Beauty Vs. Beast

[ophelia]

Pink membrane exhaled in folds, gasping like an accordion. An obese slurping that gagged in pockets of fat and squelched between arteries as they labored. Shriveling, swelling, contracting, expanding. Bursting with pus that steamed behind every sinew and popping sore. There was no smell. It was too hot to smell. Too wet to sweat. Too pink and clogged with flesh. But there was no end to the taste that stretched her cheeks and flooded her gills. Crackling fluid, translucent like the milk of a chrysalis. Thin blood so watered down by salt that it was faintly sweet. Weak and filmy. Pearlescent.

It tore between her claws when Ophelia pushed through it. Stinging her eyes and leaving sugary trails behind her, as she squeezed between sheaths of pumping muscle. Kicking. Wriggling. Crawling through flaps of matted slime. Tunneling under bubbling mucus. Ripping through layers of blood vessel that gushed red marrow. And all the while, churning, quivering meat pressed, until all light seemed to vanish in thick, gluey undulation. Like the gnashing of toothless gums. Until her head crowned. Crowned with the split of a rib and a spurt of that pearly fluid.

Her forehead met the stale air of the whale’s mouth. The darkness and the immense breathing.

It was shiny and red with fresh marrow, and her green hair was stained the color of rust. Her eyes followed suit with her forehead, and then her nose emerged, slowly, until her mouth had loosed itself to spit, and then her shoulders peaked and arched from the opening. And before Ophelia had a chance to get her bearings, she had slid out from the wall of the mouth like a splinter. In a slippery descent down a slope of tongue. Buffeting over tubers and globs of baleen. Limbs glossy and sticky with gore as she picked up speed.

Suddenly, the merling flew off a steep incline and landed in a pool of phlegm near the bottom of the tongue. The surface snapped over her head in a clap of viscous yellow froth, and it slopped over the sides onto pieces of rotting furniture and seagull droppings. For a few moments her vision was reduced to a dull waxy glow. But after the initial shock had passed she was up and sputtering. Her eyes glued together. Her rows of teeth gnashing. Her claws gasping her copper sword, still a-fixed to her dress haphazardly.

The whale’s mouth had been closed. It’s blow hole had been too high up. She had had to burrow from the outside in, through the thick skin of Monstro, like a bullet or a thorn. Large pores on his tender belly had looked a promising entry (because they were underwater, and were not particularly difficult to get to if one possessed fins and gills) but it had been much harder going than she had anticipated and nasty whale blubber did not agree well with her at all.

Now she stood, stinking and dripping. All squinty mold colored eyes, and growling to devour her opponent. Retaining her balance expertly with every crash of a wave and swallow Monstro bore.

OT: Sorry this took so long. My computer went *raspberry noise* for a few days.

[LEO LION]

The tongue, a muscle used for tasting – one of the strongest in the body. If cut you could easily die from blood loss, and yet people bit their tongues all the time, bleed all the time, and never died. But usually these were small incisions. The tongue coincidentally is not only one of the strongest muscles of the human body, but of most animals as well – that apparently includes sea life.
Lost at sea had been very unfortunate. The tossing and turning of the waves around a fragile body, the struggle to keep one’s head out of the water’s cruel hands, only to be swallowed by a beast of the sea! It had played with the thing being tossed about by waves, tasted it, and liked it. Monstro had swallowed the poor drowning thing. Perhaps saved it from death; perhaps or maybe not. Light was seen for a moment then carelessly removed taking all hope and salvation with them. Monstro’s mouth was sealed tight; there would be no escaping from what lay within.

Akane had struggled valiantly, but she had lost sight of the surface when darkness had closed around her, she had to struggle with the water that wrapped around her as she was assaulted by the pink muscle of the whale. Assaulted and tested by the tongue, tossed about until the monster of the sea was content that she would be devoured. She lashed and kicked and fought against the water as it slid down the creature’s throat with sickening sloshing she was finally free of the water, able to breathe, and air was an amazing thing. She let it fill her lungs and kicked her way to stable land – or rather tongue.

The spongy surface squished unpleasantly beneath her hands and feet as she grimaced at the saliva that connected her to the whale’s tongue. Cringing she found an old ship – now abandoned – that she grabbed and climbed onto. The deck seemed old and weathered, but sturdy beneath her bare feet. Oddly the wood was smooth, it had a similar feel of driftwood, perhaps it had become as such; having soaked in decades of saltwater. She took a moment to catch her breath, her hair and body was soaked, clothing hung heavily off her. The denim of her jeans sagging and trying to pull her downward along with the orange panda-print shirt she was wearing. How on earth had she gotten out here? Must’ve been thanks to her other mind. She cursed that thing, the monster that lay inside of her, the beast. Growling at herself she rubbed her eyes, stringing them with saltwater from her hands and yelping. Squeezing them shut tightly as her drenched orange hair slowly began to dry.
Atop her head her ears sagged along with the rest of her, though they perked to listen to the sounds around her, and once she looked up she saw the roof of Monstro’s mouth, and the teeth, and a blowhole that light was pouring in from. Too far for her to reach, too far to escape from. She was trapped here until further notice.

[ophelia]

Ophelia lumbered forward. Her nostrils flared.

A new scent crumbled breathlessly from above. Like the fluttering of confectioners sugar. White. Loose. Powdery. A shivering moth battered by the wheezing of the whale’s bellows. And frankly, vagrantly, vile.

She clutched at her face, hands over her mouth, before she began to wretch. Doubling over to vomit spectacularly and wipe her chin again and again, after fish bones, brown liquid, and several license-plates splattered at her feet. The scent clung to her. To her hair, her face, her constitution, in a shimmering cloud. Honeyed flour. So sweet. So pure. So cloying. Rage boiled behind her temples. She had never in her life encountered anything so inherently good. Never known that anything so inherently good could exist. That the universe would allow it. It was an affront. It was an abomination. It was nausea. And still it sifted down. It’s source was a mystery (what could ever emanate so strongly and subtly in the midst of all this...stomach?).

Any thoughts of her prospective opponent were wiped slate clean, as the merling clawed her way towards it. Slashing blindly up the puckered incline, bangs plastered over her eyes with goo. The phlegm had provided excellent traction, but also stuck her to her perch, so that when ever she lifted a limb to propel herself forward, she ripped it away with a soft sucking noise. Her joints ached from forcing her way inside of the whale, and her mouth was dry. But fury congested in the space where her heart should have been, and she climbed onward, picking up her pace.

Presently, one claw scrabbled on something wooden. Skittering. Gouging backwards through the damp, until a second claw clenched around a railing.

Ophelia hauled herself up. Enough so that both mold colored eyes were level with what seemed to be the deck of a ship. And level with what seemed to be on it.

A drowned starling.

Ringlets that should have been feathers. Yellow eyes, that would have been more at home on a dove. Wafting more of it’s scent every time it moved. Timidly. Prettily. Rubbing dust off the white moth’s wings that should have been there.

Ophelia roared, and smashed through the railing.

Skidding onto the deck in a barrage of splinters and slime.

[LEO LION]

Akane could hear something, something strange. It was akin to a suction cup, an odd popping noise from behind her. She was almost too afraid to look, but she did glance. She glanced long and hard at the railing, watching carefully. Her feet moved her away from the edge, further toward the center of the ship, vulnerable from all sides and yet protected somehow.
The anticipation was sickening, it wrenched her gut and putrid bile slipped into her mouth only to be swallowed down again. The taste stuck on her tongue, nervous, anxious, waiting for the pending doom that would befall her as it had many times before. She feared what was hidden behind the wood of the ship, and yet she revered it, respected it. For whatever was hidden was stronger than her, was weaker than her. It was more poised, and yet at the same time barbaric. It was a polar opposite, and mirror image.

When she saw at last the sopping mop, her gut clenched, the face peered at her with an odd and eerie intensity. She turned away pretending not to notice, hoping that if she can’t see it, it couldn’t see her.

Unfortunately for Akane, this wasn’t so much the case. A startling yell violated her hearing, and the crash and shatter of the ship’s railing splintered around both forms. Akane couldn’t help but give a startled yelp as she whirled around and covered her head from the debris that scattered around her. Whirling around, her eyes were wide and horrified. Such a monstrosity much worse than the aforementioned, it was horrifying as it looked at her, she fancied that she had glimpsed a grin of razor sharp teeth not unlike a shark’s. But species was unidentifiable in the creature’s present state.

However she didn’t want to stick around to find out and yet benefit of the doubt always had room. Perhaps it was friendly? No, no most certainly not. From the way the thing had burst onto the deck it had shown that it was aggressive. Gold eyes watched warily, careful of any motions toward her, slowly edging backwards as her cat-ears flexed back to meet her cranium, and her tail stuck out behind her, the circumference doubled as each hair stood firm. “C-can I help you?” She murmured unsurely.

[ophelia]

“ROOOOoooAAAAAaaaaAAAAArrrRRR!!!” replied Ophelia quite civilly, two inches away from Akane’s nose. Spittle flew from her massive jaws to splatter on the cat-girl’s forehead.

This repugnant moth-dove-creature thing was very off-putting, really. It had the nerve to stand there and continue to exist after Ophelia had confronted it. What did the hideous reeking ding-bat think she wanted?! An invitation for tea?! Some people could be so uncivilized. Really. Maybe all that awful glitter-stink that it was spewing everywhere was brain power and elbow grease. So that it had none left to spare for functioning. Or manners for that matter.

Ophelia continued to blink at Akane fiercely (and disapprovingly, like a least favored Great Aunt) for a few moments, before scratching a little whale-wax off the top of her head, flicking it, and slumping away in the opposite direction without another word. (Still silently berating Akane for lack of proper decorum and upbringing out of the corner of her eye. Daring her to step one toe out of line.)

When she had reached the side of the deck from whence she had came, she bent over and ripped up a sizable chunk of railing. Then turned on her heel and dragged it back, looking moody and mildly disgusted. Like a house-wife faced with the prospect of squashing a spider on a bit of rolled up newspaper. The cowering moth-creature needed to be put out of it’s misery. Or out her line of sight. In crunched up pieces. She wasn’t going to eat it. That would be perverted. One could not each such things. It probably tasted of giggles and laughter and kisses. As bad as it smelled. Or worse. Her stomach churned at the very idea, and Ophelia had to stifle a burp of indigestion.

She hefted the massive hunk over head with a skinny arm, and was just about to get “A-Squishing”, when a thoroughly unpleasant thought struck her.

“I’m not supposed to be fighting you, am I?”

[LEO LION]

Akane cringed and winced as her ears were raped with a vile yell and spittle splattered against her face and sluggishly oozed down her forehead and cheeks. Such an appetizing thing it was, to get slobber all over one’s face, particularly when it had the oh-so-wonderful scent of bile and rotting fish. But she made no comment to the barbaric being that stood only inches away from her face. She couldn’t think that Akane be the uncivilized one! Preposterous! Of course Akane didn’t know this, nor realize it. She was simply confused – and hesitant, and worried. Such an unpredictable creature was, well, unpredictable. The nekomimi feared what she would do, what she was capable of and she could never know from just looking at the ghastly gaunt figure of sea-sick green before her; though she did possess a strange and foreboding beauty about her, what with that translucent skin and her long trails of seaweed hair that clung to her face and body.
Wearily she watched the monster from the lagoon wander about, talking to herself it did seem – it was a she right? The cat couldn’t be sure, but she knew it was a fish. Too bad Akane didn’t like fish, particularly the damn whale that had so kindly swallowed her upon promptly seeing her. Being covered in whale goo was nigh the least bit comfortable let alone appetizing, though if she was hungry that appetite would’ve left as soon as she’s swallowed sea water.

As the green girl slumped and wander away from her at a slightly more comfortable length she inched away, quietly shifting her feet away from the threat, flight mode desperately wishing to activate – not that she had anywhere to do short of the whale’s digestive tract.

Her golden gaze was trained on the fish. The cat prowling away carefully – though rather than fish the woman was more like a shark. The cat was hesitant, there was a certain threat that echoed in the air, and she nervously twitched her tail in anticipation for the unexpected to happen, though that would probably make it expected – so perhaps she was waiting for that instead. The shark-once-fish-once-monster ripped a chunk of the ship off, and the cat’s jaw dropped. How on earth had such a skinny creature accomplished such a feat of super-human strength – if human at all it really was?

She staggered into the railing behind her. Stomach churning, so… this was who she was supposed to fight? Really, was this really necessary? What had she been thinking by agreeing to something like this, oh dear she would be annihilated. But knowing she would have to protect herself she shifted her body, making herself more ready for reaction, her eyes shifting from shock and confusion to determination and focus. This fish, well it would be a disgrace for a cat to lose to it. “Well, I guess you are.” Was all she said, in a tone of growling – her response to the question. She was slightly insulted by the surprise that seemed to be in the female’s – it was confirmed now – voice.

[ophelia]

“Oh” sighed Ophelia, and without further ado, dropped the hunk of wood over Akane’s head.

[LEO LION]

“Ah!” Akane scrambled backwards with very little time to react or even think of what to do, she threw her arms over her head as wood bit into her forearms leaving nasty cuts and splinters as she feebly shoved it away only to fall backwards over the railing of the old ship. Luckily, even though she’d landed on her head, it was on the soft and malleable tongue of Monstro, so there was little damage from the impact – most of it was caused by wood.
She pushed up, slobber sticking to her hair and back as she sat up, the strands of drool breaking as she reached her hands. Her eyes widened at the look of her arms – no doubt that it would get infected here, maybe it would scar, who knew? But that was nothing to worry about when there was a putrid demon on higher ground – too much in favor of her and Akane didn’t like it, not at all. Flashing her fangs she glared up at the woman before turning tail and attempting to lure the shark onto even ground – of course a tongue was most likely not the best bet, but at least their footing would be evenly ruined if it moved.

[ophelia]

Ophelia lunged forward with an inhuman shriek,

Her feet smashed through the uneven patch in surge of splinters. Her claws hacked viciously as she plummeted. Fighting upwards towards the surface. Sinking deeper and deeper. Gouging with an instinctual desperation as showers of dislodged wood lice sprayed from the refuse and the pulpy wood belched sour mold behind her. Knees, then calves, then waist disappeared beneath the jagged scab of lacquer and quivering rafter. (The vague theory being that if her limbs moved furiously enough she would be able to leap the chasm and decapitate Akane in a single bound.) But the deck was buckling. Sticky and soft, the wreck was chuckling, leaning Titanic style.

“ROOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!”

In a last attempt to free herself, her bloodless claws seized Akane’s ankles and squeezed. Drawing blood, crushing bone. Pulling Akane down with her as needle thin fragments clattered behind them into the darkness.

[LEO LION]

I waited too long, Ophelia wins by default.