07-04-2017, 09:47 PM
a ghost in the darkness.
There is something about magic that draws him. He has basically none (though it lingers deep in his genes, throbbing within red cells but unable to express). Like a sixth sense he can usually find their hosts with little effort. Mostly he just has good luck, being in the right place at the right time. There is something sinister about this forest that he has started to call home. It’s almost like the underworld of Beqanna, harboring all sorts of riffraff and undesirables. They have nowhere else to go you see now that their lands have been taken from them. Like moths to a flame, they are drawn to the trees with skeleton arms that reach up to the skies. Asking why they had been forsaken, when will their dark gods return to power? And while they wait for an answer, they stick close to the heart of the woods for this place has a tendency for spitting out surprises from the shadows.
As powers are quickly restored, a crackling surge runs through the world. Static is in the air, frizzing his mane and pricking at his flesh. If there is ever a time that something might awaken, might stir back to life, it would be now. It doesn’t take long, he won’t be disappointed.
The wraith weaves through the shrouded woods easily, letting himself follow the invisible fingers that slither towards him and beckons him forward. The air is cold, his breath misting as he expels hot breath in anticipation of what he might be discovering. The snow barely touches the ground here, blocked by the thick canopy above so it is easy to be quiet, his hooves muffled by damp dirt. Soon the scene is revealed before smoldering iris’s. Of course he is amongst like minded companions.
The familiar voice of Deimos, not in the least surprised that he’s lurking here. He is more interested on the dismal figure, one that is almost as black as night itself. There’s a hint of a moon, it’s pale light barely able to cling to them as it fights to make it’s way into their shadow world. It barely makes out the creature before him, vague features and shape. Fur, claws, scales, fangs, bone… and yet equine in a way. It’s feeding on another, it’s body mingled within the shadows. It was hard to decipher where it began or ended, blurring into the blackness as if they were one.
There is no point in hiding from them, the stark white of his body and the glowing red of his eyes makes it impossible for him to camouflage himself. There is no magic to hide behind. He wouldn’t use it even if he had it, what kind of impression would that make? No, he stands exposed with a look of solemn interest, the look of the scientist. Now here is a rare specimen. His magic was similar to that of the one hidden nearby and yet…. Different. Where Deimos was wild and reckless, this one has an air of restraint. To him, that makes him quite more dangerous. Fascinating.
Tilting his skull slightly, dirty white tendrils slipping to the side, he gives a nod of appreciation as the soft hiss of Mine slips into the air, a ghost of a smile on his pale lips. He says nothing, merely watches. Observing. Wondering what exactly it would take to align this magician to their side.
As powers are quickly restored, a crackling surge runs through the world. Static is in the air, frizzing his mane and pricking at his flesh. If there is ever a time that something might awaken, might stir back to life, it would be now. It doesn’t take long, he won’t be disappointed.
The wraith weaves through the shrouded woods easily, letting himself follow the invisible fingers that slither towards him and beckons him forward. The air is cold, his breath misting as he expels hot breath in anticipation of what he might be discovering. The snow barely touches the ground here, blocked by the thick canopy above so it is easy to be quiet, his hooves muffled by damp dirt. Soon the scene is revealed before smoldering iris’s. Of course he is amongst like minded companions.
The familiar voice of Deimos, not in the least surprised that he’s lurking here. He is more interested on the dismal figure, one that is almost as black as night itself. There’s a hint of a moon, it’s pale light barely able to cling to them as it fights to make it’s way into their shadow world. It barely makes out the creature before him, vague features and shape. Fur, claws, scales, fangs, bone… and yet equine in a way. It’s feeding on another, it’s body mingled within the shadows. It was hard to decipher where it began or ended, blurring into the blackness as if they were one.
There is no point in hiding from them, the stark white of his body and the glowing red of his eyes makes it impossible for him to camouflage himself. There is no magic to hide behind. He wouldn’t use it even if he had it, what kind of impression would that make? No, he stands exposed with a look of solemn interest, the look of the scientist. Now here is a rare specimen. His magic was similar to that of the one hidden nearby and yet…. Different. Where Deimos was wild and reckless, this one has an air of restraint. To him, that makes him quite more dangerous. Fascinating.
Tilting his skull slightly, dirty white tendrils slipping to the side, he gives a nod of appreciation as the soft hiss of Mine slips into the air, a ghost of a smile on his pale lips. He says nothing, merely watches. Observing. Wondering what exactly it would take to align this magician to their side.
Gryffen
(Obvi he needed to meet the Zuzu)