Post by David Bowie on Sept 7, 2020 11:49:00 GMT -5
The moonlight rained down on the sunless seas stretching out unknowingly into the distance. Night or day, it didn't seem to matter; right now, the light was gone, snuffed out from both sky and soil except for a single bonfire flickering weakly on the beach.
Near the flames, driftwood logs sat askew in a rough circle around the brush and stone pit, a makeshift set of seats for any weary wanderers that were up despite the hour. One log was already occupied; a youngish looking man with brown hair and a light canvas jacket played a guitar and sang to himself. If approached, he simply kept his head bowed and eyes shut and continued to strum and sing; he was merely a witness to tonight, a human conduit or translator if needed, and nothing more.
Shifting translucent shadows prowled around the rim of the firelight, hulking beasts of a four-legged variety, not yet settling into anything that could be recognized. They made no sound, neither speech nor howl, neither foot pads nor sliding sands, and seemed to merely be, a haunting presence that would not leave.
Stay awhile, and listen.
Last Edit: Nov 22, 2020 12:37:58 GMT -5 by Artemis
Post by David Bowie on Sept 7, 2020 11:49:28 GMT -5
0/1 Valsharen Female 0/1 Khluryar Male 0/1 Faern Male 0/1 Sargtlin Female 0/1 Neccasalmor Male 0/1 Hithern Female 0/1 Zanjur Female 0/1 Kyorli Male 0/1 Darlshei Male
The Barren Mother Valsharen, Erthe
A once-ebony coat cloaks this aging queen. Unmarked by the way of the lesser ranks, it nonetheless can no longer be described as a solid blanket of black fur, now grizzled almost white at the edges of her crows-footed eyes and the end of her snout, more white creeping up between her toes like frosted weeds. Her eyes, though, betray no age in themselves, almost out of place with their sparkling emerald brilliance. She has lost her youth, but not her wits.
The Mistaken Justice Khluryar, Iglata
Jet-black fur envelopes a broad, barrel-chested body, cloaked with what was once a cleanly defined cape over his neck and shoulders but now is frayed at the snowy white edges as the hoar of age slowly conquers the night. His fur is short, and what most would call scruffy, as he does not bother to keep it groomed clean each day. Deep violet eyes watch the world with a guarded gaze.
The Hidden Horror Faern, Rendan
Just too thin to be healthy-looking, his frail appearance is enhanced by the obsidian canvas his markings rest on. His dark blue eyes are encircled by winged markings of the same pure white, and his legs are banded by broad white stripes that nearly touch now as they have spread over the years. He trembles occasionally when he walks, and tremors occasionally twitch his head as well.
The Fallen Soldier Sargtlin, Lasinian
The breadth of some warriors was never hers to lose, but she maintains the height and commanding posture of her rank even now as her raven fur begins to thin and her whiskers have gone grey. A single band around the upper-half of each leg denotes her station, if her inability to escape a stiff military march and high-held head did not make it apparent even from her mere silhouette. Her eyes are the colour of pale clay dirt, and beneath the thinning fur scars can be seen.
The Unwoven Strands Neccasalmor, Cryso
Alabaster white wraps around the sleek body of this frail Neccasalmor, unblemished if not for the coal-black collar, thin as string, still visible around their hanging neck. He does not make eye contact with many, but a glance in one's direction can reveal eyes the colour of drying blood. His tail is matted with dirt, and his fur in general tends on the shaggy side.
The Broken Vow Hithern, Nika
Silver fur, lustrous if not quite shimmering, keeps her warm as she sleeps away her demons. While others have lost weight, she has gained some, unable and unwilling to move with the energy she did as Inlul. Her pelt is soft, although she shies away from even the lightest brush of touch from another. Golden eyes wish they could be dimmer, duller, and more be-fitting of someone as lowly as her. Soft white rings alternate down the length of her still-fluffy tail.
The Unspoken Words Zanjur, Ungue
She appears muzzled by three inch-thick black bands around her snout, dotted by ghostly white whiskers in the darkness. The fur besides might have been a clean white at one point, but is now the colour of sun-bleached ivory; off-white, but only just. Her fangs poke at the edges of her lips in a missable overbite. A lean body and lanky legs do not look out of place for her kind. One leg, however, has been lost to a rough life at some point, as only open air fills the space her left foreleg should be.
The Forgotten Memories Kyorli, Veresi
His eyes are black. His fur is black, and his mask is without colour, a white blindfold that has spread to the top of the bridge of his nose and up to the bases of his ears.
The Shrunken Heart Darlshei, Sjaal
All white, he might be mistaken for an elderly king if not for his small size, enhanced by the way his back hunches him slightly, the curve pushing his head down with enforced humility. When he focuses his powers, shadow-black sigils diffuse a dark light from his coat. The rest of the time, his eyes are off-coloured, one a dark teal, and the other a light turquoise. He moves stiffly.
Last Edit: Sept 7, 2020 11:51:30 GMT -5 by Artemis
Post by Fr. Clarence on Sept 7, 2020 15:31:35 GMT -5
Father Clarence sat stiffly on log opposite the stranger plucking away at a guitar. His eyes flicked back and forth over the incorporeal figures at the edge of the firelight. Something had pulled him here, some kind of unnatural-- supernatural-- tug.
The priest fiddled nervously with something in his pocket. It was probably just a rosary or some other form of prayer beads.
Whispers on the night air brought the woman to a halt. The night was young, and few hours were left in the day. The sky was dark and though shadows seeped into the surroundings, the slayer was comfortable. Her hood was lowered, long pointed ears twitching as she listened. It was singing, but the words she couldn’t make out. Instinct told her to follow it, and she wasn’t one to ignore that. Dark skinned hands returned the hood to its place, and she slipped into the shadows, seeming to disappear.
The beach was not far from where she had been in the surrounding wilderness. She stepped onto the sand, her boots making no noise. She saw the bonfire clearly, tongues of flame reaching into the sky as if to try and pull the darkness into it. Two figures were there- the man who’s voice she had heard, strumming a guitar. There was another man, opposite of him, and as she approached she could tell he was clearly nervous. A slight smile curved on her lips. She strode towards the bonfire with purpose, watching the shadowed figures move at the edges of the fire’s light. Her pupil-less silver eyes locked onto them as she approached an empty log and sat down.
Once she was settled, her hood was lowered. The Drow focused on the singing man first, then Fr. Clarence before they settled on the fire. The shadows intrigued her but she felt now was not the time to speak. The elf enjoyed the flickering of the fire and the engulfing, comfortable presence of the night.
Post by Junho Song on Sept 7, 2020 23:25:06 GMT -5
It was a strange thing, turning twenty-three in a new life, a new world. Though he wasn’t really sure whether or not birthdays had true meaning here on this planet, but Jin, Sae-rom and Ga-eun could sense that this day was different than others, and were more than happy to celebrate him. And now it had passed, came and went, with bits of candy that Jin had conjured up with some magic or another, and few dazzling, smooth pieces of seaglass that the Beorfin had brought to him, a bit of garbage turned into pretty things that he kept in his pocket. As far as birthdays went, this year was a pretty good one.
Even as he settled himself, having aged another year in this new place, Junho felt the constant itch to move around, explore, because he had felt that it had been a while since he’d first arrived, and he still considered Whazzit a new place. And he was wondering when he’d start to consider it home.
He had no clue how he ended up on a beach, by himself, wearing essentially pajama pants and a hoodie with his hands tucked inside the pockets. He could smell the bonfire before he could see it, and he approached it, following the warm glow of its light until he could make out the shadows of a few figures, recognizing Zebey as he drew near, and not the other two, deciding to offer the Drow if she noticed a soft smile. He realized as an afterthought, that he wasn’t sure if she could see it or not. Perhaps her silver eyes could see in the dark, unlike his boring brown human ones.
He wanted to offer a greeting, but the pleasant song that was plucked on the guitar was far more important than him opening his mouth, so he stood back at the edge, standing, hands still in pockets, twirling the pieces of seaglass gently so they wouldn’t clank loudly against each other. He thought that Jin would really love this, as his eyes adjusted to the light of the fire and he enjoyed the tender embrace of its warmth, and the sweet sound of the music. It wasn’t the kind of music he’d normally listen to, but the fact that it was music made him feel the edges of familiarity.
Post by David Bowie on Sept 11, 2020 15:45:36 GMT -5
A shadow shifted closer to the good Father's back, heavy breath snuffling at the hairs on his neck before vanishing into dark mist again, shapeless and formless.
Zebey was given a wide berth, welcomed into the radiance of the firelight without disruption for the time being.
A warm fur brushed past Junho's side, nothing to be seen or felt if he turned or tried to catch whatever had caused it.
The last notes of the song faded out into a hum, idle strumming replacing the meaningful tune from before. David paid attention to nothing, improvising as he went along, but with his voice gone from the wind it was decidedly quieter out here, only the soft shushing of the waves on the sand and the howling of some unhappy beast lurking on distant moors.
The smoke from the fire turned purple-black with a flash and began to carry a sweet, woody herbal scent.
The howling, almost a wailing now, seemed to draw in closer -- and then it did draw in closer, and suddenly it became clear it was not one voice but many all at once, struggling to be heard, and they rose and fell vaguely along the shape of David's hum.
A cold nose poked Zebey's hand. Still, the only thing visible was the gathering of shadows, intent on staying camped around the outside of the fire's reach.
Post by Fr. Clarence on Sept 12, 2020 13:40:45 GMT -5
It was a good thing the priest was already holding his breath. Otherwise, he may have said something a little untoward when he felt the hot and heavy air at the back of his neck that made his skin prickle and sent a shiver down his spine. There were plenty of other elegant ways he could ruin appearances. He needn’t sink to something so boorish as swearing.
In fact, here was a prime example:
With a flick of the wrist, Clarence tossed the finger bone out of his pocket and back towards the shadows. From that singular bone, more began to grow, slowly at first, until a fully formed skeleton stood at the good Father’s side. A human skeleton, if that wasn’t clear. It wasn’t perfect. There were areas where he’d rushed the job and the bone was pitted. It certainly moved, but it was a bit disjointed, as if Clarence hadn’t been quite sure of how its joints should properly articulate. And he hadn’t been sure. He was a necromancer, yes, but he wasn’t a bone magician. His experience laid within the spiritual aspect of death and not giving life, or even false life, to flesh and bone after death. He never would have tried a trick like this back home, but this strange Planet had given his studies somewhat of a boost.
Father Clarence admired his handiwork for a moment. No, it wasn’t perfect but it was a feat nonetheless. The skeleton took a step forward, away from the fire, and stood like a sentry at the priest’s back, an eyeless watcher into the darkness. He sighed, before turning to get a good look at the two that had joined him at this strange bonfire. Neither Zebey nor Junho looked familiar, but Clarence rarely paid attention to faces in the village outside of those that visited his church. He tried memorizing them now, and David’s from across the flames. They’d witnessed his secret.
But before he could get very far with that thought, the fire crackled in a way the priest was sure wasn’t normal. And the sudden shift in the smell of the smoke, it was somehow familiar? It wasn’t until the unearthly chorus closed in that Clarence had realized the singing had stopped. He jumped to his feet and whirled around to face the shadows, searching them for answers.
“We’re not alone,” he announced to the group, as if that wasn’t obvious. The skeleton moved sideways to stand in front of him.
“Show yourselves,” Father Clarence beckoned out toward the darkness.
Post by Junho Song on Sept 12, 2020 14:37:11 GMT -5
The ghost of feeling crept right by him, and while Junho did turn to look, when he saw nothing there, he didn’t pay it too much mind. It wasn’t peace he felt exactly, that wasn’t the right word for it, not exactly, especially as the haunting howl rose up into the air. The initial calm that Junho felt twisted in his stomach, turning into an unsettled tension.
A fact that only became more apparent when suddenly! skeleton.
He’d seen a lot of weird things in his time on this planet, but nothing quite so...creepy. He didn’t flinch this time, because, and he found that he was holding his breath. The father toss something onto the ground, so Junho could at least guess that the stranger had produced it. While he was familiar with Zebey, if you could call it familiar, the fact he didn’t know Clarence at all was enough to tip his nerves into being completely on edge.
He flinched, taking a step back when the flames lept up a bit, changing colors. He regained himself, partly, with beads of sand moving on either side of his feet even after he shifted his stance, as if they were jittering for him. The cries seemed to become just that, cries, approaching, splitting into slightly distinct voices. It was clear, even outside of the howling, that they were not quite alone.
Which was promptly announced to the group. It was obvious, yes, but Junho felt a little bit better knowing that he wasn’t the only one thinking about it. He wanted to know what was going on, what they were surrounded by, but he instead said nothing.
Post by Haelys Celtaris on Sept 13, 2020 2:09:17 GMT -5
It's always summer Under the sea I know, I know
Embrose's gentle, haunting song echoed in Haelys's mind from above. Far to the south of her castle, the woman sat on a flat stone just above the water, the spray of the waves misting the bottom of her bare feet. Her hair was loose, waving and shifting in the oceanic breeze. The water was warmer here. Where she was from, the chill of the sea was piercing. Where she was from—
The birds have scales And the fish take wing I know, I know
Once upon a time, Haelys did not leave her home alone. The pressure of the throne, the threats outside the walls...freedom had a different meaning then. Power was freedom. Here, she sat in the open without expectation or distraction. She had never before felt enjoyment staring at the ocean. Now, as her blue-gray gaze focused on the dark water...well, perhaps enjoyment was not the right word.
The rain is dry And the snow falls up I know, I know
But she was never alone here either. She could feel his eyes—the Beorfin that was bound to the water and yet somehow always knew where she was. The other was not often far behind, though she was more...sporadic. Loneliness also had a different meaning here.
The stones crack open And the water burns
Something told her that Mirr'i was restless in the water. The Kel’rhea flicked her tail, giving a warning splash, though Haelys could not see this. She could not see much of anything. It was so dark tonight. This was no problem, of course. Sometimes you needed to close your eyes to see.
The shadows come to dance My love The shadows come to play
Haelys's eyes finally settled on the distant dot of light. She rose to her feet, white dress flowing in the breeze. She moved towards it, shoes in one hand while the other arm reached out to maintain her balance as she stepped down onto the sand. Whether it was peace or something much different she had found at her sea post, her curiosity was enough to abandon it for tonight.
Away from her trio of shinies she moved, the Arathli's song finishing and fading in the distance.
The shadows come to dance My love The shadows come to stay
Whether this was an aimless wander or an intentional pursuit was unclear. Haelys stepped close enough for the fire to illuminate her front, though she could not feel the warmth at this distance. Like Junho, she did not take a seat. She watched as the flames gave off colored smoke and an unexpected scent filled her nose. The woman did not seem to react much to the howling nor to the skeleton standing nearby, for the strange had become less and less shocking throughout her stay in this world. And, for probably the first time since any Whazzitian had encountered her, she said nothing. Gently, she allowed her shoes to fall from her hand and land sideways in the sand.
It was the feeling that ultimately made her turn slowly around so that her back faced the fire and her front faced the black, endless space around them. Her usual fierce protectiveness over herself did not appear to be present tonight—she could not find the drive for her usual spunk. Instead, she silently observed her own lack of fear as she stared into the unknown.
[The song that Embrose is singing: here Word Count: 576]
Zenith knelt atop his favorite sand dune and listened to the stars sing.
Most humanoids had sought their beds hours earlier. In their absence the noises of the natural world had come into their own. The slow hiss of waves over sand, the soft wingbeats of birds and winged shinies- they formed a symphony all of their own, a music of the night as literal as it was lovely.
Far overhead the atmosphere thrummed a perennial counterpoint. Ionospheric electrons vibrated, buzzing against one another at just the right speed to make a constant hum. Distant stars added their own notes to the chorus, faint chimes of interstellar music just audible to Cybertronian senses. Together they formed the background track of Zee’s life, a comfortable constant he could count on no matter how strange things became.
Beneath the stars and the distant solar winds someone else was singing too. Offhand Zee couldn’t identify their voice, either. Curiosity pulled him to his pedes and across the beach towards the single flickering point of light in the distance.
Perhaps predictably, he wasn’t the only one drawn to the flame. A scattering of others had beaten him to the punch. Zee waved briefly, oddly hesitant to break the silence, and settled into a crouch at the edge of the firelight.
He had no way of knowing precisely what had brought them all here, but beneath it all, were reasons really that important? Sometimes simply enjoying a beautiful evening with potential friends was motivation enough.
Even if it rapidly became obvious that they weren’t nearly as alone as he’d first thought they were. Just because his sensors reported nothing living in the shadows didn’t mean something wasn’t out there, and wasn’t that a friendly thought?
Maybe the good father had been right to summon his (abso-fragging-lutely awesome) skeleton friend.
Other people were being drawn to this place. When Junho approached, the drow’s eyes followed him- at the soft smile, there was a pause before Zebey offered him a slight nod in response. She could see very well in the dark, his assumption would be correct. When Junho seemed settled, still standing, the drow looked away and swept the shadows once more. Nothing came close to her, and she couldn’t fully make out the forms in the darkness still. Clearly they didn’t want to be seen yet.
The song from the man died down and drifted into idle strummings. She listened to the notes, and his humming, quietly. The fire cracked and popped into purple-black flames. The elf gazed at it, breathing in the wood and herbal smells, listening. It was then she noticed the skeleton guarding Clarence’s back; and then, almost on cue, he spoke. She rolled his eyes at his statement- she’s pretty sure all of them realized there were others here.
The howling was drawing closer, and that’s when she felt the cold nose press into her hand. Pausing a moment before looking to her side, she saw nobody there. A slight smirk crept on her lips, and the drow rubbed her fingers against her palm on the hand that was touched. Her silver eyes focused on Clarence. “They’ll show themselves when they are ready,” was said with a smirk.
Haelys arrived next, earning an unreadable look from the drow that lasted only a couple of breaths. She could see the shinies in the distance that had brought her/come with her here, but they didn’t get closer. To her pleasant surprise, though, the foreign queen did not speak. She turned her back to the fire, gazed out into the shadows, silent. Zebey leaned back, hands on either side of her seat. If only she would do this more often, she would cause less trouble. As Zee approached with his awkward wave, crouching down without a sound, Zebey started to hum along with the howling drifting over them.
Post by David Bowie on Oct 1, 2020 19:20:08 GMT -5
'Show yourselves' the priest suggested, and got several growls in reply. Even in death, the spirits were unlikely to kowtow to just anyone's whims.
Junho, Haelys, Zenith; these three said nothing, and were greeted in return by nothing more than the flickering fire, gentle strumming of David's wandering hands, and the chill of a ghostly air wrapped around where they faced away from the fire.
Then a snort -- something harsh, nasal, and perhaps amused -- followed Zebey's wry remark.
Within the shadows, something began to take form, tendrils of the void merging and weaving together, building from something shapeless and unknown into the figure of a shaggy black wolf with striking blue eyes, easily looking Zebey in the face without trying.
You are ilythiiri, he observed approvingly of the dark elf. His head jerked to the side too sharply, and he turned a bemused gaze to Father Clarence. Zu'tour phor or I will keep you here with me. Mal'rak. The Faern laughed, a hysterical, hyena-inspired sound that did not seem happy in the least.
Clusters of shadows coiled in the sand around the feet of the skeleton, giving it a small but respectable berth as they tried to suss out its purpose. Something, or someone, growled, and something or someone snarled, but nothing grew forth to challenge it for the time being.
Near Zenith, another giant black dog, similar to the blue-eyed speaker, shifted into shape, but said nothing, for all appearances unaware of anything around him as he simply curled to rest.
A snout pressed into Haelys' shoes, sniffing them deeply, curiously, and with an unexpected determination. Whatever the canine attached to the snout was searching for, however, would remain a mystery as it faded back into the dusk. There was not enough to form an opinion yet. They would have to wait and see what happened.
Junho might not hear anything taking place around him, but if he looked behind he would be staring in the rich violet eyes of an untamed looking Khluryar. The solemn creature also sat in silence, but wore a distinct 'dakan frown, and did not look pleased to find himself beside the campfire. Why Junho was to blame for his foul mood was anyone's guess.
Strange sigils glowed in the fire, a bizarre colourless light emitting from them.
A couple more had joined their small crowd, and Junho felt a bit more relaxed. Saying he was relaxed at the arrival of The Queen was probably strange, but she hadn’t hurt him yet, and he only felt comfortable with the strength of numbers. Zenith, whom Junho recognized but didn’t know particularly well, was given a wave back. Maybe it was a stretch, calling all of these Whazzitinians friendly, but they weren’t harmful, and Junho was the kind of person who tended to try to give others the benefit of the doubt. Even when they were able to summon a skeleton from, well he didn’t know where it was from still. Maybe he’d eventually form the courage to ask.
But suddenly, things were shifting. With the flickering flames, it was hard to tell what was moving and what was just a trick ofthe eyes, but Junho couldn’t help but follow each movement that happened carefully, realizing that he was still ultimately feeling on edge, noticing belatedly that the sand around his feet still shifted restlessly, and that movement certainly was not coming from any sort of breezy air by the ground. He sucked in a breath, trying to calm himself, not wanting to feed the spirit that danced on his nerves, always willing to reach out and get a lick of freedom, to flex its power.
The first shadow that became began to speak. Junho didn’t do anything drastic, no sharp moves or anything, but he did listen, still silent. He wasn’t able to fully catch the conversation, wasn’t even fully sure if the words were any language that he could understand, but he did catch the laughter, stretched out, even more haunting than the hauls that had risen into the night previously. But that wasn’t the only movement that was occurring at that very moment, so many things shifting and moving and it wasn’t just him and the sand. It felt as though they were suddenly surrounded, and maybe it wasn’t just the darkness of the night.
And then he was met with a pair of eyes. Beautiful and violet, in a sort of unusual way that reminded him once again that he wasn’t back on his own home planet.
The creature resembled a wolf, sure, but the difference in size was not comparable, not that Junho had seen a real wolf before outside of an enclosure that was a ways off from himself. He opened his mouth but his voice died in his throat, or had it never been alive for the entire night in the first place? But the creature, who looked distinctly unhappy, didn’t move and Junho felt his muscles start to itch for some relief.
“Can I help you?” He asked, with utmost sincerity. He wasn’t sure if his new companion could understand him, would even want to understand him, but he did feel a tuft of relief spread down his torso now that he had finally spoken. The howls that had circled them earlier came back to the front of his mind, and he wondered, even through the laughter, if something sad had happened. It didn’t seem like his new companion was particularly keen on being here at the present moment, but maybe it was something else.
As if he was able to interpret howling in any way.
There were too many thoughts clashing in his head, and he tried to shake them off, instead focusing on the Violet-eyed lupine shiny, leaving him completely unaware of the runes that began to appear in the fire. Not that the runes would make any sense to him, either. Perhaps tonight should have been a night for him to tucker into his sleepingbag and not have had to have his mind leak in directions that were less than ideal.
ooc: word count, 632
Last Edit: Oct 2, 2020 9:38:20 GMT -5 by Junho Song
Post by Haelys Celtaris on Oct 4, 2020 19:49:11 GMT -5
As a human, Haelys's senses were subpar to many humanoids and shinies on Planet. But here and now, the woman felt nearly hyper-aware of the sounds and chilling sensations around her—echoing in her skull, creeping across her skin. This likely had to do with the fact that her vision was compromised under these elements. Yet, she could not peel her eyes away from the endless darkness before her. Even as the others interacted with the fleeting shadows, she did not turn, nearly entranced. The growls and snarls—they reminded her of Thalack, though that didn't necessarily mean these creatures were Ikal'daka.
She felt surprised that nobody had yet been attacked. Nobody was screaming. No blood had been spilt. They must be different from Thalack, or else surely the humanoids would all be ripped to shreds by now. If these shadow-dwellers were not here to hunt or kill, what was their purpose? If somebody ran, would they chase? Perhaps this was a game, though she was not feeling playful tonight.
Haelys finally budged when a snout shifted her shoes in the sand. She looked down at them, barely catching a glimpse before the being disappeared. They were ankle-cut boots, white yet smudged with a small amount of dirt. Their laces were undone, sprawled out without a care. Surely they smelled of the earth of the eastern arbor where she lived and walked about. There would also be hints of the stone floors of her castle as well as the floral scent of her skin that she took meticulous care of.
Turning back to the darkness, the queen reached out a hand, palm up, fingers loose and slightly curled. She bent her wrist up as if offering the vulnerable flesh where important vessels ran, though this was not her conscious intention. The skin of her hand would contain the same floral scent, though this would be tainted by a metallic undertone from jewelry and coins. As rare and melancholy as her mood was tonight, she still stood with her usual straight, proud posture and there was a subtle sparkle of curiosity in her light eyes as they searched for...something.
"Can you see?" She finally spoke, tone low enough that the other humanoids likely would only hear if they were paying attention to her, for her words were easily obscured by the guitar and growls. "Through the darkness?" She clarified her question, speaking literally, and yet there was something philosophically ironic about it.
The shadows began to shift. They drew in the slayer’s attention, and she watched as a large wolf formed with striking blue eyes. The wolf seemed to look straight at her, immediately, shortly after she had spoken to Clarence. A brow quirked, curious, and suddenly the canine spoke. The words that came from him caused a chilling shock down Zebey’s spine. Ilythiiri was drow. Literally, the word drow in the language of the drow. She hadn’t come across anyone else here that knew her language, and here this wolf was, casually speaking it?
Zebey showed no outword betrayal of her shock, but the corner of her lips twitched up in a grin. It spread further when the shaggy wolf spoke again to Clarence, and a snort of laughter escaped her. The jerky movements of the shiny didn’t bother her, nor did it even really catch her attention. She was too excited to care. She had never had real interactions with her own elven drow. Were there more wolves here like this one, or was this just a coincidence?
Other things were happening. Shadows were curling and coiling around the skeleton, but nothing formed out of them. Zebey found it slightly amusing they were gathered around it like a kid in a candy shop, but didn’t find it interesting enough to fully form like the blue eyed one. One did form behind Junho, however, the slayer noted. She watched Junho turn and offer his help. The violet eyed one didn’t look too pleased. Zebey couldn’t figure out if that was because of Junho (who seemed fine to her, it would make more sense for him not to like the queen).
”Ishwi,” Zebey said with a chuckle. She wasn’t sure what to expect here, but she was thoroughly loving it so far.
Perhaps the quiet singing drew Tzimekh from the darkness further down the beach; perhaps the unsettled feeling somewhere between her ribs that chased sleep far from the menu. The soft sand had been perfectly comfortable, the sky endless and answerless, but the dworc wasn’t surprised by that. No, her sleeping situation wasn’t the issue. Loneliness wasn’t, either. Not really. Yes, there was an emptiness in her that longed for something, but her new therapist (who was awfully smart, for a horse with only one straight antler, sticking out of his forehead) said that was homesickness. Said that even if she didn’t remember it, part of her would always long for the place she’d been born, miss it, even.
Tzimekh thought that sounded like a load of shit, but that weird horse had been right about the nightmares. Still. There wasn’t anything to be done for it, except stroll down the beach towards the distant fire, arms wrapped around herself. Surely others were there, if there was a bonfire: and other people meant a distraction from the restlessness that wouldn’t leave her alone, even when it was apparently time for bed. Had it been, before? Time was strange, here, and concussions were strange, besides, she’d been told.
The bulky woman ignored the unease that settled soft next to the feeling in her ribs, on the start of the howling. It was almost melodic, and something, somewhere in her called to the sound, knew it as she knew herself – wild and eerie, but so, so familiar, just out of reach. Scowling against the weight of thoughts not-quite-there, Tzi shuffled in close, eyeing the solemn group gathered with narrowed eyes. If she’d been expecting rowdy company, this didn’t seem to be where she’d get it, but that wasn’t actually surprising. It wasn’t that kind of night, tonight.
Seats were for sitting, though, and it wasn’t like she was going to get any sleep. Tzi sat quietly, eyes flicking from person to person, to the shadows that something told her weren’t actually wolves. Perhaps it was a little strange, watching a veritable giant of an alien try to tuck herself up into a tiny package, knees pulled up to her chest, but Tzimekh wasn’t feeling exceedingly confident, tonight. Arms wrapping around calves, the dwarf focused her gaze firmly on the fire. “’lo.” She mumbled, not looking away, never mind that magical fires weren’t always the best things to be hypnotized by. “Too dark out there.”
Yeah, okay, she could see just fine, but that wasn’t the point at all. Did she have to excuse her socializing? No, probably not, but the tense atmosphere wasn’t exactly subtle. Maybe filling it with inane babble would help. Duh.
Zenith offline his optics and just... listened. The waves sighed. The fire crackled. That skillfully-plucked guitar sang its gentle melody. Far overhead the universe spun on as it had since time immemorial, the stars crooning a song older than his species. It was peaceful, he decided, and absolutely the sort of thing he could get used to.
Which, perhaps predictably, meant it didn’t last long.
Zee was so wrapped in the unexpected serenity of the moment he completely missed the arrival of the ikal’daka. It was only when one of them spoke- and then laughed, to his endless consternation- that he was forcibly yanked back to reality. The big jet jolted, sand crunching under-pede, and shot his articulation locks a split-second before he could topple over.
Which meant he damn near put his hand... on? Through? He wasn’t quite sure what verb to use there, but either way, he was very abruptly made aware of the fact he had a new and questionably corporeal friend.
Gravity, the flaming glitch-sucker, asserted its dominance. It always did in the end. Zee teetered briefly before plopping aft-first into the sand. He probably made a big ole hole in the process, too, but he was too busy boggling at the new arrivals to care about such semantics. Those were some seriously sizable wolves. Almost Cybertronian-scale, now that he thought about it, and wasn’t that a cheerful thought? Not many of Planet’s native fauna could take a meaningful chunk out of a giant robot from space, but here was a pack of critters with the size, the strength, and the natural armaments to do precisely that.
Aforementioned giant frag-off wolves seemed friendly enough, at least, even if they were a little... shadowy around the edges. And a little prone to cackling like demented hyenas. Zee tilted his head first one direction, then the other, trying to make sense of the hash his sensory suite was feeding him. No matter what spectrum of light he cycled through, the newly-arrived canids just didn’t look properly real. They wavered in the visible spectrum, but they didn’t appear at all in infrared. Most warm-blooded things did, no matter how cleverly they tried to conceal their existence. These ones didn’t, though, and to Zee’s recently-expanded mind that fairly screamed ‘magic’.
Magic. Primus in the Pit, his mentors back at the academy were probably having fits at the mere thought. How many times had they insisted that ‘magic wasn’t real’ and thus was not a reasonable explanation for whatever error had crept into his work? And yet, here he was, staring down a bunch of not-wolves he was pretty sure lived, ate, and breathed honest-to-Primus magic.
The times, they have a-changed.
Well, no time like the present to do something stupid make friends, right? Zee brushed sand off his clavicle- or what would pass for such if he had actual bones- and favored the wolf next to him with a smile and a wave.
“Hey, uh- sorry about the clumsy entrance there. I’m Zee. Who’re you? Need me to scootch over so you can sit closer to the fire? I’m kinda big, I gotta be blockin’ the heat.”
Post by Fr. Clarence on Oct 14, 2020 11:50:54 GMT -5
Father Clarence wanted to do a whole lot of things that weren’t very priestly. He very nearly whispered try me to the shaggy blue-eyed creature. He didn’t understand all the words being said, but he didn’t need to. It was a feat that would’ve been impossible; Clarence was confident in that. Painstakingly, exhaustingly, confident. Those two words, however, would reveal a secret he kept hidden deeper than the flashier forms of necromancy he’d been experimenting with as of late. Again, he was not simply a bone magician.
Speaking of those bones though, that was another thing he’d wanted to do: send his skeleton to claw or punch or however it saw fit to remove the irritating smirk on Zebey’s face. Her snide remark was tiresome and uncreative. It was the lack of creativity that bothered him. If you were going to be unbearable, at least do it in style. The big wolf thing was bothersome for the same reason. It had nothing interesting to offer him, at least nothing that it cared to reveal so far.
What Father Clarence did was snap an index finger off the skeleton he conjured and placed it in his pocket, letting the construct crumble to dust and mix in with the sand. He didn’t care to offer help like Junho, to attempt introductions like Zenith, to go and sit down like Tzimekh who’d only just stumbled into the firelight. The sigils in the fire held no meaning to him, probably a magic inherent to this Planet, something he couldn’t access but could certainly research later.
To answer Haelys’s question, no, the priest couldn’t see through the darkness but he could step out into it. This had turned into a little more company than he desired when he wasn’t at church. Perhaps those still hidden away had something better to offer him.
Post by David Bowie on Oct 21, 2020 21:42:02 GMT -5
Junho asked a question, and the beast from the shadows stared back at him, stoic and unresponsive for a moment before its furry brown lifted slightly in what could safely be interpreted as surprise at the question. There was a more pregnant pause as it considered this, tilting its head ever so slightly side to side as of literally rolling the thought around in its skull, before locking eyes on Junho once more.
It is too late for that. The Khluryar laughed dryly, a sound no more human than the mad laughter of his blue-eyed companion, but distinctly more… Self-aware. What makes you think you could? Okay, bit rude, but perhaps not entirely without reason to ask.
Already bored, the wizard literally disappeared from Zebey's side, bellowing over to block Father Clarence's way. Where are you going, Khal'abbil?
Come, a new voice beckoned from the darkness, one that had refused to step into the light take form yet. There was an echoing quality to it, whispering and loud at the same time. Ignore him. He's not useful. Was... Was usefulness supposed to be like, how one determines who to hang out with now? Did that mean the voice was useful? Or is that the priest was useful to the voice?
WHile they bickered over who owned the Father, a cold body brushed past the abandoned dark elf. Small (relatively speaking) and hunched, the healer jerked his head pointedly towards the fire where the sigils burned. Come closer. Let him get a good look at you. He sees, but not that well. What happened? You do not belong here. His voice, though hoarse, was by far the kindest that had spoken yet.
The black dog by Zenith did not move, save to shuffle slightly into a new position. Instead, another creature from the shadows revealed itself, as soft an appearance as in nature, unlike the others. The Hithern kept her eyes downturned, refusing to look Zenith in the face, and spoke quietly. Please do not bother yourself for us, she all but begged. We are not important.
Tzimekh's appearance and greeting was huffed at by the shadows before a wolf as tall as her literally stepped out of them. The bedraggled Zanjur blinked open purple-pink eyes, and studied new arrival curiously and silently. Bitter, toothy grin was all that was offered by way of greeting, but had to be friendlier than what the other two had received so far, right?
The dworc was the second one to comment on the darkness, although as of yet, note that had heard have been too busy reacting to other things to acknowledge the Queen. Surely, Haelys had not gone unheard, not with the silence outside their circle, not with the supernatural hearing of those great fluffy ears? Well, are they really still fluffy, if they're not solid? That's a question for another time, not the point right now.
There was one other question that remain to be answered. Shadows came and pressed to Haelys' palm, invisible whiskers tickling at the skin, and left no trace they had ever been there when they pulled away. After a lull, she received two answers.
What darkness? asked the shadows in return.
No, said the black dog, I have not seen for many years. It felt out of place to speak his voice, and yet he could not let the truth go unsaid, lest they be beguiled into believing he too saw like the rest.