10-31-2018, 02:10 AM
In another place, in another life- they might’ve felt the cling of brine and humid air… might’ve cared more for the smell of ocean water laden soil and the dying fish, coral, and mollusks. Yet this is not the life of now, and instead they do not seem to be affected by the way the mist rolls across the watery and murky ground or the way the salt stiffens their fur and clings to the skin well beneath.
Neither are bothered tremendously by the sweet smell of rot or decay, and they remain absent care for the graying that spreads from coral to tubular worms and anemones: they do not even seem phased by the brutal reality of Mordgeld’s form. All the barnacles and brine-soaked skin, she is matted and salty- fragrant of sand and sea: of the rocks and morning on cliffs and coasts. Had she a crown of coral, or a weave of colored grass or kelp, they might’ve commented; but instead the immediate silence is filled with her words.
Tindalos side eyes Tithe, thinking for a moment of how to respond. She confirms a suspicion of his about her age; but, he is only able to blink the grim red eyes and think of stories his mother told him. “Ah, when the world was younger. Ilyena told me of the Chamber, the Valley- of a Jungle. Places and lands long since gone.” he states it more to confirm for himself the thought and idea of what it had been; but Tithe does not need this and instead sighs, recalling the Chamber with memory of his time there.
She cleans herself in a manner that seems inhuman, incapable of this reality; but it is of this reality, and still, neither flinch at the lamprey nor the blood. They seem unmoved by the burden of this woman’s newly arisen form, and more accepting: prepared perhaps to intervene is she asks. “To be undying,” Tithe begins to speak where Tindalos has fallen silent. “Is a gift, yes. And a curse I imagine… you may live on forever, endless and always there; but what of the lives around you? Unless they are like yourself, they pass eventually.” and he grows silent, mulling over the prospect: looking at Tindalos with an almost sorrowed gaze.
Though it is not reciprocated, Tindalos notes this and presses his nose on Tithe’s head gently, brushing away the forelock and trying to ease the rampant mind. Sighing he looks to Mordgeld and shakes his head in a somber ‘no’ before speaking. “Mine are all from a world that has long fallen to the ocean’s bottom- a place destroyed by the very power that its residents were gifted with. It was unfortunate, but, they chose to go… my eldest son drowned for his God.” shrugging weakly, he thought only of his child’s face before growing quiet.
Tithe, in his rampant mind, was at a loss as well; but he found no voice and thus Tindalos spoke again, aware of his lover’s neck curling across his shoulders. “What of yours? For someone who has slept beneath the ocean for so long: someone undying, you must be one of the earliest ancestors of the kings and nobles that populate the land?” genuine and curious, silence befalls them both: and intrigue, one that is perceivable in their posture and expression.
@[Mordgeld] ....why do I feel like I love her.
Neither are bothered tremendously by the sweet smell of rot or decay, and they remain absent care for the graying that spreads from coral to tubular worms and anemones: they do not even seem phased by the brutal reality of Mordgeld’s form. All the barnacles and brine-soaked skin, she is matted and salty- fragrant of sand and sea: of the rocks and morning on cliffs and coasts. Had she a crown of coral, or a weave of colored grass or kelp, they might’ve commented; but instead the immediate silence is filled with her words.
Tindalos side eyes Tithe, thinking for a moment of how to respond. She confirms a suspicion of his about her age; but, he is only able to blink the grim red eyes and think of stories his mother told him. “Ah, when the world was younger. Ilyena told me of the Chamber, the Valley- of a Jungle. Places and lands long since gone.” he states it more to confirm for himself the thought and idea of what it had been; but Tithe does not need this and instead sighs, recalling the Chamber with memory of his time there.
She cleans herself in a manner that seems inhuman, incapable of this reality; but it is of this reality, and still, neither flinch at the lamprey nor the blood. They seem unmoved by the burden of this woman’s newly arisen form, and more accepting: prepared perhaps to intervene is she asks. “To be undying,” Tithe begins to speak where Tindalos has fallen silent. “Is a gift, yes. And a curse I imagine… you may live on forever, endless and always there; but what of the lives around you? Unless they are like yourself, they pass eventually.” and he grows silent, mulling over the prospect: looking at Tindalos with an almost sorrowed gaze.
Though it is not reciprocated, Tindalos notes this and presses his nose on Tithe’s head gently, brushing away the forelock and trying to ease the rampant mind. Sighing he looks to Mordgeld and shakes his head in a somber ‘no’ before speaking. “Mine are all from a world that has long fallen to the ocean’s bottom- a place destroyed by the very power that its residents were gifted with. It was unfortunate, but, they chose to go… my eldest son drowned for his God.” shrugging weakly, he thought only of his child’s face before growing quiet.
Tithe, in his rampant mind, was at a loss as well; but he found no voice and thus Tindalos spoke again, aware of his lover’s neck curling across his shoulders. “What of yours? For someone who has slept beneath the ocean for so long: someone undying, you must be one of the earliest ancestors of the kings and nobles that populate the land?” genuine and curious, silence befalls them both: and intrigue, one that is perceivable in their posture and expression.
@[Mordgeld] ....why do I feel like I love her.