Fever Pitch
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And Echoed in the Well of Silence
BY TASHA OOC:: All welcome, definitely going to be a Syndrome shift, is currently in the early stages right now. Let the forest magic begin
OOC: OMG I'm sorry it's so long!
I am not the same, having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world Since departing the gilded shores of this forsaken isle he had wandered, learning the world and its inhabitants by scent, sound, and sight as an audience observer only. He had glimpsed others, mostly wolves like and unlike himself, but there were hints of other creatures as well… He could not bring himself to seek them out, for to do so would too fully commit him to this place, force him to admit that perhaps he could not leave. The overlay of charcoal upon his pelt lent itself well to hiding amidst the shadows, but his aureate, wingèd mask still blazed with the sea of magic that he could touch but a trickle. Yet…there seemed to be a current to the magic of this land, a tug that had a central focus; less like a river perhaps than a whirlpool, and it dragged at him as surely as the tide that had yanked him to Eshteth’s shores. Was it there, in the eye of that vortex that he might find enough access to the enigma ether to cut a path to his next conquest? Loki was not usually so eager to depart a world, especially one so interesting, but the very fact that he could not, it rankled. The young wolf felt the shift in the air at almost the same instant as his nose caught the scent of softwood and hardwood alike; pine, fir, hemlock and oak, all mingling in a bouquet with the crisp bite of waning summer to add that final garnish. It had a distinctly different weight than the oppressive jungle, and the difference was starling enough to give him pause. One forepaw remained half-raised, ears swiveling atop his his head in sonar scan but once again it was his nose that brought him the information that made his skin prickle along his spine. Sweat. Rain in a cloudless sky. Vegetation and sweet musk. Loki’s brows drew down over his golden eyes, and as his head lowered to the soft loam of the earth, the uneven hoofprints shambling across the terrain became painfully obvious. Lips wrinkled forward in a canine frown as he studied them. They were not the cloven feet of deer or elk--the round, solid print was far larger, and yet there was something of the prey animal about the scent. There was also something else...pollution in the stormy scent, acid rain that wrinkled his muzzle further. Sickness. Leave it alone, he warned himself, trying to force his body to turn, make his paws carry him away from the trail of the unknown other, but he could not. Gaze strayed back towards the haphazard disaster that carved a path through the undergrowth. Tail swished, but otherwise he held himself in frozen conflict. Until…Pure curiosity, he tried to convince himself as his paws pulled him into a mile-eating jog, seemingly of their own accord straight down the path left like a blazing beacon before him. It was so carelessly created that he didn’t even need to slow his pace to follow it. Curiouser and curiouser, Loki mused, pushing aside the little tendril of...compassion?...that kept trying to wriggle itself around the knot of apathy that he had twisted into impossible tangles. It didn’t take him long. Cresting the same hill, following the landslide of a large, stumbling body down into the valley towards the water, Loki came upon the great bay stallion collapsed with ragdoll bonelessness half-in, half-out of the water. The sickly scent of fever, sweat and over-ripe fruit, was heavy here, only mildly dulled by the glacial bite of the pure stream. A flicker of recognition at the form of the beast tugged at him and he pinned his ears back in consternation. The scent was prey...and it was not. Loki eyed the big, heavy body, the feathered hocks with flinty hooves and knew that any wolf stupid enough to try to make a meal out of him would face far worse consequences than an empty belly. The head was half-submerged, but the long, slender ears were still available. The wolf cleared his throat. "You seem ill," he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the gurgling of the stream, his coarse tenor pensive. It was, he reflected, a bit of an understatement. Table © Chickadee for use on Xalypsis only. Texture © lovenewyork @Cif'Thar
Words and Lyrics Here
YOU MUST TAKE ME WITH YOU CIF. HUSHED ALTO PINNED HIM TO THE DARK. HALAVINE STOOD BEFORE HIM, NOT THE STRAWBERRY ROAN HE REMEMBERED, BUT AS A TWO LEGGED BEAST. A WOMAN, THOUGH HE DID NOT UNDERSTAND THE TERMINOLOGY THAT CAME TO HIS MIND. HE, TOO, WAS THIS UNUSUAL BI-PEDAL CREATURE, YET IN THIS VISION, SUCH A FORM FELT NATURAL. UNCOMFORTABLY SO. I WILL GO MAD IF I STAY HERE. SHE CONTINUED TO PRESS UPON HIM, A STRAIN OF DIRE DESIRE IN HER VOICE. SHE WAS NOT LYING. HER SPIRIT WAS A COLUMN OF FIRE THAT MADE THE SHAMANS UNEASY. YET, WITHOUT AN OUTLET, THE FIRE TURNED ON ITS MAKER AND CONSUMED HALAVINE INSTEAD. WHEN HE RETURNED FROM A THREE MONTH JOURNEY, SHE WAS IN THE RECESSES OF THE LIBRARY, SO FAR WITHIN THAT THE SHAMAN MOTHERS BELIEVED THE SPIRITED WOMAN HAD RUN OFF. WHEN CIF'THAR FOUND HER, SHE WAS IN WRETCHED PHYSICAL CONDITION, RECITING ANCIENT POEMS AND SCENES FROM BATTLES LONG SINCE FADED.
10-11-2017, 01:56 AM
With all the strength of a raging fire Mysterious as the dark side of the moon He was acknowledged, first by the swivel of tapered ears and then by a shockingly sky-colored eye as a head nearly the length of his rib cage was lifted from the water. Loki raked his memories to pinpoint the familiarity, and came up with a similar looking beast, though slighter of build and cloven of hoof, with a single spear-like horn in the center of its brow where this copper-colored stallion had only a tangled forelock. Those others had been more like deer or antelope, and he had made the grave mistake of treating them as such. To be fair, he had been starving; a scraggly adolescent stumbling through one of his first planeswalking adventures, and how was he to know that they had a...a protocol for dealing with hunters? The lead stallion of that band had threatened to skewer him and roast him for the vultures to feast upon, and he had nearly done it, too. The ghost of a smile for the ghost of a memory turned up one corner of his ebony lips. Do not come closer, the copper-colored equus warned, but not in the desperate way of a cornered animal trying a last, hopeless effort to ward off a hungry predator. Loki cocked his head in curiosity, nostrils flaring as he once again took in the sour-apple tang of fever sweat. Sickness had not been something that touched him often...for most ailments he could simply heat his body, make his own blood and organs so inhospitable that no virus nor bacteria could survive long. You can’t do anything else here, what makes you think that will work? The caustic irony was so...Rya. Mother. He snorted. The little forest stream protested with a sucking sound as the large body heaved upward, and the onyx-cloaked wolf took an uncertain step backwards, eyeing the sharp hooves with healthy respect. The stallion seemed almost on the edge of delirium, and Loki would hate to be caught unawares if some true madness took him. It made his next words, conversational and polite, all the more surprising and it took the young wolf a moment to find the right answer. “I am Loki Anor,” he answered, caught up in the oddly formal exchange of pleasantries and offering both given and surname despite himself. “I am a visitor as well...as is the only other besides you I’ve encountered. I’ve been here less than a fortnight…a quarter-moon, maybe,” Brow furrowed. Had it already been so long? He had hardly ever remained in one place for more than that. It made an itch squirm between his shoulder blades, one that, at the moment, he could not scratch. Since there was nothing to be done for that he pushed the puzzle of his unwilling residency to the back of his mind, and noted how unsteady the stallion seemed on his feet. Cif’thar seemed to want to go somewhere, somewhere other than this stream, but he seemed vague as to where, peering almost near-sightedly at Loki, as if he struggled to focus. This sickness must be something terrible, to affect him so. “I don’t fall sick so easily,” he said, both to act counter to the voice of reason in his head that spoke with his mother’s voice, and to justify his next words to Cif’thar--who else would help him? “Might I assist in some way? I promise I won’t eat you,” this time he did grin, the flash of fang against his dark countenance startling in its clarity...a little wolf humor, that was. He wasn’t hungry anyway.template by kyley @Cif'thar
10-23-2017, 11:08 PM
Words and Lyrics Here
@Loki Anor
12-04-2017, 05:32 PM
With all the strength of a raging fire Mysterious as the dark side of the moon His joke had made the stallion laugh, as Loki had meant it to, and it made the young wolf’s tongue loll briefly from the side of his mouth. Despite the ripe tang of fever-sweat, if Cif’thar was still capable of such reasoning he was not so far gone. However, the swaying instability that followed his acquiescence made the charcoal prince start, caught between moving towards and away. What did he think he would do, catch the bay equus if he were to fall? “Easy,” he murmured instead, sun-gold eyes keeping a wary watch as the stallion regained his balance. An answering nod, the canid’s mind flicking through his sparse knowledge of the place, searching for some locale that might match with the other’s desires. Nothing immediate came to mind...and then that pull, that current of ether swirled around him and tugged at his ruff, his ears, his tail, adding whispered promises of surcease from pain to its already-powerful allure. The accommodating nature of the magic set his teeth on edge rather than soothing him, but Loki still lifted his muzzle, tipped his skull, considering. He had been going that way to begin with, hadn’t he? Cif’thar’s last words drew him back, and momentary surprise flashed across his face. Felidae. His brain dredged up memories of long, lithe bodies--spotted, striped, and solid alike--and infuriating smugness and superiority. He chuckled. “Indeed they are,” he agreed. Finally the insistence won out and Loki took a few leading steps, his body angled towards the center of the invisible vortex of magic that pulled at him. “This way,” he urged, more confidently than he felt, less surely than the invisible strings pulling at him wanted. Ash-tipped paws took them deeper into the forest and Loki paused every few feet to look back towards the bay stallion, to make sure he was following, circling around occasionally to his flanks to nudge him back onto the path. They passed a myriad of flora, some with flowers, some with tubers below the rich earth, and Loki’s pace slowed, thoughtful. “I’m no healer,” his tenor slipped down towards baritone with uncertainty, “are there any herbs or such here that might ease your symptoms? I’m sure I could find them if you know of any.” template by kyley @Cif'thar |
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