01-24-2021, 03:56 PM
choke them on the ashes of the dreams they burned
This is the most he has ever moved through Beqanna since this curse had been set upon him. Once the entire world was cast into shadow it felt as though the invisible chains he had allowed to shackle him were cut loose. He was no longer a slave to the outskirts and the forests and the night — the sun could not touch him no matter where he chose to go, and it surprised him to learn he preferred it that way.
He was tired of wishing to be one of them again.
He was tired of fighting the darkness that had long ago consumed him and turned him into whatever wretched soul he was now.
With the eclipse in place he no longer had to pretend.
He lets it take over him; lets himself shift into his canine form whenever the anger was too bright to ignore, a relentless ember in the cavern of his chest. He has long since forgotten where the anger came from; maybe from this curse, maybe from all the ways he keeps hurting those around him. By now the emotion had dug itself so deeply, had buried itself into the very marrow of him so that he could no longer see the root of it. There was no beginning and no end—it simply existed, and it ate him alive.
The bodach drifts along the edge of the river, ignoring the two darkened celestial figures that are still suspended in the pitch-black sky. His shadows are shaped into his equine form, having abandoned the canine one for now. Memories of a few hours ago tap incessantly at the back of his mind, begging him to acknowledge them— to remember the panic in the voice of the creature he had been stalking, to feel empathy at the pleas that had fallen on his deaf ears.
He doesn’t feel sorry like he might have once, though.
He thinks of how sweet their fear had tasted, and his stomach clenches in want.
The dark was turning him into the greedy, selfish creature it had always wanted him to be, and he was too tired to fight it anymore.
His glowing red eyes pierce through the shadows at the sound of something else rustling through the brush. If there is an uptick of his pulse it is not out of fear, and when he diverts his gaze from whoever is there it is only to quell the hunger that again gnaws at his gut.
He was tired of wishing to be one of them again.
He was tired of fighting the darkness that had long ago consumed him and turned him into whatever wretched soul he was now.
With the eclipse in place he no longer had to pretend.
He lets it take over him; lets himself shift into his canine form whenever the anger was too bright to ignore, a relentless ember in the cavern of his chest. He has long since forgotten where the anger came from; maybe from this curse, maybe from all the ways he keeps hurting those around him. By now the emotion had dug itself so deeply, had buried itself into the very marrow of him so that he could no longer see the root of it. There was no beginning and no end—it simply existed, and it ate him alive.
The bodach drifts along the edge of the river, ignoring the two darkened celestial figures that are still suspended in the pitch-black sky. His shadows are shaped into his equine form, having abandoned the canine one for now. Memories of a few hours ago tap incessantly at the back of his mind, begging him to acknowledge them— to remember the panic in the voice of the creature he had been stalking, to feel empathy at the pleas that had fallen on his deaf ears.
He doesn’t feel sorry like he might have once, though.
He thinks of how sweet their fear had tasted, and his stomach clenches in want.
The dark was turning him into the greedy, selfish creature it had always wanted him to be, and he was too tired to fight it anymore.
His glowing red eyes pierce through the shadows at the sound of something else rustling through the brush. If there is an uptick of his pulse it is not out of fear, and when he diverts his gaze from whoever is there it is only to quell the hunger that again gnaws at his gut.
torryn
@[Beryl]