What makes you think she'll go with you?
What makes you think you're better than me?
You think you can read her mind
Maybe you're just looking for a good time
Maybe you can give her more
Tell me what you're doing this for
Stay away from her
'Cause it's makin' me angry
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
She belongs to me
You come around lookin' for kicks
But I know all about your dirty tricks now
You think you'll take away my dream?
Ain't gonna be easy 'cause I get real mean
Get out of here, get out of my life
You're gonna be sorry if we have to fight
Stay away from her
'Cause it's makin' me angry
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
She belongs to me
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
She belongs to me
She belongs to me
She belongs to me
- The Ramones, 'She Belongs to Me'
- - -
Even before he knew what boys and girls were, Murnaukharösh knew he held a massive flame for Oriana DeLaVega. She was the first person to treat him like, well, a person. She didn't keep him crammed in a kitty carrier and feed him cricket meal like his father did. She didn't hiss at him to get down from the statuary or stop slinking under the pews like the priest did. She didn't tell him not to hunt squirrels or sneak off after hours like the security detail did. She didn't throw dirt clods at him or make fun of him being mute like her brothers did. In fact, barring one instance where he ripped the palm of her hand clean open on accident, Ori never showed any fear or disgust towards Murray, despite him being a Mephrian and her Rathi nobility. They were inseparable; the little duchess and the groundskeeper's pet. He'd follow her anywhere, do anything she wanted. All he wanted was to be with her. And he knew one day he'd be big and strong like his father and her father and he'd be able to keep her safe from all the stuffy priests, boorish officials, and bullying brothers the world would throw at her. He'd gladly die for her; at her command most likely. He owed her that much.
However, he'd failed to reckon puberty into his life's plan. A failing of many children.
Oriana's free time became less and less as she entered her teenage years and took up the duties befitting a duchess-in-waiting. Gone were her lengthy sojourns into the plains and ponds and backwoods of her estate with her special friend. This did not go unnoticed by Murray, who in turn became despondent at his best friend getting eaten up by all the stuffy adult nonsense he wanted to protect her so badly from. A gap began to grow between them. But still every month they'd keep up a tradition of sneaking into the estate's great library in the late hours of the night to secretly read comics and eat snacks, just the two of them together.
Eventually Murray entered his pupal stage. For two years he cocooned himself in a case of red chitin and black ichor, slowly metamorphosing into an adult form; six-armed, dark-skinned, and very tall. Gone was the small green warbling goblin he'd been, replaced now with a fully grown adult Mephrian. Upon emerging from his chrysalis and reuniting with Oriana he was struck with a new sensation (or perhaps merely the logical extreme of what had been there all along). He wanted her. She was his. She had to be his. She belonged to him, as clearly dictated to him by some implicit and illicit right he could neither name nor trace.
The fact that she had a boyfriend did not deter him.
He could change her mind. He had to. Nothing else mattered.
During one of their midnight comic book sessions, Murray made his move. He sat beside her and gradually inched closer to her in the low light. Their sides met. She rested her head on his shoulder. He'd long since stopped pretending to read his magazine by that point. He put an arm around her shoulders. An arm around her back. She looked up at him. She saw his eyes.
“...what are you doing?” she asked, voiced edged with unease.
Murray grabbed her wrist and opened her palm, tracing the scar his claw had made there many years ago when they were both foolish kids. He clasped a large, gnarled hand over it, rough from years of plough work and tool maintenance, and held it long enough for her quick pulse to meet his slow and heavy one.
Oriana felt something small and metallic drop into her palm as Murray withdrew his hand.
She recoiled as if stung and tore away from him when she saw what it was.
Murray didn't know what he'd done wrong. He'd seen the movies, read the books, listened to the radio shows and lingered around people long enough to know this is how it was supposed to work. He'd even styled his hair and put on some of his father's cologne. They were alone, they were close, and she'd been receptive. But now she was easing him away, concern on her face. Golden hair, blue fur, white cotton clothing, refined homely elegance; his equal and opposite in every regard, the pair of them swept together by the insuperable hands of fate – and for the first time she was rebuffing him. He couldn't fathom why. Murray tried to explain this to her as best he could with pantomime and pleading eyes but Oriana's features only darkened, sad and uncomfortable.
“No. Please. You're my best friend,” she said. “You're like a brother to me. I-I don't....”
'Which is why I need you beside me always,' he wanted to say. Scream, perhaps. 'You don't know. You really don't. Everything else in this world is just things. Everyone else is just people. You are different. I love you. I love you so much.' He had a dozen other tangled retorts in his mind, some even halfway decent... but his muteness rendered them all silent. For not the first time he cursed his disability with an impatient hiss. If only he were different. If only he were like her.
“Y-You know I'm seeing Horatio,” she said with less confidence than he'd ever heard from her.
Oh yes, he knew all about Horatio. The cheese farmer. The commoner. How scandalous. Her dating a man who was just like him. Except he could speak. Except he was a Rathi. And she was a Rathi. And he was a Mephrian. A mute Mephrian. Which was worse than being a cheese farmer, worse than being a commoner, worse than being a human or a tengu or maybe even an ogre. He hissed again. Loudly. Murray clenched all of his fists and hung his head and tried his best not to do anything stupid. He didn't know what type of stupid action he'd take in this situation and that scared him worse than anything.
“I love you, Murnaukharösh,” Oriana said after however many minutes passed. He perked up slightly. “But I cannot accept this.” She'd picked the ring off the carpet and held it out towards him. “You're my brother,” she said with a trace of decorum back in her voice, almost being able to hold a gaze with him. “I'll always love you. But I don't... I can't....”
He understood perfectly. Something was broken between them. He'd have to fix it. He'd have to prove himself to her. Or, failing that, need to think up a good way to kill Horatio without her suspecting him. Eat his whole body, bones and all perhaps. Either way he felt remarkably drained and these were problems for another day. He took the ring back and they picked up their mess, departing without another word. Oriana went off to her bedchambers and Murray slunk off into the night, prowling the warm plains until the sun rose.
That was the last time they met alone together for many years.
- - -
Art by
Duchess(-in-Waiting) Oriana DeLaVega by
What makes you think you're better than me?
You think you can read her mind
Maybe you're just looking for a good time
Maybe you can give her more
Tell me what you're doing this for
Stay away from her
'Cause it's makin' me angry
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
She belongs to me
You come around lookin' for kicks
But I know all about your dirty tricks now
You think you'll take away my dream?
Ain't gonna be easy 'cause I get real mean
Get out of here, get out of my life
You're gonna be sorry if we have to fight
Stay away from her
'Cause it's makin' me angry
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
She belongs to me
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
Don't tell me how to love my baby
She belongs to me
She belongs to me
She belongs to me
- The Ramones, 'She Belongs to Me'
- - -
Even before he knew what boys and girls were, Murnaukharösh knew he held a massive flame for Oriana DeLaVega. She was the first person to treat him like, well, a person. She didn't keep him crammed in a kitty carrier and feed him cricket meal like his father did. She didn't hiss at him to get down from the statuary or stop slinking under the pews like the priest did. She didn't tell him not to hunt squirrels or sneak off after hours like the security detail did. She didn't throw dirt clods at him or make fun of him being mute like her brothers did. In fact, barring one instance where he ripped the palm of her hand clean open on accident, Ori never showed any fear or disgust towards Murray, despite him being a Mephrian and her Rathi nobility. They were inseparable; the little duchess and the groundskeeper's pet. He'd follow her anywhere, do anything she wanted. All he wanted was to be with her. And he knew one day he'd be big and strong like his father and her father and he'd be able to keep her safe from all the stuffy priests, boorish officials, and bullying brothers the world would throw at her. He'd gladly die for her; at her command most likely. He owed her that much.
However, he'd failed to reckon puberty into his life's plan. A failing of many children.
Oriana's free time became less and less as she entered her teenage years and took up the duties befitting a duchess-in-waiting. Gone were her lengthy sojourns into the plains and ponds and backwoods of her estate with her special friend. This did not go unnoticed by Murray, who in turn became despondent at his best friend getting eaten up by all the stuffy adult nonsense he wanted to protect her so badly from. A gap began to grow between them. But still every month they'd keep up a tradition of sneaking into the estate's great library in the late hours of the night to secretly read comics and eat snacks, just the two of them together.
Eventually Murray entered his pupal stage. For two years he cocooned himself in a case of red chitin and black ichor, slowly metamorphosing into an adult form; six-armed, dark-skinned, and very tall. Gone was the small green warbling goblin he'd been, replaced now with a fully grown adult Mephrian. Upon emerging from his chrysalis and reuniting with Oriana he was struck with a new sensation (or perhaps merely the logical extreme of what had been there all along). He wanted her. She was his. She had to be his. She belonged to him, as clearly dictated to him by some implicit and illicit right he could neither name nor trace.
The fact that she had a boyfriend did not deter him.
He could change her mind. He had to. Nothing else mattered.
During one of their midnight comic book sessions, Murray made his move. He sat beside her and gradually inched closer to her in the low light. Their sides met. She rested her head on his shoulder. He'd long since stopped pretending to read his magazine by that point. He put an arm around her shoulders. An arm around her back. She looked up at him. She saw his eyes.
“...what are you doing?” she asked, voiced edged with unease.
Murray grabbed her wrist and opened her palm, tracing the scar his claw had made there many years ago when they were both foolish kids. He clasped a large, gnarled hand over it, rough from years of plough work and tool maintenance, and held it long enough for her quick pulse to meet his slow and heavy one.
Oriana felt something small and metallic drop into her palm as Murray withdrew his hand.
She recoiled as if stung and tore away from him when she saw what it was.
Murray didn't know what he'd done wrong. He'd seen the movies, read the books, listened to the radio shows and lingered around people long enough to know this is how it was supposed to work. He'd even styled his hair and put on some of his father's cologne. They were alone, they were close, and she'd been receptive. But now she was easing him away, concern on her face. Golden hair, blue fur, white cotton clothing, refined homely elegance; his equal and opposite in every regard, the pair of them swept together by the insuperable hands of fate – and for the first time she was rebuffing him. He couldn't fathom why. Murray tried to explain this to her as best he could with pantomime and pleading eyes but Oriana's features only darkened, sad and uncomfortable.
“No. Please. You're my best friend,” she said. “You're like a brother to me. I-I don't....”
'Which is why I need you beside me always,' he wanted to say. Scream, perhaps. 'You don't know. You really don't. Everything else in this world is just things. Everyone else is just people. You are different. I love you. I love you so much.' He had a dozen other tangled retorts in his mind, some even halfway decent... but his muteness rendered them all silent. For not the first time he cursed his disability with an impatient hiss. If only he were different. If only he were like her.
“Y-You know I'm seeing Horatio,” she said with less confidence than he'd ever heard from her.
Oh yes, he knew all about Horatio. The cheese farmer. The commoner. How scandalous. Her dating a man who was just like him. Except he could speak. Except he was a Rathi. And she was a Rathi. And he was a Mephrian. A mute Mephrian. Which was worse than being a cheese farmer, worse than being a commoner, worse than being a human or a tengu or maybe even an ogre. He hissed again. Loudly. Murray clenched all of his fists and hung his head and tried his best not to do anything stupid. He didn't know what type of stupid action he'd take in this situation and that scared him worse than anything.
“I love you, Murnaukharösh,” Oriana said after however many minutes passed. He perked up slightly. “But I cannot accept this.” She'd picked the ring off the carpet and held it out towards him. “You're my brother,” she said with a trace of decorum back in her voice, almost being able to hold a gaze with him. “I'll always love you. But I don't... I can't....”
He understood perfectly. Something was broken between them. He'd have to fix it. He'd have to prove himself to her. Or, failing that, need to think up a good way to kill Horatio without her suspecting him. Eat his whole body, bones and all perhaps. Either way he felt remarkably drained and these were problems for another day. He took the ring back and they picked up their mess, departing without another word. Oriana went off to her bedchambers and Murray slunk off into the night, prowling the warm plains until the sun rose.
That was the last time they met alone together for many years.
- - -
Art by
Duchess(-in-Waiting) Oriana DeLaVega by
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Multiple characters
Size 1280 x 1251px
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