the Rift


cold .k i s s. reminisce

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#1

i am no warrior
but that doesn't mean i don't have fire



The form blotted out a small, horse-shaped chunk of the wavering northern lights beyond it. It was a powerful silhouette, with an elegant neck carriage, low set tail, muscled body, and sturdy legs that shifted on the hard silver ground. Frost settled crisply on its hooves, glittering dimly in the sparkling aurora borealis. Waves of red, green, and violet shimmered high above in the sky, the moon blotted out by the sparkling curtains of light. The black being, a mare, let a sigh escape her gray lips. Crisp white clouds flickered from her mouth, like her pure soul escaping from her maw. The healer was weary. She rested uneasy, fearful of a shadow being coming to haunt her. A beast that would kill her, a beast that prowled the edges of her mind. In fact, the mare had dreamed of it last night, a vivid dream that left her running for miles on this icy strip of seemingly never-ending land.

Ice. It glowed all around her, coalescing into walls. It tightened its embrace. Ice and snow she loved, but only unease tightened in her stomach. Intuition whispered in her delicate, tulip-shaped ears. Watch out, it breathed. Fear made her senses hypersensitive; terror of the unknown. A black being shifted in the shadows of her conscious, rippling into life. It bared fangs, and hissed. It was her. Tor's anti-her. A deadly being made up of her fears, that sucked at her essence. "Be gone." It snarled, clawing at the ground. "No." She cried, stepping back. And then it flashed towards her face.

Pain. Blistering, exploding, burning, killing, pain. It lit her on fire, a black shadow in the night. A shriek tore from the healer's lips, and if not for her healing skills, she would be dead. Her body was wracked in tremors, horrible, intense pain snarling into her, ripping her, stripping her, tearing her apart. The mare fought it desperately, but soon the murdering killer was too intense. Tor fell. A quiet thump hitting the Steppe's earth.

Stone-cold. But not dead.

Many hours later, the mare woke. Her body was one big sore, a rotting, festering wound. She forced herself to heal, knitting together the wounds she had inflicted upon herself as, crazed, she had tried to tear herself apart.

She passed out again.

Nightmares, shadows, killers, darkness.

Moonlight on her face.

The threshold is falling down, falling down, fal l i n g.
Why is the world falling?
The ice is melting.
Ants... ants... EVERYWHERE!
I'm on fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire.


Many days later, greatly weakened, the giant woke, dazed but alive. She pulled herself to her feet, trembling badly, and set off, away from this dreaded place.

""
OOC: My character is currently hallucinating.


[Image: 2vkjl2t.png]




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