Eyes peek over the mirror at first; then he sighs, looking rather disappointed, “Really? I mean, really? I was feeling a fight, you know, some good old-fashioned fisticuffs. But you want to do it up like this? Hey, it’s your nightmare, sweetie.”

A heavy sigh leaves his lips again, shouting after her, “You didn’t even give me time to think yet!” looking about for a response, not really expecting one as he turns on his heel and goes looking for the mirror, picking it up and checking his hair in it again, fixing both sides into straight, severe curtains, finally satisfied.

“Alrighty then, what to do with you, hmmmm?” he looks around.

To be honest, this looked rather a lot like a dark wood. The kind of dark wood that one might come upon midway upon the road of life for one reason or another, most likely because the right path had been lost. A grin finds his features as the idea takes shape within his mind. Sure, it was an old one, he’d used it before, but only briefly, and the symbolism was right.

“Ever been chased by your own sins, love?” he shouts again, and she notices that no matter how far away she gets, it still sounds as though she’s standing the same distance in front of him.

He picks up two big, scooping handfuls of dirt, keeping his hands together before releasing it, the dust taking shape as it falls, forming a massive, powerful shape. A few inches shorter than Icelus, its body is far more muscular, powerful, or even feral. Ragged, golden fur and deep brown hair at its head, tailtip, and around its wrists and ankles sprout from its body. Massive legs like tree-trunks and arms that look as though they can tear any tree in the forest out by its roots and break it in half like a twig. Its face takes on a leonine caste, a long mane spreading down the back of its neck.

“Rage…” he breathes, taking up another handful.

This one falls into a much more slender figure with a much more composed look about it. The posture suggests scheming intelligence, sinewy with lean muscle. It grows a coat of pale, light-gold fur, spots appearing after a few moments, its face feline with a half-grin of cocky understanding, its claws looking long and aching to rake flesh.

“Malice…” he breathes again, obviously putting effort into shaping these creatures from the sweat dripping down his forehead and the panting breath.

The final shape forms, this one slender and feminine. Still bearing muscle, it is covered with ragged fur, longer than the past two, colored a gunmetal gray on the top and stark white on the belly. Triangular ears sit atop its head and its jaw hangs slack, studded with fangs dripping with a frothy drool, its tongue lolling from its mouth in hunger, a dreaded lust in those yellow eyes.

“Incontinence.” He finishes with a smile, waving them off with his fingers as they take to sprinting after her.

When she first realizes he's not chasing her, that he's appearing everywhere, she settles into a jog. She knows she can't run away, but someone has to wake her up sometime. So it becomes an issue of pacing herself, just surviving from moment to moment.

She is a streak of flashing flesh and muscle in the dark woods, weaving expertly through the trees. This is her forest. There's a smirk as Incontinence settles on her heels, and not just because of the poor choice of wording. She knows about lack of restraint, about running out of control. It is a vicious, stupid, slobbering beast with eyes only on the target of action. There's no way she could outrun it in the real world, it's easily the fastest of the three. But here, she feels fleet, running from moment to moment, fueled only by the instinct of survival into the next second. Still, it laps on her heels. She can feel its hot stinging breath on the back of her knees, the lash of long tongue. It will outpace her momentarily, but all she needs is seconds, pistoning her legs towards a tree that dwarfs any others in the forest, massive all around, towering endlessly into the sky, like the great Life Tree of the Norse. It's symbolic of something, she's sure, but she doesn't exactly have time to meditate on that. She feels it on her heels, strong legs ready to bound off of the ground, ready to pounce, ready to claim its prey, and it's there that she hits the brakes suddenly, hitting the slick carpet of leaves face first. With luck, it will follow through with the pounce and find its momentum shattered by a face-first collision with the tree. At least, she prays that. She doesn't have time to watch the beast's follow-through, twisting to her back quickly on the ground, as, hopefully, the monster soars over her.

One at a time.

The shewolf leaps hungrily, following its instincts as one would expect of an aching, pursuing pack animal. In this particular circumstance, however, they are all for naught. She tumbles end-over-end as she soars over Elise, hitting the tree upside-down on her back with a cruch.

“You bitch…” the hiss leaves the canine mouth as she slowly stands, cracking her back and stretching to the sky before dropping back down on all fours to continue the chase.

Elise, however, would be long gone by the time Incontinence rejoined the hunt. Instead, the form of bestial Rage powers through the forest behind her, his muscular frame knocking a long dead tree to splinters with a thunderous crack. His heavy feet pound the leaves and dirt as he makes chase, smaller trees uprooted, pushed out of the way, or ground beneath his massive feet as he follows her.

“GRAGH!” he snarls, dumb, animalistic, his feet causing tremors as he sprints slowly after her, easily the slowest of the beasts but certainly the one with the most bloody-minded tenacity. He will follow her wherever she runs, madly crashing through the undergrowth, following no path, heeding no law, pursuing her to the ends of the earth.

Malice, of course, remains absent during this whole affair.

She refuses to let the rage-filled beast chase her on its own terms. It's equipped for the underbrush, content to tear through the Dreamscape with complete disregard for anything in its path, to tire her, to wear her down.. Then to feast. No. She won't play like that. As the splintering sound of her first predator crashing rings in her ears, she's pulled herself into a crouch, swiveling, to spring. One bare foot cracking against the monster's head, the other slamming into its spine as she uses it as a springboard. Fingers snag on a heavy knot along the enormous tree, whole body squirming helplessly as she tries to pull herself up, just outside the grasp of the monster's smacking jaws. The tree is well and sturdy limbed, but as it spirals into the air, the limbs grow lighter, flimsier, less equipped to handle the bulk of Rage. She finally manages to squirm herself onto a low branch, bent over the heavy branch, slung like a bag of flour as she quickly gathers her breath, preparing herself for a climb.

Icelus finally emerged from the brush, yawning and stretching, still in his human form. He watched her from behind Rage, who had been joined by Incontinence, the two of them keeping her up in the massive tree. A slow grin spread across his features, folding his arms and resting his chin on his hand interestedly.

“Leopards can climb too, you know,” the voice came from behind her, silken in its taunts, the face of Malice like a feral jungle cat with a horrifying intelligence burning deep, far back past its amber eyes.

He occupied a branch a few feet away from her, crouching in a stalking position, a net with a weighted edge and a long rope to gather it hanging from his claws, the spots on his coat actually affording him a bit of camouflage, not much, but enough to blur his movements slightly.

“You’re a smart thief, girl. Was there really any hope you’d escape fraud? Those two cannot possibly compete with me, especially in your mind,” He grins, rearing back an throwing the net, letting the gathering rope slide through his hands but not pulling it tight just yet.

Eyes skitter below her. Rage and Incontinence scrabble desperately at the tree. Each hit from the bigger of the two rocks the heavy tree, forcing El to readjust her balance. She's on her feet now, heels curled around the thick limb, arms out to her sides, rolling gently back and forth as she tries to keep her balance on the quivering branch. She stares down the leopard-demon-thing, swinging a net like the villain in a Merry Melodies sketch. Her eyes are narrow, a sullen scowl on her face. She's never considered malice a liability, but always an asset. More often than not, it's the only thing that's kept her alive in this place. Eyes are dark, filled with, you might say, malice. Her voice is a quiet storm. "I'll consider this a betrayal, you bitch...."

Back in class, the bell has rung, the students shuffled on to their next class, and El left behind just to slumber. Maybe if she weren't such a bitch, one of her peers would have woken her up. But another class doesn't resume here for hours, leaving El in the hands of this dream-sadist indefinitely, and with a detention to look forward to if she does awake.

She pitches herself backwards off the limb, into the mouths of the creatures below, arms spread like wings, eyes to the sky, the tiny flap of skirt fluttering in the breeze, hair a tangled, whisping carpet behind her.

Malice smirked at that, watching her drop form the branch and fall toward his compatriots below. He tossed the net down, encircling Elise before she could hit the ground, pulling it tight as she was reduced to a confused mess in the belly of the net. With a smirking, oh-so-infuriating full-of-himself smile, Malice pulled her up, hand over hand, leaning back precariously in the tree as he brought her up to the branch they now shared.

“I could have let you fall down to the two of them, I really could,” He said, slinging the net over his shoulder and tying the rope keeping it gathered around his waist, giving him two hands for the climb down, “But that would mean you got away from me. You chose to give yourself to them, and I can’t let that happen. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’ll get you anyway, but it’s more of a semantics thing.”

Claws dug into the soft bark as he descended, taking a few minutes to get down to the ground, at which point he tossed the Elise-full net to the dirt. Incontinence was the first to jump onto her, weighing her down to the ground and licking at her face hungrily through the net, not even bothering to extract her as the she-wolf straddled her.

There's the briefest moment of free fall before the net catches up to her, the downward velocity of her body pulling the net snuggling around her body, tattooing a latticed pattern over tender flesh. The bundle of girl swings a wide arc, settling into a pendulum swing before being reined up. Bubbly pink toes are tangled in netting, a snared rabbit, fingers laced through the mesh. Fuck. "Wouldn't figure you'd want to share with those beasts. Anyway, where's your maAAA--!!!" It's a weak ploy anyway, on her last rope, but cut short as she's dropped, body rebounding off of the dirt: wriggling, bruised lump of scantily clad girl-flesh.

She squirms in the tangled net, loosened, but still too twined up with her to do much good. She wriggles on the forest carpet, growing more frantic as the hungry she-wolf's shadow falls over her. Breath comes fast and panicked through her nose, working faster to free herself but serving only to tangle herself worse, now at the mercy of all three of these creatures. The predator's frame towers over her, wiry fur on smooth, bare legs. She can feel its hot breath, like hunger and meat, greedily lowering herself on the girl. Her head tips to the side, framed in a drape of dark hair, eyes squeezed tight as the she-bitch tastes her, flat pink tongue trailing up her cheek, leaving a slimy warm trail of slobber, fangs so close.

Incontinence grinned down at her, holding her arms to either side with those lean, powerful claws, her eyes a rich yellow slitted by primitive pupils. A numb, animal leer on that elongated maw as ropes of runny drool fell down onto Elise’s throat, teeth bared in a hungry sneer. She took another long lick then looked up to Malice and Rage. The two muscular males padded up towards the front of Elise, pinning her arms to the ground as Incontinence slunk backwards, grinning the whole way.

The two sentinels looked down at her as the she-wolf slid back, Rage with a look of scant control, as if he were struggling to stop a generous font of inner turmoil from issuing forth. Malice, however, was the portrait of calm, staring down with a slight smirk at her squirming attempts to free herself.

With a tearing swipe of her claw, Incontinence freed Elise’s lower half from the net, holding her thighs spread with those powerful splayed claws. She bent, craning her neck as she took the girl’s panties between her teeth and tugging them down with ease, sneaking back in to drag her tongue once more over the tender flesh of the girl’s exposed sex.

El squirms uselessly on the moist forest carpet. The thick, craven breath of the beasts steams her flesh. Jaundiced eyes dance with hers, sending impressions of their dumb, depraved thoughts rattling in her skull. She's never taken well to big animals, canines in particular. In that brief lapse of time before private school pinball, her father had adopted a dog. A big mean, black rottweiler with jaws like industrial machinery and eyes like factory smoke. It had showed up at their door one day and they'd taken it in. Monster had terrified her, staring her down, heavy claws scrabbling at her door in the dead of night. Jesus Christ. Why was she thinking about this now?

She writhes in the tight, clawed grips of the creatures, scared eyes bouncing between the two males, head rolling in the dirt. Her slight chest rises and falls in desperate, gasping breaths. Terror rises up her throat, threatening to cut her from the one piece of solace - that this is just a dream. The net tangles around her, a mesh squeezing the skimpy clothing tighter against her trim frame, fishnet ensemble. She doesn't even register the she-wolf hunched between her legs until fangs graze the tender flesh between her legs, yanking panties free, then that rough, thick tongue, like ragged sandpaper, fluttering the folds of her labia apart, rattling rough-shod against her clit. Strong legs buck in the grip of the beast, but her steely grip holds Elise tightly in place. She suppresses a moan, eyes squeezing tight. She tries to talk, but the words won't come, desperately drying her throat. Finally, words crack out, a desperate, hoarse scream.

"Stop jerking off in the bushes AND SHOW YOURSELF YOU COCKSUCKER!"