05-23-2018, 06:31 PM
Warm spring days turn into cool nights, the sun disappearing beyond the horizon and blanketing the autumnal forest in black. He hardly sleeps (he never has), and he is up, taking in the chirping of crickets as he weaves through crowded trees and heavy undergrowth.
He’s yet to find someone suitable to be his right hand (his Hellraiser, or his Ringmaster), he’d been actively searching for the right one. Maugrim was a force to be reckoned with, but only time would tell if he’d be more inclined to come over of his waters to do more kingdomly activities. Astarael was his Witch, and he thoroughly enjoyed her ever-stalking presence (he could feel it, the beating of his heart uncontrollable within his chest), although she thinks he doesn’t notice.
He’s working with the others. Kreep was doing well in his lessons (a little psycho his boy was becoming), Jackel was on her way to Loess to practice her diplomacy skills (by god did she need it). His Fire Child and the former Sylvan Prince were works in progress, but they were coming along quite nicely.
His thoughts bring him to the near beginning of the forest - the eastern end, where his forest will divide into the broken Taiga, and that into the common lands. Unfamiliar scents invade his nostrils, and he finds himself following it to investigate.
The visitor is covered in dried blood, but he’s seen him before. Long ago before his reign, when the Wraith was king. He’d never gotten a name (at least he doesn’t think he did), but through the darkness he can see the faint tinted red clouds behind the stallion, and it peaks his interest. “Modicum Mortem,” The clown says, revealing himself to the bruise-eyed stranger. “King of Sylva. What do you seek?”
He’s yet to find someone suitable to be his right hand (his Hellraiser, or his Ringmaster), he’d been actively searching for the right one. Maugrim was a force to be reckoned with, but only time would tell if he’d be more inclined to come over of his waters to do more kingdomly activities. Astarael was his Witch, and he thoroughly enjoyed her ever-stalking presence (he could feel it, the beating of his heart uncontrollable within his chest), although she thinks he doesn’t notice.
He’s working with the others. Kreep was doing well in his lessons (a little psycho his boy was becoming), Jackel was on her way to Loess to practice her diplomacy skills (by god did she need it). His Fire Child and the former Sylvan Prince were works in progress, but they were coming along quite nicely.
His thoughts bring him to the near beginning of the forest - the eastern end, where his forest will divide into the broken Taiga, and that into the common lands. Unfamiliar scents invade his nostrils, and he finds himself following it to investigate.
The visitor is covered in dried blood, but he’s seen him before. Long ago before his reign, when the Wraith was king. He’d never gotten a name (at least he doesn’t think he did), but through the darkness he can see the faint tinted red clouds behind the stallion, and it peaks his interest. “Modicum Mortem,” The clown says, revealing himself to the bruise-eyed stranger. “King of Sylva. What do you seek?”
Modicum Mortem
@[Lokii] so excited for them to meet!