Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459
| Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath
Chan |
LACE
Who, in his mind,
has not probed the dark water?
It was a dream. Yes, that was it. A long, grueling nightmare that would leave him exhausted once he woke up, bleary eyed and with the head full of glum thoughts and hazy after-images of a world doused in darkness. He would open the eyes and gaze up at sun-kissed leaves as a warm summer sun burned the last of the mist away, yawn and stretch and feel the mellow breeze caress his skin like a lovers touch. For hours he would lie there by the foot of the tree, listen to the oceans sigh and breathe deeply the scent of warm earth, brine and lush greenery. Every now and then a familiar figure would pass by, grinning in merry mockery as he wasted the day away; he might change some words with them, let banter cheerful and warm-hearted fill the air along with the birdsong and chirping of dragons... And then, once the sun drew closer to the western horizon he would roll up onto his feet and slowly meander through the forest of green and gilded rays, to emerge onto the gray cliff just as the radiant orb touched the horizon. There he would remain as daylight slowly faded away, inhaling the cool ocean breeze and basing in the last golden light... until she came like a shadow from the depths of the realm, carrying night and moonlight with her. Star cloaked and fire eyed she would slip in beside him, a lady of darkness and illusion as fleeting and mysterious as the mirages of the desert. His shadowmare, his dragonhearted queen, the ruler of his heart, body and soul; she would turn to him with a smile and say something, her expression peaceful and gentle under the gleaming stars...
But as he tried to envision her face the picture started to fade. He tried to hold it together, piecing imagery and dream together time and time again... Tears burned behind closed eyelids as he gasped, unbearable pain clasping tightly around the chest as though a giants hand had closed upon it to choke him. How he wished it were true. How many times would he have to wake with crimson tears frozen upon his cheeks, half-mad and lost in dreams and fantasies of a time and place that would never come to happen?
Opening the eyes was painful. Ice had formed along the rim of the lids, frozen tears fusing them shut to keep reality away. He never got used to the shock of cold and dark that invaded the senses when the dreams faded; it was a kick in the gut, a slap across blackened cheeks that continued to punish him until finally he was allowed to drift off once more.
This time he didn't even get to be alone as he slowly, painstakingly dragged himself up on his feet.
What a sight it must be to behold. A creature from the lower levels of hell ascending onto this world, groaning and shrieking as it tore frozen flesh from the snow-covered ground. Droves of powdered snow slipped off the emaciated frame in heaps and chunks, unveiling the gruesome sight of hipbones and gnarled ribs, knotty knees and hocks spider-like in their skin dry flimsiness. He pitied them, having to witness as he slowly cracked broken bones and dislocated joints back in place, old injuries finally closing at a speed visible to the naked eye...
Would she run if he turned a nightmarish head around and looked at her with gleaming eyes, with forked tongue slithering slick and crimson along the jaws? Would she scream if he tried to speak, parting the maw that opened much too wide, only to disclose row upon row of razor sharp teeth more befitting a marsh-dwelling beast or dragon? Diminutive wings never meant to take flight flexed and stretched indecisively as he lingered in place with back turned, wisdom and care for her well being fighting against a deep, desperate craving for someone to talk to, for someone to pull close in a tight embrace, to hide away by and inhale the scent of. Oh how he longed for the fragrant skin of his lady to press against his flank, like it had once so long ago... If he could but reach out and touch this nameless child, find comfort in her gentle warmth and escape the dark and the cold, if he could but savor the taste of her skin upon his tongue, partake in the sensation of teeth digging deep into youthful flesh and let crimson fountains spring forth to slake the hunger and the thirst that clawed within the gut...
Without warning the creature flung its head into the air spun around, surprisingly nimble for something so seemingly close to death. With the deadly grace of a lizard it charged, drooling maw parting wider and wider in a vicious snarl, infectious liquids glistening and gleaming in deadly ooze upon the lips.
And in his mind Lace screamed in horror and protest, desperately struggling to regain his hold of the beast as it scrambled for freedom, blood-thirsty and starving in the presence of glorious prey.
"Run"
The single word held within it a world of sorrow and despair, of resignation as willpower proved too little and too late to conquer the madness of the disease. Maybe it would be enough to save the girl, the mortal flame who had braved the winter chill to stare down upon a lost soul - maybe he wouldn't have to carry the burden of her death upon his shoulders. If only she would heed the warning, if only... she would leave.
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Credits
♦ Permission granted to use magic and violence on Lace and Fajira
♦ Only tag in new threads, spars and if it's urgent
The Store | The Warden
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