07-18-2017, 08:27 PM
<center><link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Arizonia" rel="stylesheet"><div style="width: 600px; background: url('http://i.imgur.com/G9BGwo4.png'); padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px; background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #673626; border-radius: 45px 0px 45px 0px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000000;"><div style="width: 590px; background: url('http://i.imgur.com/G9BGwo4.png'); padding-bottom: 10px; padding-top: 10px; background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #19161e; border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px;box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #000000;"><div style="width: 530px; margin-bottom: 260px; margin-top: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; padding: 15px; background-color: #212227; opacity: 0.6; font-family: Times; color: #a1a6a9; font-size: 12px; line-height: 140%; text-align: justify; border-top: 5px solid #9b4b2c; border-bottom: 5px solid #9b4b2c; border-radius: 40px 0px;box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000;">The trees begin to thin, the forest cruelly spats her out. She can’t recall when this had happened, how she suddenly comes to stand in open land once more. Perhaps the Leshen had forced her out but she doubts it, feeling in her gut that it still wanted to rake the twisted roots of it’s hands along her dark skin. It wasn’t done with her yet. A shiver runs along her spine, a crease in her forehead as she frowns and worries. She doesn’t like being so exposed in this clearing, doesn’t like feeling so vulnerable.
Her dragon vision has returned since her terrifying encounter in the woods, a little clearer then it was in the forest but not by much. She can make out the outlines of small clumps of pines, gentle rolling hills, can see the endless open terrain before her. It’s still too dark, closing in. Forcing it’s way into her mouth and nostrils, pressing against the curve of her ears. Choking her senses, laughing at her bewilderment. While this is terrible, it is the stillness that is worst of all. Not even a breeze ripples against stalks of grass, doesn’t rake gentle fingers through her mane. It has once again become too quiet, no crickets or birds. Nothing except the sound of her unsteady breathing.
Ciri slowly glances around her, remaining as still as she can. If she wasn’t moving, perhaps she wouldn’t attract attention. It gives her a moment to gain her bearings as silvery iris’s flick about warily. From what she has heard, the terrain seems like she may be in Loess. She’s assuming of course but she has nothing else to go on. From her brief knowledge of the new world, she knows that a land with a lake shouldn’t be too far away. Perhaps being by the water’s edge will be safer. No Leshen’s could rise from a watery grave could they?
Even though she has left that dark secretive wood, she can’t help but glance behind her back. Expecting the gleaming white of a skull, the heavy hands to crash across her back. Remembering the feel of it’s mossy saliva that dripped down her hip. She remembers the ravens, thinks she hears the rustle of feathers. Her heart starts to race, her pulse accelerating. Closing her eyes, she tries to force herself to calm down. Her body refuses to comply, her skin pricking beneath her smoky coat. Feeling as if she’s being watched.
As she slowly forces herself to raise her lids, she realizes that something <i>is</i> watching her. In the distance, a soft glow. Two pinpricks that cut through the shadows. Before she can even make a sound of alarm, they begin to multiply before her. Eyes after sets of eyes. Watching, stabbing into her soul like a knife. She’s holding her breath and exhales softly, trembling slightly. Even if she could return to the forest, she wouldn’t. She knows what awaits her there. The Leshen continues to spread it’s reach, sending it’s minions where it was not comfortable going. It didn’t want to leave the safety of it’s beloved forest. It found a different way to hunt her.
Cruel croaks escape their beaks, shadowy wings stretching and ruffling with intent. Focused on it’s prey that stood waiting before them. They are everywhere, so many eyes slicing through the hills. While the fear is real, a surge of anger flares within her. What had she done to incite such a trial? Why had the Leshen chosen her? Why had this world picked her?
Ciri was tired of running. Despite being at an unfair disadvantage, despite not knowing what she had landed in… Running was not usually in her nature. The anger is comforting, it burns in her chest and fans courage into her heart. A steely glint touches the rims of silver orbs, muscles tightening beneath her ebony hide. No, she would not be a sitting duck for them. She would not allow this place to make her into something she wasn’t, a victim.
With a cry that shatters the silence, she leaps forward as the conspiracy of ravens take flight to meet her. Talons slice at her skin, beaks pecking at exposed flesh. They whirl and swirl around her, she feels consumed by the shadows themselves. Yet she fights. Her hooves hit soft warm bodies, her teeth rip feathers and leave bare bald skin in it’s wake. She bucks, she rears. She fights. She doesn’t know how long she defends herself as they continue to fall from the sky, pulling threads of her mane and leaving dark oozing cuts along her body. Her neck burns, her muscles aching with the strain, but the fire inside her urges her to not give up. It’s oddly satisfying, to feel the crunch of broken bone as her jaws clamp on a wing and crush it. It feels good to fight back.
Eventually the survivors of the unkindness abandon their cause. Where they go she doesn’t know or care. She’s a mess of what she was before. Her barrel heaves as she pants heavily, tired with exertion of the fight. There are so many scratches and wounds she doesn’t know where one begins or another ends. Some are deeper than others and bleed freely, a few ravens have managed to take a chunk of flesh, carving it from her like butchers. There is so much pain and she closes her eyes, gritting her teeth as she tries to breathe through it. For once she is grateful for the stillness, even the softest caress of a breeze would be pure agony to her raw split skin.
Eventually she forces herself to move despite the screaming protest of her muscles, the sharp pain from her wounds that jolts her with each step. All she can think of is finding the lake, being able to ease her ravaged body into the cool water. Sooner then she expects, she comes to the bank of the river. No soft gurgling rush meets her ears, the river seems frozen. Stuck. Nothing moves and the eeriness unsettles her. Antlers, bones, and trees raking at the back of her mind.
She follows the river, over rolling hills and dips. A few times she stumbles and nearly falls but catches herself before tumbling into the dirt. It’s with luck and great relief that she comes over a final hill and sees a large stretch of water before her. The lake, she has finally found it. Pausing momentarily, she glances about to see if she can catch the faint orange glow that would alert her that something else may be lurking nearby. There is nothing but the same sturdy blacks and swirling greens that have come to make up her sight. All is still once more. With a sigh she forces herself to start her trek down the hill. Once she was by the water, she would rest.
</div><div style="font-family: 'Arizonia', cursive; font-size: 70px; color: #acadaf; margin-bottom: 60px; padding-right: 380px;align:center; opacity: 0.9; text-shadow: 1px 1px 15px #000, 0 0 5px #000, 0 0 15px #000, 0 0 3px #fff;">Ciri</div></div></center>
Her dragon vision has returned since her terrifying encounter in the woods, a little clearer then it was in the forest but not by much. She can make out the outlines of small clumps of pines, gentle rolling hills, can see the endless open terrain before her. It’s still too dark, closing in. Forcing it’s way into her mouth and nostrils, pressing against the curve of her ears. Choking her senses, laughing at her bewilderment. While this is terrible, it is the stillness that is worst of all. Not even a breeze ripples against stalks of grass, doesn’t rake gentle fingers through her mane. It has once again become too quiet, no crickets or birds. Nothing except the sound of her unsteady breathing.
Ciri slowly glances around her, remaining as still as she can. If she wasn’t moving, perhaps she wouldn’t attract attention. It gives her a moment to gain her bearings as silvery iris’s flick about warily. From what she has heard, the terrain seems like she may be in Loess. She’s assuming of course but she has nothing else to go on. From her brief knowledge of the new world, she knows that a land with a lake shouldn’t be too far away. Perhaps being by the water’s edge will be safer. No Leshen’s could rise from a watery grave could they?
Even though she has left that dark secretive wood, she can’t help but glance behind her back. Expecting the gleaming white of a skull, the heavy hands to crash across her back. Remembering the feel of it’s mossy saliva that dripped down her hip. She remembers the ravens, thinks she hears the rustle of feathers. Her heart starts to race, her pulse accelerating. Closing her eyes, she tries to force herself to calm down. Her body refuses to comply, her skin pricking beneath her smoky coat. Feeling as if she’s being watched.
As she slowly forces herself to raise her lids, she realizes that something <i>is</i> watching her. In the distance, a soft glow. Two pinpricks that cut through the shadows. Before she can even make a sound of alarm, they begin to multiply before her. Eyes after sets of eyes. Watching, stabbing into her soul like a knife. She’s holding her breath and exhales softly, trembling slightly. Even if she could return to the forest, she wouldn’t. She knows what awaits her there. The Leshen continues to spread it’s reach, sending it’s minions where it was not comfortable going. It didn’t want to leave the safety of it’s beloved forest. It found a different way to hunt her.
Cruel croaks escape their beaks, shadowy wings stretching and ruffling with intent. Focused on it’s prey that stood waiting before them. They are everywhere, so many eyes slicing through the hills. While the fear is real, a surge of anger flares within her. What had she done to incite such a trial? Why had the Leshen chosen her? Why had this world picked her?
Ciri was tired of running. Despite being at an unfair disadvantage, despite not knowing what she had landed in… Running was not usually in her nature. The anger is comforting, it burns in her chest and fans courage into her heart. A steely glint touches the rims of silver orbs, muscles tightening beneath her ebony hide. No, she would not be a sitting duck for them. She would not allow this place to make her into something she wasn’t, a victim.
With a cry that shatters the silence, she leaps forward as the conspiracy of ravens take flight to meet her. Talons slice at her skin, beaks pecking at exposed flesh. They whirl and swirl around her, she feels consumed by the shadows themselves. Yet she fights. Her hooves hit soft warm bodies, her teeth rip feathers and leave bare bald skin in it’s wake. She bucks, she rears. She fights. She doesn’t know how long she defends herself as they continue to fall from the sky, pulling threads of her mane and leaving dark oozing cuts along her body. Her neck burns, her muscles aching with the strain, but the fire inside her urges her to not give up. It’s oddly satisfying, to feel the crunch of broken bone as her jaws clamp on a wing and crush it. It feels good to fight back.
Eventually the survivors of the unkindness abandon their cause. Where they go she doesn’t know or care. She’s a mess of what she was before. Her barrel heaves as she pants heavily, tired with exertion of the fight. There are so many scratches and wounds she doesn’t know where one begins or another ends. Some are deeper than others and bleed freely, a few ravens have managed to take a chunk of flesh, carving it from her like butchers. There is so much pain and she closes her eyes, gritting her teeth as she tries to breathe through it. For once she is grateful for the stillness, even the softest caress of a breeze would be pure agony to her raw split skin.
Eventually she forces herself to move despite the screaming protest of her muscles, the sharp pain from her wounds that jolts her with each step. All she can think of is finding the lake, being able to ease her ravaged body into the cool water. Sooner then she expects, she comes to the bank of the river. No soft gurgling rush meets her ears, the river seems frozen. Stuck. Nothing moves and the eeriness unsettles her. Antlers, bones, and trees raking at the back of her mind.
She follows the river, over rolling hills and dips. A few times she stumbles and nearly falls but catches herself before tumbling into the dirt. It’s with luck and great relief that she comes over a final hill and sees a large stretch of water before her. The lake, she has finally found it. Pausing momentarily, she glances about to see if she can catch the faint orange glow that would alert her that something else may be lurking nearby. There is nothing but the same sturdy blacks and swirling greens that have come to make up her sight. All is still once more. With a sigh she forces herself to start her trek down the hill. Once she was by the water, she would rest.
</div><div style="font-family: 'Arizonia', cursive; font-size: 70px; color: #acadaf; margin-bottom: 60px; padding-right: 380px;align:center; opacity: 0.9; text-shadow: 1px 1px 15px #000, 0 0 5px #000, 0 0 15px #000, 0 0 3px #fff;">Ciri</div></div></center>