• Logout
  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening


    GHAUL -- Year 209


    "(souls are not meant to live more than once — death was not meant to be temporary, and she is so sure that every time her heart starts to beat again that irreversible damage is further inflicted)" -- Anonya, written by Colby

    Thread Rating:
    • 1 Vote(s) - 5 Average
    • 1
    • 2
    • 3
    • 4
    • 5
    [open]  “i've dug some graves”

    The Isle is a charred wasteland, mostly. It is slowly coming back from whatever happened to it – Leilan never said what, and Chem never asked. It was intentional, whatever the disaster was. It was an act of destruction and it tore a scar across the frozen island. Chem hadn’t been a frequent visitor before, so he didn’t exactly recall what the tundra island looked like previously, but he was positive it was not this barren.

    Vultures, ravens and eagles squabble over the scraps of those who did not make it. Jackals make off with pieces- a leg here, a jaw there. The black stallion watches them, standing on the bare horizon, letting his teal gaze wander over the flatland. Snowflakes fall sparsely, floating and dancing in the twisting winds.

    Everything is dead. Only the whistling of the breeze breaks the quiet. His silhouette is a pitch black sentinel at dusk, his shape outlined in the soft pinks and purple clouds surrounding the sinking sun. He just watches the birds feast on nearby carrion, standing idly with a slanted hip.

    astra inclinant, sed non obligant.

    this is for anyone at all
    hes just standing there, watching birds eat a carcass
    Some days, he wakes up and thinks to himself ‘what a shithole’, staring flatly at whatever scrubby mouthful manages to peak up from the charbroiled earth. Discolored, burnt maybe, definitely  burnt or surely ash riddled right down to its core.

    (Fine, fine, most days.)

    It’s never anything good, not yet, but when he came across a morsel, he wasn’t one to leave it for just some random to eat.

    Dry, bitter plants were growing now, sparingly, but they weren’t exactly ripe. I mean, for the most part, it’s hard to say that what was growing- was even food.

    Some days that was just how it went, then, there are moments when he is rather pleased with himself for being here. As opposed to the alternative, he is lucky to still have his head, all things considered. 

    It’s a nice head too, he’s rather fond of it. Good hair, shiny eyes, a proud jawline, if he weren't so underfed he’d be handsome.

    Today was one of those better days, so much so, that it bled into the evening and he was still up and around as the sun was tucking itself in. 

    Ivo was wandering, meandering about the isle without purpose until he spotted another- the surly paint that joined them for raid. 

    “That’s gross,” he sighs, pulling up in the general vicinity, arms length of course. “What are you even doing, just watching them eat that stuff?” Appalled.

    words:  tags:  HTML by Call

    im sorry i write him all over the place like this xD

    Being such a barren landscape, it was not hard for Chem's ears to detect the faint footfall of someone approaching. There was no shelter near him, save for the few massive piles of boulders left behind by destructive glaciers. The stranger came from behind some of those jagged granite sentinels and Chem did not bother to greet him just yet. Patiently, as if blind to his approaching shadow, Chem waits for him to be a few feet away and then twists a single ear to him as he settles to stand somewhere off his speckled shoulder.

    We're soon for the same fate.” he keeps his teal eyes tipped down to the carrion being picked at some yards away. “There is no life here.” his gaze drifts to the horizon and then back to the stallion, a half smile twisted on his charcoal lips. “We must make some..” he chuckles, bending down to sniff at the ash and dirt muddying the ground at his feathered feet.

    They are lone figures against the dull colors of their surroundings. Chem picks his head back up to look at the ravens pull at an exposed spine and a jackal running off with a head. Another jackal pulls the jaw apart and runs off with the other half. The wolves will arrive soon and everything but the ravens will likely scatter.

    astra inclinant, sed non obligant.

    no i totally get it! i do the same :p
    Sunsets, it’s a snuffed out flame, hissing into embers and coals against the horizon. Empty terrain, full exposure, the craggy rock formations did little to shield. The bloody scene before them, it was a campfire story in the flesh, dead eyes staring sightless into the mouths of successors.

    Ivo watched a few moments more, eyes narrowed as meat left bone, a train wreck he couldn’t look away from.

    “I’d rather be set to the flame,” the voice that crawls out of his indigo lips, it’s different than before, no longer jesting or complaining- darker, heavier. There was a seriousness to the situation, it reflected in his speech, he knew that Chem was right.

    He knows he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t have to.

    “I’m not known for my green thumb,” a single hoof scrapes the earth at his feet, sifting ash to draw a jagged line, sapphire eyes find little hope. “We’re going to need those that are,” it shocks even his own ears, how could he say such a thing, like he planned to help or something?

    That sounds like work, ears fall, already regretting volunteering himself.

    “Unless you know something about soil that I don’t?” Maybe, hopefully, it was worth asking at any rate.

    words:  tags: Chemdog HTML by Call

    Chem watches him squirm a little at the suggested notion of being carrion and it makes a faint smile come to life on his black lips. His gaze slides from the feeding scavengers to the stallion, taking a moment to look him over and commit his appearance to memory. He laughs with an exhale at his ‘green thumb’ comment, slashing his tail and adjusting his sloped hip, cocking the opposite ankle than before. He nods again at the obvious statement of needing some that do how to grow something from nothing and this wipes away the slanted grin from before.

    His teal eyes drift back to the nearest corpse, the wind sweeping his black forelock across his face. He’s lost in thought for a moment, drawing up nothing very useful, but still delving into the processes of imaggining what he might be able to do. He laughs again, “I definitely do not.” he shakes his head loosely, which morphs into giving his whole body a shake. Ash and dust fly from his thick black coat, sparkling in the fading light as they dance away with the cold northern breeze.

    When we rebuild it, it will be ours.” he refers to all of them, still casting an empty look down to the bodies scattered about the empty terrain. He waits, letting that last thing emanate for a moment and then adds, “..those magic entities … would be mightily useful, I imagine.” he smirks, “but any old horse with some earthly magic skill will do the trick too.

    astra inclinant, sed non obligant.

    Wow, he’s really done it this time, gone and signed himself up for work. Plummy lips often move, before the weight of words register, his downfall. That offer is already sinking in his chest, rolling down towards his stomach where it lands like a rock, heavy and unpleasant in his gut.


    Ivo remains still as they speak, holding the weight of his body evenly, the only movement coming from his tail or his ears the bend to listen. The shifting of his ocean eyes as they diligently watch the performance of the scavengers.

    He’s too lazy to make the effort of adjusting, mind busy trying to see his way out of too much labor. What was he thinking when he said all that?

    “I wonder how difficult it would be to obtain one of the entities…”. His words trail off, only loud enough for the two equines present to discern. It’s one of those faults that followed him, akin to the reason his last pilgrimage did not work out so well. It’s just easier if someone else, or something else does the work for you.

    Is that so wrong?

    “Just any old earth magic,” he lets the thought sit, thinking about who he knows, what he’s seen- the list is short, uneventful.

    As bare as the bones are becoming.

    “What a drag,” work, checking the meadow, making acquaintances, gathering information.

    “Suppose I better work on my tithe,” a sigh of a statement, and it is now that he moves again, as though the work were already heavy against his shoulders. Weighing him down before the first stone has been lifted.

    If only he could pay in blood, feed this land his essence, a monthly tariff- being immortal had its perks, he can't help but wonder if that would work.

    “Are there any places of power here, do you know?” The thought of sacrifice has the gears rolling, does this land pay homage to a holy place- or presence?
    words:  tags: Chemdog HTML by Call
    So there they were. Bored boys kicking rocks, watching birds and ash. Chem’s lip curls at the idea of work, socialization and the feel of it, like a heavy cold  wet blanket to carry around. Yuck. Truthfully, it was only women and merriment that got any attention from him. Only recently has he fancied himself a tribesman and decided he might be of use to someone and something other than himself.

    So far it has rewarded him with undernourishment and a few new friends.
    What just desserts for such a nobleman.

    One of those entities. Oh yes, one of those. His nostrils quiver and his ears flip back for a half-second, he draws in a breath with a sarcastic chuff. “Mmm.” his voice hums with his concurrence. He smiles when he comments on what a drag, it is coincidental and delightful to Chemdog that he feels the same way. What were they even doing? Best to not dwell on its details or reasons  ̶  just see if anything happens with it. He chuckles again, “Yes,” he digs at the ashen ground with his forefoot, “Let the sacrificing begin.” he grins, watching the dust and ash twirl up into the wind, glittering and fading in the snuffed sunlight.

    I have not come across one. Leilan told me of some landmarks, but I won’t lie to you,” he snorts, “The only thing i really remember from it is Neverwhere’s Crack or Grin, or Frown, or...something. Apparently the woman of its namesake is a...spitfire.” he’s careful not to call her a crone, or wench, or miserable bitch, what if the broad is a Queen? He moves on. “But perhaps it would be a good idea to patrol for one. There’s got to be...something..” his mind turns its gears, diving deeper into the subject within his head. “We could start looking now, or tell Leilan and the rest, get all of us on it…” his thoughts float from his dark lips. He starts to manifest the start of a plan, leaving room for Ivo to add anything he wants.

    Ivo idk, its weird one sorry, but you get the point haha

    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)