[private] on the brink - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Live (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=17) +--- Forum: Pangea (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=89) +--- Thread: [private] on the brink (/showthread.php?tid=26207) |
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on the brink - Beyza - 02-17-2020
@[greta] NOT MUCH but it's a starter <3 RE: on the brink - greta - 02-18-2020 @[Beyza] This is JUST what I needed <3 GRETA I once held your soldier heart between my war teeth; shook it like a dog with a bone until it knew the fear of good love. " Do you remember? " As of yet, Greta knew nothing. She knew the delirious desires of her Father, to lock her away as a plaything, to deride her of any true connection or happiness. She knew the leathery and luscious cocoon of Ghaul’s wings. She knew the harsh reality that this world was never hers for the picking. Somehow, she knew that there was no decision for her here - no real roost to call her own. She somehow knew that despite what she ached for, wished for, dreamed for - she would always be bidden to His desires. Greta has not been here again for long. Finally, finally, He had released her from that glass globe of torture. Finally, He had decided he was bored, and she could be released to Beqanna again. And so she came - the only place she knew of (and how ironic it was that it was a land He once came to himself). She had no where (no one) else. And so here, it was. She knew no one, save Gaul (and Him, of course). But Ghaul could not always be there. And so he sent her off, with a nudge and a nod of assurance that she would be safe. Here, it was just her. No Him, no walls of fortitude, no glass cage to throw herself against. Here, in Pangea, she was free to roam and do as she pleased (a grateful and wonderful thing). She finds herself today carefully perusing her surroundings (one can never be too careful when it comes to surroundings). Her head is down, her wings (so unused and feeble, a flight never found in them) draping the ground, causing small ruts where she once was. There is so much to see, so much to discover and delight (so vast and different from the globe she once lived). And there over the crest of the leaf strewn and spattered hill- a light. Bright and blinding - a fearsome thing, an omen of nothing pleasant. That blinding light that decided He was close, He was here. (But - why? Why this time did He opt for white and light, not dark and diminshing) Her body is taut and tense, her wings succumb to her sides tight and drawn. He would not take her again - not so soon, so near. “No!” From inside her lithe and little body she finds a peel of disobedience. A reckless call against the shadowy form she can figure out from the halo of brilliance. “I won’t go back again! You cannot make me!” She can’t, she will not. (And a fool she is to think she has a choice). And the light - it hurts so much, she can hardly open her eyes. It feels as if her skin is blistering, her mouth dry, her very existence ready to burn and burnish. Was this His intent? To not only force her into submission, but to wrack her senses and sense of self too? How cruel the might of magicians can be. RE: on the brink - Beyza - 02-21-2020
@[greta] |