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Description

Call me pretty one more time. I dare you.

Spring - Year 759 of the New Age
Blackwood - Near the herd
Featuring Dakrya , Kokkino (NPC), and an NPC stag

Spring - he hated spring more than any season. His rack had just recently dropped off. His head still felt light from the lack of the extra weight, causing him to hold it extra high. Not that that was a problem of course. He had to walk with pride at this time of year. After all, without a rack to prove himself, his pride was about all he had left. He lowered his head as he walked by a small stream cutting through the forest, staring at the slim figure that looked back at him. He was pretty... even he had to admit he'd probably mistake himself for a doe if he didn't know otherwise. Even the scars that littered his hide, that attempted to destroy the beauty and symmetry of his face failed to give him much of a stagly look. The deep red of his coat seemed to shine like a ruby in any light that would touch it. His soft, thick, curly ringlets of hair, no matter how short they were kept or how snarled he let them get, tended to round his face and make his neck look slim and all the more graceful. His long tail had hair growing up most of the appendage, which only seemed to add to the femininity of his whole look. Of course he had to be so small too. He was shorter than more than half of the fawnlings in the herd. He was shorter than most of the does even. His build was so light and narrow, made for speed and grace, not for strength and far from showy and masculine. He didn't even have any chest-hair or anything of a beard to show off. The only extra growth he had was the tight curls that tangled around his hooves which he kept short to prevent them snarling under his hooves and diminishing any footing he could hope for.
"Pitiful." He snorted as he splashed at the rippling reflection below him, his large ears flicked back against his narrow neck. "A king should be big and strong." He mumbled to himself, his low voice grumbling with the anger, resembling the sound of thunder on a stormy night. A king does not need to be strong if he is wise enough. He remembered his mother's words so well it was as if she were standing right beside him, whispering them in his ear as she straightened his mane like she so often did. He never cared to do anything with it, but it always bothered her when it was snarled and twigs and leaves hung from it. You must take better care of your appearance. She would tell him, nudging him teasingly with her tail as she continued to groom him. A king can't be seen looking like he's been rolling in the leaves. He would always laugh and roll his eyes as he allowed her to clean him up. There, much better. Now you truly look like a king. She would say softly as she stood back to look at him.
"You're right." He whispered to himself as he looked once more into the water at his reflection. Slowly and quietly he began to untangle his mane and tail, pulling out the twigs and leaves that hung in it. It was nostalgia that hit him, making him calm and quiet, no longer concerned about his doe-like looks. He could feel his mother there. She was watching him, he was sure. She was always watching him, and right now she was smiling, he could feel it. The warmth of her smile, the sparkle of her bright eyes glinted in the water. My handsome young son. He heard her say. You will make a great king one day. "Thank you, mother." He said quietly, staring down at the water. It wasn't his own reflection he saw though, it was that of his mother's lovely face smiling proudly back at him. "I miss you." He whispered for only her ears to hear as he lowered his head to the surface, touching his nose to hers. The water rippled, her reflection distorted, and when at last it was still, she was gone. "Mother."
"Well hello beautiful." Dákrya threw his head up at the sudden voice, turning his good eye toward the intruder which was approaching from behind. He was a blood bay stag. He was of medium build with thick fur on his chest which he puffed out as if to show off. He looked to be almost 13hh, making Dákrya look all the smaller beside him. "I see you're prettying yourself up just for me? How sweet."
Dákrya kept his cool the best he could as he slowly turned around to face him, lifting his own head high and puffing his chest out the best he could. "I am not a doe." He said simply, malice and hatred weaved masterfully with his perfectly smooth voice. "You may want to get your eyes checked." He added in attempt to make it seem that it was obvious he was a stag. "Unless of course it is males you are attracted to, and if that is the case, you can go find someone else, I'm not interested." He added with a snort, tossing his nose up higher.
"Dákrya?" The stag asked, feigning surprise. "Why, without your rack I didn't recognize you. You're as pretty as a picture." He said with a wide grin, taking several steps closer. "I'm not often one for the males, though perhaps for you I could allow for a minor change... just this once of course, pretty boy."
So he was one of them. Dákrya's ears tilted backwards lightly. There was no true danger in his expression yet, just a warning. When he spoke though it sounded like the rumbling of a landslide, deep, rumbling, and dangerous. "Call me pretty one more time. I dare you."
"Is that a threat?" The bay bellowed out a loud, rumbling laughter. "Do you honestly think you have any power over me, pretty boy?" He took several more threatening steps toward Dakrya. Even without a rack, he was more than capable of defeating this little doe-stag. "You should apologize before I beat you to a pulp, doe."
Dákrya felt a fire ignite inside him. His ears fell flat against his neck and a mad light glistened in his chocolate brown eye. You are the future king. His mother's voice purred in his ears. Don't let them speak to you like that. "You speak quite boldly for someone as powerless as you." His tone was empty now - as cold as ice but flickering with the rage of a wild fire.
Just his tone caused the tip of the bay's messy tail to twitch. He shook off the feeling quickly though, half-rearing and slamming his hooves hard into the soft earth below. "Me, powerless?! It is you who is powerless. You're weaker than a doe, weaker than a fawn. You should run." He lowered his head threateningly and pawed at the ground, dust flinging up behind him.
The smaller red stag didn't flinch though. He stood perfectly still, his stance tall, proud. "You should speak better to your future king." He said calmly, not a bit of him sounding unnerved. you couldn't even hear the anger in his voice that was so obviously blazing in his eye. "It is rather you who should run... but no, it's too late now." Without a second thought he took hold of the stag's body with the power of his mind, yielding all control of the other as his own.
No longer able to move on his own accord, the stag began to panic. "What's going on? How are you...?" His eyes were wide as he tried to free himself from the strong grip of the stag he had thought was no threat at all.
Dákrya walked a slow, calm circle around him, though his ears were still lay flat against his head and the fire yet raged in his eyes. "I warned you." He said coldly. "I warned you not to push me any farther, but you didn't head my warnings." Even despite his obvious rage, his voice came out perfectly smooth and cold. "You should have listened to me."
"I'm sorry. I'm still young... I... I'm arrogant. I don't think all the time. Listen I'm sorry, I'll never do it again, I promise." The stag's voice was shaken as he stuttered over his words, spitting them out like a madman, desperate and fearful. The look in Dákrya's eyes was the look of death, and it was enough to strike fear even in such a strong stag.
"I should kill you." Came the cold, ignorant reply. "I should drown you in the creek. As your lungs fill with water and you struggle to escape, then you will learn your lesson."
"No, please. Please give me a second chance. I'll do anything you want. Anything."
"Anything?" Dakrya sounded interested now. He was amused by the desperate pleas of this pitiful stag, struck helpless under the power of his magic.
"Yes, anything."
"Even bow before a doe-stag?" He didn't give the stag a chance to reply though. Utilizing his control over the bay's muscles he forced him down onto his knees, lowering his head to the ground until his nose was in the dirt. "Pray to me then. Pray to me as your King." He ordered, stomping his hoof to emphasize the last word.
"Please." The stag's voice was hardly audible it was so shaken, but Dákrya's large ears heard it, and with pleasure as well. "Please, my king, please have mercy on me."
A dark, twisted smile crept up the sides of the red stag's lips as he watched the other groveling before him, begging him for mercy. Him, the small, premature, doe-stag - he was begging him. The feeling of power and greatness this gave him fueled his madness all the more, fueled his desire - his desire to be king. "Never say a word of this to anyone. If you do, I will know it was you and I will hunt you down and kill you in the most creative way you could ever imagine." He let go of his hold on the stag and reared up, stomping his hooves in front of his head. "Now go!"
That was all the permission the other needed. Standing up quickly he skid around and took off as fast as he could, not looking back at the crazy stag. He'd lost his mind for sure! He never wanted to see the psychotic stag again if he had any choice.
That was a dangerous move. His mother's voice lectured him as he watched the pitiful animal run with his tail tucked between his legs like a frightened puppy. Letting someone know your secret. What if he tells someone? "He won't." Dákrya said with full surety of this fact. But if he does? "He won't." He repeated, slightly less sure of himself this time. Are you willing to risk it? He was silent for a moment as the still forest stirred around him. The breeze rustled the trees and the creek babbled a story. It was as if the forest itself was already gossiping of the secret he had worked so hard to keep hidden over the years. His proud stance faltered slightly, suddenly realizing the risk in his decision.
Dákrya, my son, you must be more careful. His would mother scold him, just as she so often did. A king can trust no one, not even himself. "Not even you?" He would ask her as she held him close beside her thin body, her tail resting over his back to keep him warm. Not even me. "But you're my mother." A king must not let himself grow to trust anyone. Trust is a weakness that anyone can use against him.
"You're right." His thick voice finally broke the loud silence of the forest. "I have made a mistake." It is good to realize your mistakes, my son, for then you can learn from them. "Yes, mother. I will not let it happen again. No one else shall ever know." And what of the young stag? "I will find him... and I will kill him." You are indeed a king.

Words: 2051
Point Total: 4This... this turned into a lot more than I thought it would. I had honestly just drawn this for the fun of it. I had been talking with a friend the other day about how girly Dakrya looks without his rack and for fun I sketched him in a pretty pose... then lined him, colored him, shaded him, and slapped on a sloppy background. Then I thought, it would be great if I could give him a few stats from this, so I started writing a story that got longer... and longer... and longer until we have this. Honestly I don't know where it came from, but it was a blast, and as always, I loved writing about my devious boy and his visions of grandeur.
And just to be sure everyone knows, his mother is not really talking to him and there are no spirits, that's all in his head. Half of what she says here are things she used to say to him so much that he can hear it as if she's there, the other things are sort of him talking to himself, only making his other voice that of his mother's. It's a mental thing, because though he's awesome, he is slightly unstable, and this shows that (seeing as he's talking out loud to himself during half of this).
I do feel kind of bad for the other random stag. I wonder if Dakrya really will find him and kill him. I suppose that will be known at a later date. ^^ Until then, enjoy my psychotic little wanna-be king.

Dakrya and Art (c) NaporieRizia
Fawnlings (c) Ehetere
All rights reserved. Do not copy, reference, or use in any way, shape, or form.

Description

Call me pretty one more time. I dare you.

Spring - Year 759 of the New Age
Blackwood - Near the herd
Featuring Dakrya , Kokkino (NPC), and an NPC stag

Spring - he hated spring more than any season. His rack had just recently dropped off. His head still felt light from the lack of the extra weight, causing him to hold it extra high. Not that that was a problem of course. He had to walk with pride at this time of year. After all, without a rack to prove himself, his pride was about all he had left. He lowered his head as he walked by a small stream cutting through the forest, staring at the slim figure that looked back at him. He was pretty... even he had to admit he'd probably mistake himself for a doe if he didn't know otherwise. Even the scars that littered his hide, that attempted to destroy the beauty and symmetry of his face failed to give him much of a stagly look. The deep red of his coat seemed to shine like a ruby in any light that would touch it. His soft, thick, curly ringlets of hair, no matter how short they were kept or how snarled he let them get, tended to round his face and make his neck look slim and all the more graceful. His long tail had hair growing up most of the appendage, which only seemed to add to the femininity of his whole look. Of course he had to be so small too. He was shorter than more than half of the fawnlings in the herd. He was shorter than most of the does even. His build was so light and narrow, made for speed and grace, not for strength and far from showy and masculine. He didn't even have any chest-hair or anything of a beard to show off. The only extra growth he had was the tight curls that tangled around his hooves which he kept short to prevent them snarling under his hooves and diminishing any footing he could hope for.
"Pitiful." He snorted as he splashed at the rippling reflection below him, his large ears flicked back against his narrow neck. "A king should be big and strong." He mumbled to himself, his low voice grumbling with the anger, resembling the sound of thunder on a stormy night. A king does not need to be strong if he is wise enough. He remembered his mother's words so well it was as if she were standing right beside him, whispering them in his ear as she straightened his mane like she so often did. He never cared to do anything with it, but it always bothered her when it was snarled and twigs and leaves hung from it. You must take better care of your appearance. She would tell him, nudging him teasingly with her tail as she continued to groom him. A king can't be seen looking like he's been rolling in the leaves. He would always laugh and roll his eyes as he allowed her to clean him up. There, much better. Now you truly look like a king. She would say softly as she stood back to look at him.
"You're right." He whispered to himself as he looked once more into the water at his reflection. Slowly and quietly he began to untangle his mane and tail, pulling out the twigs and leaves that hung in it. It was nostalgia that hit him, making him calm and quiet, no longer concerned about his doe-like looks. He could feel his mother there. She was watching him, he was sure. She was always watching him, and right now she was smiling, he could feel it. The warmth of her smile, the sparkle of her bright eyes glinted in the water. My handsome young son. He heard her say. You will make a great king one day. "Thank you, mother." He said quietly, staring down at the water. It wasn't his own reflection he saw though, it was that of his mother's lovely face smiling proudly back at him. "I miss you." He whispered for only her ears to hear as he lowered his head to the surface, touching his nose to hers. The water rippled, her reflection distorted, and when at last it was still, she was gone. "Mother."
"Well hello beautiful." Dákrya threw his head up at the sudden voice, turning his good eye toward the intruder which was approaching from behind. He was a blood bay stag. He was of medium build with thick fur on his chest which he puffed out as if to show off. He looked to be almost 13hh, making Dákrya look all the smaller beside him. "I see you're prettying yourself up just for me? How sweet."
Dákrya kept his cool the best he could as he slowly turned around to face him, lifting his own head high and puffing his chest out the best he could. "I am not a doe." He said simply, malice and hatred weaved masterfully with his perfectly smooth voice. "You may want to get your eyes checked." He added in attempt to make it seem that it was obvious he was a stag. "Unless of course it is males you are attracted to, and if that is the case, you can go find someone else, I'm not interested." He added with a snort, tossing his nose up higher.
"Dákrya?" The stag asked, feigning surprise. "Why, without your rack I didn't recognize you. You're as pretty as a picture." He said with a wide grin, taking several steps closer. "I'm not often one for the males, though perhaps for you I could allow for a minor change... just this once of course, pretty boy."
So he was one of them. Dákrya's ears tilted backwards lightly. There was no true danger in his expression yet, just a warning. When he spoke though it sounded like the rumbling of a landslide, deep, rumbling, and dangerous. "Call me pretty one more time. I dare you."
"Is that a threat?" The bay bellowed out a loud, rumbling laughter. "Do you honestly think you have any power over me, pretty boy?" He took several more threatening steps toward Dakrya. Even without a rack, he was more than capable of defeating this little doe-stag. "You should apologize before I beat you to a pulp, doe."
Dákrya felt a fire ignite inside him. His ears fell flat against his neck and a mad light glistened in his chocolate brown eye. You are the future king. His mother's voice purred in his ears. Don't let them speak to you like that. "You speak quite boldly for someone as powerless as you." His tone was empty now - as cold as ice but flickering with the rage of a wild fire.
Just his tone caused the tip of the bay's messy tail to twitch. He shook off the feeling quickly though, half-rearing and slamming his hooves hard into the soft earth below. "Me, powerless?! It is you who is powerless. You're weaker than a doe, weaker than a fawn. You should run." He lowered his head threateningly and pawed at the ground, dust flinging up behind him.
The smaller red stag didn't flinch though. He stood perfectly still, his stance tall, proud. "You should speak better to your future king." He said calmly, not a bit of him sounding unnerved. you couldn't even hear the anger in his voice that was so obviously blazing in his eye. "It is rather you who should run... but no, it's too late now." Without a second thought he took hold of the stag's body with the power of his mind, yielding all control of the other as his own.
No longer able to move on his own accord, the stag began to panic. "What's going on? How are you...?" His eyes were wide as he tried to free himself from the strong grip of the stag he had thought was no threat at all.
Dákrya walked a slow, calm circle around him, though his ears were still lay flat against his head and the fire yet raged in his eyes. "I warned you." He said coldly. "I warned you not to push me any farther, but you didn't head my warnings." Even despite his obvious rage, his voice came out perfectly smooth and cold. "You should have listened to me."
"I'm sorry. I'm still young... I... I'm arrogant. I don't think all the time. Listen I'm sorry, I'll never do it again, I promise." The stag's voice was shaken as he stuttered over his words, spitting them out like a madman, desperate and fearful. The look in Dákrya's eyes was the look of death, and it was enough to strike fear even in such a strong stag.
"I should kill you." Came the cold, ignorant reply. "I should drown you in the creek. As your lungs fill with water and you struggle to escape, then you will learn your lesson."
"No, please. Please give me a second chance. I'll do anything you want. Anything."
"Anything?" Dakrya sounded interested now. He was amused by the desperate pleas of this pitiful stag, struck helpless under the power of his magic.
"Yes, anything."
"Even bow before a doe-stag?" He didn't give the stag a chance to reply though. Utilizing his control over the bay's muscles he forced him down onto his knees, lowering his head to the ground until his nose was in the dirt. "Pray to me then. Pray to me as your King." He ordered, stomping his hoof to emphasize the last word.
"Please." The stag's voice was hardly audible it was so shaken, but Dákrya's large ears heard it, and with pleasure as well. "Please, my king, please have mercy on me."
A dark, twisted smile crept up the sides of the red stag's lips as he watched the other groveling before him, begging him for mercy. Him, the small, premature, doe-stag - he was begging him. The feeling of power and greatness this gave him fueled his madness all the more, fueled his desire - his desire to be king. "Never say a word of this to anyone. If you do, I will know it was you and I will hunt you down and kill you in the most creative way you could ever imagine." He let go of his hold on the stag and reared up, stomping his hooves in front of his head. "Now go!"
That was all the permission the other needed. Standing up quickly he skid around and took off as fast as he could, not looking back at the crazy stag. He'd lost his mind for sure! He never wanted to see the psychotic stag again if he had any choice.
That was a dangerous move. His mother's voice lectured him as he watched the pitiful animal run with his tail tucked between his legs like a frightened puppy. Letting someone know your secret. What if he tells someone? "He won't." Dákrya said with full surety of this fact. But if he does? "He won't." He repeated, slightly less sure of himself this time. Are you willing to risk it? He was silent for a moment as the still forest stirred around him. The breeze rustled the trees and the creek babbled a story. It was as if the forest itself was already gossiping of the secret he had worked so hard to keep hidden over the years. His proud stance faltered slightly, suddenly realizing the risk in his decision.
Dákrya, my son, you must be more careful. His would mother scold him, just as she so often did. A king can trust no one, not even himself. "Not even you?" He would ask her as she held him close beside her thin body, her tail resting over his back to keep him warm. Not even me. "But you're my mother." A king must not let himself grow to trust anyone. Trust is a weakness that anyone can use against him.
"You're right." His thick voice finally broke the loud silence of the forest. "I have made a mistake." It is good to realize your mistakes, my son, for then you can learn from them. "Yes, mother. I will not let it happen again. No one else shall ever know." And what of the young stag? "I will find him... and I will kill him." You are indeed a king.

Words: 2051
Point Total: 4This... this turned into a lot more than I thought it would. I had honestly just drawn this for the fun of it. I had been talking with a friend the other day about how girly Dakrya looks without his rack and for fun I sketched him in a pretty pose... then lined him, colored him, shaded him, and slapped on a sloppy background. Then I thought, it would be great if I could give him a few stats from this, so I started writing a story that got longer... and longer... and longer until we have this. Honestly I don't know where it came from, but it was a blast, and as always, I loved writing about my devious boy and his visions of grandeur.
And just to be sure everyone knows, his mother is not really talking to him and there are no spirits, that's all in his head. Half of what she says here are things she used to say to him so much that he can hear it as if she's there, the other things are sort of him talking to himself, only making his other voice that of his mother's. It's a mental thing, because though he's awesome, he is slightly unstable, and this shows that (seeing as he's talking out loud to himself during half of this).
I do feel kind of bad for the other random stag. I wonder if Dakrya really will find him and kill him. I suppose that will be known at a later date. ^^ Until then, enjoy my psychotic little wanna-be king.

Dakrya and Art (c) NaporieRizia
Fawnlings (c) Ehetere
All rights reserved. Do not copy, reference, or use in any way, shape, or form.