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12-21-2014, 05:34 PM
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But rising on up and then tumbling down A visit to the hold, the keep of new found souls, a place many new to the land journey to find themselves gifted with the presence of beloved kings and queens of the lands. Where they become the last of the meat hanging from a clean bone, dogs snapping and leaping to reach for that new, fresh flesh. And that is what she is becoming, a hound that would leap, beg and obey whomever she ran across. It was a tactic she had seen put to work before, however she was the skimpy flesh hanging from the bone rather than the desperate canine wanting a taste. Weaving through the trees, she becomes a delicate faerie of the forest, steps light and fragile as she picks her way over the worn path. Spotted and patched her guide awaits a command, eyes like moons sweeping over the undergrowth with intent on finding prey to be hunted. With eyes laid upon a light figure, body angles gradually, movement graceful as a crystalline body approaches a unique figure of dawn and dusk. Through the trees she went, red light from the organ within her chest spilling out along the trees and grass, lighting her path. Trodding lightly within the view of the regal male, she cautiously makes her way forward to be revealed, her body beginning to tremble as the light is cast upon her through the canopy, longing to feel the warmth that one made of flesh and bone would feel upon their hides as they dance through the forest. Curled ears flicker, wavering at the snap of a twig, broken by her guide as a sign he is watching over her, magic within humming gently in preparation for a wrong step from the opposing force. Eyes of lavender focus upon the man of day and night, intrigued by the guise he wore upon his muscled shoulders. "From where do you hail?" She inquires, words monotone, curiosity itching at the back of her mind as she sweeps her glassy eyes over the curvature of the intricate being before her. Never had she met a man with the skies in his rein, with the night wrapped around his muscular columns and the dawn blanketed over his spine. "A name, you keep?" The Regem caeli was hated by her guide, who hissed as he swooped upon down upon her withers to rest, eyes unblinking as feathers ruffle, beak clinking and words written upon his tongue. Non est sibi credendum, claws click against smooth glass as her ears swivel as she finds discomfort in becoming the preying hound tenderly licking at the bone, awaiting the fresh taste of marrow upon her deprived tongue. This was a role she did not play best, her place was rather in the Edge, where she was behind walls of familiar faces, hidden from the foreign world outside where unfamiliar men linger. "talk talk talk" well it's part of the process
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