11-01-2018, 09:07 PM
Sick and weak, tired without end: she feels herself fading and feels her body ragged and aching. Instinct drives her to the beach, to the bone-scattered shores where the water is soaked in blood and ice: grotesque with bile and humors of the corpses left on the sand.
It stinks of rot and ruin, of bitterness and of death.
She inhales it, and it tastes like the sweetest of delights: like the first drink of water after thirst. Her body is eased by the chill, and the muscles relax when all the world seems to grow silent… cold, and comfortable.
Ilyena is unremembered, uncared for, and without security for the creature moving within her swollen abdomen. She mires at the thought of a different time, at the memories of the Taiga and Sylva: of Gryffen and all the world she had come from.
None of it was ever coming back.
Dreading and despairing she feels the hours passing, feels the slow drain of her energy as her body lays on the reddened and mealy sand. Kicking weakly and straining, her eyes widen in horror as pain stirs in her body: as agony seizes her.
Like a hot, brandishes piece of metal she feels her skin erupting: feels the weight becoming less and the whole of her form suddenly wet with something warm and viscous.
For the briefest second she is able to look down and see the gore and offal, the viscera spreading from the wound on her belly.
Opened and ruined, she begins to fade faster and without end, the light dimming around her eyes and her mouth moving as she sees the wet form of her child spasming and kicking… coming to life where death is so readily surrounding her.
“Myrkari,” she whispers, and the child looks at her with vibrant eyes and it’s raptor-like feet digging into the sand. “Your name is Myrkari.” she coughs.
Ilyena dies.
The Filly’s eyes roll over her corpse and the mess around her: the claws still fresh with tissue.
Rising to her feet she looks around, the soft red fur and wispy blonde hair all coated in the mess and she shivers; but unlike the hooves of this creature she has come from… Myrkari notices immediately that her feet end in leathery skin that covers four toes… all with sharp talons.
Flexing her steps, she grasps and plucks- tears at the corpse, out of morbid curiosity.
Wordless and without idea of where to go she steps forward and suddenly feels a lightness, an intangibility about her: through a tree and a bush she phases and stops.
And she ponders, unaware of where to go.
@[Jassal] if you wanna send her to the adoption ground or she can go on her own.
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Rest in Peace Ilyena. Created 2002ish and survived until 2018.
Long live the last of her children... her own murderer: Myrkari.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
It stinks of rot and ruin, of bitterness and of death.
She inhales it, and it tastes like the sweetest of delights: like the first drink of water after thirst. Her body is eased by the chill, and the muscles relax when all the world seems to grow silent… cold, and comfortable.
Ilyena is unremembered, uncared for, and without security for the creature moving within her swollen abdomen. She mires at the thought of a different time, at the memories of the Taiga and Sylva: of Gryffen and all the world she had come from.
None of it was ever coming back.
Dreading and despairing she feels the hours passing, feels the slow drain of her energy as her body lays on the reddened and mealy sand. Kicking weakly and straining, her eyes widen in horror as pain stirs in her body: as agony seizes her.
Like a hot, brandishes piece of metal she feels her skin erupting: feels the weight becoming less and the whole of her form suddenly wet with something warm and viscous.
For the briefest second she is able to look down and see the gore and offal, the viscera spreading from the wound on her belly.
Opened and ruined, she begins to fade faster and without end, the light dimming around her eyes and her mouth moving as she sees the wet form of her child spasming and kicking… coming to life where death is so readily surrounding her.
“Myrkari,” she whispers, and the child looks at her with vibrant eyes and it’s raptor-like feet digging into the sand. “Your name is Myrkari.” she coughs.
Ilyena dies.
The Filly’s eyes roll over her corpse and the mess around her: the claws still fresh with tissue.
Rising to her feet she looks around, the soft red fur and wispy blonde hair all coated in the mess and she shivers; but unlike the hooves of this creature she has come from… Myrkari notices immediately that her feet end in leathery skin that covers four toes… all with sharp talons.
Flexing her steps, she grasps and plucks- tears at the corpse, out of morbid curiosity.
Wordless and without idea of where to go she steps forward and suddenly feels a lightness, an intangibility about her: through a tree and a bush she phases and stops.
And she ponders, unaware of where to go.
@[Jassal] if you wanna send her to the adoption ground or she can go on her own.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Rest in Peace Ilyena. Created 2002ish and survived until 2018.
Long live the last of her children... her own murderer: Myrkari.
-------------------------------------------------------------------