[private] Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Forest (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=73) +---- Thread: [private] Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. (/showthread.php?tid=18340) Pages:
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Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Kagerus - 02-19-2018 Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls. Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost. It gets too much, sometimes. (As if it's ever been manageable.) I find myself wandering further and further away from the light, my eyes hurting, the sinner inside of me cowering in the presence of that which condemns it. (Or else, you're wandering closer and closer to the dark: to that which you are destined for.) Recruiting, being with Solace, even spending time with father - I can only go on for so long before I must retire to the shadows. Either with Khaedrik or Rapt, or someone new like Zosma - but most of the time, by myself. With the only company that at once understands me, and does not. (You stubborn girl, holding on to ideals and ideologies that you have outgrown. Shed your childish innocence. It's looking more like tattered rags than anything moral ought to.) I'm here again, in the forest. Looking for someone maybe, or maybe not. Surrounded by trees to which I have no connection, but which envelop my mottled figure nonetheless, claiming me, marking me as one of their own: a shadow-dweller. A black-sheep in my family of lights and neutrals... Or perhaps they are the black-sheep in a family of darklings. There is a small clearing ahead, and I blink at it; the moon illuminates the area, and the contrasting light is shocking to behold. Thinking of my recent encounter with Kagerou, in the white vapors of Hyaline's mountaintops, I decide to approach: to see if maybe, just maybe some tendril of her being will meet me there. I slip into the silvery area lightly, a wraith in the cool autumn night. As I lower my head to graze and be reverent of Kagerou's calm, peaceful spirit, something strange happens. Atop my mottled bay-and-white coat, markings begin to shimmer. The moonlight, strong and unhindered by clouds, reveals the gift that my grandmother bestowed upon me: clouded leopard spots, spread all across my body, visible only in the moonlight, the light beneath which we met. Perhaps it is because of these markings that he approaches. Kagerus sweet nothing @[Shelbi] this is absolute garbage, enjoy RE: Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Rodrik - 02-25-2018
RE: Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Kagerus - 02-26-2018 Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls. Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost. I, too, am someone who faded away. My father even more so - it seems to run in the family - but what makes us remarkable is the re-materializing, the seeming immortality, the stubborn refusal to meet with death despite his constant knocking. I am only beginning to truly understand this facet of myself, seeing it in the way my body remains youthful and spritely, no matter how mature I become in both mind and years. He, however, has a very different body to look upon; a body that seems almost to wish it wasn't immortal. A corporeal contradiction, though in truth it coincides perfectly with his nature - a nature I have heard of from his brother, my father, though only in short and tense phrases. Kavi preferred to highlight my uncle's love for his family, and the man he was in his youth - skimming over the more current attitude held by the elusive, seemingly immaterial stallion. It is the sound of his voice that alerts me of his presence, catching me off guard yet again, throwing in my face just how much time I spend inside my own mind. My head snaps to attention and pivots to find his figure, blasted in moonlight, illuminating his ever disfigurement and gore-ridden scrap of flesh. The whites of my eyes show as I step away from him, my senses telling me to flee -- -- But that is the light in me, and in truth, the darkness has begun to take over. Flaring my nostrils and attempting to slow the rate of my heart, I replace my hooves, stepping closer to the stallion. One does not often forget a face such as his, a voice such as him, one such as him... But with my new markings, and the way I have grown since he met me as a child, I do not blame him for forgetting. I was forgettable, then. "Uncle Rodrik," I say evenly, if a little quietly, as the nighttime often begs of us shadow-crawlers. "It's me, Kagerus. Your niece." I take another step forward, not smiling, but with a newfound heartfeltness in my eyes, a kind of longing and trust that truthfully is misplaced in the chestnut devil. But I do not question the ingenuity I feel when looking at him - just as my brother, and their mother, never did either. "It's been some time since you last resurfaced..." Kagerus sweet nothing RE: Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Rodrik - 03-05-2018
RE: Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Kagerus - 03-06-2018 Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls. Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost. Where his options are life and death, I have a third - dreams. Ones that I am addicted to, that leave me with withdrawals after going too long without. If he could have this third option, I wonder what he would pick - would it still be life? Or would it be a realm where anything is possible - but not real. Never real. Not for long, anyway. He had accepted the call, one that I have heard so often now too, it's voice filled with a knowing glee that leaves me sick and hungry all at once. I can see before me the very consequences of having accepted such a life, one where the thirst is stronger than any drink can quench... I can see it in his tattered red skin, in the black of his eyes, in the way he holds himself. And yet I see more in him too. For as he speaks, it is softly, and not in a menacing way; in a way that invites me to step closer, to ease into his personal space, comforted by this familial devil. He and Kavi are the same that way, at least in moments like these: inexplicably inviting. Except that it makes sense on Kavi - he is the essence of light and purity. Rodrik, though. Perhaps there is purity in the darkness, too. "I'm honoured to be the one who welcomes you back, Uncle," I murmur, smiling as he does, a shiver running over me as I recognize the expression as my father's - and as my own. But on his face, it is somehow more important - as if I shouldn't look away for its entire duration. But I lower my eyes at his final comment, not blushing but something close to it. For one such as him - a master, though of what I couldn't tell you - to say such a thing... It, too, is important. "Thank you. I only recently acquired the spots..." I pause, open my mouth, close it again, not sure how to tell him that I shared an embrace with his mother not a year ago. His dead mother, but - she had been real, too. And not a dream. "I was able to speak with Kagerou not long ago. She wanted you to know that she loves you." It's a falsehood, she hadn't been able to speak - but I could see the words in her nutmeg eyes, identical to mine. It's a falsehood I am happy to bear. Slowly, as if it might take minutes, an expression of dark intrigue and curiosity overcomes my pretty face. My eyes are continually snagged on the painful wounds adorning my uncle, distracting me not because of their gore, but because of the way they glisten in the moonlight. My tongue flashes across my lips. I am thirsty. "Uncle..." I tilt my head, squint at him quizzically, wondering if he can sense the occult in me, too. "Do you trust me?" Kagerus sweet nothing I always love it when you ghost back for a few threads Shelbi. You truly are a master at writing. I am always so humbled when I get to word with you. <3 RE: Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Rodrik - 03-10-2018
Aw, thank you I really love writing Rodrik. It's so good to write with you again <3 Seriously getting so much muse for him right now, haha. RE: Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Kagerus - 03-10-2018 Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls. Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost. Funny, that his own breed of darkness prevents him from dreaming, whereas my own chastises me for doing anything but. Such intricate things, these demons of ours, catering to the complex fibers that combine to make us us. Like little handmade dolls, molded to sit perfectly just behind our withers, always guiding our eyes, guiding our legs, guiding the decisions we make. The weight behind my shoulders is heavy as I gaze at him; daring me to back down now. His face (bloody, as he has often left others), is free of tears, but I do not miss how they pool ever so slightly in his bruise-dark eyes. I loved her, too. As if he cannot continue to, even after death. The light in me balks at this, demands that he change his tense, spiraling as I imagine my own father perishing. Would I cease to love him, then? The good left inside of me screams no. Screams that Rodrik is wrong to have loved his mother. But I am not here because of the good inside of me. That girl lost control long ago, and I shove her pitiful, mewling voice to the side. I will love who I will love. And Rodrik can do the same. Yes, I trust you. I step forward, closing the distance between us. Our eyes catch, and the hue of mine darkens. "Then close your eyes." My mouth presses to his shoulder the moment he obliges me, and instantly there is a terrible sensation of falling. I grit my teeth against the weightless feeling, stepping closer to Rodrik so that I do not break contact with his mutilated skin. I don't dare open my eyes to view the portal that leads me to the dream-world, knowing that it could distract me into losing my subject in the Abyss. Our centers of gravity are suddenly reestablished, and I break our connection with a loud gasp. "...You said you trusted me," I rasp, chest heaving. "Don't go back on that now." Tearing my eyes from his, I take in our surroundings (always a surprise to me, although I can manipulate them). Beneath our hooves, pebbles are strewn, broken rock sculptures dotting the barren landscape. My eyes strain to see farther than several yards, a thick fog handicapping our peripheral vision - as dreams are wont to do. I slide a hoof forward, ears perked, wondering what else there -- -- There is before us, suddenly, a small obelisk, about twice or three times our height. I frown at its materialization, glancing back to Rodrik to gauge his reaction. When I look back to the structure, its surface is no longer rock, but instead a non-material holograph across which images rapidly fly. I catch sight of a jungle, a mountain, a river, a mare, blood. My breath curls around my face as I step closer to Rodrik. "Lead the way." Kagerus sweet nothing Uh so, welcome to dream land: think Treasure Planet/Marnia kinda deal :| My purpose was to get Rodrik exactly where he didn't want to be lol, without wounds and maybe in the Chamber or the Jungle, wherever honestly. Rodrik has control over the dream as well (because Kag magic) so feel free to do, manipulate, change, etc, whatever you want. > Also Kag can bring up the image of any horse as long she she's seen them or if Rodrik has seen them. I.e Kagerou or Rayelle orrrr one of the people he killed... > RE: Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Rodrik - 03-18-2018
@[Kagerus] RE: Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Kagerus - 03-28-2018 Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls. Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost. He steps towards the obelisk worshipfully: lips slightly parted, eyes reflecting its images (or perhaps his eyes project the images onto the obelisk). My own eyes are tethered to him, enraptured by the way his breathing slows as if to a halt, by the way I can taste the adrenaline in his blood on the buds of my tongue. I have taken others to this land of dreams - but none before could come close to providing the rush of foreign energy that abides in him: Rodrik. Come, his voice softly calls. He needn't call. As he steps into the holograph, I step with him, pressing myself to him once more, closing my eyes as I feel my magic pulled from me by the thoughts that become semi-reality. The sensation of having my magic channelled through another being sends a shiver down my spine, as it always has, as it always will: like a two hands pulling out the lining of my stomach in strips from my mouth, causing nerves inside to fire as they never have, sliding through my esophagus and over my tongue until those too come unraveled. Alien. And then, the pulling stops; the cavity where my stomach once was slowly refills; and his voice comes to me again. We are here. Inhaling, my eyes flutter open, and the first thing I see is his smile. (Not the flowers or the birds, nor the Jungle where I too grew up, not the family whose scent is in the air, not any of it: just his smile, the light in his eyes... Nutmeg.) "I came to live here when I was a half-yearling," I murmur in reply, smiling back at the red stallion; but something is out of place. Here, in our home, his rotting skin seems out of place - and so with a blink, I sew his flesh together again, weaving the fibers of his being into its original design until he stands before me, both of us as youthful as two-year olds, immortal in the truest way. "The Jungle was my home, too, Uncle." The statement is not possessive, but empathetic; linking us; melding our souls. Before averting my eyes from his rare and beautiful smile, I step closer until our skin touches; then, I peer at our new surroundings. Ah, the Jungle; my hear leaps at its gnarled, rooted footing, at the vines that snag and pull, at the trees so thick that only dappled sunlight glimmers through their foliage. My nostrils flare and suddenly to our left, the tree-hollow that Kavi raised me in appears. Grinning, I separate from Rodrik and trot to investigate, ducking inside of the dwelling and nosing around at the ground, smelling my childhood self, and my more youthful father (though even then he had been middle aged at best). Yes, my memories here are nearly strictly good; but as I come out of the hollow and meet Rodrik's eyes again, I falter. Perhaps not all of his memories here are as wholesome as mine. The Jungle flickers around us, as if buffering, in response to my mental misstep; but the image refocuses, and my smile returns to its place. "It smells like our family, here," I allow when our sides touch again. "You knew them far better than I ever will." Kagerus sweet nothing @[Rodrik] RE: Out with the golden we sew // Rodrik. - Rodrik - 04-30-2018
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