk next to him. The fowl shouldn't be too much further, and together they would surely take down a good amount of game.

AISHA

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

So you say he ventured, a taunt loosened within a shake of his head, the reverberations of a goading growl. At least there was room for laughter, doomed and damned to be a rarity in the coming days, so he took what he could, relished in the amusements, before slinking and conforming to an unrelenting contortion of his own.

That she followed was no surprise, given their shifts, their forms, consigned to straightforward melee and ruin. His practices lately had only been against dragons, but Jigano and his manifestations had been far more juvenile than the current status and stature. He caught the remnants of the scent and embarked, a maneuvering machine of impending violence and vitriol, a choking cacophony of silence and calculated entities; gone into the underbrush within a breath, expecting her to do the same.

The warbling of the pheasants up ahead drew him to a standstill, a coiled menace and malice in carved, sculpted muscles made for ambushing ambitions. He watched, conniving, examining, scrutinizing, as the birds pecked at remaining morsels beneath pockets of ice and snow, the hushed platitudes of the Attuned bond perfecting the art of their designations. Do you want to circle around? I can drive them towards you. To trap, to snare, to unwind, unfurl, wreak utter havoc – predilections of predators.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

people piss you off, some you say you love

"So I know," Aisha hummed back to Deimos, tail curling with the humor and amusements of their conversation. The conversation though as jovial and laidback as it seemed came at such a crucial point in time. As it gave way to a hunt, so did her expression to determination, to ruin.

She dared not fall behind, but into step with him, taking on the duty of tracking the fowl just as he. The scent soon became her sole intent once again, until the satisfactory warblings of a successful track caught her attention. She stopped with the general, paw held up in anticipation, her body refusing to relax and diffuse any of the excited tension. She would need it to flourish in the hunt, to take what they came for.

"As you wish," was her rumbling response, silent in the tangible world but resonant in the realm they shared. With that she slipped back into the brush, doing her best to stay hidden. Once she'd stationed herself she called out to him, "Ready."

AISHA

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

No more of the back and forth banter; his attention focused and honed for the upcoming onslaught. Once a Reaper, always a Reaper, embedded and infused in his bones, in the way he moved, in the action coiled and collected amongst and amidst fragments of the beast. Per her agreement in their plan, he watched and waited, intending to spring, intending to mold himself into absolute barbarity.

Her announcement and proclamation rendered him unleashed.

It was a conflagration of maneuvering, the way a warrior emblazoned towards a battle; the quick, poetic, swift harbinger of death and destruction, toiling in merciless depravity. No howls, no roars, a blistering fortitude of might and menace crouched in its haze; quiet, minatory balance in the slide between grass and nothingness. Then he lunged from the reed wall, parting through withered grasses, a molten, obsidian, Stygian bombardment, a monster, a hunter, a cretin, a piece of terror and upheaval. Hackles raised, fangs bared, the accord of muscles given into pernicious persecution, ensuring the flock of birds scattered wildly. Incoming, he snickered along predacious pursuits, meant to collect in the leopard's mind. The fowls' horror embedded in degrees of panic and flight, and he locked onto a particular target with one feral display – grabbing hold of tailfeathers, locking and biting accordingly, as the rest were sent in Aisha’s direction.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

people piss you off, some you say you love

Beautiful chaos ensued, only moments after her announcement. She could only narrow her eyes and give a cheshire grin, positively oozing the leopard's joy, the leopard's instincts. The hellhound, unleashed from his gates and unto the overworld, was a ferocious sight to any. The show Aisha caught from her hiding place was frightening enough, she didn't blame their quarry for slipping into frenzied pandemonium.

In fact she appreciated them for it, all the better to unleash her own primal intent, breaking from the grass line as the chosen target locked into sight. Her weapons poised to kill, claws unsheathed and jaws parted, she lunged, meeting her prey with the precision of a well practiced huntress. She need not a bow and arrow to make the clean kill, and with a trickle of blood from her lips, so hung the pheasant.

After a quick pleased snarl, she turned to see her partner, successful in his own endeavors. Both predators held prey in their jaws, food to help them and their people through the dark storm to come. "We make a wicked team general," she purred.

AISHA

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Beasts and cretins, creatures meant for destruction, mayhem, and primordial demolition; Aisha followed through on her melee, snagging and snarling at the fowl, bringing her own down. With his kill lodged in his mouth, he couldn’t extend a snicker, save for across their bond, but there was the Well done notions pieced and portions through the Attuned bombardments. They could’ve continued in their onslaught, in the terrible, treacherous mayhem coiled in their capabilities; but then it would’ve been overkill, and the majority of the flock had already taken off, back into the winter haze.

So we do he laughed in return, marching diligently back the way they’d come. We can bring these back to the Temple. Another stockpile, another manifestation of food, for those who needed, required, the intervals. Next time they went on a hunting sojourn, he’d be sure to invite the leopard; the efficiency in her machinations noted and received. He bid just as he’d stated, presuming she’d follow, marching his way towards the aforementioned shelter.

{FIN}

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts