the Rift


[OPEN] Ain't no rest for the wicked - Open!

Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd
#1

ISOPIA
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.


[Iso is just chillin' in a tree in her bird form like a creep. I assume that by now most in the Edge will know she can transform into a raven, so feel free to just 'notice' her if you want :) ]

The girl finds that she likes to cloak herself in blackened feathers and an avian body. She has noticed that she is treated differently - that her odd dialect and impossible maturity cause scrutinizing stares. Do they not know she ages faster than their kind? Surely they must. She is obviously not one of them, they know that much at least. The blood of a God composes half of her genetic identity. It causes her to age nearly 10x as faster as other children. They know she is a demi-god, but do they not know the burden it entails?

Perhaps they don't. But then again neither does she.

The child is free from the jails and chains of responsibility, for she believes she has none. She questions everything if only to understand. She calls the mare who birthed her Kahlua, for, in her mind, to call her mother would be as rude as to call her mare. Both 'mother' and 'mare' are just obvious adjectives. They describe what Kahlua is, but not who. Kahlua, even if she did not pick her own name, seemed to be attached to it.

Why then would the girl call her anything else?

Did they not understand why she had not yet named herself? If it was to represent the summation of her identity it was not a decision to be taken lightly, and yet all but the ashen girl - her cousin - had questioned it.

The world seemed entirely irrational. Did no one think about anything? Or were they merely driven to act, like primitive machines that simply appeared to be thinking and weighing their choices, when in fact the world was simply being filtered through their senses and dictating their actions.

The girl sat in a tree branch, her raven-black wings hugged tightly against her avian body. Eyes, sharp and quick to catch movements scanned the ground below. For all intents and purposes she appeared like any other raven - although was perhaps slightly larger than most - other than the skull markings that coloured her cheeks. They had followed her into this form from her own. One again marking her as being different.

A harbinger of death.

A wild witch.



Image Credits

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here


Messages In This Thread
Ain't no rest for the wicked - Open! - by Isopia - 02-11-2015, 03:36 PM
RE: Ain't no rest for the wicked - Open! - by Far - 02-20-2015, 01:03 AM
RE: Ain't no rest for the wicked - Open! - by Far - 02-27-2015, 05:34 PM
RE: Ain't no rest for the wicked - Open! - by Far - 03-12-2015, 01:51 PM

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