 The day is worn. Thin and gathering great speed into a darkness ahead. It is getting heavy and unsteady on its feet. Great yawning mouths of darkness in the woods on either side of her expose the teeth and gums of nocturnal life — lightening bugs and their eerie, self-emitting glow, prying eyes reflecting low light. Angry. Hungry. Newly awoken from seasonal slumber and emaciated. Above, stars poke holes in the cold blue-black universe. A vast expanse of wild and wayward spacestuff, hurtling at incomprehensible speeds.
***She blinks slowly. (The sky is bright. Brighter than any day. A plane of wildfire, singeing the tops of trees, turning the world around her to ash. She inhales, but there is no oxygen, all of it stolen by some infernal body, consuming and reconstituting their atmosphere. And then the flames overtake everything. Goodnight.)
She shakes her head. The world is cold and greyscales again, dampened from melt water and exposing, with no sentimentality, the well preserved carcasses of winter's purge. Spring is their great unveiling. Thrusting into their hands the harvests of their own sowing. Newborns, encased in birthing sacks, a great maternal feast; bones, still rife with good meat to be picked. There is shame, and for some delight, in the peeling of that snow cover. For her, it is a velvet curtain exposing a great stage — babies dropped like parasites in the unforgiving light of day, scars and trauma. A great drama after the tedium of eking out survival.
She has followed Eyes with a narrow, searing suspicion. Lengthening her strides now and again to sidle up beside him, craning her thin neck to get a look at those milky and useless organs. Then she falls back, muttering under her breath. (Maybe Eyes is a hound?) “That's ridiculous,” She growls quietly into the chill, night air, “don't be stupid.” She curls around jack pines, moving off the path to test the air for scent. It is confused and over-saturated. Her brain revolts the overstimulation, suddenly a-flush with whispers and cracking sounds like electricity. The red mare snorts, moving swifter, away from Eyes and pressing through the throng of sweet smelling trees and past into open air. Breathing heavy for a moment like a spooked animal, she smooths her features and rolls her curved head.
***Aurane inhales, nostrils flaring and revealing soft pink. Black-bown eyes glossed over with a feigned sweetness. It is wide and syrupy. Never meant to be taken seriously, and bleeding around its edges, like an infection ready to run its course, a thrum of chaos. A pulse of animus.
Aurane.
****Death makes angels of us all, and gives us wings
where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claw. |
lines and shading
by bronzehalo
X
 He didn't find it was his acclimate to pay attention to details, instead, talk, and watch for the results. this time, though not unpleasant to say the least, the results were in his favor. Straia would have to be pleased with this, even if he was practically useless, the once abhorred thing had brought a another to their borders. Stupidity is for the weak minded He adds, almost a side thought, words scraping in his mouth. Eh sheh could make of it what she would, but it was a simple mindless comment all the same. Something to fill the silence. After all he only had his nose to go by. Luckily his trip to the field had been short, so he was able to pick up his scent, and... so to speak, follow himself home.
It seems the lady is easily spooked though, for when the beat of the land pulses in his ears, she takes off. He does nothing but continue at his pace. He would have never noticed if she had stared into his milky orbs the entire way just simply look straight ahead keeping his footing steady. You ok there? He was sure he was brushing her the wrong way with that remark, but hell with that. The skeleton of a creature would offer the service he could, and information was one of his primary resources.
As soon as they cross the border, he pauses for a moment cocking his head to the side listening for others, before they would continue to meander through the pine trees, and brush. Welcome to the Chamber it seemed to him that with the whisper, his voice was smooth, almost lyrical. Maybe he could learn to use the damn thing well after all. Thanh idk things reasons
She smiles, a wry and crooked smirk. Stupidity is the weak minded. (Hear that, Eyes thinks you're weak.) She makes a sarcastic ‘hmm’ sound through the twitch of her tight, dark lips, (maybe Eyes thinks too much). “I could not agree more...” She lifts her nose high, testing the scents again, but the stimulation is no more dulled — smoke and horseflesh, sweet pine sap, the damp musk of earth, moss and decomposition.
***(This place will do just fine.)
***(This place is burning.)
Her eyes snap back to Eyes, catching the glint of moonlight. “Fine. Only, this place smells like fucking fire and sweat,” She moves back to her escort, she cannot see herself in the bright glint of his eyes. “Have you brought me to Hell, E--?” Aurane snorts, pulling her chin into her thin chest. “Now how ever so rude. You know my name, boy. But I don't know yours. Before I come up with something...” She giggles, the sound perverted somewhere between her thought processes and her lips. It is grim. “Quiet was not so pleased,” She mutters, shrugging and turning again to observe the darkness.
Heavy bodies of fog skirt around the copses of sharp-needled trees, their particles catching the faint glow from the moon. (They come together, growing dense and hostile, into unholy shapes. Their mouths yawn open exposing toothless gapes.) Aurane turns away, these predatory ghouls dispersing as fast as they condensed. “What of this Chamber of fire then?” She turns her dark eyes to him, her voice full of a feigned, girlish, excitement and gossip, “Who's who, and what's what?!”
Aurane.
****Death makes angels of us all, and gives us wings
where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claw. |
lines and shading
by bronzehalo
X
His smile curls on his lips. they are almost there, she would see flamed ravens flying over head soon enough. She speaks, she runs she snaps, and then its his turn once more. Yes those things happen often here I am told. He draws closer to her, never missing a step, this path was well known to him. He knew every hazerd, every dangerous cranny, and bump in the path. So he is easily able to keep his pace without fear.
She keeps talking, keeps moving, doesn't stop and he finds it all very intertaining. When she brings up his name his head turns in the dirrection that he believes her voice to be coming from. oh but I was so enjoying Eyes, call me what you will. I'll enjoy it I am sure. He pushes his muzzle against her shoulder just as she had pushed hers into his chest once before.
They continue to walk the flames crackling can be heard at this point and he snorts at the dust in the air. I never remember calling it flaming; hell, possibly, depends on whos talking. His glassy voice stops once more. With a crinkle of his lips they split open blood trickling down them to the stuble on his chin. He swings his body to the right taking them down the path that would lead them to the open area where the sole tree burned and the Ravens rested. Its simple really, there is Erebor, straia's son, and straia the queen. Other then that the rest of us are just a part of this land of this kingdom, though it would be a good idea for you to decide what caste you are interested in. Especially since there are rumors of war happening. he stops when they get to the edge of the clearing starring blankly into the distance, a little curious about his new found enjoyment of the females company. Thanh idk things reasons
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