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06-11-2015, 08:13 PM
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a delicate trot carries her through the land of unfamiliars, amethyst eyes sweeping over the frosted forest as she steps over the boundaries of the land before the Threshold, the trees growing denser as she makes her way through. the venr had no reason to gather souls, but she thought it was a necessary duty she needed to fulfill. a quiet patter of footsteps alerts the porcelain dam, lavender cape shifting as she takes a curious, cautious step forward. vado animadverto quis is est, she sends the gentle order over the expanse of sky, through the clouds and feels it delve into the mind of her dark avian companion. the owl sweeps downward in a quick movement, descending upon the forest in a fatal silence. "est a vir," the bird answers, deep screech leading her forward as she weaves gracefully through the trees, ethreal being appearing before a mortal man who appears to be mumbling to himself. she eyes him, recognizing his words to be veiled beneath a thick latin accent. an emotion never before known, the saint stumbles forward and gives a smile. "operor vos agnosco?" she questions, eyes widening with curiousity. fear is shed as the glass figurine takes a step forward, her eyes trailing over the muscular body that stood before her, draped in deep ebony and armed with ashen horns. with him was a mare, peculiar in design. the mare was more comforting to see, the innocent minded edging more towards her, in hopes that this strange woman would protect her if the beast was to strike. the prospect of having someone else to understand her delicate, intricate and foreign language became her fatal flaw as she settled herself a few strides away from the stallion, her phobias shed as she blossomed at the idea of having someone to converse with. her avian settled lazily upon her withers, talons entangled within the silvery pauldron that decorated her pure shoulders. "operor non fides is vir." a low hiss and whistle accompanied by the rustling of midnight feathers signals the distrust in the man lingering before her. vos nunquam fides quisquam, the angel complains, her normal blank expression slipping over her transparent features as she hears the scratching of sharp claws against her smooth skin. I'LL TELL YOU MY SINS AND YOU CAN SHARPEN YOUR KNIFE |
