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the voices of the dead - Iris - 09-02-2020 stars, hide your fire; iris @[laura] if you want to and @[Ciel] character RE: the voices of the dead - Ereshkigal - 09-02-2020 幻想 Ereshkigal For most, the coming of dawn was like the promise of adventure, a day to do new things and meet new faces. For Ereshkigal though, dawn was akin to a trumpet of death, a light that shone only on the plain and uneventful world. It did not bring her joy, nor did it give her any hopes of new encounters. Dawn meant she had to wake up, she had to leave her dreams behind and suffer through reality, it meant she had to deal with other living beings who talked too much and had too much free thought; whereas she would rather stay in her dreams where everything went according to her own plans, and no one spoke to her unless she so desired. Try as she may, Ereshkigal could not fall back asleep, even with the warmth of her mother's side, the sun still rose to spite her and she could no longer cover herself from its annoying presence. Steadily and swiftly, she collected herself and stood, she had already learned much grace from her mother, and was expected to carry herself elegantly, lest she sully the appearance of her mother and herself in one uncalculated step. Quietly and calmly, she made her way down to the playground, hoping for something exciting - though her expectations were low to say the least. The morning dew still clung to her small, delicate wings, creating the illusion that perhaps they were more whimsical than they actually were in their current state, having just been born a day or so prior to the quiet morning. As she pushed her way through a few small bushes, she paused to observe the space before her; and, as she had expected, it was rather dull. In her dreams, the skies were made of wonderful purples and the ground itself of clouds and stars, or sometimes the sky was lit with fire as she stood atop a mountain of those who were weak in will. Here though, here in reality, things were so plain. The grass was just grass, the sky was the pale hue of morning, and the only thing that glimmered were the dew drops on the foliage and the scattered ponds in the distance. The others who played here also seemed plain, glancing only for a moment at a darker figure in the distance. The small filly let out a disappointed sigh, closing her eyes to relieve herself of the sight of the uncreative world around her which lacked the magic she so desired. You're like therapy with no solution 催眠 You're a remedy that's useless チョウ @[Iris] RE: the voices of the dead - Iris - 09-07-2020 stars, hide your fire; iris @[Ereshkigal] RE: the voices of the dead - Ereshkigal - 09-24-2020 幻想 Ereshkigal Her mother had told her before that she could not always stay in her dreams, that eventually she would need to learn to take control of reality. The butterfly kissed filly found herself having trouble being interested at all, though. What point was there to dwelling in reality, when dreams felt so much nicer? Not only that, but in her dreams, her mother was not there. In her dreams, Chou could not scold her for laughter, or nag at her about paying attention. In her dreams, she could run away. And so, in her mind, she ran. Eyes still shut, she let her mind wander off, daydreaming of a world made of endless skies, flying with wings larger than she had in reality. She dreamt of swirling through the clouds, their soft pillows dragging behind her as she whisked away through the wind. Here, it felt safe, it felt free. Here, she knew that no one could reach her. It was all just a daydream, though, and in reality, she was still very vulnerable. A small ache began to grow within her stomach, and slowly the physical discomfort brought her mind back down to reality with her body, snapping her out of her little fantasy. Ereshkigal groaned as the pain grew a bit, shifting on her legs before laying down, hoping to ease the discomfort with a moment of rest. She dare not run to her mother, for she feared that she would recieve scolding words for getting sickly so early, and waking her mother from her rest. Chou was not the kindest of mares, she made sure that Ereshkigal stayed alive and warm, but that was it. The only thing her mother cared about teaching her is how to manipulate, how to get what she wanted. She knew she would recieve no kindness over a small belly ache, so she lay there on the damp morning grass, shifting and cringing as the pain whirled in her small stomach. You're like therapy with no solution 催眠 You're a remedy that's useless チョウ @[Iris] RE: the voices of the dead - Iris - 09-28-2020 stars, hide your fire; iris @[Ereshkigal] RE: the voices of the dead - Ereshkigal - 10-03-2020 幻想 Ereshkigal Ereshkigal's head hung low, the grass tickling her lips while her eyes remained tightly shut in discomfort. The ache in her stomach did not fade, no matter how still she tried to be. Pale ears pricked towards the sound of small hoofbeats coming towards her, and a groan of annoyance escaped her as she silently prayed it was not the figure she'd seen earlier. A call came towards her, and as she looked towards the source of the sound, she was quickly disappointed as her eyes settled on the being approaching her. Ereshkigal's blue eyes held no kindness within them as she glared at the other, her lips pulling into a scowl. "It's only a stomach ache, I'm fine." Her reply was short and blunt, though her mother had always told her to speak sweetly no matter the situation, she cared not for practicing her manipulative, sugar coating voice. A twinge of pain quickly replaced her angry features, twisting in pain as a pathetic whimper escaped her lips. Her thoughts were racing, wondering how she could get rid of this feeling, or at least think of an excuse to tell her mother to justify disturbing her so early. A small part of her longed for her mother's affection, wishing her mother would speak softly to her in earnest. She knew though that truthfully, that honey-coated voice was laced with arsenic intentions. She could plead her mother for honesty, and the truth would spear her small spirit anyways, so she did not try. Shaking herself of her thoughts, she glared towards the other filly once again, her frustration growing at the other's presence. "Perhaps it's your existence that sickens me." Her own voice was filled with venom, clearly annoyed as she attempted to stand and leave, only to buckle back down to the ground as the discomfort in her stomach took hold again. You're like therapy with no solution 催眠 You're a remedy that's useless チョウ RE: the voices of the dead - Iris - 10-16-2020 stars, hide your fire; iris @[Ereshkigal] |