Through the winding eaves, through the patchwork nettles of crystals and scorned deliverances, through the arts of indifference and the callous shambles of liberation, they’d been offered emancipation again. Deimos coveted it through his wicked grasp, his trenchant grip, his malicious, conspiring calculations until it brewed and brooded over the surface of his reticent enamel, burst from his lungs, sizzled in his bones. News spread from the tips of electric harpoons and rugged daggers, where resting scabbards lay, sheathed and forlorn, tedious and desolate, harboring for the moment of escape from the endless abyss of their pestilent hideaway. Hours had been whittled away in the aspects of the unknown: how long they’d have to bend and break in the confines of this hellhole, how long they’d measured their ravenous appetite, how long they’d all been sullied and driven to virtuous plumes or unsung violence. Finally, resolution simmered deep into the pits and the pendulums, searing, ferocious, vibrant, and audacious. Their kingdom was not in ruins nor buried under rubble. Their palace was not consumed or devoured by the aching hymns or laments of salacious wraiths. Their thrones did not lie in tatters, stone thrown into lakes or streams. Their banners still flew, rapiers and cutlasses, their emblems still remained, their pride, their glory, their refuge, their sanctuary, their home endured, persisted, stood tall, brilliant, icy and mutinous. Mighty, stalwart, titanic, avaricious and yearning, a monolith of steel and treachery, waiting, remaining, halted and paused until they touched its rime surface, its cool contortions, its heathen, icicle palisade.

For once, his careful consideration, his riveted composure, his solid, rigid, taut movements were not a factor amongst the warren, web, and maze. His motions were a nefarious opus, marching, meticulous, conniving and purposeful, not a single wandering step, not a moment of lost bearings. Swift, quick, rapid, war machine tethered to a place, a hold, a sanctuary of enmity, apathy, and hostility, beckoning his soldiers, his troops, his comrades, his patriots, to awaken from their earthly slumber. They were permitted to obtain the auroras, the hills, the snow, the pinnacles, once more – to be gnawed on by the wind, to be chased into its scenic avenues, to be blessed and corrupted over and over again, swallowing dreams and anointing maelstroms. Through his diligent strides, he murmured, he trumpeted, he commanded and demanded, shirked the soulless, the heartless, the tired and the forsaken, beating a restless, fervent temptation from the inner sanctities, the columns of crystals. How many still strayed, earnest, eager, just as ferocious, just as wild, just as untamed? How many would they be unable to find, lost in the fathoms of the bestial shades? How many would follow? How many would stay true? Were they just as ardent as he, committed, dedicated, to every inch of the emboldened frost? Into the arches, into the primrose paths, into the blighted and denounced, he pledged the right of their advance, the chiseled armaments they’d discarded, deep, booming, dominance refined and regained. “The Time God has granted us permission.” Did it drift far enough for their ears? Would they hear the bells, the croons, or the hums of their world begging, yearning, imploring to be taken back? He stood, bellowed, christened, ordained, king, lord, and death, aching for the weapons, the people, the legends of their realm to unfold. “We are returning to the Basin.” Wraiths, ghosts, specters be damned – the world was theirs again.


[Gathering place for Basin members to gain info in moving back. I’ll give this thread a couple days before we head to the Basin (likely on Sunday/Monday).]

Déodat was ready to leave behind these blasted tunnels and caves. He wanted them and the darkness to become a distant memory. The corruption that had eroded away at his soul didn’t weigh upon his shoulders like perhaps it did others. A sigh passed from his lips as he walked forward and headed toward the place he had hidden the egg. Mostly he wished to see that it was still there and no other had gotten their hands on it, after it all it was his. He had been the one to find it and the one to make sure it was kept out of harm’s way. All he wanted was to se what could come out of the egg, maybe it could be of some us to him or the Basin.

He shot a quick glance about the glowing room and when he noted no one seemed to be watching he walked toward the hiding place. The egg had been carefully tucked into the far left corner underneath one of the trees in a nest of moss. “Hello my little prize,” Déodat said with what could’ve perhaps been labeled as affectionate. Really he had grown fond of the little thing, and he hoped what came out wouldn’t disappoint him. The egg remained where he had placed it, so he simply went about with his business.

The stallion took his time munching on the moss along the ground and then trotted over to the waterfall to quench his thirst. After his stomach was full, and his mouth no longer dry he returned to the egg and looked down at it. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of a crack. Was it hatching? Or had he done something to disturb it? The entire time he had been satisfying his needs he had been keeping a careful eye upon the egg, so he knew that nothing had come near it.

Nearing the egg, he walked carefully and inspected it. The Blood Prince backed away when there was another crack appearing. Whatever was inside was hatching, and now all he could do was watch and wait to see what would come out. After several minutes the egg completely cracked, and out was no chicken or bird… It was a dog, not only that it was a female dog. Wait, how did he know that it was female? There seemed to be a whole other consciousness lingering in the back of his mind, and it slowly dawned on him that perhaps that egg held a companion. He thought back to Imogen, the kitsune that trailed behind Lena. Déodat perhaps wouldn’t mind such a creature, as long as she made herself useful.

“Odette,” He whispered, giving the pup a name. The Blood Prince lowered himself to the ground so then he was laying beside the white babe. Odette yelped and cried, which he assumed was a good thing. The little rat was covered in ooze from the egg, and with a quick glance over his shoulder, he then licked the white thing clean. A foul taste filled his mouth and he snorted. “You’re lucky you little bitch that you’re bonded to me otherwise I’d let you rot.” That was about as affectionate as the brute could get really. “Time to go though, we’ll gather you up some food.” Déodat stood up and then picked the pup up with his mouth and dropped her onto his shoulder. “Hold on.” He said, positive that she couldn’t understand.

It didn’t take long for the Blood Prince to find a sufficient meal for his mutt and once she finally ceased her crying he continued on, seeking out a place of solitude to be alone with his little bitch. Perhaps it would be good to bond with the little thing, after all, they were two halves of one soul now. The call of a familiar voice broke over the silence between the mutt and master. His eyes perked forward slightly at the sound of the familiar voice. It appeared he would finally be reuniting with his long lost herd.

Déodat trotted, being careful that Odette remained nestled carefully between his shoulders and wasn’t falling off. When the Reaper came into sight, the Blood Prince felt a form of relief. The Basin hadn’t fallen, a reassuring sight. “It’s good to see you’re alright Lord Deimos.” He said with a dip of his head as he came to a stop. Odette gave out a yelp and she poked her small head out from under his mane. The pup was still barely a day old, thus blind as a bat, but perhaps she sensed the familiarity of the figure before him. It would be strange no longer having the sanctity of his mind. Now it was a shared space.

talk talk talk

A R A H

&

A R W E N

The words drift down the cave to her ears, exhausted Arah rises and gently nudges Arwen from sleep. The young filly's golden eyes open and blink a few times. "Come on little one, it's time we get ready to go home." The mother doe was exhausted and sighed glancing around. Shaking her head the doe wonders how the twins mange to keep slipping away. If Arwen is missing, Asch was to be found and vide versa. It was worse when they were both missing at the same time. "Where has your sister got to?" Slowly, Arwen still dazed from sleep, the pair make their way down to The Lord of The Basin. Her youngest daughter had been kissed by the sun, the golden streaks in her hair and the markings on her body were fascinating to Arah. Asch on the other hand had been kissed by the moon, she was the much darker twin. "There is no need for you to speak during the meeting Arwen." Schooled Arah. The doe knew that her youngest daughter would hate not being able to speak. Yet Arah could not have the meeting interrupted by her daughter's ramblings. "Lord Deimos and Lady Illynx will not take interruptions kindly..." Glancing down at Arwen's ivory face, Arah recognised how hard Arwen was trying to keep silent. "But Mumma! Arah chuckled as the words burst from the golden child's lips. "No my sweet." Softly Arah made sure her daughter knew that her word was final.

They wondered down to where The Lord stood, waiting for his herd to gather. Deodat so far was the only one who had appeared. Arah bowed her antlered head at the grey stallion, her golden eyes studying him. "Lord Deimos." The Impersonator was ready to go home, it had been too long. The Basin called to her in the nights that she stayed awake nursing her daughters. "This is one of my daughters Arwen." The golden filly dipped her head the way her mother had taught her. "A pleasure my lord." Where had Arwen learnt to speak like a proper maid? Proudly, Arah stepped back and waited for the rest of the herd to gather. Her daughters truly were full of surprises. A happiness surged through the ivory mare, finally she would be able to show her daughters where they belonged. Their family included the members of The Basin. Blood didn't tie them to the snowy lands, it was loyalty. The land that their mother served in would hopefully become the land that they also served. The proudest day of her life would probably be the day when she saw her daughters serving The Basin.

443 Words.
Sorry it's so crappy! I can't find my original post that I saved...if I do find it I'll update this with the better post ^-^
Anyways Arah and Arwen reporting for duty.