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Current

Current Novus date and time is

▶ Year || 503
▶ Season || Spring
▶ Temp || 43℉ (8℃) - 70℉ (21℃)
▶ Weather || The weather radar really does seem to be off the charts lately...
I wonder what's going on? (#15-19)

Spotlight

Character of the Season
Pavetta

Member of the Season
Nestle

Thread of the Season
A land of absence
and root and stone


Pair of the Season
Bexley and Acton

Quote of the Season
"And all the while her mind, her blood, her fierce and fearless heart was singing, singing, singing." — Shrike in We're under attack!

see here for nominations


DISCORD

All Welcome - wash away my demons.
Leviathan — Guest
▶ Played by [pm] Posts: N/A — Threads:
▶ [] Hth:Atk:Exp:
▶ 502 [Year ] Active Magic:
▶ hh Bonded:
#1





LEVIATHAN
the supernova

Good deities, he hadn't been this sore in a long time. Muscles ached and pulled as he walked, his back screamed from pain as every step tore open the wounds that laid across his spine. His chest was bruised and his flanks were covered with smaller scabs, and he seemed to walk with a delicate step.

His destination lay hidden in the harsh lands of Solterra, but he was glad to reach it when he did. Slowly, he waded in to the waters of the Oasis, the rushing music of the waterfall luring him like a siren's song. Every step was made with renewed vigor, until he was under the cascade of water and it splashed over his body. Sand and grit were washed away, the wound on his back made him clench his teeth and lower his head, but he pressed on. He was lucky that it had only laid in to the muscle, and not bone. Still, he'd have a nice scar next to his spine when it healed.

A story to tell when someone asked the 'Champion of Battle' what he had done for his position.

Leviathan heard nothing but the water around him, his ears moving forward and his mane sticking to both neck and head alike. It felt good to be washed off, to have the wounds cleaned by a natural source. At least he was smart enough to take care of his wounds, nursing them in the ways he knew so he didn't develop infections like an idiot. Like he'd done in the past.

A phantom pain seemed to throb about his shoulders, but he ignored it. Wings from a life past, before he was remade by the whims of mischievous deities. He hadn't thought about them in a few years now, and it was strange to have that phantom sensation, as if there were extra muscles pulling and pushing, splaying wings under the water to clean them, if he'd had them. Alas, he was merely Leviathan, the ground horse with horns. No wings. No red save for his eye.

All the same, he allowed himself to drift in thought, submerged to his chest in water under the falls, closing his eyes and slipping from reality, if only for a little while.


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