[O] the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste - 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] the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste (/showthread.php?tid=18911) |
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the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste - Lena - 04-04-2015 Imogen & Lena
She was an unceasing, enduring blade, sprinting in a malicious, vicious, unrepentant haze, drowned and drenched in the searing, abhorrent fusion of loathing, contempt, and outright panic. Her fox tails whipped behind her in a blue-tipped cataclysm, brandishing, branching, and brutally seizing snow and frost beneath her claws, entangled in the embroiled fervor of a ferocious beast, too lacquered, too enameled, with bloodlust to do anything but rage, fume, and seethe. How dare they the Lilliputian monster declared, raw and rancorous, driving endless persistence amidst the newfound rime, traipsing closer and closer to her destination as she grew ever more incensed, stoked the finer columns and sentiments of her malevolence. How could they take her? What had she done to deserve it? What had started as a journey of selfless munitions, a mender and her beast clambering across the frozen outcrops, destined to coat a battlefield in angelic raptures, in songs of chaos and mending, ended in another murky throng of chaos altogether. Her sweet, sweet Lena, hoping to lend her assistance in any way she could, felled by an inky behemoth, throwing out herbs at their feet, casting out paralytic, seizing vapors; had Imogen not been quick, light, rapid, and swift, she too would have succumbed to the agonizing tremors – instead, she’d watched and commanded as the seraph’s flame flickered, thrown like a stone to the ground, overcome and overwrought by the potency of dangerous, poisonous nectars. Then, Imogen had been on the move. There was no other destination but the Basin. She couldn’t drive her bellows and fire into the Falls without distracting their kin from the battlefield, even if they managed to see or hear her in the pitfalls, pendulums, and gallows, there would be no sense in embarking and funneling chaos into chaos. She’d simply have to climb the embankments, the summits, the peaks, and valleys, to raise the alarm to those who hadn’t been asked to join the frontlines. So the kitsune did, in brilliant, everlasting fortitude, for she’d followed the Songbird up and down the fortifications, the ramparts, so many times before, coaxing, dancing, meandering until they laughed and chimed, echoing belles of the snow and ice – and all she fixated, riveted upon now, was entering the grounds as a blazing maelstrom of rancor and wrath, racing past the metal sentinels, the crisp, lush taste of Orangemoon. She wasn’t sure of how many had stayed behind in the wake of frigid temperatures, in the vestiges of autumn’s ambrosia, but her first thoughts were of Roland and his surreptitious values, all the beloved sentiments the Time Mender held for him; she blistered and consumed all over again. Like a savage, potent messenger of disaster, the ivory vixen made her way into the deepest regions of the wide-open valley, into the first flickering petals of snow, and released her augured, siren call of treachery, an earth-shattering howl, a piercing, puncturing clamor, unwinding, uncurling, uncoiling it on ferocious peals of smoke and ash, desperate for attention, for notice, for observation, from those still lingering in their frigid halls. Wouldn’t they come for one of their own? For a creature who loved, cherished, and adored every single monster, heathen, and infidel? [@[Roland] @[Ulrik] Imogen coming into the Basin to inform Lena has been captured. Feel free to post if you want the info. ;D] My heart swells like a water at wave Can't stop myself before it's too late Credits to wakalrus for image, Frostie for table. <3 RE: the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste - d'Artagnan - 04-06-2015
RE: the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste - Roland - 04-06-2015
RE: the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste - Lena - 04-11-2015 Imogen & Lena
Two of the horned beasts came, both wholly familiar through exploits, diversions, antics and amusements throughout the Basin, and were it any other time Imogen may have flickered back into her majestic rite; brandishing her blue-tipped plumes in wild, uplifting ambience, sauntering to the tune of her Mender’s songs, pressing the beat of chirps and magnificence in the crescendos… But it was not to be: the situation was too dire, and she was far too shackled and chained in her wrath to contemplate merriment; not when her beloved Songbird had been diverted and uprooted into peril. Her jaws snapped closed, clicking and clenching against one another in cool predilection, and she sought out pacing, allowing the movements and maneuvers to calm her rankled demeanor, but try as she might, there was no true distraction from the unholy varnish tarnishing her soul, blackening her sights, willing them to immoral factions. The pale vixen glanced from one to the other, realizing her candor, while always a flow of silent, bonding words flowing between her and dear, sweet Lena, the gilded Roland and tattoo-ed Doctor would not be proffered the same benefit. Her chirrups would only do so much. Her anger would only cast so many stones. Her glance seared to the Hellhound, Aramis, and in untamed, chaotic shambles, she unraveled the tale in bellicose roars and fervent gestures towards the beast, hoping it could convey all the nuances of the disastrous story, not leave it fettered and befuddling. Lena taken by inky stallion. Stolen. Paralyzed by herb. She paused, furrowed her foxy brows, willed all of the wiles of her ancestors, of her lineage, of her species, to portray what needed to be stated. Go to Falls, I think. Then, she glanced at Roland, whose chest heaved and breath seemed cast aside into amble bouts of consternation and apprehension – rightfully so, because their combined adventures with Mender, Thief, and kitsune had lent some wonderful moments, and disastrous pitfalls. Imogen feared this would claim the latter, and she truly didn’t yearn to bring him any more trials or tribulations (she even feared that Lena wouldn’t want him to know, but then the vixen frowned, bristled, at the thought, tossed it into the wind; her beloved’s safety was far more concern than pangs of angst). Since she couldn’t share a connection, beyond their taste for vanity and grandeur, she began miming the entire event, displaying it in vivid spurts of action. At first she chirped into vivid song, miming the gentle Mender’s ability to conjure light, elegant arias no matter the atmosphere, thereafter pretending to slink across icy steps (as they’d had, yearning to reach the battle before it was too late), then sniffing at a strangle bundle of herbs laid at her lady’s feet. She collapsed onto the ground, acting the part of her convulsing Lena (and even then she growled, clenched her jaw at the rancorous memory, revolted and incensed she couldn’t do anything but flee in that harsh moment), and subsequently stood, out of breath, pulsing, maddened, incited all over again, fur ruffled, disjointed, smoke fuming and curling from her maw and tails. Would either of them understand? Could they help? Or should she just sprint across the void, and rescue her mistress herself? [@[Roland] @[d'Artagnan] ] My heart swells like a water at wave Can't stop myself before it's too late Credits to wakalrus for image, Frostie for table. <3 RE: the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste - Ulrik - 04-12-2015
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