the Rift


“ HOWL ”

Dresden Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#1



The night was a cool one, sung like the writ of someone’s final nocturne, and dimly lit by the faint flickering of what translucent starlight managed to cut a clear path through the orange-hued swell of dark clouds gathering before a gibbous moon. It was that light — though but a mock of everything celestial with its needle-thin shafts weakly puncturing the thick latticework of canopies it could not quite muster the energy to completely wrangle — which gave him away.

A portrait in shadow, some would say, and others, in swirling black smoke: Dresden, with his fine veins of curling baby hair bouncing in loose coils around his kneecaps, a lucrative glow of high-strung wonderlust brightly burning in the pit of prying feline eyes, ghosted over the grassy floor with an autumnal and frigid chill nipping at his heavy-footed heels. His large raptor wings tucked closely to the sides of his dark-skinned belly, navigating the semi-dense copse was relatively effortless; Dresden would look one way and, in hot pursuit of his line of sight, his body then would seamlessly follow. To the inhabitants of the dark wood he surely must have appeared to know precisely where he aimed to go, though to ask him would have been to understand the true and mortifying terror of which his body, and four-fifths of his soul, was quite overcome.

His flight (figuratively speaking) was in fact more aimless than of someone who was lost. Dresden turned and he spun and he dashed, but to what end he would meet was dark and abhorrently fathomless in his mind — for too long now and for too far he had been doing as he did now, running from a monster that was more vapor at this point than flesh, or muscle, or ruthless bone. Nevertheless, this was his one and only constant aside from change: each night, at the break of sundown, the marathon began; its conclusion arose with the dawn. For in the dark, in his version of it at least, he felt the oppressive, snaking breath of his father still curling up the length of his prominent cheekbone and into his ear, felt the rake of his teeth threading along his neck and digging gorges into his boyish shoulders. There, too, was the low, murderous rattling croon of his father’s ghoulish voice, which had, over time, settled deep in the nooks and crags of his heart like poison.

As it was, Dresden, nimble as the brush fox, began to grow weary. The sweat lathered on his skin fell thick to the floor as he shook himself mid-stride, the tumbling ringlets flailing and, to his blind misfortune, catching in the low-swinging boughs stretched crookedly above him. His head jerked back and his neck crushed into his shoulders as all of his weight sharply transitioned onto his back heels; instinctively, his wings spread and one punched into the nearest trunk, but he held steady and did not fall. Prancing backwards, he exasperatedly gathered himself and went to bat his hair free with his uninjured wing, a fierce tremble curling over his bottom lip. It was not yet time for morning, and he tried to pin out the shadows which swirled silkily around his long, lanky legs, the sound of thunder eating the mountain peaks in the distance.

This was not his night.

open to anyone.
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#2


Midas
the one to see you through your darkest times




Blissfully in what felt like a long time, I ventured from my southern kingdom when dark had fallen. Dragon's Throat could handle themselves for an eve. Frame angled purposely toward the distant echos of storms and sweet smelling pine. Despite my love for the desert, it was refreshing to stand upon solid earth instead of unforgiving granules. There had been hope that tonight could be used for meditation, prayer, but as luck would have it, Threshold's forest weren't fated to be calm on this eerily disturbed night. It stirred restlessly. I and likely everyone else could hear someone thundering through the undergrowth. His a sweaty musk of fear filled the air with a heavy cloud that spoiled an otherwise pleasant evening. Curiosity and unrelenting concern led me deeper into the Threshold at a rapid pace, following the stranger's well marked trail. My companion flew overhead, her raptor eyes peering through the loose canopy of multicolored leaves. She was wondering why I bothered helping those in need, why I couldn't just leave them to their own demise.

It was then that my gaze caught sight of him between the thicket. A tall, dark steed. Wings outstretched as if he planned on shooting past the overhanging limbs; coal colored flanks coated in wet perspiration, eyes rolled back to their whites. Something had obviously frightened him. My ebony ears drifted toward crown, ivory tendrils lashed against quarters nervously. A quick scan summed that there was no immediate danger present, "Hail!" I called unwaveringly, "What ails ye?" Fina swooped down, gracefully landing upon a nearby branch to watch the situation unfurl. Wisdom schooled me to maintain a distance, there was no need to get close to a frightened, possibly angry steed.



[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Rinoah Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#3
it is a sound like thunder that stirs you from your restless slumber, that lifts your weary head and tired eyes, the smell of fear and adrenaline that raises you from the moonlit floor and onto limbs that ache in protest. your body shifts within the shadows, barely a shadow itself, while your heart pounds against your ribcage, filling your head with an uncomfortable swell as you struggle through your instinct to run. and you, little lamb with the faint-heart of a mouse, if only you knew: there is no room for bravery, no room for boldness when you had never learned the meaning of them, when your head is filled with waking dreams, waking dreams which pull you towards the sound, timid and meek. you can vaguely remember the terror that had hung over your neck like a noose when you had woken up and discovered yourself alone for the very first time; the way that you knew nothing else but to wait, holding tightly to the hope of your sanctuary returning.

it is that same hope that brought you back here in the first place, down from the snowy arctic that had hidden you away for far too long. in truth, you had no idea how many minutes, days, weeks passed since you had last seen her; heard the croon of her voice like river over stone, smelled the mix of her skin of cedar and rain. you had have no idea, either, just how long it has been since the boy made of clay swept you up and disappeared all the same; just how long that you have been alone since that very first day.

it is a sound like the crushing of bone against a hard place and the sudden silence that follows thereafter that sends a shiver as subtle as an earthquake trembling along your spine, ears pricking in the direction of the nothingness where there was something just moments ago. more hesitant than before, you continue to move forwards, slowly and deliberately. you cannot shake the growing apprehension within the shadow of your heart of what you will find, if anything at all. 'Hail! inhaling sharply, your body jerks to the side, eyes widening as something solid pummels into your ribcage, causing you to yelp and pull hastily away, pirouetting on ballerina toes before shooting a scathing glare to the darkened silhouette of the trunk of a tree.

'Stupid thing.' you mutter, for a moment forgetting the voice as unnerving as a hurricane against the deafening silence. 'What ails ye?' blinking slowly, it is easier than you thought it would be to edge towards the creature, the moonlight giving the two away all too quickly. for the smallest fraction of a second you pause mid-stride, eyes flickering from one to the next, a knot of anxiety balling up within your stomach as you examine the soaked, mahogany sinew of a boy running from ghosts. the second man, however, the coil-spring of tension that he is, exudes a light that you cannot place, and instinctively you edge just a little closer to him, nothing more than a shadow. you do not speak, only linger; too timid to do anything but assess the two passively.


■ oh god. feel free to shoot me for this ;_; she's just hanging out near midas, in case it was unclear.


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