r u n [ESCAPE THREAD]

r u n [ESCAPE THREAD]

Svetlana Posts: N/A

Unregistered

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11-30-2012, 06:59 PM

Once there was an angel. A beautiful flying thing, graced with silver and white. She was pretty, gorgeous long eyelashes spun of starlight, hair of frost, lips red as blood. Lovely as she was, she had her own fair share of death and corruption. Angels were not only the guardians of the dead, after all, but the daughters of the death, the bringers of death, the hunters. From her shoulders flowed wings, black wings, for the Reaper had left its mark on its daughters, and had said, fairly so- "Even for your beauty, you are death, and so you must show it somewhere so the men and the women know of your deeds". Death was justice. Death was cold. Death was warm. It was everything horrible and wonderful all at once. But this angel could not bear the bloodshed, even though she would not acknowledge it, would not say it, and Death knew. So Death told her- "Go and live in the form of a horse, and thrive. Horses are normally peaceful creatures, but I cannot say they will always remain such. While I live in my realms, different gods rule the mortal world, different gods play and feast." And so the angel agreed.

But what if there was a different story? A second ending, so to speak. Instead of rising to the heights, instead of Death's choice to become one of his subjects that will one day join him, she quietly and secretly allowed others to live in all realms, humans and horses and other exotic worlds. Even the gods of the living could not give Prometheus immortality without someone's acceptance, and so she stole in the night to give life to him, breathed out on him, even for his wounds. But Death knew everything, and its daughter had forced him to great lengths. The Reaper could not do any more of this- and so Death told the daughter- "You've fallen, my angel, fallen to the earth and shattered." And that is how she was banished from these realms.

Is the story true? Is anything true? Perhaps life is simply the imagination working to give us something to love and hate.

I am walking. There was simply no point in running, for it would draw more attention to the eye. Then again, if I were to run, I would certainly die. At least this way I could set blame down on some idiot unicorn's shoulders and tell the Death in my world the unicorn had chased me away so, sick of the presence of 'others' in his Steppe. I didn't think Deimos had a soul. Perhaps the Gods took it away by accident- I think he's the equivalent of all evil in this world. He's worse, worse than anyone else in this frozen wasteland, for he doesn't care. Not of pain, not of love, not of emotion. Even the unicorns who tell him the orders feel glee or hate, or wonder, but Deimos is unfeeling.

At this point, I am not even sure if I want to leave the Steppe. Why? My herd did not come to fetch me home. They had not sought me out. Did they simply not know of my imprisonment? Did they all die or something strange? And what of Evers? He was close to me... even he must surely know I wouldn't willingly not be with the Foothills for more than a week. I wasn't confident in my time-telling abilities, not now, but it must be almost spring. Spring! I must've spent half of Frostfall here. And nobody had come for me.

[OOC: I honestly don't know if I want her to escape or stick around so it's up to Heather if she allows Svetlana to escape ^^]

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SVETLANA
the StormChaser