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Novus closed 10/31/2022, after The Gentle Exodus

Private  - lost in my mind

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Played by Offline Silverfang [PM] Posts: 11 — Threads: 3
Signos: 260
Night Court Citizen
Female [she/her/hers]  |  11 [Year 499 Winter]  |  15.2 hh  |  Hth: 13 — Atk: 7 — Exp: 10  |    Active Magic: N/A  |    Bonded: N/A
#1



THE BLACK DOE
the infinite intimacy of her rage

It was another night by which she had found herself sleepless and wanting. Wanting for what? She can never quite put her hoof on it; it is a feeling she's all too accustomed to, so she accepts it. She falls into the rhythmic step of her hooves against the dirt of the plains, her head turned heavenward, to the sky and all its stars. To the blackness between them.

And she allows her mind to wander, as it usually does with her own wandering self. Allows her legs to carry her wherever.

Drifting along the nightscape, she finds it's sometimes quite hard to tell the differences between the earthen floor and the night sky itself. Each cloaked in darkness, belit only by the twinkling stars, the soft illuminated moon, and different only by the way she can feel herself hit the hard floor with each step. No matter how much she feels her mind whirling, wandering, flying, escaping. If only it were that easy.

She wonders how she had found herself here, and what she was doing here at all. What was she doing not in her bed? Trying to find something unfindable, longing for something she doesn't know. She guesses - solidity? A direction? A purpose? But all these are all so unreachable. And then there's the slightest tinge of iron that fills her nose, a memory from the deepest recesses of her mind, inching its way through the cracks in her facade and closer to the forefront of her attention. It's a foreboding feeling, a feeling that causes anxiety to begin prickling at her spine. Up, up, over her shoulders, even though she has no idea what prompted this; what she was anxious about, what she wanted to suddenly run from.

Her steps stop abruptly, and just as the superficial blood she smells is getting stronger, a thick twig snaps under something heavy near her. Suddenly she is wrenched far away from that uneasy feeling but into a fear of what was now physically around her. She is no longer among blood, nor is she drifting with the night. She is planted firmly on earth, and she looks quiet and acutely through the darkness that surrounds her, spooked by her own mind and the fact she had let her defenses down so much that she doesn't even know what, or who, might be so close to her now.

"...Don't hide." The words cut the silence after the snap, and it's nearly impossible to tell if she's speaking to the unknown stranger near her or herself as her heart beats like a bird frantically trying to escape her chest.




Speech.
@Theron


ooc
<3












Played by [PM] Posts: N/A — Threads:
Thaeron
Guest
#2

“Don’t hide.”

He hears the words snaking through the darkness, a whisper and a shout all at the same time- or perhaps that is just his muffled hearing. The snap of a twig beneath his wooden hoof breaks through the bubble surrounding his mind. He limps from the shadows, not entirely sure why he was hiding amongst them in the first place. The pounding in his head rises from tolerable to a mild nuisance with the heavy fall of his wooden leg- was it the hangover from this morning or the noise from the tavern tonight? He couldn’t tell, not with the way the darkness wavered at the edges as though he couldn’t quite focus. Internally he huffed impatiently, the part of him still yet to hit rock bottom howling at how far he had sunk. A few specks of dried blood and the evident bruising around his left are the only evidence of how far he had fallen- drunk off his ass and picking fights in taverns when he still hadn’t got the hang of using his wooden prosthetic.

Oh the god of war; reduced to drunken bar brawls. His brethren would kill to know he’d fallen further than them all. The irony.

Thaeron’s pace is evidently hindered by the soft, uneven thud, thud, thud of the wooden appendage- unwieldy and uncomfortable even these few months after the fight with the dragon. At least the pain was gone, well most of it anyway. There was still that dull ache deep in his radius, rising up his sternum. It beat in tandem with the heavy ache in his heart.

There was a light in his life, a flickering flame that burnt brighter than the infinitesimal  grey his soul now oozed. For a few moments she chased away his shadows, setting fire to his lamentation with little more than a look and a few sharp words. Israfel. But she was as fleeting as any fire and he had not seen her for days.

Perhaps that was why he’d been skulking in the shadows, his whiskey-addled mind searching for that flame, only to be presented with a shadow. Well, in fact, she was darker than the shadows, as though someone, somewhere, had carved her from the blackest realms of the deepest night where even the shadows ran from fear.

“My apologies,” he offers, his voice hoarse (from shouting or from the burn of liquor, Thaeron does not know). The normally silver-tongued man is struck dumb for a moment before drawing the cool night air into his lungs and forcing himself to concentrate. Perhaps there was an upside to spending centuries drowning your sorrows in alcohol- you learn how to function even as your senses are dampened. “I’m Thaeron,” he drawls, a smirk tugging at his dark lips, “at your service.”

With a jangle of metal his dips his horned head, his hair cascading in messy braids and curls as they slide over Bloodbane, clasped to his side and gleaming faintly in the darkness.
THERON
this is who we are, a product of war


@Nameless <3









Played by Offline Silverfang [PM] Posts: 11 — Threads: 3
Signos: 260
Night Court Citizen
Female [she/her/hers]  |  11 [Year 499 Winter]  |  15.2 hh  |  Hth: 13 — Atk: 7 — Exp: 10  |    Active Magic: N/A  |    Bonded: N/A
#3



THE BLACK DOE
the infinite intimacy of her rage

And out of the impeding darkness came a man.

Walking - stumbling - through the plains brush on a wooden leg, though that's not the first thing she sees. In fact, she realizes she doesn't see anything at all at first. The smell of blood was coming from him, dried as it was. The smell of alcohol wasn't missed, either - she had merely honed in on the prior more. When he finally steps into her view under the stars, she is tense and ready to flee, but slowly gets used to the idea of another soul here. Her dark eyes set to looking over him, slowly and carefully, in order to accustom herself to the idea of this new companionship.

He is tall and dark. He wears a smile that coyly states he is fine, though she knows he is not. When she can finally find the prosthetic she winces, ears drawn back, then flick back to his face, his horn, his eyes. She can tell he isn't all there, but is making a commendable show to defend this.

"Thaeron," she replies simply, an observation as she continues to look at him. He bows his head but she shakes her own in response, gently - there was no need for that. And what service could he be referring to? Ah, but perhaps she was looking too into those words. He surely only meant to be genial despite himself.

"You're hurt. What did this to you?" She asks with concern faintly lingering on her voice, taking just a step forward in order to welcome him into her view further.




Speech.
@Theron


ooc
<3












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