09-17-2018, 11:57 AM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Italianno|Sawarabi+Mincho" rel="stylesheet"><style>#rapturewater{width:650px;}#rapturewaterimg{border:#d6cfc9 1px solid;box-shadow:0px 0px 10px #d6cfc9;margin-bottom:-498px;margin-left:0px;background:url('https://s5.postimg.cc/w07jpwb3b/Rapture6.jpg') top left no-repeat;background-size:189px;height:500px;width:188px;margin-right:410px;position:relative;z-index:0;}#rapturewatercontainer{border:#d6cfc9 1px solid;box-shadow:0px 0px 10px #d6cfc9;margin-top:-502px;margin-right:0px;background:url('https://s5.postimg.cc/x2hq8fm6v/Rapture_BG2.jpg') top right no-repeat;height:500px;width:395px;margin-left:203px;position:relative;z-index:0;}#rapturewatertext{background:#ddd6d3;opacity:0.45;height:470px;width:365px;overflow:auto;padding:15px;position:relative;z-index:4;}#rapturewatertext::-webkit-scrollbar{width:8px;}#rapturewatertext::-webkit-scrollbar-track{-webkit-box-shadow: inset 0 0 8px rgba(0,0,0,0);}#rapturewatertext::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb{background:url('https://s5.postimg.cc/nj81egqtj/Rapture_Scroll.jpg') top center;border-radius:8px;border:1px rgba(255,255,255,0.5) solid;}#rapturewatername{width:150px;height:40px;overflow:visible;background:-webkit-linear-gradient(left, rgba(189,184,180,0), rgba(189,184,180,1)60px);background:-o-linear-gradient(right, rgba(189,184,180,0), rgba(189,184,180,1)60px);background:-moz-linear-gradient(left, rgba(189,184,180,0), rgba(189,184,180,1)60px);background:-linear-gradient(to right, rgba(189,184,180,0), rgba(189,184,180,1)60px);background:-ms-linear-gradient(left, rgba(189,184,180,0), rgba(189,184,180,1)60px);opacity:0.7;margin-right:372px;margin-top:-90px;position:relative;z-index:1;}#rapturewaternametext{color:#564b5c;font-size:50px;font-family: 'Italianno', cursive;margin-bottom:-15px;margin-right:5px;float:right;position:relative;z-index:2;margin-top:-17px;}hr.rapturewater{border:0;height:1px;background:#564b5c;background-image:linear-gradient(to right, #60585e, #564b5c);width:150px;position:relative;z-index:3;float:right;margin-top:0;}#rapturewaterquote{color:#1a171c;font-family: 'Italianno', cursive;font-size:22px;}</style><center><div id="rapturewater"><div id="rapturewaterquote" align="left">somewhere between the sand and the stardust</div><div id="rapturewaterimg"></div><div id="rapturewatercontainer"><div id="rapturewatertext" align="justify">She is not alone in this dead land. She knows this with a certainty. It is only fitting though, to send an army into the unknown. But it is unnerving, to gaze into the eerie depths of ruin and decay and know the living have come to invade. This land is better left to death, she thinks. Better left lost to the sea. But it seems her choices are no longer her own, if ever they were. Perhaps she could turn now and flee, but something inside her prevents the instinctual action. Curiosity (a yearning for recognition, to be something more than just another forgotten face), a thing she had thought long since withered to nothingness inside her, rises and beckons.
And so she continues forward.
She swims, pale limbs cutting inefficiently (horses are not made for swimming, not in the way of the fish and sea creatures) through the dark blue until she has reached the path that cuts through the lifeless kingdom. Skeletal trees rise above her, limbs reaching spectral fingers towards the surface, as though they might still claw their way from their briny grave. It sends a shiver along her spine as she inches forward, pale blue eyes wary and wide.
Her hooves leave no impression in the silty ground beneath her feet, buoyancy giving her a grace and lightness that otherwise does not exist in her lanky frame. She continues on, following a path that seems to stretch forever before her, leading her to a ruinous end.
But then there is a figure in the distance, equine in form and unnatural in presence. That curiosity propels her forward. Perhaps she is meant to help, or perhaps it is merely a coincidental encounter with another soldier.
Soon though (too soon) she recognizes it as neither. The figure continues it’s shuffle towards her, it’s gait stumbling and halting. She slows, head coming up as confusion settles. And as it comes ever nearer, recognition hollows a pit in her stomach.
<i>“Longclaw?”</i> His name falls from lips silenced by the heaviness of the water, keeping the syllables from ever reaching his ears. Ears that droop with decay over hollowed, dead eyes, and a body that sloughs with rotten skin and withered muscles. <i>“NO!”</i> she shouts silently into the depths, disbelief clutching at her heart.
She reaches to him in a way she hasn’t done since she was a child, a comfort she had not allowed herself in years. But there is nothing, only death and memories. Only endless regret. Only a horrible, disastrous end. Tears gather invisible in the corners of her eyes, mixing with the salty water of the sea, as he drives forward. Denial stills her muscles, freezes her mind and stuns her heart. Even when he crashes into her, she does nothing more than cling to him until a wail echoes soundlessly from her lips.
She doesn’t even try to stop him when he takes her to the ground, as bones and teeth slice her skin and the red of blood mixes eerily with the blue of the water. For a moment, she thinks this could be her death. The best death she could ever hope to receive. To die at the hands of her twin would only be as much as she deserves.
But one thing stops her from giving in to the inevitable. One face she could not die without seeing at least once more, if for no other reason than to say goodbye. She had never said it before, and he, at the very least, deserves that much from her. And so she pushes back, letting the tears mingle into the ocean as grief screams from her lungs. Pushing with what little might she has, limbs working against the weight of his body and the weight of the water. But for once though, the water helps her, making his body light, almost weightless. Once, she never would have had the strength, but death had done no kindnesses to him. His flesh peels away with her hoof as she uses it to shove him away from her. The sight of his body falling away brings with it a heaving sob as despair curls sickeningly in her gut.
And then she runs.
She could not hope to fight him. She hasn’t the skill nor the desire. If he caught her once more, she fears she might allow him to take her this time. Allow him to end all of her agony. Instead she runs as fast as the weight of the water allow, refusing to look back, even if she could see through her grief. She could not watch him disappear behind her. And she knew he was not catching her. Perhaps, even in death, he hadn’t the heart. Or perhaps, he was simply too slow.
She continues until her muscles burn with fatigue, until the faint green glow she hadn’t even noticed in the distance has become brighter, burning the edges of her vision. When finally she stumbles to a halt and her pale eyes focus on the pulsing light, a faint sickness has settled over her. As she stares ahead, heart heavy, mind exhausted, she wants nothing more to do with this horrible kingdom. The light is there, not far ahead, her goal so close, almost close enough to reach. But she finds herself unable to take another step forward.
With a silent, keening cry, her legs collapse beneath her as the weight of her new knowledge settles upon her soul. Her body doesn’t hit the ground though, instead caught by the buoyancy of the water. She simply floats in wild disarray, strained features clouded by the shroud of her own locks. Longclaw is dead, and she hadn’t been there. She had taken the cowards path, had fled Beqanna in a time when he had needed her most. And now, she wants nothing so much as to disappear, to run again. To pretend none of this is real.
In that moment, it’s the only thing she knows how to do. The only thing her heart knows besides anguish. Pulling her feet beneath her, she turns to follow the path blindly back the way she had come. It isn’t until she has nearly reached the bend where she had first seen Longclaw that reason begins to reassert itself. Her heart pounds hard inside her chest as sudden fear clutches at her. She couldn’t see him again. Not now. Not like this. She doesn’t want to remember his face in death, the beautiful, iridescent blue muddled by decay. Stumbling brokenly, her gaze shutters as self-preservation finally overcomes her. Grief dulled by shock, she turns slowly, eyes taking in the path behind her. The beckoning call of the pulsing green light.
Only minutes ago, that light had repulsed her. Now, it calls to her. The only thing that makes sense in this senseless underworld. Turning slowly, she pauses only a moment before returning the way she had just come.
She makes a poor soldier, but now, it’s the only thing that matters.
She stumbles forward, ignoring the growing discomfort of her body. Everything in this land tells her to run, to escape. But even in this dark hellscape, shock renders her compliant, allowing her to continue forward. To reach the center of the kingdom. The sickly heart. Just as He had wanted.</div></div><div id="rapturewatername"><hr class="rapturewater"><div id="rapturewaternametext">Rapture</div><hr class="rapturewater"></div><div id="rapturewaterquote" style="margin-top:53px;" align="right">there is a pulse that echoes of you and I</div></div></center>
Tldr: Rapture encounters/defends against zombie Longclaw. Shortly after she is overcome by grief and tries to run away. Goes into shock and continues on
And so she continues forward.
She swims, pale limbs cutting inefficiently (horses are not made for swimming, not in the way of the fish and sea creatures) through the dark blue until she has reached the path that cuts through the lifeless kingdom. Skeletal trees rise above her, limbs reaching spectral fingers towards the surface, as though they might still claw their way from their briny grave. It sends a shiver along her spine as she inches forward, pale blue eyes wary and wide.
Her hooves leave no impression in the silty ground beneath her feet, buoyancy giving her a grace and lightness that otherwise does not exist in her lanky frame. She continues on, following a path that seems to stretch forever before her, leading her to a ruinous end.
But then there is a figure in the distance, equine in form and unnatural in presence. That curiosity propels her forward. Perhaps she is meant to help, or perhaps it is merely a coincidental encounter with another soldier.
Soon though (too soon) she recognizes it as neither. The figure continues it’s shuffle towards her, it’s gait stumbling and halting. She slows, head coming up as confusion settles. And as it comes ever nearer, recognition hollows a pit in her stomach.
<i>“Longclaw?”</i> His name falls from lips silenced by the heaviness of the water, keeping the syllables from ever reaching his ears. Ears that droop with decay over hollowed, dead eyes, and a body that sloughs with rotten skin and withered muscles. <i>“NO!”</i> she shouts silently into the depths, disbelief clutching at her heart.
She reaches to him in a way she hasn’t done since she was a child, a comfort she had not allowed herself in years. But there is nothing, only death and memories. Only endless regret. Only a horrible, disastrous end. Tears gather invisible in the corners of her eyes, mixing with the salty water of the sea, as he drives forward. Denial stills her muscles, freezes her mind and stuns her heart. Even when he crashes into her, she does nothing more than cling to him until a wail echoes soundlessly from her lips.
She doesn’t even try to stop him when he takes her to the ground, as bones and teeth slice her skin and the red of blood mixes eerily with the blue of the water. For a moment, she thinks this could be her death. The best death she could ever hope to receive. To die at the hands of her twin would only be as much as she deserves.
But one thing stops her from giving in to the inevitable. One face she could not die without seeing at least once more, if for no other reason than to say goodbye. She had never said it before, and he, at the very least, deserves that much from her. And so she pushes back, letting the tears mingle into the ocean as grief screams from her lungs. Pushing with what little might she has, limbs working against the weight of his body and the weight of the water. But for once though, the water helps her, making his body light, almost weightless. Once, she never would have had the strength, but death had done no kindnesses to him. His flesh peels away with her hoof as she uses it to shove him away from her. The sight of his body falling away brings with it a heaving sob as despair curls sickeningly in her gut.
And then she runs.
She could not hope to fight him. She hasn’t the skill nor the desire. If he caught her once more, she fears she might allow him to take her this time. Allow him to end all of her agony. Instead she runs as fast as the weight of the water allow, refusing to look back, even if she could see through her grief. She could not watch him disappear behind her. And she knew he was not catching her. Perhaps, even in death, he hadn’t the heart. Or perhaps, he was simply too slow.
She continues until her muscles burn with fatigue, until the faint green glow she hadn’t even noticed in the distance has become brighter, burning the edges of her vision. When finally she stumbles to a halt and her pale eyes focus on the pulsing light, a faint sickness has settled over her. As she stares ahead, heart heavy, mind exhausted, she wants nothing more to do with this horrible kingdom. The light is there, not far ahead, her goal so close, almost close enough to reach. But she finds herself unable to take another step forward.
With a silent, keening cry, her legs collapse beneath her as the weight of her new knowledge settles upon her soul. Her body doesn’t hit the ground though, instead caught by the buoyancy of the water. She simply floats in wild disarray, strained features clouded by the shroud of her own locks. Longclaw is dead, and she hadn’t been there. She had taken the cowards path, had fled Beqanna in a time when he had needed her most. And now, she wants nothing so much as to disappear, to run again. To pretend none of this is real.
In that moment, it’s the only thing she knows how to do. The only thing her heart knows besides anguish. Pulling her feet beneath her, she turns to follow the path blindly back the way she had come. It isn’t until she has nearly reached the bend where she had first seen Longclaw that reason begins to reassert itself. Her heart pounds hard inside her chest as sudden fear clutches at her. She couldn’t see him again. Not now. Not like this. She doesn’t want to remember his face in death, the beautiful, iridescent blue muddled by decay. Stumbling brokenly, her gaze shutters as self-preservation finally overcomes her. Grief dulled by shock, she turns slowly, eyes taking in the path behind her. The beckoning call of the pulsing green light.
Only minutes ago, that light had repulsed her. Now, it calls to her. The only thing that makes sense in this senseless underworld. Turning slowly, she pauses only a moment before returning the way she had just come.
She makes a poor soldier, but now, it’s the only thing that matters.
She stumbles forward, ignoring the growing discomfort of her body. Everything in this land tells her to run, to escape. But even in this dark hellscape, shock renders her compliant, allowing her to continue forward. To reach the center of the kingdom. The sickly heart. Just as He had wanted.</div></div><div id="rapturewatername"><hr class="rapturewater"><div id="rapturewaternametext">Rapture</div><hr class="rapturewater"></div><div id="rapturewaterquote" style="margin-top:53px;" align="right">there is a pulse that echoes of you and I</div></div></center>
Tldr: Rapture encounters/defends against zombie Longclaw. Shortly after she is overcome by grief and tries to run away. Goes into shock and continues on
