.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
We build cathedrals to our pain
Establish monuments to attain Admittedly, the Threshold was not a place that they often traveled to, much to the Weaver's shame; but as of lately, they had been driven to venture beyond their tundra home and explore the vast lands that were Helovia. In their travels, they really hadn't discovered too much of interest, making home sound better and better a place to return to, but Crowley would not allow himself to do so without a sneak around the Threshold. Though the sun slowly crept into the sky, darkness remained with the Weaver and his hound of hell. Twisting and winding about his legs, it misted the brindle's dark hide and trailed along behind, inconceivable whispers worming their way into the ears and minds of those who strayed too close to the pair. Crowley had almost forgotten the magic gifted to him seasons ago, for it had disappeared along with the snuffing of the sun. The brindle felt as if he was finally settling back into his gruff old skin with the return of everything, putting a bit more pep into his step so to speak. "Slow down," Talbot's voice sounded within his mind, and it was only then that the Weaver paused and noted just how far behind his hound was. A winter coat still clung to the growing pup's hide which made him into a panting mess, but after a few seconds of pause from his master, he had caught back up. With mild annoyance in his golden eyes, Talbot exchanged a brief look with the stallion before pressing on, resuming their side-by-side journey until the most cacophonous noise caught in their ears. Upon further inspection, they found that they were(obviously) not alone. Tracking the sound to its source, they managed to find themselves facing an earthy toned mare, mane and tail fonding reminding Crowley of the aurora borealis from back home. It took him no time at all to spot the long, black, spiraling horn that decorated her forehead, and the smallest hint of a grin twitched the corner of his mouth back. Perhaps he and Talbot wouldn't be traveling back alone. "Greetings, traveler," the brindle spoke up, allowing his neck to bend and head to dip briefly to the fellow unicorn, "And welcome to Helovia. Like most that pass through here, do you come seeking refuge?" "Talk talk talk" [ooc - Remember word count minimum!] Freedom from all of the scars and the sins
Lest we drown in the darkness within |
The Weaver's Workshop
HP: 45
