| Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE |
|
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions
& Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch
Heather |
The spark of adventure, the keen of the unknown, the dwelling of mystery always led him down particular pathways. He was enticed by enigmas, intoxicated by inquiry, and riveted by riddles. He wanted to know how the world worked, how it twisted and folded upon itself, how it gave light and serenaded darkness, and where he fit in between all the measures, all the schemes, all the rhymes and satanic reveries. Too young to understand, too old to be confused, befuddled, and bewitched, he walked across the earth in the name of sport: deciphering, contorting, dissolving the things puzzling him. Bold and intrepid, valorous and audacious, the realms, the empires, the kingdoms, were at his disposal, and given each and every opportunity, his princely presence snagged, clenched, and grasped until each moment was a possibility for intellect, for musing, and for corruption. By no means was he a philosopher, one of the sages, one meant for constant knowledge and intellect: his desires stemmed from avaricious pursuit, for the pledge and devotion of power, for the means to control and conduct and reach a stage of domination. Ripped from the Machiavellian void, tied together by hollowed hells, rippling and contorting with the vicious coils of endeavors and beliefs, wishing and dreaming and aspiring for grand heights, for friends to return, for an embrace of the darkness, and all the steps before its succession. Bewitched by the earnest, ardent, fervent foundation, he and Orsino delved, deeper and deeper, further and further, into the passages of shadow and veils, wearing shrouds of lies and building towers of deceit, pushing masks across their eyes, spellbinding, alluring, beguiling, and some days, he didn’t know which masquerade he fell into anymore.
The kitsune rambled quietly ahead of him, chasing down the whims of darkness and the mercurial trance of each laden bough, each tempered arm, eyeing the claws, the hands, of the oaks, of the maples, of the pines and fir; sometimes all Erebos could see of him were the glowing, gilded eyes and the flash of white fangs, and they’d both rejoice at the plunge of their decadence, wind away the hours of silliness and ebullience into relentless yearnings. He laughed through the scene, tangled his way into moss and undergrowth, danced a fractious waltz with the beasts and the infidels, another part of their mordant splendor, another token of their arcane affairs. Their combined giggling echoed off the limbs of the trees, bounding and bounding, chasing and chasing their inclinations and wiles; too consumed with a feverish plunge into the licentious to worry about monsters, demons, and cretins lurking.
The prince’s blue gaze sharpened in the crisp gloaming, a stitch of the surreal, a marble haze of the serene, not yet piercing or puncturing as his father’s, not as gentle as his mother’s, an intangible, wicked little light scorching amidst mischief and upheaval. The stare, a behemoth’s code of imps and duplicity, was aimed directly towards their other companion, ghosting over Enna’s the white, gossamer threads of her mane, the silhouette of honey and mahogany blending into the backdrop of idle blackness, the mismatched set of her eyes flanking amidst the lethal corridors and the unholy halls. He’d invited her because he liked her: she was entertaining, she was funny, she cared nothing for anyone’s judgment or opinion, and she gave over to devilry and naughtiness just as quickly as he did. He wanted to know what she was like amidst crusades and exploits, how far she’d peer down into the rabbit hole, if she’d linger in precariousness or whittle her way out of hazard and peril.
He laughed again, easy and light, staring at her as he maneuvered sideways over sticks and twigs, wandering their way through the thickets, along the marsh, towards the pool of crimson stones and endless myths. He provided her with discourse, wild, frenetic, blistering and silly, sometimes chiming over jokes on the air of jubilation or mocking fervor. When he turned his head towards a particular glade, he varnished her with a specific story. “That’s where I found Orsino! I had to trick a raven.” Here, he winked, because he thought he’d been quite clever in the entire spectacle, and then he ceased all movement, bending closer to her, extending his features until they rested near hers, luminescent and speculative. “What do you think of the forest?”
OOC;; ---
TAG;; @[ ]
"talk talk talk"
|
image credits
- table by Niki -
@Enna
| Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 6 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.1 :: 5 ( TALLSUN ) HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Mehr :: Arctic Wolf :: None
kels |
08-30-2015, 07:01 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-30-2015, 07:01 AM by Enna.)
 something filled up my heart with nothing
‘That’s where I found Orsino! I had to trick a raven.’ You follow his gaze to the small glade, your heart curious, starved for the knowledge of the world and its mysteries. “That’s very impressive.” You smile then, a challenge laced within the little thing as he winks, your eyes narrowing ever so slightly as you look back upon his dark face. “Ravens are said to be exceptionally clever.” Whether he would understand and indulge your lust for knowing is anyone’s guess, but before you have time to continue he asks something of you: ‘What do you think of the forest?’ Forests had always held darkness and the unknown for you; they were forbidden and all too dangerous, hiding things that could swallow you whole without a second thought. You blink, examining the boy with a peculiar look, surmising that telling him of these fears would provoke a less than savory reaction.
Instead you try your best to look as thoughtful as possible, trying to cover the doubt that had seeped into your heart. “There was one near the sea, where my brother and I grew up. Ama never let us near it though.” For a moment your expression turns to something wistful, something hurt – as if you had touched on a memory, while cherished, something that you hadn’t visited for years, even though he has never been far from your thoughts, never strayed from that corner of your heart that you had built just for him. It is only a moment before the same easy smile makes its way back to your face, disguises the things that could so easily break you.
“He used to tell me stories about the terrible things the shadows hid…” Your smile skews to a smirk, something mischievous sparking in the depths of your eyes, as if daring him to delve into the possibilities that you have harbored all this time. “I used to be afraid of it.” Even now, you still are. But your fear is almost non-existent next to him, nothing more than a skin that you have shed, as easy as a chameleon changes its colors, his brazen and unabashed excitement and bravery breeding boldness into you where before nothing but weakness existed. At least, that is what you would like to think. It would be a lie to say that you do not like the way that it feels to be near him, the way that you are somehow different, better, the way that he is different, in such a good way, from everyone else that you have ever known. And all of this, all of these things you keep secret, afraid to ever let him know. |
@Erebos
im so sorry for the wait/quality heather
been sick so, you know, fun stuff.
they'll be quicker/better in the future <3
please tag enna in every post
violence permitted barring permanent injury / death
| Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE |
|
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions
& Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch
Heather |
He watched, silent and forbidding in the deeper annals of the forest, where the vines curved and the swallows ceased their songs; where the quiet was more than listlessness. A crueler, manipulative foil to his being yearned to see some snippet, some spark, of fear whisper over her features, the touches and fringes of exploitation covering his brow – but another portion of his soul fought for her strength and endurance. While Orsino chuckled, he studied, a manifest of examination and scrutiny, allowing his eyes to wander along the wistful edges painted upon her canvas, the keen, soft chords of nostalgia (even at his young age he knew the poignant sting of memories, the ghosts of gold and lace, a murderer’s heartless rampage, a companion’s sullen end – a bitter taste of what life had to offer, and what he’d like to bestow in return). But those strokes wither away too, hide behind the lingering folds of a smile, and he knew better than to believe in its pretenses – after all, he hid so many things behind his menacing grins and his impish airs. The prince wore mischief like the winter wore white, but there was always more, more, more, tangled in the depths of his mind (sweet, acrid deception, the lingering bits of power, the ability, the tenacity, to unwind, unfurl, uncoil sanguine smiles and petulant dreams); he had no doubt Enna was the same. Perhaps that was why he enjoyed her essence, her hushed, regal shell, tucked and hidden and locked away so one day he could pluck each enigma away and seek the devilish qualities immersed amidst her layers. He just wouldn’t offer her the same. Too selfish, too greedy, too eager and ready to take on the world, waiting for the realms to view his power, glow with his strength, build from his resolution. His ambitions were vivid and real and striking; he knew naught of hers. Erebos almost asked her of Ama, of these names and faces not belonging to his memories, but she continued, smirking, and he managed to conjure his own wild, debonair snicker too, sharing the sensibilities, the qualities, of cretins and fiends all over again. They could be ruffians on a siege, laying back and staring at the wide-open canvas of dark, clustered trees, pondering how to take over each and every kingdom – and he’d laugh and laugh and laugh while she skewered the innocent and the virtuous.
Instead, he leaned closer, incapable of hiding the swift grin and the winsome charisma, listening to Orsino bellow through his mind, chuckling in a rapid, manic decorum. He chuckled, mocking and masculine, wrapped up in the juvenile marks of a boy and all his splendor, all his rapture, all his reveries, thinking it was delightful to face fears and conquer them one by one. The brilliant sheen of his stare met hers, compelling and magnetic, voice crooning a beguiling, alluring tone: a practice in indulgence, a slave to curiosity. His leonine tail lightly stroked one of the bushes nearby, a devilish curl of his smile reveling in demonstrative glee. “What did the shadows hide?” What lurked in corners, behind columns, down past rubble and ruin, familiar pathways lined with secrets and surprises? He liked to believe it’d be him some day, traipsing over immoral iniquities, brandishing a smile and watching the world flee (but at the same time – wouldn’t it be even more amusing to grin and grin and grin, the throng never noticing the curl of one’s hand, the potency of one’s invocations, the plunge of one’s ambitions?). But maybe he was a touch too eager, a caress too fervent, to witness the world burn at his movements, at his motions, at the marionette strings dancing their morbid waltz. Perhaps everything was a mere ruse, and he’d be the last to realize.
OOC;; ---
TAG;; @[ ]
"talk talk talk"
|
image credits
- table by Niki -
@Enna
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
