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02-08-2015, 08:25 PM
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Isopia The devil is not as black as he is painted. "Everyone bleeds." Came a voice from somewhere in the woods. It almost sounded high up, like it was filtering sweetly down through the branches. The lilt of her voice was enjoyable, almost melodic but closer to spoken-word, than an actual song. Still, she sounded serious and insightful; clearly she was not being sarcastic, but merely making an observation. Whoever this she was, as the owner of the voice was still barred from view. In one of the branches sat a large raven. One day it would grow even larger than it was now, but the girl's age and inexperience with her magic kept the creatures size rather small. A multitude of colours danced off of the inky black feathers in stark contrast with strikingly white markings that adorned the creatures face, seemingly in the shape of a skull. Spreading her wings, the raven descended, though seemed to grow incredibly as she did so. Her wings faded - one to maroon and one to tan - while the once avian body stretched out. Blood appeared to trickle down her left shoulder, spreading outwards in a marking that spread all the way down to her hoof. The rest of her body was a regular sort of tan, marred here and there by maroon paint markings. On her face was the same marking in white - a skull marking. The girl who stood before the colt - clearly no longer a raven - peered at the dragon curiously. She did not appear afraid, only intensely curious. She had seen a creature like this before - in fact, the lands in which she resided held many. The female half of her creator, Kahlua, had one in fact. A blue one, who looked a good deal more gentle than the one before her. "Vérzés." She repeats, as if to get a sense of the word by speaking it out loud. What a strange name. The girl assumed that the boy called the dragon Vérzés in an attempt to name it something strong, and yet ... bleeding? Only things that could die bled. Only the mortal. Blood was a sign of the flimsiness of life. Trees did not believe, nor did rocks or water - things that were truly immortal and strong. Bleeding. It was something done by both the strong and the weak, done accidentally or intentionally. Huffing, the girl turned her bold golden stare on the colt, as if trying to siphon from him the possible justification for his odd name choice. Was it because of the colour? Her gaze darted to creature, frowning slightly. If so, why? Or why not just name it red, or some such if it was merely a way to reference the dragon's colour? Her gaze once again moved quickly to stare boldly at the older youth. "Why would you name it that?" The naming conventions in Helovia appeared so strange. |
