09-08-2018, 11:56 AM
It doesn’t pierce her quickly or painlessly. It eats away at her scales and burrows into her flesh, burning, ripping. Shiya’s head whips to the side and she nips at her own flesh, groaning uncomfortably as she tries to first extract and dissolve the pain, but it sinks deeper. The remnant – whatever it may be – claws into her muscle, but it doesn’t stop there. It’s in her blood, in her organs, in her breath.
There is no saving herself as the pain blossoms and spreads throughout her entire core. Her body writhes to life as the pain intensifies. Seconds melt into minutes, but it feels like an eternity until everything settles. The pounding of her heart quiets. She blinks. Nothing around her changed – the meadow is quiet with so many others mindlessly grazing. Vulgaris isn’t at her side – she feels empty and cold – but her loneliness is calmed by a voice that draws her from the tree line. Curious, she follows even as the air she breathes turns to razors. Oxygen stabs into her throat and burns her lungs; it elicits fear, but she doesn’t stop herself from the magnetic pull.
Somehow, his voice is familiar. Was he one of her many desperate attempts to find a lover that actually cared about her? Obviously, it had been a failure, but another defected child had been borne of the encounter.
But that is a figment of the past now.
All that matters is what he says now with a voice that echoes throughout her entire being, trembling ever fiber of her body.
There’s another stabbing pain that burns its way into her flesh. She turns to address it, but her mind is so clouded by his directions that it almost seems to numb the pain. Pangea, she notes, and she tries to take a breath but it reminded of the painful stabbing when she tries. Pain. There is pain everywhere – inside and out – but if he is the one to create it, then surely he can remove it. Find Pangea. It seems almost simple enough to swim down and unmask his hidden realm from the abyss. With a curt nod, Shiya turns and slips easily enough into the surf.
Drawing in her first breath is frightening. Drowning is going to overcome her and leave her corpse floating on the waves. Shutting her slit eyes, she dilates her nostrils, but she finds it easier and less painful than on Beqanna’s land. Curious, she descends. The salt water slips past her sleek scales.
There’s a shark that hurtles by. Reeling back, her hooves awkwardly scrambling, she prepares for an attack, but it pursues a large tuna nearby. Threateningly, she bares her elongates fangs before descending further into the depths.
It’s colder here, darker.
When she peers up, she notices how the sunlight begins to fade and the crystalline blue dips toward a midnight. It’s here, she muses, and she paddles desperately. There’s a large presence looming closer, and when she fixes her eyes on a piece of outspoken land – it doesn’t match its surroundings, like a desert planted in a jungle of seaweed – she realizes what it is.
This is Pangea, this is the land of death.
She found it, discarded, in the sea.
There is no saving herself as the pain blossoms and spreads throughout her entire core. Her body writhes to life as the pain intensifies. Seconds melt into minutes, but it feels like an eternity until everything settles. The pounding of her heart quiets. She blinks. Nothing around her changed – the meadow is quiet with so many others mindlessly grazing. Vulgaris isn’t at her side – she feels empty and cold – but her loneliness is calmed by a voice that draws her from the tree line. Curious, she follows even as the air she breathes turns to razors. Oxygen stabs into her throat and burns her lungs; it elicits fear, but she doesn’t stop herself from the magnetic pull.
Somehow, his voice is familiar. Was he one of her many desperate attempts to find a lover that actually cared about her? Obviously, it had been a failure, but another defected child had been borne of the encounter.
But that is a figment of the past now.
All that matters is what he says now with a voice that echoes throughout her entire being, trembling ever fiber of her body.
There’s another stabbing pain that burns its way into her flesh. She turns to address it, but her mind is so clouded by his directions that it almost seems to numb the pain. Pangea, she notes, and she tries to take a breath but it reminded of the painful stabbing when she tries. Pain. There is pain everywhere – inside and out – but if he is the one to create it, then surely he can remove it. Find Pangea. It seems almost simple enough to swim down and unmask his hidden realm from the abyss. With a curt nod, Shiya turns and slips easily enough into the surf.
Drawing in her first breath is frightening. Drowning is going to overcome her and leave her corpse floating on the waves. Shutting her slit eyes, she dilates her nostrils, but she finds it easier and less painful than on Beqanna’s land. Curious, she descends. The salt water slips past her sleek scales.
There’s a shark that hurtles by. Reeling back, her hooves awkwardly scrambling, she prepares for an attack, but it pursues a large tuna nearby. Threateningly, she bares her elongates fangs before descending further into the depths.
It’s colder here, darker.
When she peers up, she notices how the sunlight begins to fade and the crystalline blue dips toward a midnight. It’s here, she muses, and she paddles desperately. There’s a large presence looming closer, and when she fixes her eyes on a piece of outspoken land – it doesn’t match its surroundings, like a desert planted in a jungle of seaweed – she realizes what it is.
This is Pangea, this is the land of death.
She found it, discarded, in the sea.