|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 0:24:59 GMT -5
(( let me get my laptop ))
|
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 1:07:44 GMT -5
Rhysand
It was in the quiet solitude of the forest that Rhysand found much of his comfort these days.
It had been a long, long time since he’d had any human interaction, and if he were being honest with himself, the faces of his long-dead friends had begun to fade around the edges, colors and some features blurring together. Long ago, he’d been banished to the solitude of the woods, his magic shackled and bound tightly by the words of a curse. His people, the Fae, had bound and cursed him to the human world when the mortals had begged for aid against him. Rhysand was perhaps the most powerful of his kind, and the humans he’d waged war against had little hope to repel him. Only the combined effort of the Fae’s strongest had managed to overwhelm Rhys. He’d been banished into the woods, alone, to live out his days and perhaps atone for his sins. He'd slaughtered countless humans, had cut a bloody swath across the world, seeking a maddened revenge for the death of his love. She'd died of illness, but the grief that followed her death had sent Rhysand tumbling into maddness. He'd sought to punished humanity for a fragility that was no fault of their own, and, although Rhys deeply resented the fact that he'd been bound to the moral world, he did blame the mortals for taking such action. That had been three-hundred years ago, and Rhys had long since reconciled with his actions and deeds. Still, he was bound, shackled to the mortal world, unable to return to the immortal lands of his birth. Day by day, Rhys wandered the forest, tending to the small garden he’d started, and to the forest surrounding him.
Rhys’ inherent magic was rooted in Shadow and Night, and yet he’d been able to nourish the landscape that his cabin was on. The old, weathered gray wood would appear worn down by some traveler possibly happening by, and the cabin as a whole would appear abandoned, as if it were left to nature. Vines began to wrap themselves up the sides, and had begun to engulf a nearby firewood pile. Rhys had done little to upgrade the cabin, although he maintained it over the years. The gray wood that served as the outside material had remained the same color for centuries. An old magic pulsed in the wood’s depths, lending to the foreboding air that seemed to surround the cabin. Rhys had warded the home, seeking to turn any potential visitors away. He had no desire to hear the opinions of humans towards himself, and although he was lonely, he doubted that anyone would even dare seek him out.
Today, as the spring rains faded away and the thunder-clouds rolled onward across the sky, Rhys was taking a quiet stroll through the forest, listening to the chirping birdsong and the rustling leaves. The scent of rain on the leaves filled his nose and lungs, soothing and relaxing him. He paused, watching as a doe wandered across his path. The animal lifted her head, turning dark eyes on the Fae. The two shared a moment, studying each other in quiet contemplation, before the doe shook her head and neck and continued on, hooves delicately picking her way across the leaf-strewn floor. Spring had come, but the rains had dislodged several leaves, decorating the forest floor. Rhys paused once again, taking a seat on a rather large branch to observe the world around him. He closed his eyes, extending his senses across the forest. He could hear the doe, and a small distance from her, the soft thundering of more hooves reached his ears. The scent of wildflowers tickled his nose as a breeze drifted by, and Rhys slowly began to relax, falling into a place of peace and silent solitude.
His meditative state was broken by a tingling across his spine; the sensation rushed up the length of his back, as if a spider were walking across him. It was certainly a possibility, but Rhys knew instantly what the source of the sensation was. His eyes shot open, a flash of amber against the brilliant forest green, and his upper lip curled back in a sneer. He shot to his feel, summoning his magic. He called the shadows to him, wrapped himself in darkness, and stepped through space and time. The door to his home was open, set ajar on its hinges. His magic flared outward, brushing against the disrupted wards to pinpoint the sole source of life in the cabin. Human; he could hear her heartbeat, rapid and thudding, faster than he remembered a human heart to be. So she was nervous; that was good. It meant she wasn’t completely mad, and could, on some instinctual level, sense the danger and the prickle of magic across her skin. His nostrils flared, taking in a scent that he recognized as a woman, but not a woman he knew. On quiet feet, he slid into his house, each footstep carefully placed to avoid the old creaky boards. There, in his kitchen, was a human.
Her hair was a brilliant red, gleaming in the low lighting like a brazier of flames. She was small, far shorter than he was, but somehow that was endearing. Her hair fell to her mid-back in a river of fire, and Rhys found himself cocking his head to study her for a moment. She had to have been young, no older than thirty. Had she not heard of the rumors of this part of the forest? Dark magic could be found here, but few knew that it was Rhys’ magic they were sensing. He paused for a moment. Had it been so long that humanity had forgotten him? Once, he’d wished to be forgotten, wished for his deeds to be forgiven. Now, faced with the reality that he had faded from memory, Rhys found that it made him sad. He’d figured it was possible, but had never considered that it would become fact. Perhaps it was for the best, that Rhys was lost to time and memory. He was dangerous; the Night incarnate.
Her back was facing him, and it was clear that she did not sense his presence. She reached for one of his pans, and he narrowed his eyes, watching as she grasped the handle for a brief moment, before recoiling instinctively. He was still cloaked in the shadows, somewhat hidden from her view, but it seemed she had finally sensed that she was not alone. His amber eyes flashed, and with a wave of his hand, he dispelled the illusion hiding him from mortal eyes.
It was as if the shadows peeled away, dispelled by a light too brilliant to be dimmed. In a soundless wave, the darkness retreated from the cabin, washing away. In its wake was a unnatural lighting, as if the sun was breaking through the cabin’s solid walls. Rhys stood in the center of his living room, peering at the human woman with a hooded gaze. His dark hair fell in loose waves, amber-gold eyes boring into Nighean with a brooding, piercing gaze. He raised an eyebrow in an almost taunting gesture. “You are far from home, little fire,” he said, voice cold and distant, and yet there was an air of surprise in his tone, as if he were shocked that someone had dared to break through his wards and encroach upon his territory.
|
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 1:26:34 GMT -5
(( <3 night ))
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 12:59:51 GMT -5
(( afternoon ))
|
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 13:40:37 GMT -5
(( I'm good lol you? ))
|
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 13:57:04 GMT -5
{{ ^^ sounds good yo }}
|
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on May 13, 2017 17:31:34 GMT -5
Hello! Do you think I could claim the eldest sister? )
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 18:21:46 GMT -5
(( don't see why not ))
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on May 13, 2017 21:24:13 GMT -5
sweet! I'll try to get my forms up tonight.)
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 21:26:59 GMT -5
{{ Awesome! Hopefully Glow will be here soon ^^ }}
|
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 22:44:15 GMT -5
{{ I can't see a message Glow lol }}
|
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 23:11:49 GMT -5
{{ lol }}
|
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 13, 2017 23:45:11 GMT -5
(( dork lol ))
|
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 14, 2017 0:06:25 GMT -5
[[ dork-a-zoid ]]
|
|
ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
|
Post by ℊℓоω on May 14, 2017 0:16:09 GMT -5
Nighean Blackwood
Instinctively, Nighean grasped the handle of the pan and held it up in defense. The voice came seemingly out of nowhere; male, obviously, and with an ominous timbre that went straight to her nervous system. It was as if the sun fell from the sky and landed outside, for light seeped into the cabin with unnatural speed. It was by some magic a man suddenly appeared before her, but her mind tricked her into thinking he had simply crept up on her. He was a striking figure; one not quite like any she had seen before. He was tall with long brown hair and alarmingly golden eyes. She stepped back toward the wall, afraid. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to intrude," she sputtered. "I thought this place was abandoned." Her eyes could not be torn away from him, and yet she urged them to. She felt the need to look down, to shrink before this man who seemed more than a man. But that was silly. She was only frightened, surely. She cast her fear aside and straightened to the best of her ability.
"I assumed this house was abandoned," she explained with a voice as clear and as powerful as she could muster. In her fear, she had dropped her boots, but her object now was to leave as quickly as possible. There was something odd about the man, aside from just his appearance, and she did not wish to anger him. She placed the pan back where it belonged and strode across the kitchen in the direction of the door, walking right passed the man. She avoided making eye contact, although she exuded a fiery confidence. As she walked by, she avoided brushing him at all costs. From there she walked straight for the door. "I really should be getting back. I apologize again for trespassing on your property."
Nighean was halfway out the door when she turned back, youthful brow pinched inquisitively. "I didn't mean to say your home was unpleasant when I said it seemed abandoned." It was a genuine comment, and she darned to dart her blue gaze in his direction for a split second. Had he called her "little fire"? Well, that couldn't have been malicious. And the cabin did seem brighter now. "Is there any way I could make it up to you? I've been collecting mushrooms all day, and I have plenty in my--"
Her voice cut off abruptly as her eyes landed on the window. Hanging from above was a small bundle of drying lavender. The words of her mother echoed in her head, and her jaw slackened slightly. Only a wicked fae or witch keeps lavender in the house. It serves no purpose but for casting spells and making potions. This observation was coming from a highly superstitious woman, and yet it felt significant to Nighean now. Why would a man keep lavender in the house? Her mother's voice had come to her with a clarity she had not been able to conjure in years. She felt so distant to Nighean now, for she had died when she and her sisters were young.
Snapping back into reality, it occurred to her that she had trailed off in the middle of a sentence. She looked back at the man, fear returning, but it was mixed with an insatiable curiosity. Who was he? What purpose did a cabin in the middle of nowhere serve?
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 14, 2017 0:19:41 GMT -5
{{ :3 Will respond soon }}
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 14, 2017 0:45:08 GMT -5
“Abandoned it is not,” Rhysand responded, furrowing his brow as Nighean stumbled through an explanation of her being in his home. She placed the pan back where it belonged, straightening to her full height – well, as much as she could, considering that she was relatively short, and Rhys could almost smell the fear rolling off her person. She scooted past him, making sure to keep as far away from him as possible. It was obvious that she didn’t want to touch him, not that he really blamed her. He hardly looked welcoming, glowering at her with brooding golden eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest when she mustered her courage and excused herself. She picked her way through his home with care, back straight, confidence oozing from her being. Her hair swished with each step, dancing about like a flickering brazier. Rhys raised a single brow as she left, calling the shadows close to him once more. As Nighean strode through the house, it seemed as she pulled that unnatural light with her, dragging the illumination as she left. Where she strode, the darkness seeped in, sliding across the walls and creeping across the floor like some midnight beast.
Rhys lifted a hand, intending to close the door with a brush of magic, but his efforts were stopped when the female abruptly froze, halfway inside the house, and halfway hanging in the entryway. He scowled again as she abruptly spun, apologizing profusely for the apparent insult she’d offered him. Rhys blinked at that; she was worried she'd insulted him? His house did look abandoned - that was the entire point. Who cared? It was unlikely she'd ever see him again. His hand formed a fist, fingers curling inwards towards his palm. His nails bit into the skin slightly, although no blood was drawn. He just wanted to the girl gone and his damned peace restored. She continued to rattle on about something – mushrooms it seemed – before her eyes were drawn to the window, and she spied the dried lavender he had hanging from the sill. She froze, eyes darting back to him. Her pupils dilated, as if she’d come to some great revelation. Rhys sighed and waved his hand again, dispelling the shadows once more. They slid away, almost reluctantly, retreating to the corners of the home before they disappeared entirely.
“What are you doing in this part of the woods, girl?” he asked her, voice seeming tired but still cold. She was a long way from where she belonged, judging by the state of her dress’ hem and her bare feet. She didn’t smell particularly pleasant, either; like she’d been on a hard ride, or a hundred hunts. His nose crinkled slightly; as Fae, his senses were stronger than a normal human’s, and while normal company would recognize that Nighean was not particularly clean at the moment, her particular perfume was very clear to Rhys, and was almost overwhelming. He curled his upper lip over his teeth in an odd, taunting grin as they both stared each other down.
His amber-gold eyes studied the fire-haired female for a long moment, as if daring her to speak. She was on the precipice of some important discovery, and Rhys had a feeling that his peaceful hike through the woods was ruined for the evening. This little human had strode into his cabin, punched a hole in his wards – wards that he’d spent decades building and perfecting – and was now staring at him with slack-jawed surprise, eyes dilated, heart pumping. Something was about to happen, and Rhys felt his magic build in his chest. The question was: whose world would be further shattered, his or hers?
"Why are you so far from home, little fire?"
|
|
|
|
|
Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 14, 2017 1:04:06 GMT -5
(( yaaaas ))
|
|
|