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12-28-2012, 12:46 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-28-2012, 12:48 PM by Random Event.)
There are too many questions with too many obvious answers- too many rude comments unbalanced by worship. The blue mare swiftly turns red, the eyes that once comforted now stare into the depths of the soul. Heaven or Hell indeed- she was a beast from both. Where water swam within her, fire takes its place and seeps up through the cracks of incorporeal skin to light her dorsal stripe on fire. The pelts fall to ashes, the horns twist and become gruesome, blood covered figures. Nothing that is only an angel could kill in such a manner as she had.
When her prey dies, it is with a look of terror in its eyes. Faelene saves Lace's ungrateful life today, whether he knows it or not. But as the whispers into their consciousnesses turn to screams and the cooling, comforting sensation fades in place of a hot, painful one, her rage is clear. "Do not disrespect an emissary of the realms of death- do not belittle my purpose before you, foolish Lace!" The cry is painful and piercing, all while being deep and intimidating. The ghostly, demonic mare is both everything and nothing at once. She is all power and yet utter weakness; she will not act, but they still must fear.
All around her, little fires begin to sprout- yet none of them burn. Her mind reaches forth again, this time violently and quickly, sending along with it a reeling sensation that could quickly lead to nausea. "The gifts bestowed upon you have all been ones well deserved. Has it occurred to you that your encounters have all been for a reason, that each mark upon your flesh, each demonic or angelic encounter, is a sign? Is one of divinity?" The mare tosses her wild head and shifts her gaze to the red-maned beauty that kneels for her- that would likely bleed for her.
The voice returns to a simmering, softness, but they still maintain a gravelly note. Words sent only to Faelene's mind are spoken. "The armor you wear is a responsibility. You must rise to the occasion it presents. Do not allow yourself to fall into selfishness or greed; nor callousness. Your company has begun his descent, only he can right himself." The mare begins to turn and the fires go out all at once. "Never falter, Faelene; and never fall."
Water seeps from the shore up to her being, slowly cooling her figure as she steps into its softness. She says no goodbyes, only turns and looks Lace in the eyes. Looks deep and long, leaving whatever meaning he may construe. Her figure returns to ever shade of blue and antlers reconstruct themselves. The ghostly body reconfigures swiftly into that of an antlered doe, until the spirit leaps away in a path that makes a perfect arc. Nothing is left save for mud on the shore, deer prints following her path, and utter terror.
When her prey dies, it is with a look of terror in its eyes. Faelene saves Lace's ungrateful life today, whether he knows it or not. But as the whispers into their consciousnesses turn to screams and the cooling, comforting sensation fades in place of a hot, painful one, her rage is clear. "Do not disrespect an emissary of the realms of death- do not belittle my purpose before you, foolish Lace!" The cry is painful and piercing, all while being deep and intimidating. The ghostly, demonic mare is both everything and nothing at once. She is all power and yet utter weakness; she will not act, but they still must fear.
All around her, little fires begin to sprout- yet none of them burn. Her mind reaches forth again, this time violently and quickly, sending along with it a reeling sensation that could quickly lead to nausea. "The gifts bestowed upon you have all been ones well deserved. Has it occurred to you that your encounters have all been for a reason, that each mark upon your flesh, each demonic or angelic encounter, is a sign? Is one of divinity?" The mare tosses her wild head and shifts her gaze to the red-maned beauty that kneels for her- that would likely bleed for her.
The voice returns to a simmering, softness, but they still maintain a gravelly note. Words sent only to Faelene's mind are spoken. "The armor you wear is a responsibility. You must rise to the occasion it presents. Do not allow yourself to fall into selfishness or greed; nor callousness. Your company has begun his descent, only he can right himself." The mare begins to turn and the fires go out all at once. "Never falter, Faelene; and never fall."
Water seeps from the shore up to her being, slowly cooling her figure as she steps into its softness. She says no goodbyes, only turns and looks Lace in the eyes. Looks deep and long, leaving whatever meaning he may construe. Her figure returns to ever shade of blue and antlers reconstruct themselves. The ghostly body reconfigures swiftly into that of an antlered doe, until the spirit leaps away in a path that makes a perfect arc. Nothing is left save for mud on the shore, deer prints following her path, and utter terror.
