[O] all instinct [joining] - 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] all instinct [joining] (/showthread.php?tid=26464) |
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all instinct [joining] - Rikyn - 02-07-2017
@Erebos mehbeh? RE: all instinct [joining] - Erebos - 02-08-2017
The unrelenting snow, wind, and rain feel like his heart – frozen at times, perilous, treacherous, snaking through the wisps of the slivered portions remaining, and he glared at the tempestuous weather lingering outside his cavern walls, wishing the world didn’t have to change. But the Sun God’s words had always been a part of him too, crushing, lingering, steadfast and strong, telling him not to glance backwards, because that was no place to go, nowhere for him to roam, to settle, and to merely yearn for those moments would leave him nothing for the future. But that was all he wanted: the past, where he and his companions ran and ran across valleys without no cares, where his dad told him he was proud of his efforts, where his mother’s showery smile peaked over the edges of her regal features, where the empire hadn’t fallen into this listless, languid fringe. What was out there for him now, besides the blood-curling vengeance stoking his blood? Besides the incensed mutiny of a seditious boy, who only desired to crush those who dared to malign his own? What existed after that? The prince used to dream and dream and dream, of power, of glory, of domination over everyone and everything alongside his brethren. He just didn’t know if it was possible any more. A haunting cry pervaded along the inner valley, reverberating across his cavern walls, and the General’s head tilted, ears sweeping in various directions, attempting to pinpoint the location. His head jutted out of the aperture, allowing the drops to batter his skull, paying no mind to its cool, chilling touch (because this was normal, how he’d grown, how he'd become stronger), eyes narrowing and glancing towards the outer limits of their summits. Was someone hurt, ailing, or requiring aid? Orsino snickered something particularly nasty (no healing powers here), and the youth flinched. Then, out of pure stubbornness, left the warm, dry confines for the wild, savage wind and siren song. The kitsune didn’t follow, hissing and spouting conniving remarks, and the boy kept shuffling forward, head down, blinded by the petulant weather, clenching his jaw in an age of persistence, tenacity, and outright defiance, failing to yield to the harshest of elements telling him to stay away. He followed the lengths and waves of the sound, pondering over what poor fool would be out in this ridiculous air, when his eyes caught over the sanctions of towering, decaying sentinels, still standing despite the wretchedness surrounding them, and then below, two figures carved out of the glaciers. “Rikyn,” Erebos called, the name across his lips before he could even think to pause and announce himself, eyes widened in shock, in surprise, because the last time he’d bestowed the notion of returning, the other boy hadn’t seemed keen. Then they’d separated again, only to meet at the roads of the Veins, digging away for a fallen God who would seek to destroy them all (tricked, deceived, ruined once more). He didn’t expect him here, but through all the misfortunes, all the chaos, all the bedlam and sorrow, his heart lifted a little - glad to see his best friend. Erebos i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want @Rikyn RE: all instinct [joining] - Rikyn - 02-08-2017
@Erebos RE: all instinct [joining] - Erebos - 02-09-2017
They’d been born from the mountains, where the summits rose into high, rising peaks – mutinous, seditious, spun and spawned from the gathering of refugees struggling to become their own nation, an empire of strength, of durability, of endurance and fortitude. The boy felt less and less like a mighty piece of the snowy towers, flickering apart piece by piece, sliver by sliver, fragment by fragment, because he was without someone he’d always known, always cherished, always beloved – and perhaps things were just too different now. Maybe they’d been crumbling the entire time, driven from great heights and shoved down into the murky undertones without their knowledge until it pierced their gut or slammed into their chest – raw, reel, keen, forceful, and savage. He didn’t know what had truly happened to all of them, whether it was his father’s last breath, the weight of the earth, or just a natural cycle of dying perseverance, when the old flickered into dust and the new merely stood there, stupid and inept, ignorant and bereft. But as his eyes traveled to Rikyn’s, as he glimpsed at the hurt, at the despair, at the agony mired not by rain, but by grief, he understood they were one and the same again, chronicled by passing stars and oeuvre scribes, dictating the melancholy void the princes were to share. “I’m so sorry,” he mustered into the storm, struggling not to stare at the rusted sentinels, one last piece the Engineer had left behind. He’d rarely met Ulrik, but had heard so many stories (the time he wagged his tongue to topple a throne, cast a DarkEmpress into shadows, the moments where he’d twisted the knife back upon the Reaper too, and they’d never forged a friendship again – heartbreaking in a way, and Erebos didn’t want that to happen to them, not ever, brothers by bond and rime). Now both had been thrust into a disintegrating dynasty, the former generation built by power, by prestige, by maliciousness and fervor – and now the latter, stumbling around, incapable of finding their own footing, not quite ready for the hardships, the titles, the mantles, dragged and drawn across their shoulders. The prince lowered his head, an offering of further apologies, for vows and oaths and assurances to a cretin who’d crafted the most intricate and dangerous of machines, whose legacy lived on through Rikyn’s fortified, bold stances and ambitions. He stared at the puddles, at the drops, at the snowflakes hastening their way through the mercurial layers, held his breath for what came next. The scion, blended and blurred by the lines of strength and torment, coiled his crown towards his brethren, turned his gaze solely to the other boy, mustering the last granules of fragility; why he’d been so gloomy, so intertwined between sorrow and madness. “So is mine.” His voice came like a hollowed sound, soulless, like if he uttered it one more time it would just make it all the more true and consuming – the worst sort of condemnation for children who couldn’t follow their sires, left to the hushed depths of foreboding and corruption. Erebos i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want @Rikyn RE: all instinct [joining] - Rikyn - 02-11-2017
@Erebos RE: all instinct [joining] - Erebos - 02-11-2017
“I don’t know,” he answered, staring off into the void, not lingering on Rikyn’s fallen face, on the tears welling up, allowing him to be alone in those few moments of peril where everything simply seemed to pile up and devour someone. His heart was heavy, dampened, soused, drenched and drowned, barely scratching over the surface of what they used to be (could never be again), incapable of returning to the good, old days where they’d been naught more than an untouched canvas, capable of so many things. The General had never asked the hows and the whys over his father’s demise – had barely accepted it had happened, let alone embark on the justification, the reasoning behind it all. Perhaps, in the darker murmurings of his thoughts and ruminations, he could have employed a whole menagerie of circumstances: the Reaper’s magic had finally caught up with him, tied his essence back into the arts of demise, the eldritch, mercurial whims of the underworld and its caustic, devilish imbalances. Or maybe, just maybe, the god damn empire itself had pilfered him away, exhausted, forlorn, and desolate, enshrouding his every movement and motion until he’d been splintered and severed, driven to his last breath, his final heartbeat. Erebos wanted someone or something to blame, but it never came, never had a rhyme or reason, just ended in the ways things were; and that too stirred, incensed, and kindled his vengeance, but he had no where to pinpoint such an illustrious, tangible rage. “He was just gone,” the boy whispered again, harsh and unrelenting, gaze settling on the outcrops, beyond the rain and the wind, towards the unfreezing lake where Deimos had laid himself to rest. When he swung his stare back to Rikyn, he remained still, a vast ocean of emotions and recoil, curling back into his defensive means, his Machiavellian measures, begging for something other than this retrieval of wrongs, melees, and the unjustified taking of lives. The boy couldn’t even bring himself to ask how the Engineer had passed, didn’t query Rikyn on the particulars, had no intention of pulling him back into the horrors, the terrors, the quiet, unholy insurrection of bestial sires ruined and discarded. It’d been enough to simply experience it – the abysmal hours spent reliving the disastrous events weren’t necessary, didn’t need to be another burden on already sunken edges, fringes, and maelstroms. It was the remaining valorous contortion of his avaricious entity that proffered Rikyn the gift of avoidance, a blistering remnant of courtesy and chivalry granted to a blood brother – if he wanted to delve any further, it was his choice, and not the blue prince’s. He slipped into a greater diversion, lending his abilities, his power, his layers of armor and devastation into the rime and rubble, casting out the discord, the betrayals, the treachery stored between the bay youth and the summits. If his voice quaked and shuddered, he paid no mind to it, focusing his interest on Rikyn’s pursuits, on his ambitions, on the aspirations Erebos had once bestowed. “Are you here to stay?” Erebos i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want @Rikyn RE: all instinct [joining] - Rikyn - 02-15-2017
@Erebos RE: all instinct [joining] - Erebos - 02-18-2017
The question felt stupid, empty, forlorn, the moment it left his mouth, too specious, too whimsical, too buried in the rubble and ruin of their childhood, wishing for things that could never be again. He’d asked out of hope, out of valor, out of the pieces of himself not already chained and shackled to broken barbs of severity and immorality; because he craved for Rikyn’s presence, for his blood brother to take up arms at his side, to gather munitions and herald the coming of the next war beside him, to drum and beckon anarchy, sedition, and abhorrence, to drain and deprive the world of their forgotten legacies with serpentine smiles and illustrious grins. They’d been torn apart by too many other things, by the etchings of time, by the whittlings of circumstances, by greed and stupidity, and in the stretches of silence, the General knew he didn’t crave that disastrous wake again. Rikyn should’ve been here, where he’d been born, where he’d been scolded, where he’d come alive, where they’d all become bent and broken and silly, foolish, intrepid, but so brave, gallant and tarnished beneath the shields and swords of the mountain peaks. Perhaps they’d be mere whispers of their former selves, too broken, too misshapen, too clawed and bombarded against to be anything other than shells. Maybe they’d be merciless heathens, rasping their way to the top, to the glory they’d always been promised, tearing off the shackles, the tethers, and the lines binding them to the ground. They could be so much more than the splintered, fractured boys of the Basin – and together, they had a chance. The summits could still have their renewed genesis, another promised beginning that had come at the time of their births, that had been squandered and fractured when too many demons had come to bombard, when lines had been crossed, when circumstances had altered their pace, their minds, their schemes. Change was inevitable; but they were more than just dreamers and fiends, mercurial and fervent – eager, so eager, for the tastes, the glories, the legends the world had waiting for them. “That’ll be enough,” he said with a soft, sad smile, bending his neck, obliging the beacon of home again, inviting him back into the walls that he’d always known. They would rise, step up from their wounded, battered knees, and topple the heavens, one by one by one, until their names were chiseled into the ground, into the skies, into the stars. Erebos i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want @Rikyn RE: all instinct [joining] - Rikyn - 02-22-2017
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