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12-16-2014, 11:22 PM
all the VOICES in my MIND
The darkness, it had a life of its own. Shadows cast from the trees around the group seemed to shift, but not in accordance with the sun. Those who were neglecting to pay enough attention to the gentle, quiet, and slow movements of the creeping shadows would not know of the danger until it was too late.
You see, these shadows were no longer shadows. The angry souls who had been silent for so long were beginning to fight back. They wanted to be heard, and the one person who could do that had not been speaking for them. Slowly, they began to pull at the edges of the shadows, morphing them ever so carefully into what looked like horses and their companions.
Then, these dark shapes began to separate. Each dark figure severed its ties to the original shadow. Darkness cast off of the trees returned, but the equines and companions remained. They remained, and began to actually spring to life. From shadows on the ground they became three dimensional figures that were whispy, like smoke, but black as ink. They seemed to soak up the light, dimming the area where they were standing and creating a rather ominous atmosphere.
There were screeches. Much like cries of pain, of hatred. And then, without warning, the figures leapt toward Amara - the easiest target at the moment that would, hopefully, force the others to spread out. Soon, though, they would go for Midas. They would punish him for occupying their dark maiden - the one who was supposed to speak for them. If they could get rid of him… they could finally have a real voice once more.
You see, these shadows were no longer shadows. The angry souls who had been silent for so long were beginning to fight back. They wanted to be heard, and the one person who could do that had not been speaking for them. Slowly, they began to pull at the edges of the shadows, morphing them ever so carefully into what looked like horses and their companions.
Then, these dark shapes began to separate. Each dark figure severed its ties to the original shadow. Darkness cast off of the trees returned, but the equines and companions remained. They remained, and began to actually spring to life. From shadows on the ground they became three dimensional figures that were whispy, like smoke, but black as ink. They seemed to soak up the light, dimming the area where they were standing and creating a rather ominous atmosphere.
There were screeches. Much like cries of pain, of hatred. And then, without warning, the figures leapt toward Amara - the easiest target at the moment that would, hopefully, force the others to spread out. Soon, though, they would go for Midas. They would punish him for occupying their dark maiden - the one who was supposed to speak for them. If they could get rid of him… they could finally have a real voice once more.
calling out ACROSS the line
