"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
11-27-2018, 10:47 PM (This post was last modified: 11-28-2018, 04:07 PM by Delta.)
Kiss Thy Poison From My Lips
My journey to find answers had left me with even more. No one had shown upon the mountain to aide in my troubles. To show me who I truly was. Guess I had to find that out on my own.
So I trekked back down the mountain and entered the first land I had seen. It was barren. I stood looking across the terrain. Finding a shallow river winding through it, but nothing green sprouted from the land. Had this been the start of it all? This plague that they spoke of.
Curious by nature I remain standing at the foot of the holy lands, not sure if I am safe or not. I had no direction to go. No home. No idea who I was. So why not stay awhile and see what true danger lurks in these lands...
Delta
@[Yidhra] Short but I wanted something started if you were still interested in experimenting on someone
@[The Plague]
His footsteps are things that echo through the vast expanse of Pangea, things that reverberate against the rocks and through the joshua trees- his breath carries on the wind and is warm in the wake of its retreating frost. Delta’s shadow burns the ground and darkens the very trail he takes through the land; but it is not unnoticed. In the corners bent and bound to impossible geometry, she lingers: watches- and waits. In the darkness she inhales watery breaths and deathrattles, but she does not approach immediately: no, it would be too soon. Yidhra instead waits, and watches- she follows his movements and his pace, stares at him from the inky dark: oily and moving as if they were breathing… those uncanny shadows remained.
Yellow and gray, red and brown: the rusted and grounded colors of stone and soil, it all is dulled by a seeming moisture and saturation. On the brine-coated joshua trees barnacles cling and anemone writhe: starfish and snails all lay dying, drying out from the rise of the land. It is not by any means a pretty place, no, there is a stench of rot and wasting corpses: of fetish breath and gas from the bloated whales and porpoises strewn in a deaths stranding along the various reaches and cliffs. Fish, too, wriggle and die: flies feasting on bodies and the occasional nauseous wet pop fills the air: the bloated bodies of a leviathan exploding and leaving blood, viscera, and offal in a coating around the area.
Saline pools of blue boil and bake, sulfurous gasses bubbling and jettisons of hot water pouring from geysers… Pangea is a bubbling pit of festering plague disease. It is a land of grotesque proportion and Yidhra’s tentacle slither along the surface of the stones: taste the bile and brine, feel the edges and jagged places where prey has long hidden. She decides that patience has bided her enough time, and as such she places a single hoof before the other- walking ahead and through the bleak valleys and chambers of stone: the pueblos lost and weathered by ocean and time.
To Delta she walks, grey-green and black with algae on her skin: porous and hairless, fleshy and wet. A snowflake like varnish of gray and white cover her and her chimerical face is split perfectly: white and black; but her teal eyes possess barbell shaped irises and orange flecks. She is a creature whose movement is so perfected and poignant that each step is curated into a graceful display all its own: the tendrils of her mane and tail writhing and those on her shoulders lifted and hovered- testing the ground before her and eventually curling upward and preen the mass of furth tentacles on her face. No nose, no jaw- on a split center point where well beneath a chitinous beak clattered and clicked.
“Oh deary, setting foot in Pangea at this time.” she purrs, her voice is, however, an awful thing: smokey and thick with an accent ancient and long forgotten. It carries the watery suggestion of drowning, or that she is: as from the tendrils of her mouth a viscous syrup-like drool tinted red drops to the ground. “You’ll begin to feel it soon: the weakness and fever, coughing or blood in your nostrils- the pestilence that inevitably besets us all here.” chosen are her words and she tilts her head, wiping her own tendrils and exposing the beak for the slightest moment. She recalls all things but, for the moment a fascination becomes her own and she shakes her head at Delta softly: almost sympathetic.
Still, she talks: lengthy of word and poised- watching. “There is hope for a cure though, the Fairies are working to their end; but can you trust them? They who did not intervene but rather enables to very rise of Pangea and the actions that would lead to this sickness. I am Yee-tho-rah (Yidhra), and if you would stay a moment to talk… I might be able to help you recover faster than most. You see, we need a cure- not treatment of the symptoms.” she shrugs, plain and forward in her ways and method.
She contemplates his fear, the manipulation of it: the taste and the form… yet she remains, for now, without inducing it.
Never one to be curious as a child, I had stayed by my father's side. Hanging from his every word and not questioning life. I had a mother, a father, a sister, what more could I need. Though as time went on I could not deny this nagging feeling that my family was only a part of who I really was.
Now older; my father dead, mother occupied and sister ambitious, I have had more time to mull over my inner thoughts. If my family has been a rouse all along, than how does one find the truth. The dead don't tell secrets and my mother wasn't confessing anything, so maybe it is all in my head. Though my heart says otherwise.
I am content to stand at foot of the mountain -peridot eyes looking across the vast sand dunes and rise of canyon. Here curiosity bewitches me, pulling my body forwards to traverse across the wastelands of Pangea. Alert, my ears and eyes flicker to each movement and sound. I find little, which stuns me most. I suppose most have fled this land, being it ground zero and such. This fact however does not slow my pace.
What does is a soft tickle that begins in my throat and a dry cough rattles up to itch it. I stop, considering what warnings have been given of this place and my ignoring them. Maybe I should just turn around. The thought hardly settles when I hear a sloshing of water behind me.
My golden body twists quickly to find a beast of only imagination. Never had I laid eyes upon something to grottesche. The way serpent like limbs curl and press against its body, and bile drips from a pointed nose, it could only be a thing of hell itself. Risen from the depths just as this land has. My face shows my shock and I nearly stumble over my hind end as I back away.
It speaks and I am even more apald. Its voice, like nails against a chalkboard, screeches from its parted beak. My chocolate ears press into my mane to seek comfort from the tone. Against the melody of it was the undeniable gurgle of fluids and I wonder if the plague has caused this equine to become whatever it was now. A sickness and faint I will now succumbed to for my foolish ways.
The monster talks of disease, of a search for a c ure. Announcing its name as well as assistance to aide me, I shake my head in resistance. "No! Get away from me you monster," I shout it with hatred and fear. Pushing myself back to give myself room to turn in run.
When I do I feel a pressure within me -a closing of my windpipe and lack of breath. I still, gasping for air with splayed forelimbs. My eyes wide with panic and fear. Run, I plead to myself. But my legs do not move from their previous stance. The world around me seems to narrow and become a grey-washed blur before I collapse to the murky soils...
Delta
@[Yidhra] So I feel he has a panic attack (due to possibly her fear inducement) and passes out. Feel free to drag him off to a cave or whatever you wanna do with him lol
“Monster? I admire your perspicacity; but the truth is… I am only a monster because I am not afraid to turn the very darkness against itself. Martyrdom is a coat I wear well, and sacrifice is my closest companion. I have long, long been unafraid of the truth: I only wish you could be. I do require help, after all.” she’d have sneered; but she lacks a face, and instead her beak chatters and claps together in something akin to amusement.
Hers is a breath that rattles through water-logged flesh and forces the saturated tissue to know the burden of air: the harsh reality of her changing worlds. She speaks with an echo, with a depth of voice so sultry and yet smoky that is borders seductive and predatory; but more so notable is the way the brine colors her accent. The sound and purr of a creature long asleep beneath the waves: whose empires have come and gone, and there is a deathly gasp… a choking and coughing that echoes of drowning and yet?
Yidhra stood before Delta with seemingly careless eyes.
She lifts a single forelegs when the boy begins to trembles, as around her the world seems to blur and she focuses on Delta. In his mind she feels the weaving strings of emotion, tastes the sweetened liquor of dread and suffering; but most of all, she recognizes that dark shadow in his mind that calls out to her in a way a child cries for its own mother. His fear is black and harsh, and buried beneath a thousand smaller nightmares- in such a way that as she pushes her first thought… she can see them light up.
“The world is cruel place, my darling boy,” she speaks. Voracious and malevolent, her legs stepping around him as she half-circles like a shark. Tentacles plucking and reaching out to stroke and rub his neck, to push away the hair and to make sure she can see the eyes rolling backwards. His heartbeat is warm, fast, and and the blood pours through him like a howling choir. “So frightened- so young… alone and scared, lost with no one to save you from the fate you’ve wrought upon yourself. Your sickness… your infection, you gave yourself this plague by even allowing those precious lungs of yours to inhale this rotten… wretched air.”
Nearest his body she stops and as he begins to crumble… Yidhra slowly digs her shoulder and neck: trying to support his weight to lessen the collapse on the ground. “Shh… Shh, no no darling. You’re going to hurt yourself if you are not careful. Pangea soil is no fun to those who cannot handle the barbs and barnacles and reefs from its time beneath sea. See, easy now.” practically cooing with delight Yidhra strokes her paddle-shaped tentacles over him and stabilize Delta’s head… balance him safely in a way to prevent drowning or pain.
Cautious as ever she allows the mass of writhing tentacles on her face to latch on and bring the chitinous beak close to his cheek. In a gesture almost like a kiss she touches him: scratches just enough to tackle and not to maim. Leaning back she stands over him, painfully aware of his weakness and unconscious.
She contemplates many things while she waits: and practices a genius granted to her from centuries and more of experience. With hollowed vessels made from cracked reef she pools fresh water from the river into a rock shaped like a basin. Soft, in a way, she prepares tedious wild strawberry and clover: piling it nearest him. The fear dissipates and she blinks several times: waiting until her stirs before trying to speak, again.
“My darling boy, you passed out. I was scared you would drown in a flash flood; but, fortune was not so terrible. Please, do listen: after all, it is very important that you and I talk. I was unable to find you before you entered and now? You will be among the hundreds I am trying to save.” a pedagogue of her rational, Yidhra waits and watches: observes with fixated attention.
A whispered hushing is all I remember before my world turns dark. The touch of the creatures odd arms is lost to my memory, as is the peck upon my cheek. Unconscious, I am trapped in a nightmare of my own making. Here I see a shroud of black begin to cover over me. A sickly hand reaches for my neck, gripping me with enough force to suffocate the life from my body. Air exchanges for a vapor that pours from the demons lips -it settles deep in my lungs. It is vile, stinking of a thousands corpses and a weight of many more. The darkness of my mind forms with glowing red eyes and blackened smoke exhales in a spiral that wraps around my neck and begins to force its way into my throat. I want to scream but nothing comes from my cords. I am forced to watch the nightmare take hold of me. To possess me.
It allows me to finally gasp with a breath that allows the sickness to coat my lungs. My peridot eyes open sharply to find the monster still hovers around me. Paralyzed, I can only listen to all the beast claims. How did it know of the plague that now consumes me? Now it talks of others and its mission to save them. Was I to believe such things? Surely not. If anything it was the cause of such things, but her voice is believable -as is the concern on her wicked face.
Slowly feeling comes to me and I stumble to stand. A cough erupts violently from my chest, red droplets of blood spatter across the ground and forces me to believe all she says is truth. My extended gaze upon the red liquid that was cast from my body is only interrupted by my sudden urge to speak, but not a word comes from my lips. Only a look of dread is found upon my face...
Delta
@[Yidhra] Sry... He shouldn't have spoken in the other post :|
