chest: CLOSED — THIS BITCH IS BAAAACK — "Speech" and Thoughts
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For a long while, there was silence.
Unnerving quiet washed over and over, buried him beneath the sands as the memory of him became a ghost within Solterra's whispering, dry winds. The void had swallowed him whole, burned bright and burned him out — hollowed him. A witch within the swamps had tempted him, lured him into the murky depths with a promise to open his eyes, with promised knowledge of his home, Stolthet.
And blindly, he had followed; like a lemming over a cliff, he was once more cast through worlds. The pain he felt the first time Virun had violently flung him into Novus — the agonizing shredding that pulled at the inside of his ribs, that flayed his flesh and stitched it back together... oh, it returned with vengeance, searing him alive. Until his worn, cracked hooves found purchase in his old home.
His eyes laid upon a smoldering wreck, burning and vile. There was nothing left... nothing left of Stolthet, nothing left of Roskildar. Empty homes burned to the ground, the very ash they were reduced to swept away by a violent wind. And for ages he searched, plucking through miles upon miles of destruction. He met no one but angry wraiths, their claws raking his skin and howls fueling the angry wind.
Nothing, nothing, nothing, NOTHING.
And so he left the Nothing and returned, bitterness overtaking his senses and blooming on his tongue. When he had first came to Novus, a seed of concern and consideration had somehow nestled in his rotten heart - then, it grew to a proud little sapling, budding obnoxiously through old and cracked bones. But now? It was smothered — dead under the weight of anger that suffocated his soul.
Hooves pressed familiarly into the loose sand as the cold bit unusually at his hide. Scars and scabbed wounds littered the expanse of him; a patchwork of violence. All of Solterra was blanketed in thick snow, and the Warden regarded it with a dull eye. There was no warmth within him or his gaze.. just venom.
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It did not take long for him to find the gathering party, bustling around a vividly bright figure at their center. He languidly approached, hooves breaking the fresh crust of snow and he eyed the attendees warily. The Triennial Eye burned bright on his forehead, opened wide as its pupil darted frantically between all those in his midst. It eyed Solis and Seraphina the longest, its pupil dilating and contracting.
Solis was met with a skeptical, passing gaze from the Warden. There were so many unfamiliar faces that littered this hollow home... although Solis himself was the most shocking. Mathias, Saphrax (flaming wings? that's new), Veer, Elif, Apolonia (why does her attitude remind me of someone?), Teiran, Basileios, El Toro... he easily dwarfed every single one of them.
Seraphina. His gaze settles heavily on her with a pause in his step. There is no particular feeling in his stare, and he offers no words — no explanation — to the Sovereign. Just silence, his lungs filled with stale air, indifference, and blooming anger.
An ombre ear that could easily pass as frostbitten twitched at Solis' jabs and snide remarks... and especially at the mention of those creature out within the Mors. Elk? He means to insinuate that ELK have caused this blizzard? A sarcastic snort breaks the brief silence as he idly wonders if he forgot he imbibed in some hallucinogens or something equally as absurd.
This was going to be a shitshow. But nonetheless, he follows.
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art © memuii — texture stock © ofruin-stock — coding © inkbone
Unnerving quiet washed over and over, buried him beneath the sands as the memory of him became a ghost within Solterra's whispering, dry winds. The void had swallowed him whole, burned bright and burned him out — hollowed him. A witch within the swamps had tempted him, lured him into the murky depths with a promise to open his eyes, with promised knowledge of his home, Stolthet.
And blindly, he had followed; like a lemming over a cliff, he was once more cast through worlds. The pain he felt the first time Virun had violently flung him into Novus — the agonizing shredding that pulled at the inside of his ribs, that flayed his flesh and stitched it back together... oh, it returned with vengeance, searing him alive. Until his worn, cracked hooves found purchase in his old home.
His eyes laid upon a smoldering wreck, burning and vile. There was nothing left... nothing left of Stolthet, nothing left of Roskildar. Empty homes burned to the ground, the very ash they were reduced to swept away by a violent wind. And for ages he searched, plucking through miles upon miles of destruction. He met no one but angry wraiths, their claws raking his skin and howls fueling the angry wind.
Nothing, nothing, nothing, NOTHING.
And so he left the Nothing and returned, bitterness overtaking his senses and blooming on his tongue. When he had first came to Novus, a seed of concern and consideration had somehow nestled in his rotten heart - then, it grew to a proud little sapling, budding obnoxiously through old and cracked bones. But now? It was smothered — dead under the weight of anger that suffocated his soul.
Hooves pressed familiarly into the loose sand as the cold bit unusually at his hide. Scars and scabbed wounds littered the expanse of him; a patchwork of violence. All of Solterra was blanketed in thick snow, and the Warden regarded it with a dull eye. There was no warmth within him or his gaze.. just venom.
It did not take long for him to find the gathering party, bustling around a vividly bright figure at their center. He languidly approached, hooves breaking the fresh crust of snow and he eyed the attendees warily. The Triennial Eye burned bright on his forehead, opened wide as its pupil darted frantically between all those in his midst. It eyed Solis and Seraphina the longest, its pupil dilating and contracting.
Solis was met with a skeptical, passing gaze from the Warden. There were so many unfamiliar faces that littered this hollow home... although Solis himself was the most shocking. Mathias, Saphrax (flaming wings? that's new), Veer, Elif, Apolonia (why does her attitude remind me of someone?), Teiran, Basileios, El Toro... he easily dwarfed every single one of them.
Seraphina. His gaze settles heavily on her with a pause in his step. There is no particular feeling in his stare, and he offers no words — no explanation — to the Sovereign. Just silence, his lungs filled with stale air, indifference, and blooming anger.
An ombre ear that could easily pass as frostbitten twitched at Solis' jabs and snide remarks... and especially at the mention of those creature out within the Mors. Elk? He means to insinuate that ELK have caused this blizzard? A sarcastic snort breaks the brief silence as he idly wonders if he forgot he imbibed in some hallucinogens or something equally as absurd.
This was going to be a shitshow. But nonetheless, he follows.
art © memuii — texture stock © ofruin-stock — coding © inkbone
[ please tag @Torstein in all replies ]
I have three eyes
TWO TO LOOK ONE TO SEE
