the Rift


[OPEN] Sympathy For the Devil

Crowley Posts: 166
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 12 HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Talbot :: Common Hellhound :: Acid & Name? :: Caracal :: None Dingo
#1
Crowley
stole many a man's soul and faith
From atop the fields, one could look out for miles upon miles on a clear day, and in the far distance beyond the salty sea waters, see the frozen tundra of the northern lands. The same lands that the foul stag had once called home, but had neglected to return to in nearly a year.

Often he wondered, just who still remained there? There was no doubt things had changed since his last time spent there, before darkness and sickness had descended, but what had changed, and how? Did the mad doctor, his old friend, d'Artagnan, continue to call it home? What of Psyche, Faelene, his family? It would be so easy to simply go back and search for them, to settle back in to his old home, but... he couldn't.

Because he had let them down, failed to perform his duties when he had promised otherwise, abandoned his family. What on earth could he say to any of that?

A ragged, shuddering breath passed through the brute's dark lips, sending a swirl of shadow spiraling away until it and the whisper that accompanied it faded completely. A horrid, freezing sleet had been following him for several days now, racking his body with violent shivers and a cough that shook him to the core. It mattered not where he took cover, because no cover could shield him from the Moon's unrelenting curse, but he could only pray to her that it might end soon... lest it end up being the death of him.

Talbot had done his best to comfort his master, even going so far as to try and curl beside him in the nights to provide warmth, but Crowley would only send him away. There was no use in them both growing sickly, or even worse, dying, and so the hound reluctantly kept his distance from the continually falling sleet.

But standing there atop the fields, his tall, slender frame trembling, how much longer would he be able to take the chill, the sickness that had claimed his body?

"speak"

[ooc - Pardon his rustiness, it's been a while!
x - x

Ayelet Posts: 51
Absent Abyss
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: V
Lior :: Melanistic Barn Owl :: Curse dark
#2
Stumbling innocently,
hiding her demons deep inside


Grace and beauty bundled up into one innocent frame, standing out among a group of fleshed equines with blood and tissue, organs and nerves, gathered masses with soft manes and rugged coats. She was unique, a sight to see with her clear bodice, hollowed frame standing off of the ground with glittering crown held high, tail of gathered glass slithering across the ground with a deep crimson muscle beating beneath a layer of glass; clinging desperately to her insides with fleshy fingers.

A hesitant step forward, a screech echoing through the air around the beaut. Auds flicker, eyes of colour targeting the dark avian soaring through the skies, talons opening wide to hungrily tear at the transparent quarters, settling down upon an area above the dock, deep midnight feathers ruffling. Sweet whispers befall her innocent, childish mind, prodding and pointing out. An image flickers before her of a male, marked with white claws along his barrel standing in peace within the heavens. The youth upon her back gives a faint screech, a call that commands her to follow, wings of midnight black spread out to raise the slim bodice.

Racing along beneath her guide, she finds herself staggering up the steady slope to meet a sight of a dark devil, heart beating with each moment her eyes are upon him. Horns of a monster spiral out from behind his ears, locks of black and white laying out along his neck as well as weaving between his thighs, draping out across his coal black flesh. She desired nothing more than to turn and flee, forgetting all about grace and her sleek, beautiful bodice, focusing only on letting this devil remain untouched.

Before her, she can see the bloodied man she once let take her to a land she was unfamiliar with, one of passion, love and pain. Dark locks rolling over the eyes that have looked upon the Devil himself, a grin like a cheshire, body tense and battered from his horrendous adventures into Hell and back. She sees before her a man who has abandoned God and drawn back into the darkness. He is the Seven Deadly Sins, she can see it now as he looks back and grins at her. He is Lust, wanting nothing more than the lusting of a sweet innocent, taking them in and breaking them down. He is Greed, hungry for all there is, desiring the world in his bloodied hands. He is Envy, finding himself never quite getting what others have. He is Gluttony, consuming all with fear and tragedy, swallowing them and letting them fall into an abyss of horrors. He is Wrath, a wild beast waiting to be poked and prodded off of the edge, setting off a terror that cannot be caged. But he is also Pride, standing proudly before his slaughtered victims, proud that he was the one who had ended so many lives. He is Sloth, his spiritual state slow and nearly unmoving, remaining there in one place, leaving him to be an ungrateful devil.

Blinking rapidly, thin crystalline lashes battering, she finds that he has faded away, no longer before her. He is but a mere faint memory now, taking residence in the back of her mind where dark shadows dwell. Before her now is a stallion unfamiliar to her, a stranger of midnight, a knight of the Moon. He is but another one of the Devil's men, sent here to torture the purest of souls, break in the innocent minds and destroy the souls untouched by the dark.

"Sweet Lullabies"
- kinda long and rambly and weird. sorry xc -

table by imi

Dröm Posts: 114
Hidden Account atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Equine :: 14.3hh :: 5 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
baylee
#3

Dröm
you can't escape the warmth, even when it only feels cold.



Dröm hikes up the mountain. The clouds blocking her view, making her trip and stumble often. Luckily, she does not tumble down the mountain side to a very untimely death. By the time she reaches the open meadow her body is dripping with sweat, like a bitch's drooling lips. The flies are relentless until she reaches the top of the mountain. The flies appear to dislike the high altitude, or perhaps they die from the slight lack of oxygen. The flax babe still whips around her tresses, as it has become so natural to swat at flies, her tail does it automatically. With a loud huff, she halts and gazes around with caramel eyes. The first thing she notices is the large, dark, figure up ahead. Her eyes analyze the shape. It is big enough to be a horse, so that is what the femme assumes the shape is. However, next to the horse, is a smaller shape. A foal, perhaps? She trots towards the shapes with curiosity burning in her lean frame.

Upon growing closer to the shapes, she finds that the smaller shape is some sort of dog and and larger shape is a strangely horned unicorn. She also notices a clear, glass like horse, moving towards the unicorn. She picks up her pace to a brisk trot, attempting to reach the fully visible horse before the clear horse does. She is too slow, however, and is second to reach the stallion (or was the glass mare here all along and perspective has made it appear differently?) The first thing motherly Dröm notices, is the trembling body of the dual-toned stallion. She halts next to him. "You are cold," she blurts out with out a second thought. The girl may have jumped to conclusion on his shivering, but she does not attempt to take a step back and try to understand what is really the cause of his shaking. The only thing she thinks of doing is a daring move that can either get her into trouble or let her make a friend. She takes the risk wholeheartedly and scoots herself closer to the stallion, attempting to let her warm flesh make contact with his presumably cold frame. "I'm Dröm," she giggles softly. Her words sweet and warm, like a spring day after a cold winter.

"blah blah blah."
ooc: I thought the quote was applicable. :P Hope you don't mind touchy-feely Dröm!! :D Her intentions were in the right place. :3


[Image: 53d6f2ea9010d]
pixel by baylee

Crowley Posts: 166
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 12 HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Talbot :: Common Hellhound :: Acid & Name? :: Caracal :: None Dingo
#4
Crowley
stole many a man's soul and faith
A low growl sounds deep within Talbot's throat; they are not alone.

Crowley doesn't know who has dared to bother them at such an inconvenient time, when he's at one of his weakest moments, shivering and quaking as the cold seeped into his hide, down into his bones, into his very soul. Now is no time to put up with guests, be they horned or otherwise; to bother the brindled devil now would be a wish for death, at the very least.

The hound of hell scrambles to his feet as one approaches, a considerably smaller mare of earthen tones, noticing another of strange attributes standing a distance away, but his attention is on that of the other for now. In his mind, she is either very brave or very stupid to move so boldly towards his master, towards the stallion who is so very close to snapping...

And when the equid's flesh is felt against his own, he does just that.

Without a second thought, the tipping back of his ears the only sliver of a warning before he moves, Crowley wheels towards the mare with mouth agape, teeth searching, yearning to find flesh, perhaps the nape of her neck, her nose, her face; anywhere that was within easy reach. Whether he is successful or not, he then tucks his chin towards his chest before swinging it one way, horns swiping for the side of his unwanted company. If only he could wedge them between her ribs and watch the warmth slowly leave her body, beg for it to stop...

Talbot's eyes turn to the opaque one who had wisely stood a distance away, his gaze momentarily shifting to the crimson hued organ that was very much present within her chest, beating, pounding, sustaining life within... Taking a step closer, the hound curled back his lips and gave a snarl of warning, hackles raising and bristling along his neck and shoulders. Leave, those eyes of gold seemed to demand, lest that heart cease to beat and bring forth the gift of life.

"speak"
x - x


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