LET ME SHOW YOU
what you've been missing
This world is far from what they're used to. A place that lives and breathes magic, some individuals openly revealing it . . . Cicatrix is taken by both the skies and stars and the creatures that they walk among, their fellow brethren. Immortal as they are, they are also flesh and blood, unable to die by old age but they bleed just as any others do on this plane of existence. It's such a lovely thing to see, even if they do earn the spare glance here and there for their rather ... unusual ... visage. Their appearance is something that could have been considered a curse by many, but also simply something they've accepted. Towering, ethereal, with massive wings that would tuck away and hide against their sides, as well as the glimmering blue that sometimes leaks from their mouth and the hollows of their eyes. It isn't as if it's normal.
Perhaps that's why Cicatrix prefers to stick to the night time, basking under the stars. Being born under them and finding a solace in them over the centuries, looking up at the heavens as they changed and learning as much as they could. Here in Denocte, in Novus . . . it's something to relearn. A different land, a different sky. Cicatrix has never once questioned the changing heavens, they've only ever set out to learn about them every time they've changed. It's a familiarity in their bones, something echoed by the glimmering stars above and how they seem to always stick to their body. Carrying them like a mighty celestial deity that they could never possibly be ( not that they hoped to ever achieve something so far fetched ).
These are the lands of Caligo, however. A deity that sort of pulls at Cica's curiosity. Perhaps some day, they will find a sort of connection with Caligo, much like the denizens of Denocte, and that's why they've trekked up the mountain. While they could have flown, walking seems like a much more intimate activity, with their hooves delicately leaving behind marks in the dirt path that winds up to an open clearing under the summer night's sky. With their head back, it could have looked as if someone was simply basking under the moon and stars, if not for the lack of skin or muscle on their face. They can still see the stars above, see the familiar shine of some, the placements here and there reminding them of the place they had so long ago called home.
As they admire, they are aware of the sound of steps and a cleared throat. Turning their head, the cloak moves with them, and the shine of the halo is more prominent with their head down, casting the golden glow across the ground and around them, making them seem even more ethereal than it would in the daylight. "Hello, Azrael," they greet with a smile in their words. "They're so beautiful . . .even if some of them are unfamiliar here. It's as if the skies have changed with the lands." But it always seems that way. A new land, a new home, and the skies seem to shift and look a little different.
Perhaps that's why Cicatrix prefers to stick to the night time, basking under the stars. Being born under them and finding a solace in them over the centuries, looking up at the heavens as they changed and learning as much as they could. Here in Denocte, in Novus . . . it's something to relearn. A different land, a different sky. Cicatrix has never once questioned the changing heavens, they've only ever set out to learn about them every time they've changed. It's a familiarity in their bones, something echoed by the glimmering stars above and how they seem to always stick to their body. Carrying them like a mighty celestial deity that they could never possibly be ( not that they hoped to ever achieve something so far fetched ).
These are the lands of Caligo, however. A deity that sort of pulls at Cica's curiosity. Perhaps some day, they will find a sort of connection with Caligo, much like the denizens of Denocte, and that's why they've trekked up the mountain. While they could have flown, walking seems like a much more intimate activity, with their hooves delicately leaving behind marks in the dirt path that winds up to an open clearing under the summer night's sky. With their head back, it could have looked as if someone was simply basking under the moon and stars, if not for the lack of skin or muscle on their face. They can still see the stars above, see the familiar shine of some, the placements here and there reminding them of the place they had so long ago called home.
As they admire, they are aware of the sound of steps and a cleared throat. Turning their head, the cloak moves with them, and the shine of the halo is more prominent with their head down, casting the golden glow across the ground and around them, making them seem even more ethereal than it would in the daylight. "Hello, Azrael," they greet with a smile in their words. "They're so beautiful . . .even if some of them are unfamiliar here. It's as if the skies have changed with the lands." But it always seems that way. A new land, a new home, and the skies seem to shift and look a little different.
@Azrael
