the Rift


[OPEN] cold day in the sun

Erebos Posts: 474
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
#1

For once, the youth did not stray to the shoal and surf, where the water entangled with rock and rubble, loosened up granules of sand and spit them back out onto ruined embankments. He didn’t follow the gulls outcries and flurries into the tides, he didn’t look for fish drifting around stones, and he didn’t race across the beach, thread his daggers into the dunes, hoot, or holler. There was no particular allure or enticement to the shells and shackles, to the elements of his mother, to the whirling, vibrant tempests (except perhaps, to watch another attempt to cross over the archipelago; a witness to someone else’s failure instead of his own). Instead, the prince deviated from his normal pattern, not yearning to chase after the endless horizon or the sultry clouds, eyeing the potential for treachery, for danger, for disaster amidst the thickened outcrop of trees, prying his way through the heart of the jungle.
 
Orsino led the way, an inky, sable spot of heresy and debauchery sauntering beneath shadows, blending into the oeuvres of monsters and men; demons he’d once helped to strike down, Gods he’d assisted in felling. Days had almost been simpler then; he’d cherished so many things that had come his way, snagged and grasped at every opportunity, every chance, to maul, assail, combat forces gathered, rivalries conspiring, or enemies lurking. He’d been a little more naïve, but hopeful too, not yet drowning in the murk of his desires, of his rage (sent spiraling from his heart, from his chest, from his veins until he wasn’t sure what had been ambition, and what had been contempt all along), capable of keeping his composure, his calm, zealous pursuits. They’d been convictions and oaths, assurances of a life used to restore order and retribution, when the taste of vengeance was naught more than a trickle on his tongue and a relish on his brain, and no matter how many times he’d faltered, tried, stumbled, and fell, he’d get back up again, and wink at the Gods.
 
Erebos wasn’t even sure what he was going to find her, amidst wreckage, decay, and savagery; the eaves reminded him of the Deep Forest, brutal and barbaric, a whisper, a croon, a promise conspired from demons and brewed from sirens – just the trees were different, more fronds, more widened leaves, more daggers and thorns locked on each branch. The piercing slate of his eyes watched as Orsino continued his sinuous saunter, hunting down something of worth or curiosity, and when the fox turned his cunning eyes towards his bonded, there was a fiendish snare, a ferocious stare, locked within their wily midst. In his younger hours, the prince would’ve gulped at the corruption, at the condemnation, behind the kitsune’s fanged grin; but now, he only laughed, high and mighty, then low and predatory. Found something, Orsino hissed, suddenly setting off into the oily canvas, into the haunting backdrop, and only then did the prince follow suit, clinging to the havoc, to the nefariousness, to the unrelenting beats beginning to strike through his skull, through his bones.


Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want

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[Hi my name is Heather and I can't start threads :'D]
@Romina


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