| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: Seven |
| paddeh |
lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones</style>
I had ran. Ran like no other, stumbling and lungs screaming before I realized flying was faster. And so I took to the air. Plain terror clenched in my stomach as darkness crowded at the corners of my vision, taunting me. I didn't want to leave me home or my pool or Father Earth. But it was too much, I could not stay - every instinct in me told me to flee.
Apollo had lead the herd to a safe place, and I had been stupid. So very stupid. What did I do? I went to look for Evers, but I couldn't find him. Pain momentarily flickered in my heart... where was he? Was he okay? I needed to know he was safe. It wasn't long before the fear conquered the pain and worry, and I was driven by the primitive need to get away from this danger. I scrambled to where I thought this safe place was, driving myself to the ground and stumbling along, nares flared and searching for scents that were familiar. I don't know how long it was before the ground underneath me was actually not there anymore and I came crashing down into a cave, head over tail.
Golden orbs wide in fear, I spring up and lean away from the crystal wall. I soon feel the heat it emanates and I step towards it, letting it soothe my sore muscles. I crumple to the ground, side pressed to the warm wall and release a sigh. The fear slowly ebbs away only to be replaced by the worry of who was safe. The Foothills - did they make it? Evers? My breath picks up again and as hard as I try, I just can't get myself to stand up. My muscles scream at me and so I decide it is best to let them rest. If they are here, I will find them. For now, I must relax.
"blah blah blah."
[ ooc ; BAD POST IS BAD UGH, I guess this would make more sense if it was back dated a bit. I felt she needed a proper "entrance" thread... I promise they'll get better/longer! ]
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please tag irry in every post! magic & aggression allowed w/o death
| Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions
wanda |
The Mongrel delights in the mockery of the individuals who wander, laden with sorrows and burdens neither he nor Confutatis have familiarized themselves with. They are distinctly repugnant beasts, repulsive in the utmost, in their malicious and sadistic retaliations, their rancorous hopes and their silken ambitions. In the turning, twisting, contorting shadows, their own shapes correspondingly conform to the idea of unconformity; their shadows flicker and stretch and contract, and they seemed teethed, these shadows, they seem hideous and monstrous, as if reflecting the vengeful natures of whom they belong to.
Together they watch, magnificent in their spiteful lurking, cowardly brave beasts whom grin and sneer and smirk, their teeth glistening foulest of rotted yellows. They are the doormen, the greeters for the mourners, the oblique promise there is darkness even in the depths of love and compassion and protection and that even in refuge from the undead, there is corruption that taints that of which crosses it's path.
But they have learned.
It is she who approaches first, a dark mare tall and grim, withering smile playing on sinister lips, the spawn of a demon lord and a bastardly coward. There is an utterly damning sleekness to her slinking moves, a seductive sway to her scarred hips, an impetuousness chiseled in the black stone of her malignant and negligently foul face. Bone armour ripples out from the second spine she wears most proudly, plates of gristly white and vaguely stained yellow, skeletal mementos rattling most fiercely in her mane, a gift from the Giving Tree. At her feet whirls a kitsune, a Mongrel, black and obsolete, a smile like poison and a glare like Death; they approach the mare given the night sky to wear upon her wings, to cloak her shoulders.
"You are safe now." Confutatis declares, her tones uttered soft and authoritatively empowering, and a smile widens on her face, a smile that glints with the feeling of flies drawn to a corpse. "The dead do not touch the spawn of demons."
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| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: Seven |
| paddeh |
lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones</style>
My breathing eventually slows and I am finally filled with feeling other than fear. I am glad to be alive. The warm heat coming from behind the crystal washes over my body and the throb of my muscles starts to ebb. The cavern floor is not the most comfortable surface to sleep on, but I just can't care at this point. My golden orbs flutter closed and my mind starts to drift off, exhausted from my endeavor.
A voice cuts across my dozing and my eyes open slowly to see death itself standing before me. A black, scarred coat stretches across the skeleton of this creature, and there are bones intertwined in her mane. 'You are safe,' I am more shocked by the voice of death, more than the sudden appearance. It it smooth and soft, like a mother's first words to her newborn. A companion scurries along with the mare, and I blink the sleep from my eyes. 'The dead do not touch the spawn of demons,' she continues, and my brow furrows slightly for a mere second. Does she mean me, an insult? Surely she does. I make no remark of it and toss the comment aside. "Thank you," I say simply and push myself up.
"How many are here?" I inquire softly, tucking my wings at my side and stepping further into the cave which only turns out to grow larger the further I go. My hooves scrape against the rock and clatter softly, echoing throughout. My nares flare as I take in the foreign scents as my pools peer into the depths. "This is amazing... despite the situation," I murmur, a short laugh escaping from me which could probably be from the nerves and the fear of the wasteland that plagued my home.
"blah blah blah."
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please tag irry in every post! magic & aggression allowed w/o death
| Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions
wanda |
To Mongrel, Irrydae's voice paints pictures; stars pouring out from within a dark source, glittering brightly, twirling and shifting in the night. In the ebbing tide of his oceanic mind, the cosmos drip and drizzle, and he consumes the comets with vigor; this Confutatis senses, a dim explosion within the back of her skull, surging, electric, to her own mind, where it pulses and pounds, ecstasy and a deepening hunger.
She is shaken from this strange visualization by the mare's voice, simplistic and quiet, a dreamer's voice in the harlot's so-called enlightened opinion. Nostrils cusp wide, thin fleshy ribbons of red glowing as she exhales, thoughtfulness drifting over the sharp planes of her sooty face; who is she? Confutatis cannot make claim to know Irrydae, the star-quean and oracle, consorter with the elemental father of earth and water. Nor would she be so foolhardy as to control... her ears, tapering columns, twist in half-circles as the pegasus begins to move away, to penetrate the enormity and ignomity of the underground, the unknown of which Confutatis prides herself on knowing.
Without proffering answer to the star-daughter's thanks, she turns, the clatter of her hooves ringing loud and sharp in the omnipresent silence. There is the faintest of underlying clicks, the tap of Mongrel's claws on ragged stone, and they fall into step with the newcomer, patiently awaiting what questions must surely spring to the tongue, begging to be asked.
"Many," the hellion answers, amber eye following the heavenly, Caelestra. "Those with the wits have slithered; the courageous have barged; the wise have walked." And what question lays heavy in her mouth, filling up the gap between roof-of-mouth and tongue: which are you?. Surely it must be originating from gullible matron, valiant countess; she could not imagine this Caelestra daughter to be born of wickedry and lies. "The unlucky and the luckless swarm above us in a deadened world, awaiting a chance to feast on the flesh that burrows beneath the holy skin of the earth."
A comment is given, a lilting susurration akin to the weary shifting of stars in the celestial heaven, and Confutatis seizes her chance with joy. "Perhaps so, but more remarkable is the little bird's desire to survive from the mighty jaws of the wolf... those who live together do dare thrive."
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