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09-04-2016, 04:04 PM
Receive the erased memories
And broken heart on the palm of my hand.
And broken heart on the palm of my hand.
Fear.
That mortal emotion tied to our sense of fight or flight. Fear reigns over the natural realm, driving many important functions of the living. However, the threats on my own mortality have ceased, long ago, to draw a rapid pounding of my heart. The shadows laying thick and heavy in the depth of the forest leave much to the imagination, with opportunity for a more impressive mind to create monsters and ghouls to haunt the halls of wood. Instead, I feel nothing but a pressing silence as heavy, damp air clings to my lungs.
The loss of such a primal and basic emotion of fear came with stark advantages, of course. A clear mind amid horrors unspeakable garnered you a clear advantage over a frenzied beast unable to hold their own bowel movements in check. However, perhaps the most overlooked, the disadvantages existed. The strength wrought from adrenaline fueled by fear - it allowed for a poweress unmatched by the coolheaded killer.
Of course, I am far from battling shape at this point. Months had passed since my hooves contacted flesh in a violent dance of limbs and willpower.
Still, I lurk among the shadows of the great trees, ignoring the eerie feeling tied to the nature of this place. Unlike the sun soaked areas of Helovia which emanated a brilliance, this place seemed to be lost to memory. Tragedy hung in the air, though no whispers of why became evident. Only the occasional deep gash in a trunk could seen, leaving my mind to decipher the puzzle of its origin.
Of course, I didn't care enough to do that.
Instead, I walk calmly through the forest. The dull lighting allows the unkempt nature of my appearance to be largely concealed, though undoubtedly my scent would not be pleasing on any passerbys. The salt from my visit to the Flats remains on my hooves and fetlocks, dry and hard from the substance. Along my powerful musk, the lingering memory of the ocean, like a traveler dragging in sand from the beach.
The scent almost warms the cold, damp woods, but the slight addition of the sea cannot mask the feeling of dread present here. I pause before a large fir tree, hardly noticing the pool of blood at its roots. After seeing the Blood Falls, I already suspected Helovia's land desired, craved, and sought bloodshed. From a land with a bloody history to another.
Quite fitting.
That mortal emotion tied to our sense of fight or flight. Fear reigns over the natural realm, driving many important functions of the living. However, the threats on my own mortality have ceased, long ago, to draw a rapid pounding of my heart. The shadows laying thick and heavy in the depth of the forest leave much to the imagination, with opportunity for a more impressive mind to create monsters and ghouls to haunt the halls of wood. Instead, I feel nothing but a pressing silence as heavy, damp air clings to my lungs.
The loss of such a primal and basic emotion of fear came with stark advantages, of course. A clear mind amid horrors unspeakable garnered you a clear advantage over a frenzied beast unable to hold their own bowel movements in check. However, perhaps the most overlooked, the disadvantages existed. The strength wrought from adrenaline fueled by fear - it allowed for a poweress unmatched by the coolheaded killer.
Of course, I am far from battling shape at this point. Months had passed since my hooves contacted flesh in a violent dance of limbs and willpower.
Still, I lurk among the shadows of the great trees, ignoring the eerie feeling tied to the nature of this place. Unlike the sun soaked areas of Helovia which emanated a brilliance, this place seemed to be lost to memory. Tragedy hung in the air, though no whispers of why became evident. Only the occasional deep gash in a trunk could seen, leaving my mind to decipher the puzzle of its origin.
Of course, I didn't care enough to do that.
Instead, I walk calmly through the forest. The dull lighting allows the unkempt nature of my appearance to be largely concealed, though undoubtedly my scent would not be pleasing on any passerbys. The salt from my visit to the Flats remains on my hooves and fetlocks, dry and hard from the substance. Along my powerful musk, the lingering memory of the ocean, like a traveler dragging in sand from the beach.
The scent almost warms the cold, damp woods, but the slight addition of the sea cannot mask the feeling of dread present here. I pause before a large fir tree, hardly noticing the pool of blood at its roots. After seeing the Blood Falls, I already suspected Helovia's land desired, craved, and sought bloodshed. From a land with a bloody history to another.
Quite fitting.
良克
RYOUTA
@Macaria
