[O] Evil is created, not born. - 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: [O] Evil is created, not born. (/showthread.php?tid=18732) |
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Evil is created, not born. - Midas - 03-26-2015 Two sets of narrowed gems witnessed all that would occur from a respectful distance; they lurked in shadow (though tis naturally impossible for either creature to be completely cloaked). Still, the two stayed out of sight and hidden high above in Basin timber. Within the canopy those babes of fire and ice stood fast with everlasting patience. Earnestly watching their bonded. The long, treacherous night had finally relinquished hold; allowing a burning blood colored orb to start playing peeka boo above its shadowy horizon. They watched and waited. A cloudy heaven had formed above this pair; tis unnaturally dark and the heart of those clouds drummed like the crashing of water cascading from a cliff. There was an equal throbbing occurring down below. My head pounded and ached. Those blasted curs had plucked me from my perch during the night -- many a wolf, (to many to cross alone.) All harboring a stench that became sickeningly familiar to me. Mountains and stagnant northern salt. This crown rose, painfully slow from its slacked position. A soft groan drifted to these lips, I quelled it even as the heated throb intensified. Secondly, (but more forcefully,) there is a growing weight hanging from the flesh that dangled from the perch of my throat. Thirst. Yet there was no water to be had from this empty glade. A gangly snarl of branches vined like snakes above me. Their fingers effectively rendering both heavy pinions along my barrel utterly useless. Dual lids shut themselves, attempting to lull the hollow pounding to a dull echo. Beyond sight, their sky crackled angrily -- thunder that mimicked a land I'd come to call home. I wasn't alone here; nay, this soul felt them...friend and foe were close. The tedious fools kept watch of their captive lion who lay outnumbered, but not subdued...nay...there was still plenty of life to be had. Energy born from my immortal flesh would help mend the bruising they'd pressed upon this skull. Lids opened, the hazy center sharpening, hardening. RE: Evil is created, not born. - Thranduil - 03-29-2015 Thranduil
A fresh wind blew up from the west. It tickled at his neck and flirted down his back. Twin horns, high atop that gold crown shake with a wicked delight. The thrill of last night was still coursing through him. Of course he hadn’t played as large of a part as would have liked, but that was ever such a small matter. One of his spies had done it, and that was enough. Hotaru was proving herself to be quite a lovely jewel on their crown. Still the gold grew ever the bitter as he thought about the denial of that precious wrapped around the painted’s neck. It called to him, as all treasure’s did, but last night had not been for that. Snorting the golden nickered to the small trotting form at his side. The dark fawn beside him quickened the pace. That was if you could call him a fawn anymore. That babe which kept such a light heart was growing up. Gone were the dark spots, replaced now by a sleek coat of black. Pupils in his eyes had faded, and not pure white gaze stared out as if from his very soul. He was growing, but it was a fact the gold seemed to constantly ignore. Coming to the grove of pines the golden slowed, but his smile grew. He was in all his finery for this visit, a golden cloak and crown, with his pouch safely hidden under. Upon his back, bundled up with a long blade of grass was some of the richer fodder of the Basin, and Haldir carried a small block of ice. So the two came around the bend and there he stood, looking ever like the fallen king. A wicked smile grew up on the golden lips as his voice rang out loud and clear, well aware of the possible headache the poor birdy had. “Good morning goldie!” And he meant it. Walking now the golden comes closer, not bothering with decorum or the like. Fallen kings, embarrassed and cowed as this one were not given such decorum. Besides the gold was in far too good a mood. Haldir’s tail began to wag at coming to meet a new creature. He had not been with the golden on that journey to the falls when he was cloaked with another’s skin. The gold would argue though that this introduction was so much more fun. Stopping the gold lifted from his back the fodder, and Haldir dropped the ice, coming now bravely closer to the creature. His face was light and innocent, knowing little fear in his short life, and always loving to investigate those the gold met. The gold was not so kind, but he was smiling all the same. “For you, our guest.” He chuckled deeply, one of the rare moments of a real revealed inner emotion. “Can’t have word spread we’re a bad bed and breakfast now can we?” Grabbing some grasses from the bale the gold moves forward. Then he came forward, boldly, and unafraid. Even Haldir stepped aside to look up at his bonded with cocked head. Then, within a few feet the gold stops, drops the grass at the painted’s hooves and grins. He seems to do nothing, but inside the gears were turning. A long slow inhale and gears began to turn and then clicked, locking in place. And his whole reason for coming is fulfilled. Still he couldn’t resist a bit of fun. A wide grin spreads across his lips and the golden turns away. “Of course you’re prisoner, not a guest…which is very confusing to me.” The gold faked concern. Haldir resumed to watching the paint bird from a far with wonder. Coming over to the grass, now unbundled the golden pauses. “It appears you never had a trial.” Of course, there was no such mistake. Nor, would anyone want to give this creature a trial, but- “And as I had no entertainment for the afternoon I thought it would make a lovely tea time chat.” It was slicker and more poisonous than a snake upon mud, and the gleaming gold in those earth eyes told he was not doing this for the sake of justice. “So birdie let’s hear your sob story then shall we? Why do you think you’re here.” Then like settling down for grandmother’s bedtime story the gold grabs at the grasses and begin to eat them with a delight. Honestly there was no better entertainment than this. Let’s hear the story of how all unicorns are big bad meanies, and crush out every shred of good in this world. Let’s hear your worst nightmare come true. OOC :: @[Midas] Identity Inventory:: Destry, Cashmere, Midas Wardrobe:: Cloak, circlet, armband, satchel(hidden)- polearm, knife "Speech" The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out. RE: Evil is created, not born. - Arah - 03-30-2015
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