| | the pain is a dull ache in her bones now, a constant pound in her body like a heartbeat: boom, boom, boom. she doesn't scream anymore, her voice is taut and worn from the use. instead she lays on the hard ground of the threshold, her hair spread around her like a white oil spill. the blood thickens on her leg, dribbling off the side of her forearm as she waits. it will end soon, she thinks. she was right. the pain ended when the whole world went black.
she's weightless. she's no longer tied to the forest floor, the soft tissue of grass beneath. io didn't find freedom beyond the circus' tents, she found it in this euphoric place. somewhere floating between sky and earth. a yellow pair of eyes glare at her from beneath the leaves above, unblinking, quiet, serious. who's eyes are they? she remembers them. lark. sing me a song, she whispers to those golden eyes. i miss your voice. but he isn't there, and as quick as the mirage was there, it disappears.
she wakes with a gasp, and the pain is back. but now who's eyes are staring at her? "please," she croaks "don't hurt me."
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Ulrik the Engineer Posts: 235
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 hh :: 11 HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Kirchoff :: Common Hellhound :: Superspeed
Tamme |
ULRIK
I'm not the only one who can't see why it crossed your mind
I see your life and death reduced into a product line
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Rarely did the engineer venture beyond the borders of the World's Edge, but when he did, the soulless machinated wolf followed with whirring steps in his wake. Darkness loomed over the herd now, but he still felt obligated to pick up the blessed along the entrance to Helovia, intent on corrupting their minds with the truth. Glorious truth. The horns upon their brows were a natural crown of royalty, the cloven hooves a feature to reign in hell. Perfection in a single form.
Genius plagued the stallion's head and bordered along madness; in his mind, a constant puzzle of machines and parts. Blueprints for fantastical creations roamed around, and now, he had Coris to help make them even more perfect - if the jumpy soul would ever get around to kissing the Moon God's ass. He hated the gods. He loathed how three, muddy blooded creatures could lord over him so, but he would fake a smile and ass kiss when he needed to. Now? He had no reason to demean himself before their oh so royal hooves.
The forest, green once more with the promise of frost hanging on the air, loomed overhead, towering. Light filtered through the leaves in a pattern of chaos, and Ulrik saw the order, reveled in its mathematical perfection. Until he saw a figure on the ground that interrupted this long and arduous equation. At first, he was angry that she did so, but the light dotted her tanned hide, and his eyes took to calculating the curves of her body rather that the simplicity of chaos.
Was she alive? Ulrik stepped around her, his cloven hooves barely brushing blonde hair, and his bronze eyes watched her with veiled interest. Curious. She awoke with the start, and he did not stir. Bronze hooves remained on the ground where he stood, and not even the breeze interrupted the hair hanging from his crest and leonine tail. Don't hurt me? he repeated her words as a question in his head. Why would he do that? She was not some mutation of their glorious kind. He had no interest in harming his own species.
"You're safe," he said simply, voice deep, guttural and gruff. The accent on his words was harsh, consonants sharpened like the Germans. Would she grow a spine and stand of her own free will? Or would she continue to lie there helpless until he made an effort to pull her to her feet forcefully?
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Credits
| | the pain flashes with a clap, sharp and bright in her mind like a streak of lightning. her eyes fly open and she's faced with the deep, gravely voice of the raven. you're safe. he promises from lips that are probably so familiar with telling lies. but comfort has long been denied to her since her lark left. she takes what she can get now. her head lifts from the ground, her thin legs fold beneath her body as she lifts herself with a quivering stance. the blood trickles slowly, always so slow, as she stands.
"i-i'm sorry," comes the small whisper "i thought you were someone else." lies spill like oil from her lips, but they aren't slick like his would be. they stick in her throat and clog her breath as she smiles, sweetly, for the black stallion. it's shaky at the edges, her smile, but it is precious and warm for him. instinctively her eyes roam around her, though the pain still sends flares through her body like a hurricane, where they fall on the soft whirring of the mechanical wolf. "curious," she coos "does it have a name?"
even monsters have names.
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