[P] illuminated - Printable Version +- HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun (http://helovia.com) +-- Forum: Out of Character (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +--- Thread: [P] illuminated (/showthread.php?tid=14098) |
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illuminated - Circuta - 05-21-2014 WE ARE ALL ILLUMINATED Time waits for no one Beneath the bleak expanse of cinereal skies, the brine crashes ivory froth against the beige grains of the shore— surrounding dabs of rock swathed in murkier than normal attire, still damp from the springtide deluge, humid oxygen coating most equine's flesh sweaty with the light of the early dawn, the odor of salt ravished with the howl of the wind off the coast. But if one took the time to flesh out the fragrance of the sea, one would know it is keen, uncluttered, or putrid with seaweed washed ashore— it does not hold a element of metal, copper, and yet it swirls with the gusts upon the breeze; the loathsome aroma of spilt cruor. If one were to not simply bypass the coastline, indeed, they would surely take notice of the cardinal stains among the soil, droplets gathering in volume, the hope of ravenous beasts as a prowling wolf for the sinew of a lamb's meat, a painless feast without the aid of a pack to slaughter its harvest. A being drags themselves along the once pristine sands, starry breast smeared with the very same cruor, lacerations rosy with irritability at the ire of the wind, violet spheres rimmed in scarlet, swollen and wet with tears, opaque lines drawn as cracks and crevices down her cheeks where the drops had scattered— blown with the wind, frame trembling, quivering as a leaf. The muscles beneath her flesh convulse between intervals, as spasms of misery and the strain of standing converge as one upon her. Something is soaked into her sinew on her port side, sticky and saturated, pooling down her fiercely shaking pillar, vermilion and vibrant in hue— it is her own life's liquor, a chunk of perished corpuscles hanging limp as a ragdoll, leaving raw tendon in its wake. The Nightingale has failed, blundered and miscarried, defeated, having fallen flat beneath the weight of ambitions and aspirations, she has failed, she has failed the Plaguebearer with his starved craving for dominance, failed the Empress with her ascendancies to the throne. She had faltered in her pledge, her vow, her assurances and betrothal, she has fractured, crumpled and broken her promise. Coming to a swath of kelp, wrapped snug about a beaming, vivid apricot egg, gilded and luminous as the Sun in summer she pauses, enervated, drained and gone stale, wasted time and worn days, consumed in the burden of the world, nausea writhing up within her throat as bile, a sudden rush of disbelief and deliriousness washing up inside her cranium, sweeping across her lithe bodice, the wailing flurries catching cascades of mane in its wake— savage and passionate, a irate lover's hands, and she teeters recklessly, a spiteful lashing of a hymn groveling within her mind. They won't love you now, it whispers, laborious and serpentine. They do not love derelict children with meager downfalls. A meek response, forbearing and subdued, yielding protests against the caw of the Voice. Liar, she cries, liar, liar, liar, and a cackle thrums in her harks, harsh as the winter air is bitter. You are, Oathbreaker. And there, beside the roar of the brine, she topples, the second time this morn— shattering, wilting as a flower without water, weary and tiring and infuriated, so, so irate at herself, for she has lost, she has lost and they won't love her anymore, they won't love her anymore, a dejected helplessness rising as the tide within her veins, a dry sob bursting from her lungs, a quake resounding throughout her pilant frame, followed by another, and another, and another, the Earth seeming eerily hushed besides the splintering of her glass heart. She is forsaken, truly, desolate and widowed, there is no mother to rock the babe within her arms— there could have been, mourns the Voice now, crepuscule and grim, if you hadn't of murdered her, there could have been, and as she spills her sorrows among the kelp, the seaweed, the divine blessed egg fractures, a rift growing within its illuminated surface, as if it mimics the severing of her heart, and there, before her quivering nostrils plunges the minuscule torso of a cub, a mewl escaping its blind face, puny, pilous paws landing upon her maw, shivering in the drab light, tangerine and onyx and cream— and among the rapid pulse of her mangled heart, a bond ties, a noose holds. This is her soul, her dæmon, and a bubbling laugh escapes her lungs. Except it isn't really a laugh. It's more like a sob, mixed with a laugh. Just a little. A brittle hymn, thick, weaves lyrics from her maw, tattered spiderwebs, long forgotten tongues. "Rhawon," she says, because she knows immediately with the chastity that empties her mind from his cranium, knows it is a he and he is hers, and the babe chuffs against her sinew. He'll perish, too, the Voice says, because she is damned, and she merits a watery whimper. "Yes," comes the croak of a lyric. They may both relinquish life, this day, among the reaping of her own claret. I tried, murmurs her hazy thoughts, lightheaded, and startlingly dizzy. Was the sky always so brilliant? I tried.... @[Oxy] @[Delinne] thanks tamme RE: illuminated - Delinne - 05-21-2014 memories, haunting my mind ♥
Coward. Useless. Pathetic. Weak. Words given by my father, more than eight years ago, but they were etched into my mind and I would never ever forget them. Not because I wanted to remember them, but because I couldn't forget. I had for my whole life tried to prove against them, but... Perhaps he had been right? Perhaps I was just weak, pathetic, nothing more than another mare who deserved to know her place. I stopped and shook my head before continuing, dragging my cracked, grey hooves through the muddy earth. "You will always be a pathetic whore, Delinne. Don't even think about finding someone who'll love you because you are nothing. Who would want you when they could have a smart mare? A beautiful mare. Go back to sleep, worthless slut. Goodnight." A growl quietly escaped from my lips, grinding my teeth. Father, I would one day pierce your black chest and mangle your heart of ice until the shattered parts ruined you on the inside slowly and painfully. I rose my head high and looked around me, raising a brow slightly. Apparently I had been walking for so long that I hadn't even noticed the Thistle River, the thick forest or the beginning of a white beach. Open skies above me were grey and filled with boring, depressing clouds - a weather to match the feelings inside. Ugh, if I could, I would've slapped myself hard. Why did I feel like this?! I knew why, but I didn't want to. It wasn't my fault that Azzaron had died. That's what Windwalker had told me. Just because I was the reason, I wasn't a murderer. Sigh. It was my fault. I would always be the reason for the death of my children's father. They didn't exactly have someone else to blame, did they? My blue gaze fell down, spotting a red stain in the sand I stood upon. What the... I lowered my head, sniffing on it and snorting in surprise. Blood. The metallic, rusty smell of the liquid was something I never mistook for something else. My brow was raised once again and as I followed the trail of red with my eyes, I ended up staring at a silhouette further away. Sleek and dark, it lied by something that looked like a cub - a feline one. I tilted my head and slowly, very slowly, let my legs move forward. Though I had only taken a few when a shadow attacked me from behind. Surprised by the sudden touch, I yelped loudly and glanced back - and a smile was now glowing all over my face. "Dezba!" I giggled and watched the cat as she jumped down on the ground again from my rump, only to sit down in front of me. That's when I realized she was alone. "Dezba... Where is Cah?" I whispered, suddenly terrified that the jaguar had come to me because my newborn was in danger. Had she hurt herself? Was someone after her? Were there any thr- 'No problem. Safe. Home.' She frowned and I immediately knew what she was going to say, even without the telepathic communication. 'You. By the edge. What you think with, Mother?!' I looked away, frowning and every single sign that a smile was ever there was erased. 'What if you fall down? Your offspring. They need Mother most. I nothing compare to you. I no parent. Cahira. Azarel. Destry. They your kids, they love you. You their only parent.' I sighed, still refusing to look at the jaguar. 'Let us go and investigate that silhouette over there...' It seemed to have worked as an distraction, as the black feline turned around and gazed at the figurine in the sand. And she ran. I followed of course, but I didn't expect to see who the figurine was in the sand when I arrived to her. I had expected someone, but not her. "Circuta..." I breathed, staring at her bloody shape. The feline that I had seen before her was in fact a feline - a tiger, even. Only a little cub, barely out of his shell. My herd sister was covered in blood and had caused a pool of the red liquid to stain the beach underneath her. She was torn half apart. "Amika... Who has done this to you?!" I whispered, though my whispers were hasty and masked a fury that I had felt many times before. If I were to find the one who caused Circuta these wounds... I would kill them with my own maw, horn and hooves. Merciless. "Talking"
'Thinking' 'Dezba thinking' wordcount // 761 tags // @[Circuta] && Eris && Oxy ooc // D: RE: illuminated - Oxy - 05-25-2014
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