Gull From above, the cluster of glaciers looks like a fairy castle. Glistening blue in the little daylight Frostfall has afforded the north, the ice casts sapphire hues onto the surrounding snow in a beautiful mosaic. It hardly looks like a murderer’s lair, but you aren’t fooled by appearances. Muriel’s killer had evidently been drawn to beauty, and the labyrinth that confronts you upon landing seems like the perfect place to hide away. Eyes stormy, you peer into the first archway, hooves ringing on the frozen ground as you venture slowly inside. You don’t like it in here, you realize immediately. Though the cave is vaulted considerably high, you feel trapped, claustrophobic. A creature of the air has no place amongst the passages of this twisting maze, but still, you press forward. You have a job to do. You turn your first corner and at least ten Gulls stare back at you from the reflective surface of the icy walls. You jump back in surprise, hooves clattering on the cave floor and legs splayed to keep your balance. For a moment, your breath catches in your throat and then suddenly you are coughing, the hacking sound echoing eerily along the tunnel. Throat burns, and you gasp for air, struggling to breathe…and then as quickly as it has come, the coughing eases. Greedily, you drink in the icy air, shaking your head to clear it. You’re on edge, and that surely hasn’t been helping anything. Get it together, Gull, you admonish yourself, straightening up again and refolding your wings on your back. You have a killer to catch. OOC: Questing, part I! @[Nymeria] trouble just grew wings |
[PRIVATE] And so it begins.
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06-10-2015, 03:32 AM
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
06-11-2015, 02:57 PM
Nymeria IF I HAD A HEART I COULD LOVE YOU \ IF I HAD A VOICE I WOULD SING AFTER THE NIGHT WHEN I WAKE UP \ I'LL SEE WHAT TOMORROW BRINGS
She can hear smoke and ash in his lungs, the ragged cough and heave of corrupted bronchioles and ruined alveoli. In her silence, the polished glass walls rising high above and around her in a labyrinthian fashion, she is contemptuous at the thought of company, bitter at the idea of shattered solitude. Nymphete ears flick back, lissome shadows melting into her mane's voluptuous curls, and Nymeria huffs, vaporous white curling up from her nostrils in smoky veils. Her head lowers, neck slackening, and she wags her muzzle back and forth in an unconscious and scornful reflex. I would've thought to find quiet here. The wolf's thoughts spill out against the confines of her cranium, overflowing into the canals of her companion's; he chokes beneath her thoughts' weight, the ill-tempered thunder of her ponderings. Eyelids slither shut over luminous irises; her exhale's sound is soft and silken against the tunnel's sheer cold, a chilling rasp like that of a knife drawn from its sheathe. Lilómiel's wings spread, whispering shadow against the light streaming in around them. His darkness prevails even when kissed by the sun; he swallows all light like a hole in space, a gap in the cosmos. Over the last weeks his scales had dulled, their glistening brightness fading to a deeper black than anything Nymeria had seen before, a frightful tear in the brightness of the world. She loved it—the heretic and romantic darkness, his eyes' crimson gleam stark as roses blooming in sacrilegious black. The needles of his mind—serrated edges, shards of glass rubbing up against Nym's wolfish skin—hum to her a lilting message, a flash of images. Her lids are dark (and yet streaked with red and indescribable light) and against it familiar sights play out, though tainted by his peculiar binocular vision. His wings hiss against the air as he launches into flight, streaming shadow winging towards the intruder upon their peace. She melts into his rhythm, lets her thoughts wax and wane in mirror to his, until she can feel the air beneath her wings and embers in her throat, can taste ichor against her lips and sullen self-absorption pounding against her breast. Through his hawkish eyes she sees a thousand shades of color, a landscape of hues she can't even dream of in her equine body—how can one explain a color, when it's not like blue or green or yellow, red or indigo or orange?—And thus the first time she sees Gull, his body is painted in kaleidoscopic hues, and he is a look into another world, a world she can't be part of. Nymeria exhales, and begins to wander, mind split between here and there. They've been practicing this—but she can't get the hang of it. Reluctantly, sorrowfully, she retreats from Lil's brain, slithering back into her body and maneuvering through the womb-like passages of the Frozen Arch herself. Through their "Are you dying?" The snake drifts out from the tunnel, putting on a new skin for a new man. This time, she's sly and slippery, cool and dark-eyed, all layers of glass and frost, ash and solidified night. She wonders if he'll notice her youth (it had a way of being forgotten when she acted like mother); but mostly, she wonders if he'll stop breathing. In that case, it might've been worth the walk. IF I HAD A VOICE, I WOULD SING \ DANGLING FEET FROM WINDOW FRAME WILL I EVER EVER REACH THE FLOOR? MORE, GIVE ME MORE, GIVE ME MORE tatiana gettelman on flickr larfsalot on deviantart @[Gull]
06-11-2015, 04:07 PM
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
06-14-2015, 10:33 AM
Nymeria IF I HAD A HEART I COULD LOVE YOU \ IF I HAD A VOICE I WOULD SING AFTER THE NIGHT WHEN I WAKE UP \ I'LL SEE WHAT TOMORROW BRINGS
Already dead. She stares at the pegasus, unabashed by what she considers to be a joke in poor taste. Her head tilts, lilting to the side in a way reminiscent of a snake sizing up its prey; she shifts her weight, back and forth, and takes a step away, body language kept quite carefully neutral. The vantage point differs only moderately, but it brings her closer to her dragon, burrowed away above her head. I am unnerved. Neurons fire, thoughts ricocheting from her to Lil; his mind, full of darkness and emptiness, only echoes the sentiment, not understanding the words. Nym sighs, a long, slow exhale through her nares, and curls up her neck, sending a second image (something not quite describable) communicating only her emotions. The black reciprocates, and from his emptiness swells a bulbous sensation of wariness, of caution, and worry for his mistress. The stranger's eyes are wet and steamy, moistened by his illness. There's a certain dampness to them—an ugly, distasteful dampness—that remains her of things rancid and swollen, bloated animals decaying in a fetid swamp. It makes her ill. Lilomiel stirs in his temporary perch, his tail's silhouette becoming briefly visible against the backdrop of white and gold lighting. His claws tighten on the sill, grating against cold ice, and steam rises from his transcendent nostrils, smoke and ash carrying upwards to trap against the ceiling. Still, his Too much time has passed for her answer to be a quick quip of repose, but she says it anyways. "If you're dead, why are you still breathing?" A smile graces her lips, faint and waspish pride caressing her gleaming red eyes. A question indeed; she hopes he'll be interesting enough to bother engaging with her. Theoretical conversations (even stupid and foolish ones) always tended to be more interesting than "what's your name?"—"my name's aliska!"—"how are you?" dullness. IF I HAD A VOICE, I WOULD SING \ DANGLING FEET FROM WINDOW FRAME WILL I EVER EVER REACH THE FLOOR? MORE, GIVE ME MORE, GIVE ME MORE tatiana gettelman on flickr larfsalot on deviantart @[Gull]
06-15-2015, 04:57 AM
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
06-15-2015, 07:49 PM
Nymeria IF I HAD A HEART I COULD LOVE YOU \ IF I HAD A VOICE I WOULD SING AFTER THE NIGHT WHEN I WAKE UP \ I'LL SEE WHAT TOMORROW BRINGS
Girlie. Nymeria's ears slide back, knitting tightly to her knotted mane. Her nares flare, disapproval lining the spread of her nostrils, and her eyes roll, a slick and slippery cascade of gory red and crimson. Girl! What an arrogant ass—to presume her innocence, condescend upon her with verbose and crude language. The latter part of her adolescence had been spent schooling herself; did that not qualify her as beyond the naive idealization of foals? It wasn't a mother, nor father, who forced her muscles to grow and sharpened her wits and fought every step for her survival; that was her, that was Lilómiel, fighting upstream lest they be swept back to the ocean whence they came. As if! As if she had the luxury of a soft bed of meadowgrass and a stream to sing her to sleep; as if she had a night where she could sleep in peace, without fear of being devoured. Her heart wrenches in rampant disgust, snake-like heat circumnavigating the contours of her arteries, but her face grows ever cooler as her blood warms, a mask of neutrality to disguise her own wretched misery. Maybe he'll choke on his own phlegm, she We all die anyways. "I'm young, not blind," the skull-faced The pegasus' attention slides by her; Nymeria sidesteps, aiming to catch his favor once again. She's not exactly certain of what she's doing—but I'll figure it out. It wasn't like she was a child anymore, at least, not in her eyes. Soon, the time would come for her to a make a move in her mother's name. And she was going to succeed. "You're unusual," the equine offers helpfully, lips peeling into a smirk. Lilómiel's amusement echoes her sentiment, and he shifts again, scales rustling over the ice. In the darker depths of his mind, the areas obscured by his half-hearted battlements, there is a glimpse and gleam of emotion, a thrill of hunger for the spotlight. And she can relate; because this, this hunger, this need, for attention is what drives her to block the pegasus' path, stall him with empty trickery. Regardless of her black's wants, her needs came before his; she, after all, was the one without a mother. She was the one without a brother. Lilómiel was lucky enough to never had had them before they were ripped away. IF I HAD A VOICE, I WOULD SING \ DANGLING FEET FROM WINDOW FRAME WILL I EVER EVER REACH THE FLOOR? MORE, GIVE ME MORE, GIVE ME MORE tatiana gettelman on flickr larfsalot on deviantart @[Gull] OOC: It's quickly becoming evident that Nymeria is a simile for bratty... xP
08-11-2015, 10:44 PM
@Nymeria Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
08-15-2015, 10:13 PM
Nymeria IF I HAD A HEART I COULD LOVE YOU \ IF I HAD A VOICE I WOULD SING AFTER THE NIGHT WHEN I WAKE UP \ I'LL SEE WHAT TOMORROW BRINGS
The man's face does not flicker, does not waver—she waits with bated breath, eager, like a dog at the door with his master turning the key outside. Show me something; anything! Let him burn and broil beneath the cut and caress of her divine words—let him simmer and stir, grow unsettled by her stare's piercing intensity. She waits, bored and apocryphal, hunting for entertainment, cruelly excited for the possibility of the old man dying before her (with that hacking cough of his, surely he would keel over completely soon!) And she is neither given nor offered anything for her patience, for her hunger. Slowly, she droops, her sails deflated by the stallion's apparant lack of giving a fuck—but not entirely. There's still something formidable in her nostril's flare, her mouth's unruly twist, some sour puckering to her facial features as if by failing her, he has only spurred her furthermore into risky and reckless action. Finally his eyes meet hers, sea blue and weepy with illness. Disgusting, she thinks, what an appalling stallion. His nostrils are grimy with his sickness' waste, his very face lined and creased. It's with great effort that she doesn't flinch to look upon his virulent features. Whatever he has, she does not wish to get infected by it. Still, even with all the flaws and faults to this auspicious moment, she is triumphant in her goading, and she cannot help but tip her chin up proudly. Me: 1. Him: 0. The pegasus continues, elaborating on his former statement. With each progressive word, Nym grows more giddy; blood and feathers! A dying stallion! An adventure? Lilómiel chirped, his warbling call grinding against her ears—she flips back her forelock, stamps a hind hoof against the ice. There's a building pressure in the back of her head as Lil presses on her thoughts, his scales chafing across her ponderings and curiosities. She shakes her head, at first flippantly, then more firmly, as if she can discard the rising pain. Back, she says, throwing her weight against his, but even the greatest, earthy continents can do nothing but stoicly withstand the tide. Desperation blooms in his voice, impatience manufacturing into a deal. The spider's heart skips a beat, and Lilómiel cracks through her mind's barriers, slithering into her brain. He's everywhere, and nowhere, gelatinous blackness crooning approval. Take it. Take this opportunity. Lies are springing onto her tongue, pushed there by her bonded. Say you've seen it. Those flamingo feathers, splattered in crimson—it wouldn't even be... it would be easy. It's never hard for her to lie; the only difficult bit is keeping them all straight. All she had to do was tell him where she went (south, north? Whoever knew?) Or not even that... it just had to be something small. And she could broker a deal for it. Nymeria's gaze slides up from the feathered clump to Gull's cyan eyes. "One favor for a favor. I help you, and when I need you, you help me out once. Anything short of murder goes. Deal?" IF I HAD A VOICE, I WOULD SING \ DANGLING FEET FROM WINDOW FRAME WILL I EVER EVER REACH THE FLOOR? MORE, GIVE ME MORE, GIVE ME MORE tatiana gettelman on flickr larfsalot on deviantart @Gull
08-20-2015, 03:27 AM
@Nymeria Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
08-24-2015, 11:26 PM
Nymeria IF I HAD A HEART I COULD LOVE YOU \ IF I HAD A VOICE I WOULD SING AFTER THE NIGHT WHEN I WAKE UP \ I'LL SEE WHAT TOMORROW BRINGS
Nymeria takes note of Gull's discomfort only absentmindedly, discarding his anxiety in favor of the thoughts circling her own head. It's a mistake—body language is an important factor in brokering and dealings, and letting her attention wane from the stranger will no doubt bite her in the ass at a later date. In the moment, however, she is consumed with She breathes, the cold air stinging all the way down her trachea. It is at this moment that sickly eyes meet hers, dark and tumultuous like the sea tossing before the oncoming storm. The spider steadies and stills in an almost unnerving fashion, clearly lashed up with tension and laced with eagerness. Perched in the shadows above her, Lilómiel rumbles softly, a nearly inaudible, guttural growl which echoes faintly through the frozen arches. His scarlet eyes glow dimly, and then darken, as he squirms back deeper into his alcove at Nym's urgings. To show Nymeria will need to rely only on her wits. And it seems they are good enough. While her body remains tight and hard with tension, something about her eyes softens ever so slightly. The façade of youthful nightmarish eases, and something bubbly and vulnerable seethes up to the outermost of Nymeria's skin. "I saw blood a couple kilometers south from here," the spider admitted, exhaling nervously. "That's why I came here. I was nervous about what could be out there." IF I HAD A VOICE, I WOULD SING \ DANGLING FEET FROM WINDOW FRAME WILL I EVER EVER REACH THE FLOOR? MORE, GIVE ME MORE, GIVE ME MORE tatiana gettelman on flickr larfsalot on deviantart @Gull
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
10-12-2015, 11:48 AM
un-archived per request
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