"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
devils speak of the ways in which she'll manifest; angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress.
It's time to grow up, little girl.
No more parading through life with blinders on, unaware of anything but your own destruction. It's time to wake up and understand the wrath you helped to bring to the land. Of course she is unaware of the details - she fell asleep. She was passed out. She killed her mother, unleashed the magic for the plague, soiled her heart, and fell to the ground asleep. How sad is that? Our killer, our catalyst, our destruction - she is to blame and she is unawares.
But something grows hot and heavy in her heart, the chaos she helped bring left a smarting mark on her normally flawless heart. She'd been a loving child, trusting to a fault, friendly. Outgoing. She'd been what any mother would want of a daughter. Instead she had Harmonia for a mother - cruel, vile woman - and look what it created. Another sniveling evil child, one with snake scales on her legs and control of disease and pestilence. Look what she is - evil. Like you. Are you happy now?
Part of growing up is stopping the ceaseless wandering she'd done since Pangea fell into the ocean all those years ago. She is dimly aware that it's back - she's been there. She did the deed there. She sowed the seed there. Now? Now she travels the field, wandering aimlessly, killing flowers here and there with her defunct magic. She might not be THE plague, but she is A plague. And she's free for the taking.
11-09-2018, 04:47 PM (This post was last modified: 11-12-2018, 03:16 PM by Sinner.)
The destruction that came with the plague brought chaos and confusion. Many fled their homes for the safety of keeping away from the sickness. Many would lose themselves within the chaos and lose the ones they loved. Their homes would be abandoned and left to those that challenged the disease that spread like wildfire to claim it for their own, while those who left their homes would find safety within the new lands.
Within the chaos of the plague, came opportunity.
He did not waste a moment in finding his way towards snatching the crown of the autumn forest. While death of the passing king, Arthas, brought him what he had patiently waited for, it was something to be celebrated. The kingship had always been his when Loess decided to expand their reach across Beqanna, but it would never truly be theirs. Sylva was not for the weak-minded. It was for the monsters that roamed Beqanna—the evil that swept across the land.
The black hound is not commended to the disease that the plague spreads across Beqanna. He is part of the chaos that brought the epidemic—a catalyst in the destruction. Many had played their own parts to bring the outbreak though. Some may feel guilty for what they have done, but he does not feel one ounce of guilt for the sins he has made.
He is a sinner after all.
Sinner is what they, the demons from hell, have called him.
Leaving the autumn forest is something he might have done when seeking the thrill of the hunt, but the crown brought on more responsibilities. It was a price that must be paid to grow a thriving kingdom. Sinner was not careless with the things he wanted, and he ensured the effort would be put into place to get what he wanted.
He always got what he wanted in the end.
The field calls the dark beast forward from the dark shadows of the forest. He prowls forward in his hellhound form. Hollowed eyes flicker across the open-wide field. It is rather empty, but he does not except it to be filled with life as the plague consumes the entire land of Beqanna. However, a familiar face graces the field this day.
Sinner does not hold himself back from approaching the smoky black mare. He remembers clearly the day they met at the river. The day she had been a sad for losing a friend, but the concept of grieving for someone or even caring for someone is still entirely foreign to the hellhound.
“Hello,” he greets warmly as any dark creature could.
He carefully stops himself in a comfortable distance from the mare. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” But neither did many of his victims think they would ever see him again. Sinner licks his lips lightly before proceeding. “Let alone out here. Are you not afraid of the plague?” Everyone seemed to feel uncomfortable with the disease that spread, but he is simply enjoying the haunting silence it has brought all across of Beqanna.
Sinner
angels banished from heaven have no choice but to become devils
devils speak of the ways in which she'll manifest; angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress.
She recognizes the hellhound from their brief meeting all that time ago - it feels like decades, really, if not centuries since she was that sad little girl. Blaming herself for Longclaw's death. Now look at her - kickstarting a plague, murdering her mother. It's been a busy few weeks for the snake scaled girl and her new army boot like personality. No more girl next door - she's tasted blood, and found out she liked it. Where there was once nothing but compassion and empathy ... well, she's jaded now.
The hellhound says hello to her, and she cannot help but smile. He is interesting the same way Longclaw was interesting. Beqanna is nothing but a sea of traits and strange designs. Each design is more terrifying than the one before, for Beqanna is nothing but a collection of little monsters. She smiles because his particular brand of monster appeals to her in a way she didn't realize it ever would. Shapeshifter! What a strange creation indeed.
Are you not afraid of the plague? She could laugh.
With the smallest inclination of her head she lets the pestilence loose - a single tendril of her skill, her newfound control, to target the flowers near her feet. They wither and die, a slow and awful death, and she reigns the disease back in. With a quick motion she stamps on the flowers with her hoof and turns her gaze to the hound. "Should I be?" she asks.
11-25-2018, 12:34 AM (This post was last modified: 11-25-2018, 02:53 AM by Sinner.)
there is but one rule hunt or be hunted
There is something different about her, he notices. Something about the way she looks at him with those eyes. Eyes that had once held a great sadness, a grief that could last a lifetime. But there no longer is grief within those eyes.
She greets him with a smile. A smile that could surely be mistaken for friendliness, but the curve of her lips giving something more. There is something new there—a new beginning. A darkness he did not fathom ever being there.
He is a creature of darkness too. Just as she has always been one within. There was no denying the darkness inside, even at birth the darkness is born in you. It only needs a push. A gentle nourishment in order to fully blossom into something more. Something dark, but entirely beautiful.
The hellhound peers at her curiously. He does not keep a stoic expression like always, but allows his curiosity to be freely shown. Sinner felt no threat towards the black mare; however, some would say he should.
She destroys without little effort—a master of her skill.
A destroyer, many would call her.
But she is a giver of life, to him.
His dark, hollowed gaze follows the flowers that fall at her hooves. Watching as each flower withers and dies slowly. She then pulls the disease out of the flowers, bringing life back into them. He bites his lip in awe, but he does not conceal his amusement from her.
The black mare then stomps on the flowers, and he returns his gaze back to her as well. A mischief expression fills his eyes as his lips curl into a large, wide wolfish smile. “My, my,” he says, still clearly amused by the display of her power and skill, “Looks are truly deceiving indeed. I would never have thought of you capable of such a thing.” He had underestimated the power of a crying girl struck with grief that day he met at the river. She was capable of more, more than he could hardly anticipate.
“You have nothing to fear from the plague, of course. The question is: What are you going to do while the plague bleeds the rest of Beqanna dry?” The hound does not miss a beat. He will be quick to slice to the questions. Time was short, and while the rest of the kingdoms and population scrambled together he planned to build up.
