10-14-2025, 05:04 PM
chaos in your soul & lightning in your veins..you my dear were made for wild and wondrous things
Gods do not announce their arrival. They have no need of such trivial things.
Carnage is no different. He is a God after all. He is also her father, though she does not know him as such.
He slithers through the molecules of oxygen and appears from nothingness. The surrounding atmosphere becomes filled with static, though it does not spark against her flesh; it cannot spark against something that isn't there. Her skull rattles with his power and had she still possessed eyeballs, they would be rolling within their sockets. As it is, she can do no more than turn her hollow sockets towards him, seeing without seeing and feeling without feeling.
His voice spills over her, and it is more a feeling than a sound. It oozes from his mouth like a fine bourbon, smooth at first but burning as it makes its way over her bones. "Come", he says, his voice carrying across the torrid water. To a fool, it seems easy enough. True, she arrived at the top of the mountain a foolish girl with a gypsy heart, but her eyes are wide open now. She is no ones fool, not even a Gods.
A sigh would be fitting here, but she has no lungs to expel air. Instead, she shakes her head and for a moment, the clanking of bone against bone is almost whimsical. Her first step brings her to the mud, her second submerges her coffin bones and fetlock joints in the eerily-still water. Step, step, step until there is nothing remaining of her on the surface but her skull.
She begins to paddle fiercely, determination settling into her chest where her heart used to be. She's tired of being a pawn in a twisted Gods chess game. If crossing the river is what is required, then crossing she shall do. "Come Hell or high water." she thinks, fully aware that ironically, she is fighting through both.
The filthy water laps eagerly at her skeleton, but she pays it little mind. Though her skeleton cuts through the water much like a knife, the going is hard without the benefit of air in her lungs and muscles on her frame. Bones lack a certain bouancy, and she finds it increasingly difficult to keep her face towards the shoreline. A shoreline that, impossibly, seems further away than when she started. With a gritting of her teeth she summons the wind, hoping that she can harness its strength to push herself across and onto dry land. The water churns around her, but she remains much as she was; paddling uselessly. Without a solid frame, she has no sail for the wind to shove against. Instead, it cuts across her bones as if they were nothing more than skinny branches on a tree.
In her madness she loses control of the wind. Perhaps the storm-cloud stallion has taken it from her, or maybe she simply created something she could not control. Whatever the case was, she soon finds herself slipping beneath those churning waves. Once more she spares a half laugh at the realization that she at least doesn't need air.
She does not fight her descent. Already her bones ache from trying to stay afloat, and she has no energy left to spare. Instead, she allows herself to sink gently and slowly. For all its might the river isn't horribly deep so her descent doesn't take long. With a slight buckling at the knees she lands on the river bed, swinging her skull to and fro as she gathers her wits. It is calmer down here, though the murky water is hard to see through. It does not fight her like the surface did; perhaps bones were always meant to sink. With her goal still in mind she trudges forward. Forward seems to be the only place to go in this world.
She does not know how long she walks. Having no need of air she doesn't bother to keep track of the time. She only knows that all manners of river life have accumulated on her bones as she journeys across. River mollusks cling to her bones, filling in the emptiness with their own selves. Along her neck is a tangled mess of water weeds, though they are the same inky black as her original mane. For eyes, she has somehow gathered river pearls. Rare things, river pearls, but their beauty is unmatched. She is not quite whole, but certainly more substantial than she was.
The longer she walks, the more whole she becomes, and the more whole she becomes the greater her need for air. Flesh replaces river life, mane replaces grass, and bones becomes hidden once more. Bubbles rise from her nostrils as she fights her way onwards, each one a precious reminder that she will need air sooner rather than later. Her head swims and her lungs ache, and when she can take the pressure no more she finally takes in a watery breath, content to die here and now for no other reason than to escape this hell. Drowning would be easier than whatever this twisted game is. As the water fills her lungs, the darkness drags her down....
She awakens into confined darkness. The area is small and smells of decay. She is surrounded by walls, though she can't make out what material they are made from. Perhaps this is death? Hell, most likely. She can't be sure. This whole journey has been its own sort of hell, so nothing would shock her this late in the game. Whatever it is, her body appears to be her own again, at least in manners of appearance. Clenching her teeth, she calls on the wind, determined to blow the walls down and escape. It does her no good, though the howling of it breaks the silence. She takes some comfort in that sound.
What she cannot see are her eyes, which now seem to glow like lightning-filled clouds. Nor can she see the other mark, the one on her pretty face. Burned into her snow white jaw is a "c" shaped cluster of Oleander flowers. A beautiful flower, but deadly poisonous.
Much like the creature she has become since venturing to the top of the Mountain. Beautiful, but deadly.
Wayfair
Ooc- Wayfair now has a "c" shaped cluster of Oleander flowers on her right jaw where Carnage branded her. The river pearls were also replaced with Glowing Eyes. Her eyes only glow (white, like lightning behind a cloud...think Storm from X-Men) when she uses her wind manipulation