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03-07-2015, 06:13 PM
The world was changing for the princeling, altering its course, diverting its current, streamlining down rubble-lined paths, stumbling, corroded trails, no longer lined with primroses and portended results. His, like so many others before him, was destined and fated with trials and tribulations, with glories and conquests, with shimmers of deceit and lacquer mauled, mutilated with capricious whims. Growing up was a difficult morphing, a harsh transition, and he was lost in its translation, casting exuberant smiles and buoyant grins, then swiftly changing into grim, bestial measures and sentiments, brow furrowed, mask aligned, and his grasp on the realm around him seemed short, out of reach. Friends disappeared, like Rikyn, like Aithniel, companions murdered, like Arwen, and some stayed true, not crumbling, not deteriorating, like Adelric. The yearnings, the longings, the stirrings for everything to stay the same, for them to blossom and bloom beneath the aurora sky, the verdant valleys, the crisp, mountain peaks had seemingly vanished, no longer possible for the deceased, for the discarded, for the isolated, and slowly, bit-by-bit, he found himself adrift. There was no returning to the past, no way to salvage situations (except by force, by anger, by vengeance, and those too would be settled in time), no way to return and repair broken, barren kin, to remedy situations with corrupted patches sewn by inexperienced hands. Goals seemed strange, insurmountable, unattainable, no matter how many times he crossed the line of Gods or stared upon a fragile egg, biding his time through resolution and patience, through composure and determination, only heaving small sighs when the victor was not him, when he was not favored. But they were bitter, rancorous pills to swallow, those heavy, cumbersome loads of loss, and they seemed to compound more and more each day: children lost, vanquished, murdered, youths vanished, lives in the process of upheaval, and there he stayed, adrift and twisted, transforming with the rest of the earth. Into what, the kingdoms, the empires, and he, remained uncertain. Erebos wandered, an occurrence the boy often took, beneath the silent guard of the sentinels, eyes peeking and ghosting between the powerful slits of metal, curiosity tumbling into bouts of exploration, rather than the route of melancholy settling between his shoulders. He poked the cool material with his maw, but having no wiles or aptitude towards crafting, he eventually took to admiring the behemoths, slipping and standing back a fair distance to provide them with a keen regard and appreciation, nodding his head at their craftsmanship, at their mysterious, enigmatic qualities. The slate of his stare remained higher still, however, at the sight of something nestled within the boughs of an otherwise barren tree, tundra exposition, and a sort of mischievous, havoc seeking, sense of intrigue slunk and slithered through his mind. The bird, perhaps a raven, was unlike any he’d seen before (and he’d been witness and a chef for a massive turkey, so perhaps the notion was saying something), because where they were often black, embellished in naught but cloaks of sinister sable, cawing out their bestial munitions, this one was silent, and skull-marked. For a few seconds, he thought of Confutatis and her claim to the bones, wondered if this was her perched beyond their borders, suddenly capable of distorting into avian beasts, eager to peck out their eyes. The little beast tilted his head left and right, beholding careful examinations and scrutiny, as his sire would stare down an enemy or investigate an equal, but unlike the Reaper, his speech held naught at bay. Too entrenched and interested, but still guarded, stepping no closer, he beckoned towards the flier, summoning an energetic trace of his boyish vocals. “Hello!” Would it answer back? Reply? Helovia’s magical inhabitants possessed many strange, bizarre, and amazing enchantments, invocations, and potency; he wouldn’t be surprised if it recited riddles, famous stanzas, or shrieked cries of Nevermore. OOC;; --- TAG;; @[ ] |
- table by Niki -
