:: MURDER IN HELOVIA ::

[OPEN] :: MURDER IN HELOVIA ::

Reginald Posts: 165

Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7

Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE

Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E.

10-30-2014, 01:03 PM

speak

The foolishness ends; its allotted moment in time has been rescinded and blown to ash. The dance ends in a flurry of darkness, the sweet, metallic tang of blood and sharpened claw of fear in the breast. The chill lingers; it twists into something evil and alive. Shadows walk; something creeps.

Reginald takes his spider from that place; he snarls something ugly, teeth bared and flashing in the gold of the indomitable isle. Foolishness has its place, and he detests this interruption by something great, powerful, ominous and fleeting from his control. Such is the greatest insult: this wickedness is not born from the flesh of his brain and balls. He snorts; he stalks faster, movements jerky and errant; the spider should do well to keep up.

It is a body they stumble across. No—it is merely a corpse now; he must do well to remember that particular distinction. A blood-soaked corpse and the gaggle of idiots who surround her, mourning something senseless while something stalks in the halls of the gods. He watches for a time, grey eyes glassy, expressionless and pensive. Something excruciating is happening behind those eyes, something momentous and bitter on the tongue; pride unbends within that budding grey chest, as a tiny, fluttering ember attempts to unbend a frozen iron bar. His molars grind; he bites his cheek; his ears lay flat upon his skull, and father’s words—those awful, mediocre, ridiculous words—sound in his mind, an unbidden memory: ”"Dragons are powerful, but they do not replace blood."

“You will stay with me for now,” he says in a low voice, a husky, guttural warble that begins to darken, deepen, broaden with age. He turns away from the spectacle of idiocy; he goes to descend from this cloud of gods and death, and wills his spider to follow in his shadow. He knows who he must find, somewhere scattered in the shadows of the mortal world. There is no time to waste, for something wicked stalks the land free from the Grey-Eye’d prince’s will, and dragons do not replace blood.

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SONS OF ANARCHY
Abraham
Jorogumo
Öde
Reginald