<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Playfair+Display' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'> <style type="text/css"> .svedka_container { position: relative; background-color: #FCFEFD; width: 600px; border: solid 1px #000; box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px 1px #000; } .svedka_container p { margin: 0; } .svedka_image { position: relative; z-index: 4; width: 600px; } .svedka_text { position: relative; z-index: 6; width: 550px; margin-bottom: -400px; } .svedka_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #1e4c56; border-left: solid 1px; border-right: solid 1px; padding: 20px 30px; } .svedka_name { text-align: right; font: 20px 'Playfair Display', serif; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 10px; padding-right: 10px; color: #1e4c56; } .svedka_quote { text-align: center; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #336a6b; border-left: solid 1px; border-right: solid 1px; padding-top: 30px; } </style> <center> <div class="svedka_container"> <div class="svedka_text"> <p class="svedka_quote">let my shadows prove the sunshine</p> <p class="svedka_message">Were it not for the sheer momentous vibration that tremors beneath his hooves, Svedka would be right in assuming that nothingness lay beneath and above him and before him, stretched out thin and spread so wide that its reaches were unfathomable, unattainable. Yet he is still being asked (forced) to trod upon this neverending existence, to dive into this nothingness and to bring something out of it, as if it was even possible by mortal means. But he doesn’t understand this, not really, as he stares into nothing and the drone of the buzzing fills his mind so much so that, for a moment, he forgets that there was anything before this and that, perhaps, there’d be anything after.
His gaze has grown glassy, staring into this void of neverending, dull and out of focus as if lulled to a gentle sleep by the buzzing that grinds sharply against his bones. He can feel the lion protest, stretching inside him for control, but the switch of his ability is still broken, flickering on and off incessantly and unsuccessfully. Svedka notices nothing, on the precipice of the cliff and teetering close to its edge, feeling faint and oh so very tired.
<i>There.</i>
The sudden voice amongst the nothing brings a little bit of focus into those dull eyes, righting himself with a soft snort of confusion. He blinks blearily, smacking his lips as he attempts to bring into focus the shimmering opening that begins to mold before them, <i>It’s hungry.</i>
The stallion swallows, the familiar prick of fear nestling its way into his chest for the first time since his heart had stopped beating. Even the lion does not stir this time, hesitant and unreliant as the mouth widens before them, eagerly awaiting to swallow them up. He thinks for a moment, what would it be like to die a second death, and almost gracefully accepts the idea of the cliff crumbling beneath him and for this to all come to an end once again. But that slippery, twisted voice speaks haste into his mind (<i>I don’t think you have much time</i>) and Svedka spooks, suddenly clamoring forward with such urgency that he cannot even process the feeling of sharp, cold air against him as he plummets, engulfed in that nothingness that has become such a familiar sight to him.
There is nothing but black and sharp whistling past his ears, the feeling of falling making his stomach spin and spin and spin until he was begging for the ground, even if it meant meeting it with such a strong force. He sees nothing, just eternal darkness that, even in the spiraling downward, seems to wrap all around him, searching him and investigating. It is looking for something, casually and thoughtfully, as gravity pulls him further and further downward until finally, Svedka feels it find what it was searching for.
A layer is peeled away with such quickness that a gasp leaves his pale lips. The darkness wedges deep inside his soul, grappling at something that festers and spits and plucking it from him as if it were as delicate as a flower. Svedka can feel it attempting to hold onto him, not wanting to let go but the darkness is persistent, tugging, and manipulating it until suddenly, the turmoil and sadness in his heart alleviate.
The beast ripped from him by this emptiness and darkness, is gone.
When he lands, he is upright. He feels the nothingness seeping into his bones, reminding him that it is only him that occupies his soul for the moment and - despite being in the upside-down of the afterlife - Svedka breathes a sigh of relief for the first time in decades. A specter finally at peace.
The world around him is no longer anything. It is strange, as if it isn’t really a world at all but is trying to appear like one, all melted and swirled and wrong. He frowns, though he knows that he is <i>somehow</i> in the right place, because that same grinding sound from above still vibrates endlessly within him.
There’s movement in the near distance and the stallion freezes - the beast may be gone, but it did not mean it (or another) did not exist.
<p class="svedka_name">svedka</p> </div> <img class="svedka_image" src="https://s15.postimg.cc/pwoma9yh7/svedka.jpg"> </center>
ooc: svedka's lion mountain shifting was taken
His gaze has grown glassy, staring into this void of neverending, dull and out of focus as if lulled to a gentle sleep by the buzzing that grinds sharply against his bones. He can feel the lion protest, stretching inside him for control, but the switch of his ability is still broken, flickering on and off incessantly and unsuccessfully. Svedka notices nothing, on the precipice of the cliff and teetering close to its edge, feeling faint and oh so very tired.
<i>There.</i>
The sudden voice amongst the nothing brings a little bit of focus into those dull eyes, righting himself with a soft snort of confusion. He blinks blearily, smacking his lips as he attempts to bring into focus the shimmering opening that begins to mold before them, <i>It’s hungry.</i>
The stallion swallows, the familiar prick of fear nestling its way into his chest for the first time since his heart had stopped beating. Even the lion does not stir this time, hesitant and unreliant as the mouth widens before them, eagerly awaiting to swallow them up. He thinks for a moment, what would it be like to die a second death, and almost gracefully accepts the idea of the cliff crumbling beneath him and for this to all come to an end once again. But that slippery, twisted voice speaks haste into his mind (<i>I don’t think you have much time</i>) and Svedka spooks, suddenly clamoring forward with such urgency that he cannot even process the feeling of sharp, cold air against him as he plummets, engulfed in that nothingness that has become such a familiar sight to him.
There is nothing but black and sharp whistling past his ears, the feeling of falling making his stomach spin and spin and spin until he was begging for the ground, even if it meant meeting it with such a strong force. He sees nothing, just eternal darkness that, even in the spiraling downward, seems to wrap all around him, searching him and investigating. It is looking for something, casually and thoughtfully, as gravity pulls him further and further downward until finally, Svedka feels it find what it was searching for.
A layer is peeled away with such quickness that a gasp leaves his pale lips. The darkness wedges deep inside his soul, grappling at something that festers and spits and plucking it from him as if it were as delicate as a flower. Svedka can feel it attempting to hold onto him, not wanting to let go but the darkness is persistent, tugging, and manipulating it until suddenly, the turmoil and sadness in his heart alleviate.
The beast ripped from him by this emptiness and darkness, is gone.
When he lands, he is upright. He feels the nothingness seeping into his bones, reminding him that it is only him that occupies his soul for the moment and - despite being in the upside-down of the afterlife - Svedka breathes a sigh of relief for the first time in decades. A specter finally at peace.
The world around him is no longer anything. It is strange, as if it isn’t really a world at all but is trying to appear like one, all melted and swirled and wrong. He frowns, though he knows that he is <i>somehow</i> in the right place, because that same grinding sound from above still vibrates endlessly within him.
There’s movement in the near distance and the stallion freezes - the beast may be gone, but it did not mean it (or another) did not exist.
<p class="svedka_name">svedka</p> </div> <img class="svedka_image" src="https://s15.postimg.cc/pwoma9yh7/svedka.jpg"> </center>
ooc: svedka's lion mountain shifting was taken