"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
04-11-2024, 05:30 PM (This post was last modified: 04-27-2024, 12:25 PM by Deiti.)
My time tied to the sea had been eye opening to say the least. I had traveled to depths that my earthly lungs could not endure. A world apart in all ways to the shores in which I seek now. My plaything had departed some time ago. If he stayed in the depths or left for the air I do not recall.
Now I must return to the land and continue my search to find a new home. Even though Baltia would be a good fit for my Kelpie self, there is a part of me still longing for connection to my equus self.
I swim lazily towards the sandy shores as dusk begins to take hold. My elegant, finned tail swishes casually as my head breaks the surface to see my trajectory. A new scenery lays ahead. One of bright pastel colors of almost a fantasy like presence. My mind muses what kind of life flourishes here. Perhaps the fairies dwell elsewhere than just the Mountain.
As I enter the shallows my forelimbs pull my aquatic form closer to the shoreline. When the sandy bottom finally makes contact with my tail I begin my transformation. Gone is the fish like appendage and replacing it is my equine hindquarters. I lower my delicate face to the cool aqua at my hooves. A soft snort rattles from my chest as my sapphire blue eyes scan the area.
Reaching the sandy coast, I begin to walk casually along the sunset beach. I take note of the bursts of colors muted by the setting of the sun and the familiarity of it to my underwater home. Often cast more dreary by the awkward sunlight beneath the water's surface.
A soft breeze picks up as the sky darkens, tousling my ebony mane against my scaled skin. Without the warming rays of light, a chill begins to seep into my bones. My eyes cast ahead to search for a shelter for the evening, but instead I find a faint glow seemingly floating upon the winds. My movements stop as I watch with suspicion. The lantern fish of the depths would tempt unsuspecting prey to their gaping jaws with such sorcery. My right ear flicks backwards, soon followed by my left. The creature within me creeps forward. I would not be a moth to the flame tonight...
D
eiti
A God's Creation | Carnage X Dynast
Land quest thread
@ Everclear I'm not sure where the last bit came from but I'm rolling with it XD
04-26-2024, 11:03 AM (This post was last modified: 04-26-2024, 01:24 PM by Everclear.)
EVERCLEAR
-- a dreamer neither lost nor found ;
The relative peace of the world is a welcome respite, in Everclear’s mind. While calm and quiet are all he’d known before, even during the plague (he had not fallen ill or been a carrier of the disease, miraculously untouched), they are equally all he has ever strived to know.
Conflict does not suit him.
As such, he has always sought peace, has always sought to soothe the hearts of others when evil seemed to grip them too tightly. Perhaps it had been foolish of him to think himself capable of persuading such crooked wills to divert and reform – after all, it rarely seemed to work – but his efforts would never waver.
It is all he has ever wanted since the day he’d come to serve Heaven’s Gates so long ago. To be worthy of the home he devoted himself to, to become the ‘angel’ that Spyglass had called him. Perhaps that is why the fairy-foal had given him the halo which now adorns him, a crown of light in the fading dusk around him. She hadn’t been able to help him with his larger desire of protecting his home, but perhaps she had started him in the right direction.
If only she could have given him the full power, the true angelic strength to inspire others, to quell the anger and dispel suppositions of weakness that more invasive forces often harbored toward the Gates.
Then, at least, he might truly be capable of safeguarding the kingdom as he so longs to do.
For now, he is only left with these thoughts and hopes. He wanders the land alone, quieted by his contemplation and minor reverie of times long past. The sun has begun to settle for the evening, taking with it the general birdcalls and gentle winds to be replaced by quiet, breathy breezes and the soft chorus of the oncoming night.
For a while the muffled padding of his footfalls in the sand is all he hears alongside the lapping of the ocean on the shore. The darkened beach around him is gilded vaguely with the golden light from his new ornament and the whisper of grasses moving in the salty dunes hardly catches his notice at all. It’s only when something larger and darker becomes apparent against the bluish backdrop of his surroundings that Everclear blinks and lifts his head somewhat.
The figure stands alone and silent and for a moment so does he. While Myrna had told him that Beqanna seems to be resting peacefully at present, the wariness of darker times still lingers in the old immortal. Grim events have been triggered by seemingly idle encounters much like this in the past, but after a moment’s deliberation, the stallion moves forward slowly.
Still alert, head up and ears forward (one occasionally turning to listen to his surroundings), he approaches the stranger with caution. “Hello?” he beckons gently, hopeful that this is perhaps an inhabitant of the Gates he hasn’t met yet, or an aspirant. “Lovely night we’re having…” The observation is not truly meant to start a conversation, but more to provoke any kind of response that may allow him to gauge the figure’s intentions.
He remains alert but not overtly hostile, holding on to a nearly-naive hope that this is nothing more than another friendly encounter.
04-27-2024, 11:17 AM (This post was last modified: 04-27-2024, 12:55 PM by Deiti.)
The muted glow dancing against the bruised hue of the twilight beckons caution to the creature within me. It shifts with unease, even as my body remains still. The soft lapping of the ocean tide across the sands calls as a reminded retreat -should it be required.
As the light stills, the need to flee subsides when the angelic being offers a greeting. My dark ears flick forward at the sound of the voice. The others passive comment comes at no surprise. I note a slight hesitation in their tone. Not as a muddle flow but a seeking of clarity. Again the creature shifts, but it is not from fight to flight, but from prey to predator.
Remaining unmoved, I allow the stranger to near. The voice is masculine in tone, as is the scent that wafts between them. A grin creases my lips. My own angelic tone casts onto the breeze, “I'd agree, it is a most lovely evening…” I shift my body just slightly, a faux indication that I am relaxed. That the creature within me isn't coiled, readying itself to pounce on its unsuspecting victim.
The faint light of his crown shimmers rainbows of color across my iridescent scales. My reptilian eyes scan across the stranger, sizing him up and calculating my next move. I settle for more small talk to draw him in, both physically and mentally, “Tell me stranger, what do you call this place?” My feminine face turns to look inland, the gaze of my aqua eyes following. A soft swish of my ebony tail sends to him my own scent.
05-17-2024, 01:26 PM (This post was last modified: 05-17-2024, 03:21 PM by Everclear.)
EVERCLEAR
-- a dreamer neither lost nor found ;
If he could sense the shift in the mare, her internal struggle between beast and beauty, he may have retained some of his well-practiced caution. Having lived so long, he is not a stranger to wolves in sheep’s clothing (nearly literally, in fact) and he would have shifted his amiability to the side, shuttered in a separate bastion within a grander wall of vigilance.
The moonless darkness, however, and her well-worn mask prevent his perception of any potential harm. She is but a wayward maiden along the beach; he is but a nightwatchman on patrol. The ocean plays their soundtrack, a steady gasp and sigh of waves against the shore, its faintly glittering surface yawning like a spectral void at their side. Everclear’s wariness lingers, foggy in his mind as he gauges this stranger’s intentions from her body language alone; his greeting is merely a verbal probe meant to engage and elicit some form of affirmation.
Her response is neutral, though it is nothing overt enough to lead him into believing she carries ill intent with her. Still, her subtle shifts and the opaline luster of her scales leave him with that sense of uncertainty. At the very least she doesn’t seem hostile – her muscles do not flex as if preparing to spring at him – and her delicate face seems trustworthy enough in the gentle golden glow of his halo.
He exhales gently and edges a smile to his lips, pressing a kindly expression through the apprehension he maintains.
Undue judgment is not becoming of an angel of Heaven, he reminds himself inwardly, and if he were ever to become a true angel as is his desire, it would not be right to look upon others with such doubt before their purposes are known.
So he nods to her, shifting his weight to relieve some of the tension borne in his back, and shares in her appraisal of the shadowed lands spanning north of them. “For me it is home,” he says rather plainly, obviously, and he snorts almost gruffly. “It is the kingdom that was once called Heaven’s Gates, long ago. These days it is known simply as The Gates.”
He looks back to the stranger, a minor tilt bringing his gold-gilt brown eyes to study her again. “And my name is Everclear. May I ask yours?”
As I look out across the land, darkened by the moonless sky, I listen as he speaks of it.
Home.
Heaven.
There is an irony I have found myself here of all places, having neither of those qualities in my life.
My thoughts go back to the ocean land Baltia. Its glowing flora, its untouched purity. It was heavenly in its own right and yet I had tainted it with my very existence.
Something clicks within my mind. My mother had known from the moment of my birth. I was cursed. Cursed to destruction. Cursed to walk this world alone. So why even try to be anything other than what I was meant to be.
Do it
My view remains on the land as he now introduces himself. In turn he asks for my name. “I've had many names,” my voice is light but holds a slightly sinister tone. A smirk tugs at my lips, revealing within the glow of his light, jagged edges of carnivorous teeth.
“Tell me EverClear. Have you ever tried so hard to be someone you were never meant to be. Do you wrestle with your inner demons to the point of insanity. I do. I do every day and every night and I am so VERY tired...”
My scaled body remains still, for the moment, even as the creature churns restlessly. Only my head turns to bring into view the angelic being. The questions I ask are not questions at all, simply statements. This is made apparent by the abrupt movement that allows no time for his response.
I lunge, twisting my front half upon my hunches with the speed of a striking cobra. My delicate face reaches out to bring my razor sharp teeth snapping at him. Aiming for the large vein in his neck.
Only blood seems to satisfy the creature within me, and so blood is what I seek…
It is difficult for him to adjust to the reality that the kingdom no longer incorporates the heavenly aspect of its original name. He should not be surprised – Beqanna is ever-evolving, a constant shift and morph within its core like the molting of some giant reptile. And just like a reptile, it moved on, leaving its past behind for elders like himself to bear in remembrance, something fragile and unwanted and irrelevant.
They had been angels back then, even himself – both an outcast and a reclaimer, an aspirant and a convert. The shadows of his past may have lingered in the eyes of some, but he had considered himself one of them, a seraphim among them, their leader with his resplendent queen. He had tried above all else to give them hope, to rebuild the wreckage of their home… but it all seems pointless now, no matter how much he wishes it were not so.
The kingdom of Heaven had fallen, overcome by the wiles of the faeries, and is now reborn. Quiet, barren, peaceful, wanting…
Therefore he corrects himself when introducing the kingdom to the mysterious visitor, this nameless creature who wanders the beach at night. He studies her now, still a bit off-put by her minimal answers so that he must rely on a nonverbal sort of communication. The twitch of muscle, the depth of breath, the shift of weight. Everclear can only try to match her, pulse slightly elevated in his apprehension.
She has not returned to look at him, her bright blue eyes rimmed with the ethereal light of his halo fixated on the dark lands beyond as she dodges the question of her name. It’s then that he can see the pointed teeth in her smile, the predatory rows of a shark’s mouth, and his cautious swims back to the surface. Planting his weight evenly on his feet, he continues to watch her, unblinking for a moment.
Her words are a bit odd in these times of quietude and even stranger for such a pliant setting, the calm beach in the empty kingdom. At first he believes he could affirm her question (‘have you ever tried so hard to be someone you were never meant to be?’ Yes, oh, yes.), but he does not have a chance as she continues. He tucks his chin, eyes and ears locked on to her until her voice lapses and he draws breath for an answer, gathering the words that will not have a chance to reach his lips.
They do not make it to the tip of his tongue for, just when he finally blinks, she strikes. She twists and he brays, a hoarse shout smothering his impending response with the raw vocalization of surprise. She has moved too quickly, lashing toward his throat with those dagger-teeth and serpentine speed, silent and fierce. Everclear jerks his head upward, trying to rise into a rear to avoid the blow, but she has already come down upon him and her fangs snag against his dappled hide.
The bloom of pain is lost beneath the heat of his blood rushing through the fresh wound, rapid as it flows to meet her hungry mouth. But his motion still pulls him free of her reach as he turns too, angling his forelegs to his right and toward the ocean. Reflexively, his body wants to spin and defend itself with a lash from his hind legs in an angered buck, but he refrains. Prancing slightly away from her into the fingertip-reaches of the lapping waves, he keeps himself facing her and tosses his head with a hardy snort.
Adrenaline burns from the sudden release into his veins; his legs feel heavy but loose, his heart pounds madly in its cage. Beneath him, golden light dances erratically on the ripples of the water and froth that ring around his ankles.
“Why–?” he asks hoarsely before he coughs, shakes his mane and lifts his head again. “Why have you come here with violence?” Clearer, this time. The indignance burns in his words, sharp and tangible as he scowls at her dark form in the moonlight. His throat is darkened now by the blood trailing gently down his neck and to his breast; warmed by his body but cooled by the open air, it is a discomforting stain to bear.
But her words still linger in his ears, the talk of insanity and demons, and he exhales sharply. “If you are struggling, you surely need help.” He is still pacing slowly through the surf, circling her now so that she might not regain the upper hand. “But you should not resort to such monstrous tactics to redeem it.” His frown has softened now – it lingers still, but not as harsh as before. “This is not the place for such brutality and I am not a willing opponent.”
He has always been, at his core, a peacekeeper.
“Speak with me and I will gladly offer any aid you might require,” he finally stops before her again, a length or two out of her reach, and nods his head. The crimson at his throat gleams in the light of his heavenly crown. “But if you will not listen, I will not host company with such savagery.” A gentle threat, for he does not wish to use any sort of force against her, but his promise to the queen had been true: he would do what he must to protect his home.
“Start with your name, and tell me what troubles you.”
With precision my sharp blades slice the granite hide of the stallions neck cleanly. Crimson fluid seeps from the cut arteries and coats my mouth before the break of my grasp as he lifts up, turning away and curling back around to face me.
The coppery tang of his blood on my tongue causes a burst of dopamine coursing through my body. The creature within me tremors with ecstasy.
That wasn't so bad was it?
My tongue traces the blood stained edges of my carnivorous teeth that still shimmer in the aura of the angelic being. Stilled by the euphoria of hormones, my eyes roll back in my head, closing partially.
My elation is interrupted by his shouting. It wasn't my fault I had been born this way. To walk the line of good and evil every second of every day. Never knowing when you'd snap and who you'd hurt in the process.
“You think I want to be like this?! I did not choose violence! It chose me,” I shout back, my words laced with venom.
My piercing blue eyes trace him now moving defensively around me. My memory goes to playing tag with my sister in the woods. Innocent foals -barely weanlings- when suddenly the urge of the hunter overcame me for the first time. The first taste of blood that triggered the creature from deep within.
He continues his aspiration for my salvation and I scuff at his remarks. “Help me. How could you help me, old man?! I am beyond help,” my words snap sharply even though there is a slight tinge of strife.
Help… It is all I had ever wanted.
There is a flicker in my reptilian eyes. The flame of a distant soul entrapped within the crystalline pools. It begs to be freed, clawing its way through the abysmal darkness, as if trapped in the depths of the ocean searching for the surface.
“Deiti,” I say with an exhausted sigh. The tension I held within me fades as my head hangs low in almost defeat. I had freed myself once more, but I did not know for how long.
My gaze that dropped with my face now rose to view the other. The glow of his crown catches on his bloodstained flesh, bringing a wince to my feminine face as my eyes shy away. “I did it again, didn't I…” It was more a statement than a question. Who else would have done such a thing?
“I lost control again… it's happening more and more and I fea… I fear I might never come back…” my scaled body shifts only enough to steady myself on my feet.
“I am beyond help,” I repeat under my breath, everything about me screams despair.
Everclear has struggled with madness before, long ago when much of his life had been oppressed by darkness. He had been lost already, wayward and woeful in the wake of heartache and loss. In the midst of this misery he had discovered his relation to the peacekeeper of the Valley, the endearing little mare whose life had been made an endless struggle by her twisted limbs. Fleshlip had always been charming and kind, a rarity in such grim places as the ‘evil’ kingdom, but no amount of sweetness could survive there for long. Everclear had watched as his great-granddaughter’s body had been torn and rent by her own spawn; Virgo’s entry to the world had tipped the scales against him.
No, not simply tipped – fully upended.
Years he had spent with a mind swirling in devastation and confusion, clouded beyond perception so that nothing made sense.
But then Spyglass had found him and brought him to Heaven. She had called him ‘angel’ and treated him as such. Perhaps it was the aftermath of the madness that had cemented the notion into his mind – that they, the residents of Heaven’s Gates, were indeed an ethereal band. Perhaps that is why the notion has stuck so firmly into his mind now, and the foal-fairy he had recently encountered only perpetuated this belief by bestowing the halo upon him.
Regardless, he recognizes the struggle within Deiti now, from her sudden string of plaintive words and the way she lashed out at him.
(Some part of him almost wonders whether his blood might taste any differently from others.)
The woman retaliates with fury and he is not surprised. Her voice is shrill against the darkness and he bears it with grace, waiting patiently for her fit to finish. This petulant sort of anger reminds him of an angry child, of a trodden snake or a wounded wolf, the way they retaliate without thought or consideration for their actions, and he only takes a steadying breath to try and calm his still-racing heart. Blood still traces against his dappled shoulder, but it does not concern him – he knows the existent magic in his blood will not allow him to die, especially not from so minor a wound (compared to those he has suffered in the past).
When she finally acquiesces with a discernible flicker in her eyes, Everclear nods his head slightly and eases some of the tension from his muscles again. Her name falls like a plea from her lips as she meets his gaze fully and he smiles softly with relief. Perhaps he would not have to fight her after all.
He steps cautiously closer again (though still not close enough for her to reach him; he is wary of enticing her with the sour scent of blood) and as his light touches upon her face again he notes the softness there now as compared to the sharpened angles it seemed to have borne before.
“No,” he says carefully, firmly, as distress stains her voice. “I have seen plenty of others who were certainly beyond help. I do not believe you are one of them.” In all his years, he’s seen so many different forms of what could actually be considered evil, of gruesome and blatantly sinister beings whose grins were even sharper than hers and their hearts even darker.
“I may not know you well, Deiti,” he goes on, reminiscent of his conversation with Myrna, “but I can see that you are fighting this conflict. I believe the key to overcoming any such internal dispute is faith. In yourself, in something else…” He tilts his head a little, glancing toward the openness of the kingdom again.
“You say this happens often?” he muses next, focused on her again. “Perhaps the first step is to discover what triggers it, or why. Does anything come to mind?”
With a fallen gaze I stare blankly, the thoughts of my existence playing like a reel of scenes. Each memory holding its own key to the very foundation I felt crumbling around me.
I remember my father, my mother and my sister. Except for the incident in the darkened forest, nothing significantly evil sticks out. Even in the aftermath of that day, me running away in shame and Kuma finding me, she and father assured me it wasn't my fault. I had been extra careful after that day, especially around my buttermilk sister.
Life had gone on for some time without an event. Years probably. Whether it was control or avoidance I am unsure. My parents died not too long after us and the twins had grown. That had torn our family apart and I had sought refuge in Ischia. Hiding myself away in my pool, only surfacing when I felt the need for company. I enjoyed the brightness and warmth of my island home. The mere thought causes a faint smile to find my features.
My ear twitches to the shuffle of hooves and I am brought back to awareness. His voice is unwavering, much like my fathers, and I listen as any child would their father. His tone causes my thoughts to shift and consider all he says with truth. I had fought, for years. I had curbed the beast time and time again. Settling it in my chest each time it wished harm upon those undeserving of it. But the years have worn on me and over time exhaustion has allowed it to consume more and more of my essence.
There is a shift in my delicate face. A stubborn determination that tightens the muscle in my jaw and grits my sharp teeth. You're better than this Deiti. You're not the monster she claimed you to be.
His next questions ignite a spark in my neurons. I quickly contemplate all reasons, all similarities, all consistencies. Where did all the evil in my life stem from?
"Darkness," I mutter in response. That had to be the answer.
From the emptiness in myself to the black of night, the creature thrived in the darkest parts of my life. Chased away only by the love of my family and the warmth of home. Perhaps the beast was getting stronger now because I had neither. Just a vacant pit in my heart, longing to be filled.
My head rises as I look upon the beaming stallion before me, the glow of his halo casting an ethereal aura around them. "Thank you EverClear, I know what I must do now," my voice is sincere as I look upon the bloodstained gray. There was something in the stranger that calmed me, restoring my faith in myself and giving me hope.
With a bow of my head, I turn my scaled body towards the north and begin my trek to the Mountain. The water dragon had said you could find purpose there, so perhaps I could find salvation.
Everclear I'm not sure where the last bit came from but I'm rolling with it XD
