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+--- Thread: [open] dark light on my culture -- (/showthread.php?tid=32206)
dark light on my culture -- - Eremiel - 10-11-2026
EREMIEL
i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired
There’s darkness here; the layered stones around him bleed quiet in their shadows. Sifted grains beneath him answer to his hooves as though he was the pressure along a current. Eremiel walked a steady path beneath the moonlit dunes, his dappled pelt fighting for moonbeams with each change of faint clouds spreading across the moon, retreating again to entangle themselves with a path held steady by starlight and cosmos; not even the river could compete with the warring nature of illumination and gloom.
Teeth from a broken jaw crack beneath his next pace; a long-forgotten creature met its doom in the sea of sand. Eremiel lowers his head, nostrils flaring wide until the tiny pinpricks of dust and dirt seated themselves against the chamber of his nose to express themselves in a flurry of smoke rolling outwards from an irreplaceable gust of breath.
As if to answer, the wind ignites the sandbanks with a rush of air, gusts billowing harshly enough to force a turn of his head. Dusty grains lift into great sweeping clouds, spiraling across the oceans of red and orange barrens until they settle in sifted mounds once again. The remnants of a dying breeze remain to splay his silvered mane across his neck, along the ridges of his backside, while his ambered eyes watch a drifting feather sway to his feathered ankles.
The lavender plume fell motionless at his feet.
A symbol that placed a signature without the pensmith’s presence, his head turned toward the North, watching the stillness of night claim even the path of a silvered cove. He continued his passage to the largest canyon, pressing his nose to the fringe in farewell. Eremiel sought the river within the confines of crags empowering themselves as a cradle, clutching within them the promise of existence.
Teeth from a broken jaw crack beneath his next pace; a long-forgotten creature met its doom in the sea of sand. Eremiel lowers his head, nostrils flaring wide until the tiny pinpricks of dust and dirt seated themselves against the chamber of his nose to express themselves in a flurry of smoke rolling outwards from an irreplaceable gust of breath.
As if to answer, the wind ignites the sandbanks with a rush of air, gusts billowing harshly enough to force a turn of his head. Dusty grains lift into great sweeping clouds, spiraling across the oceans of red and orange barrens until they settle in sifted mounds once again. The remnants of a dying breeze remain to splay his silvered mane across his neck, along the ridges of his backside, while his ambered eyes watch a drifting feather sway to his feathered ankles.
The lavender plume fell motionless at his feet.
A symbol that placed a signature without the pensmith’s presence, his head turned toward the North, watching the stillness of night claim even the path of a silvered cove. He continued his passage to the largest canyon, pressing his nose to the fringe in farewell. Eremiel sought the river within the confines of crags empowering themselves as a cradle, clutching within them the promise of existence.
Mahlon x Kohl
RE: dark light on my culture -- - Darkling - 10-19-2026
Darkling
you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation
I think that I could die for this revelation
RE: dark light on my culture -- - Eremiel - 10-19-2026
EREMIEL
i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired
Remi sought the river, following a self-made path to his purpose much the same as a ship sails a sea. He pressed each wake in sturdy strides, picking up remnants of surf along the feathering of his legs. Wasn’t the desert like an ocean? It changed its tides in great shifts of sand. Some were altered in torrential gusts of wind, enough to make him turn his head to protect his eyes. Enough to summon smoke in an effort to push it away, towards the ground, towards his coat, stray grains left trapped in his mane. Other sandbars were transformed with lazy spirals of air, sending sand up in spinning coils. Twin serpents weaving along the dunes.
Eremiel wanted his way to be his own, and though Kirin would call for him, as he calls to them all, he would find respite in this defiance for however long he was allowed it.
He knew it was not forever. Nothing ever is.
Too much of his life was spent in the Cove, in fleeting passes through a forest with his mother. And maybe still, there was a semblance of the Chamber left behind, where pieces of his father would surely be found.
The scriptures would remain as they always had, and should he seek to return to them he knew where to look. For now, there was only the night and the moon, he let its light bring out his dappled pattern in reflective customs. Wisps of smoke encapsulated his back in sweeping movements before their silvered reflection was hidden as if by clouds. The scent of water found him whole, flicking an ear as movement crept into his vision. Solidifying in front of him as though the other was night itself.
The dark did not garner his terror, not when he’d found that the dark was only a place for those that made it their home. Whether that was by choice or by blood made no matter to Remi.
As he was alone no longer, he pricked his ears forward, as interested as he was steady to take in the creature before him. There was a long silence between them, lightless pools met with honeyed amber staring for heartbeats before the dapple finally asked.
”What is it?” This one reminded him of his uncle, one of few words but the intention behind his lack of speech remained all the same. There was always something more behind the black stare, and if he were to know it, then he’d earn it just the same.
Eremiel wanted his way to be his own, and though Kirin would call for him, as he calls to them all, he would find respite in this defiance for however long he was allowed it.
He knew it was not forever. Nothing ever is.
Too much of his life was spent in the Cove, in fleeting passes through a forest with his mother. And maybe still, there was a semblance of the Chamber left behind, where pieces of his father would surely be found.
The scriptures would remain as they always had, and should he seek to return to them he knew where to look. For now, there was only the night and the moon, he let its light bring out his dappled pattern in reflective customs. Wisps of smoke encapsulated his back in sweeping movements before their silvered reflection was hidden as if by clouds. The scent of water found him whole, flicking an ear as movement crept into his vision. Solidifying in front of him as though the other was night itself.
The dark did not garner his terror, not when he’d found that the dark was only a place for those that made it their home. Whether that was by choice or by blood made no matter to Remi.
As he was alone no longer, he pricked his ears forward, as interested as he was steady to take in the creature before him. There was a long silence between them, lightless pools met with honeyed amber staring for heartbeats before the dapple finally asked.
”What is it?” This one reminded him of his uncle, one of few words but the intention behind his lack of speech remained all the same. There was always something more behind the black stare, and if he were to know it, then he’d earn it just the same.
Mahlon x Kohl