01-04-2020, 12:06 AM
<center><img src="https://orig00.deviantart.net/8700/f/2018/016/6/0/ana3_by_the_renegade-dc07g0m.png"><table bgcolor=050301 style="border-color: black; border-width: 0px; border-style: solid; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: -145px" cellspacing=30 cellpadding=30 width=600><tr><td><p align=justify><font face=times new roman color=453c29><font style=font-size:9pt;line-height:12pt;letter-spacing:1px><font style=letter-spacing:3px><center><Font color=7d6c4b><i>YOU CAN HEAR WHEN THE HEART STOPS.</i></font></font> </center><p align=justify>
She had not been asleep.
No, the shadowmare does not rest in the darkest hours of the night. She had been with her creatures - letting them feed, watching them hunt prey that cowered in the dark. She knows that the pair are more than capable of hunting without her presence - she is only along for her own enjoyment. Watching them hunt is a thing of beauty, especially on a night such as this. Cold. Dark. Quiet.
The shadowspinner could feel the disturbance in the shadows. It was more than enough to draw her attention from the hunt - just the peculiarity of the thing. Whispers that were not her own.
Undaunted, she turns towards the whispering - the ripple in the darkness. And then it is gone.
And so is she.
She knows this place - this familiar red earth. She stood here now just as she had when she had entered the Alliance in the name of the Chamber. Stripped down, free of any traits of abilities. She had fought her way to the top unaided by traits or by magic. She had imbued these lands with her own blood and sweat and for her efforts was imbued with something greater in return. These were the plains that had brought about her ascension - that had gifted her with the mastery of shadows and magic.
So no, the magician did not mourn the loss of her magic. She relished in the feeling of being bare - of being <i>free</i>. It made her feel young - standing bare upon this earth. For she had been young once, all those years ago. The shadowmare sucked in a greedy breath - letting the familiar scent of the Plains settle into her bones. She exhaled slowly
She wonders why she had been called back to this place. She wonders for the briefest moments if she’d fallen through time. Had she been called back to the past? Her gaze carefully sweeps her surroundings - settling upon the stone monoliths.
The obelisks had been absent during her campaign here so long ago. No. This was not the past at all. This was all happening in the present. And curiosity stoked the embers deep within her belly. Flames danced behind her icy gaze - ready to consume the shadowmare with bloodlust and rage. That was not a door she was going to open. Not yet, at least.
Patience had taken her decades to master, but she <i>had</i> mastered it.
Eventually.
She studies the monoliths carefully - one marked with horns, the other with wings. She stands before them for a moment - considering the choice that has been put before her.
Horns had always intrigued the shadowmare, though she had never fashioned herself a set with her magic. She didn’t particularly find them to be helpful in battle. For one, she never liked to lead with her head or neck. Such was a recipe for disaster. Anaxarete had never been a creature of brute strength. No. She used her agility and endurance to her advantage. The idea of fighting in close quarters with another while deliberately putting her head in jeopardy was not something she found particularly appealing. Her size and strength wouldn’t make them advantageous either.
Wings, however...wings she was familiar with. She had often created wings for herself - using them to wing her way into battle or simply into the empty skies. They would play more to her advantage - making her more maneuverable, allowing her to keep more distance between herself and her enemies, and allowing her more angles of attack. They could be used to faint, to screen, and could easily be sacrificed in order to protect more vulnerable areas like a shield of flesh itself. Fragile yes, but useful.
With that, her decision is made.
Wings erupt from her shoulders, and the shadowmare doesn't flinch as the flesh bends into the shape of bat wings. Delicate, but strong, with a single claw upon them and large enough to carry her safely into the skies. She tucks them against her sides - reorienting herself with the weight of the appendages she occasionally fashioned for herself.
She turns then - her cold gaze scanning the expanse before her. However, the shadowmare is content to wait for what comes next.
For now, at least.
It had been too long since she faced such a challenge.
And she was hungry for it.
<center><font style=letter-spacing:3px><Font color=7d6c4b>- A N A X A R E T E -
been there, done that</font></font></table><a href="http://the-renegade.deviantart.com">image credit</a> </center></center>
Ana is loyal to Pangea and has some big ole flying fox (bat) wings.
She had not been asleep.
No, the shadowmare does not rest in the darkest hours of the night. She had been with her creatures - letting them feed, watching them hunt prey that cowered in the dark. She knows that the pair are more than capable of hunting without her presence - she is only along for her own enjoyment. Watching them hunt is a thing of beauty, especially on a night such as this. Cold. Dark. Quiet.
The shadowspinner could feel the disturbance in the shadows. It was more than enough to draw her attention from the hunt - just the peculiarity of the thing. Whispers that were not her own.
Undaunted, she turns towards the whispering - the ripple in the darkness. And then it is gone.
And so is she.
She knows this place - this familiar red earth. She stood here now just as she had when she had entered the Alliance in the name of the Chamber. Stripped down, free of any traits of abilities. She had fought her way to the top unaided by traits or by magic. She had imbued these lands with her own blood and sweat and for her efforts was imbued with something greater in return. These were the plains that had brought about her ascension - that had gifted her with the mastery of shadows and magic.
So no, the magician did not mourn the loss of her magic. She relished in the feeling of being bare - of being <i>free</i>. It made her feel young - standing bare upon this earth. For she had been young once, all those years ago. The shadowmare sucked in a greedy breath - letting the familiar scent of the Plains settle into her bones. She exhaled slowly
She wonders why she had been called back to this place. She wonders for the briefest moments if she’d fallen through time. Had she been called back to the past? Her gaze carefully sweeps her surroundings - settling upon the stone monoliths.
The obelisks had been absent during her campaign here so long ago. No. This was not the past at all. This was all happening in the present. And curiosity stoked the embers deep within her belly. Flames danced behind her icy gaze - ready to consume the shadowmare with bloodlust and rage. That was not a door she was going to open. Not yet, at least.
Patience had taken her decades to master, but she <i>had</i> mastered it.
Eventually.
She studies the monoliths carefully - one marked with horns, the other with wings. She stands before them for a moment - considering the choice that has been put before her.
Horns had always intrigued the shadowmare, though she had never fashioned herself a set with her magic. She didn’t particularly find them to be helpful in battle. For one, she never liked to lead with her head or neck. Such was a recipe for disaster. Anaxarete had never been a creature of brute strength. No. She used her agility and endurance to her advantage. The idea of fighting in close quarters with another while deliberately putting her head in jeopardy was not something she found particularly appealing. Her size and strength wouldn’t make them advantageous either.
Wings, however...wings she was familiar with. She had often created wings for herself - using them to wing her way into battle or simply into the empty skies. They would play more to her advantage - making her more maneuverable, allowing her to keep more distance between herself and her enemies, and allowing her more angles of attack. They could be used to faint, to screen, and could easily be sacrificed in order to protect more vulnerable areas like a shield of flesh itself. Fragile yes, but useful.
With that, her decision is made.
Wings erupt from her shoulders, and the shadowmare doesn't flinch as the flesh bends into the shape of bat wings. Delicate, but strong, with a single claw upon them and large enough to carry her safely into the skies. She tucks them against her sides - reorienting herself with the weight of the appendages she occasionally fashioned for herself.
She turns then - her cold gaze scanning the expanse before her. However, the shadowmare is content to wait for what comes next.
For now, at least.
It had been too long since she faced such a challenge.
And she was hungry for it.
<center><font style=letter-spacing:3px><Font color=7d6c4b>- A N A X A R E T E -
been there, done that</font></font></table><a href="http://the-renegade.deviantart.com">image credit</a> </center></center>
Ana is loyal to Pangea and has some big ole flying fox (bat) wings.