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05-31-2016, 04:57 PM
In an instant, there seemed to be a battle of enigmas.
He watched her, she watched him, and the young beast felt the air coil, tense, pull taut against the strings of humanity and morality. There were moments of restlessness between the forest limbs and the unwinding shrubbery, and his stare refused to divert away from her, presuming she was on the hunt – too many predators enclosed in one space. Orsino crackled within their connection, a seething, molten mass of sable fox and deluded dreams, but Erebos maintained, remained, in the same composition as before. He wore a duplicitous garb and armor, cloak and dagger, appearing wholly nonchalant, harboring no ill will, no sword tucked behind his back, no dominion of licentiousness curling over his veins. His smile still radiated, his welcoming effervescence still plucked the weight of the leaves and the tangled wear of the Thresholds’ gates and keys, but inwardly, he measured, he calculated, he pondered. As if nothing bothered him at all, his composition was firmly, intricately, intact; cool, calm, self-controlled under the oddest of circumstances. Even when her sword was placed in his direction, the hellion didn’t budge, didn’t break, didn’t shuffle. He knew the depths of his power, what it could do, where it could ensnare, rip, and tear.
She was silent for too long – and he presumed she was machinating as well, going over the facts and figures of possibilities, of intrigue, of devastation, of who could maim who before the next bout of spring wind. The boy’s eyes didn’t even narrow, didn’t even reflect the crude bout of nefariousness gathering from within, of dastardly wakes and soulless plunges – and he was immediately at war with himself, because he’d been on a mission to bring worthy beings back to their icy mountains, to institute a new realm of warriors and disciples.
Master Erebos?, she’d finally spoken, and he wanted to laugh, for he was master of nothing but anger and vengeance, requital and renewal, king of determination and prince of diligence. She continued, providing a long whirl of introductions, where he could pinpoint on a name, a faction, a direction from whence she’d came.
Before Erebos could answer, surprise ruptured and rippled over his features, unbalancing their unreachable veneer as he turned towards the approaching, fellow mischief maker – he hadn’t expected her, back within these valleys again, twisting and intertwining with capers and devilry. Their last concoction together had been silly and ridiculous (but hilarious all the same; a strike against the ramparts and a reverie solidified by their ability to gain nothing). The utter delight of her arrival peeked over the edges of his lips in a disastrous, cunning smile, revealing everything and naught all in the same fiendish element (two halves of a wily, spiteful whole). The brush of her maw along his cheek may have covered it, but the depths of her movements caused the grin to unravel slightly, and he moved ahead of her in kind – protection for protection, brutality for brutality, peering away and back to the newcomer instances later, pretending as if neither had invoked the game. He flicked an ear towards Enna, wondering where her son was, how they might war against this strange mare while simultaneously pulling her towards the Basin, trying with great difficulty not to be enveloped back into his friend’s infernal contortions.
“Helovia is far larger than just the Threshold.” He paused, wondering how quickly they could send her out into the abyss, lost and forsaken, conceited and arrogant and suddenly unwound by the barbarity of everything consuming, swallowing, and devouring from within. The fiend took moments of gallantry up, for a second, for a snippet, to encourage and coax the purpose of his entity here – before being swindled and enticed by Enna again. “There are four empires, the Aurora Basin, the Hidden Falls, the World’s Edge, and the Dragon’s Throat, and then wilderness in between.” Too curious, too inquisitive, too insightful and twisted for his own good, the boy unraveled more intrigues and queries. “What do you seek here?”
He watched her, she watched him, and the young beast felt the air coil, tense, pull taut against the strings of humanity and morality. There were moments of restlessness between the forest limbs and the unwinding shrubbery, and his stare refused to divert away from her, presuming she was on the hunt – too many predators enclosed in one space. Orsino crackled within their connection, a seething, molten mass of sable fox and deluded dreams, but Erebos maintained, remained, in the same composition as before. He wore a duplicitous garb and armor, cloak and dagger, appearing wholly nonchalant, harboring no ill will, no sword tucked behind his back, no dominion of licentiousness curling over his veins. His smile still radiated, his welcoming effervescence still plucked the weight of the leaves and the tangled wear of the Thresholds’ gates and keys, but inwardly, he measured, he calculated, he pondered. As if nothing bothered him at all, his composition was firmly, intricately, intact; cool, calm, self-controlled under the oddest of circumstances. Even when her sword was placed in his direction, the hellion didn’t budge, didn’t break, didn’t shuffle. He knew the depths of his power, what it could do, where it could ensnare, rip, and tear.
She was silent for too long – and he presumed she was machinating as well, going over the facts and figures of possibilities, of intrigue, of devastation, of who could maim who before the next bout of spring wind. The boy’s eyes didn’t even narrow, didn’t even reflect the crude bout of nefariousness gathering from within, of dastardly wakes and soulless plunges – and he was immediately at war with himself, because he’d been on a mission to bring worthy beings back to their icy mountains, to institute a new realm of warriors and disciples.
Master Erebos?, she’d finally spoken, and he wanted to laugh, for he was master of nothing but anger and vengeance, requital and renewal, king of determination and prince of diligence. She continued, providing a long whirl of introductions, where he could pinpoint on a name, a faction, a direction from whence she’d came.
Before Erebos could answer, surprise ruptured and rippled over his features, unbalancing their unreachable veneer as he turned towards the approaching, fellow mischief maker – he hadn’t expected her, back within these valleys again, twisting and intertwining with capers and devilry. Their last concoction together had been silly and ridiculous (but hilarious all the same; a strike against the ramparts and a reverie solidified by their ability to gain nothing). The utter delight of her arrival peeked over the edges of his lips in a disastrous, cunning smile, revealing everything and naught all in the same fiendish element (two halves of a wily, spiteful whole). The brush of her maw along his cheek may have covered it, but the depths of her movements caused the grin to unravel slightly, and he moved ahead of her in kind – protection for protection, brutality for brutality, peering away and back to the newcomer instances later, pretending as if neither had invoked the game. He flicked an ear towards Enna, wondering where her son was, how they might war against this strange mare while simultaneously pulling her towards the Basin, trying with great difficulty not to be enveloped back into his friend’s infernal contortions.
“Helovia is far larger than just the Threshold.” He paused, wondering how quickly they could send her out into the abyss, lost and forsaken, conceited and arrogant and suddenly unwound by the barbarity of everything consuming, swallowing, and devouring from within. The fiend took moments of gallantry up, for a second, for a snippet, to encourage and coax the purpose of his entity here – before being swindled and enticed by Enna again. “There are four empires, the Aurora Basin, the Hidden Falls, the World’s Edge, and the Dragon’s Throat, and then wilderness in between.” Too curious, too inquisitive, too insightful and twisted for his own good, the boy unraveled more intrigues and queries. “What do you seek here?”
Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want
@Tamaya
