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03-30-2014, 11:16 PM
She drifts from homeland to homeland, a leaf on a breeze- or the fetid stench of rot and decay lingering in air. Scarred hips sway as she moves at idle pace, seeing but never recognizing, lost in the play of her convoluted thoughts. Captured, captives, escapees and insubordinates of dissent; was it worth their worth to bind them, fetter them, demand they remain? Should she advocate freedom and the ability to return home? Nay- it was impossible, for they knew, and could not be allowed to go to their hearths to spread lies of the Skullface and Dragonmaster. Even as she thinks her thoughts of dominance, she reprimands herself; it was and is not her responsibility to control them, not her responsibility to withhold them, for that duty fell to the hale captors, her children, her family, her Regime.
It was now her time, to infiltrate and to learn and meet and befriend, to become loyal to her second family, to teach them new ways and bring to them something exotic and foreign, something little Helovians liked to forget- blood and iron, the drums of war, the song of battle; and gentler things too, a vision of unification, the banter of children growing and blossoming, cheer and good spirit.
She headed north-and-westwards, following the breeze of salt and sea spray, damp woods and wet branches; the land darkens marginally, a jutting cliff over a foaming sea. There is a storm brewing in the air, a scowling thunderhead, rumbling dissent and attempting to discourage her from her path, her destiny; it brings to the hellion smells of dead things and mould, with the sharp edge of clean snow, but more curious is the sight before her. Confutatis pauses, hesitates, at the monstrosity- a wall. It is gaping, broken, wounded, a dying thing of shattered glass and torn barriers and drifted snow; what caused the destruction? Shadows, war, companions? She does not question further, instead turning to move alongside it, a constant divider to her left, and she wonders as to the inhabitants and where they might be; but never does she be so bold and reckless as to march into the depths of the mist-cloaked land.
If any are left after the DARKNESS, they will come to see who lingers at their borders.
It was now her time, to infiltrate and to learn and meet and befriend, to become loyal to her second family, to teach them new ways and bring to them something exotic and foreign, something little Helovians liked to forget- blood and iron, the drums of war, the song of battle; and gentler things too, a vision of unification, the banter of children growing and blossoming, cheer and good spirit.
She headed north-and-westwards, following the breeze of salt and sea spray, damp woods and wet branches; the land darkens marginally, a jutting cliff over a foaming sea. There is a storm brewing in the air, a scowling thunderhead, rumbling dissent and attempting to discourage her from her path, her destiny; it brings to the hellion smells of dead things and mould, with the sharp edge of clean snow, but more curious is the sight before her. Confutatis pauses, hesitates, at the monstrosity- a wall. It is gaping, broken, wounded, a dying thing of shattered glass and torn barriers and drifted snow; what caused the destruction? Shadows, war, companions? She does not question further, instead turning to move alongside it, a constant divider to her left, and she wonders as to the inhabitants and where they might be; but never does she be so bold and reckless as to march into the depths of the mist-cloaked land.
If any are left after the DARKNESS, they will come to see who lingers at their borders.
@[Kaj] -- @[Kahlua]
Join the Regime.
♛
♛
