the Rift


[PRIVATE] Form Follows Function

Reginald Posts: 165
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E.
#1


speak

The fire’s scar still persists here. It is too cold for growth—so the soil stays black, the hillside bare and sparse in the cold of the coming winter. The grey-eyed prince does not know what he feels as he traverses this plain of dead things, an entire sea of life and comfort obliterated by his own infant whims. No storm stirs in the sky; the clouds that linger there are calm and pale, an unbroken vista across the heavens, barring their sight from mortal view. It is only dreary; there is no danger in it.

The spark of tears does not reach Reginald’s eye as he walks this place, the memories of his blazing rape washing in full color behind his eyes. He remembers those tears—he remembers the pull in his chest. He remembers, but does not understand why; he recalls the fear of death, the anxiety with which he thought of his brother. Suppose he was caught in an instant of sympathy for the screams that echoed here, some season ago? Perhaps, in that moment, Reginald felt the pain of a mortal creature, a customary being of blood and bone, which felt proper repugnance for the atrocities he spat from his mouth. He can only assume this much—for the inkling of humanity that shattered in his breast is well and truly dead. He does not understand why he cried. He would not cry now.

The earth is studded with gemstones. Since the grass has been unnaturally mowed and tended, he can see the earth quite easily. Despite the cold grey of the sky, the air continues to waft warmly against his hide—though he knows his homeland will be cold as well. He snorts in distaste; he bends down to observe the beauty hidden in the damage of the grass and the ruin of mice dens and burrows. The absurd crown on his brow bends as his head falls forward; bile rises in the back of his throat. He suppresses the poison of his hatred; there’s no need to be riled by a ridiculous trinket, indeed.

@[Jorogumo]




You can't escape the wrath of my heart
Beating to your funeral song
All faith is lost for hell regained

by: Kristi Herbert at flickr


Messages In This Thread
Form Follows Function - by Reginald - 01-12-2014, 08:37 PM
RE: Form Follows Function - by Jorogumo - 01-13-2014, 01:46 AM
RE: Form Follows Function - by Reginald - 01-23-2014, 11:46 PM
RE: Form Follows Function - by Jorogumo - 01-24-2014, 02:15 AM
RE: Form Follows Function - by Reginald - 01-25-2014, 08:39 PM
RE: Form Follows Function - by Jorogumo - 01-26-2014, 12:38 AM
RE: Form Follows Function - by Reginald - 01-26-2014, 10:33 PM
RE: Form Follows Function - by Jorogumo - 01-28-2014, 01:23 AM
RE: Form Follows Function - by Reginald - 01-28-2014, 09:14 PM
RE: Form Follows Function - by Random Event - 01-28-2014, 10:52 PM
RE: Form Follows Function - by Jorogumo - 01-29-2014, 02:39 AM

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