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The moon rose into the sky, shrouding the world of darkness in sweet silver kisses, painting the world in perfect creams and gilded whites, light blues and charming purples. And so the mistress of the sky was back, spreading her glorious ebony wings, enveloping the lonely world abandoned by the gods in her soothing presence. Yet she did not reveal her more earthly form, she did not walk the earth; but why? Why would she refrain, when she had been gone so many long winter months? Emaciated as a starved dog, Lady Death rose from her erratic, uneasy sleep and moved forth to explore the moon-washed earth, a silent monster judging the moonflowers that sprung from the black earth. Malicious, virulent, pernicious, the feral beast stalked through the world, drawn by a beckoning roar, sniffing out trouble like the hounds after the fox.
Some point in time, frost-glazed mud, black as her shriveled heart, shifts into moon-washed sands of cream and silver, the ocean milk blue, a familiar whisper replaced by a hungry roar. White foam swirls and snaps, reaching out to clutch at land, longing to embrace their lost lover. Not today, nor any other day, will they be lucky enough to experience the union.
A guttural roar, a bellowing snarl of monstrous proportions draws the eye promptly; with a deep growl of her own, Lady Death raises her glistening white head, shifting her weight in preparation to wage war upon the beast that challenges her as most feral of Helovians. There is no ring of justice or glory that sends her leaping forth into the midst of peril; there is nothing that warms her cold heart. The sight of three battling the beast does not stir some forgotten vestige of honor that tells her she must fight to save the old bearded man, the mid-aged pegasus, and the dragon-bonded horse, and the other one lost. Selfish desire, an ambition and strive to win an impossible battle, scalds her like the burning pain in her mouth as her toxic saliva drips from her lips.
Muscles tense and bulge under her coat of mangled obsidian, as she bursts forward, hooves digging into the soft sand, slipping without the better grip grass may give one. Her skin shivers over hard muscle, as her ears snap back, pinning tightly to skull-painted head; the beast blots out the moon in size, yet she does not fear anything; not Lady Death, not Confutatis, daughter of the Isilmanian warlord Oblivion, king of demons.
Spheres of acid and toxic waste drop from the vaguely draconian monster as she barrels forth, a bullet shot from a gun; one brushes her shoulder, stinging, a nest of hornets thrown at her shoulder, but she pays the pain no heed, charging forwards, the distance long and too vast between the warped creature of the tides. Her chest heaves, nostrils inhaling the bitterly cold air, exhaling clouds of hot steam, lungs pushing hard against her ribs as they expand. Squealing hoarsely, she slipped past between his legs, lashing out at his left foreleg. Again she kicks out, scuffling like two stallions ass to ass, knowing that beneath him, she will be somewhat more protected- at least from the chance of getting squashed. Of course, it also means she has to be ever more wary of what might scald her, especially the spheres of sickly material. Then she twists, trotting beneath him, half-cantering, avoiding his moving legs. Reaching out, she nips at the not-quite-solid leg with her mouth of burning acid, hesitant for she doubts she can make a mark on a spirit.
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[O] [Endless Night] The tides are turning vile
CONFUTATIS