06-11-2009, 12:32 AM
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500+
The black fae ran silently alongside the male. It was as if two wolves of the same origin had met, the living differentiated only by the woad markings. But beneath the woad, she was of the same appearance: her coat black and her eyes an iridescent white. This Dreaming was strange, like nothing she had quite Dreamt before, and it was stranger that the creature she met was like a mirror of herself. She wondered if people saw an emptiness when they looked within her eyes, for surely that was what she had beheld in the eyes of the other. When he spoke, the white orbs turned briefly to look at him before they were forced to return to the path ahead. It made sense that the two creatures were actually the same entity—the words of VoidFane held more meaning. The obsidian giant’s Creator had been this wolf, HawkWind. Quite literally, the mind had created VoidFane, and that thing had taken over. The thing of Vengeance had told her that he kept his Creator chained, and she believed that he had mean it quite literally. And now, it seemed, HawkWind existed only here—was this place within the black destroyer’s mind?
There was an ominous groan behind her, but the warrior did not stop and turn to look. She knew enough to know that the sound was not a good one. Immediately, HawkWind ordered her to climb, and she did. Her limbs worked as she silently mounted the strange, artificial hill. The fae attempted to leap over the base of the hill, for surely the decay of tissue would hold some sort of pestilence. She had seen such things on the battlefields of other Dreams, but this was somehow different. It was putrid in her mind. Where very little disgusted the black fae, this disgusted her now. And the rest of the hill, its height great, was littered with other things, some things of which she had never before seen. But she sought sure footing, moving quickly and somehow retaining that grace as she climbed to the top, reaching it as HawkWind did and as the torrent of that blood rushed by, the woman watched as if seeing it before, although she was sure that she had not.
Twice he had died and the monster had persisted. It was strange how the darkness was always eble to exist, to endure while those of light could perish so easily. She wondered briefly why this was—perhaps she had been taught to follow the wrong side. Or perhaps the gods sought to challenge the good at every turn, to allow the evil to suffer and rot in their own self-wrought demise. "What," she asked quietly, turning her gaze from the river of blood, "is it like to die in those ways?" Her query was not spoken with fear but with a curiosity. To experience death in both body and soul, both separately...surely the experience was indescribable. Even as the question left her woad bound maw, she felt that he would not be able to answer simply because words were inadequate.
"I don’t know," the woman answered. She hated answering in such a way—should she not know her own purpose? A soft smile graced the woman’s maw as she stood before this male, her white orbs searching his. "I was Dreaming, and I heard a cry, so I followed it." Often, Dreams were Dreamt with purpose, but sometimes the Raven Dreamer Dreamt without purpose save to explore a different world. "It brought me here—or there, to VoidFane. I don’t know what my purpose is, but I am... compelled to resist him."
500+
The black fae ran silently alongside the male. It was as if two wolves of the same origin had met, the living differentiated only by the woad markings. But beneath the woad, she was of the same appearance: her coat black and her eyes an iridescent white. This Dreaming was strange, like nothing she had quite Dreamt before, and it was stranger that the creature she met was like a mirror of herself. She wondered if people saw an emptiness when they looked within her eyes, for surely that was what she had beheld in the eyes of the other. When he spoke, the white orbs turned briefly to look at him before they were forced to return to the path ahead. It made sense that the two creatures were actually the same entity—the words of VoidFane held more meaning. The obsidian giant’s Creator had been this wolf, HawkWind. Quite literally, the mind had created VoidFane, and that thing had taken over. The thing of Vengeance had told her that he kept his Creator chained, and she believed that he had mean it quite literally. And now, it seemed, HawkWind existed only here—was this place within the black destroyer’s mind?
There was an ominous groan behind her, but the warrior did not stop and turn to look. She knew enough to know that the sound was not a good one. Immediately, HawkWind ordered her to climb, and she did. Her limbs worked as she silently mounted the strange, artificial hill. The fae attempted to leap over the base of the hill, for surely the decay of tissue would hold some sort of pestilence. She had seen such things on the battlefields of other Dreams, but this was somehow different. It was putrid in her mind. Where very little disgusted the black fae, this disgusted her now. And the rest of the hill, its height great, was littered with other things, some things of which she had never before seen. But she sought sure footing, moving quickly and somehow retaining that grace as she climbed to the top, reaching it as HawkWind did and as the torrent of that blood rushed by, the woman watched as if seeing it before, although she was sure that she had not.
Twice he had died and the monster had persisted. It was strange how the darkness was always eble to exist, to endure while those of light could perish so easily. She wondered briefly why this was—perhaps she had been taught to follow the wrong side. Or perhaps the gods sought to challenge the good at every turn, to allow the evil to suffer and rot in their own self-wrought demise. "What," she asked quietly, turning her gaze from the river of blood, "is it like to die in those ways?" Her query was not spoken with fear but with a curiosity. To experience death in both body and soul, both separately...surely the experience was indescribable. Even as the question left her woad bound maw, she felt that he would not be able to answer simply because words were inadequate.
"I don’t know," the woman answered. She hated answering in such a way—should she not know her own purpose? A soft smile graced the woman’s maw as she stood before this male, her white orbs searching his. "I was Dreaming, and I heard a cry, so I followed it." Often, Dreams were Dreamt with purpose, but sometimes the Raven Dreamer Dreamt without purpose save to explore a different world. "It brought me here—or there, to VoidFane. I don’t know what my purpose is, but I am... compelled to resist him."