04-01-2016, 11:57 AM
no matter what they say, I am still the king
It is an incredible thing – the lands of Beqanna. Each kingdom is a living, breathing entity – a god or goddess ruling over its flock. The Valley was beautiful, in a death sentence sort of way. And low and behold, the gifts she bore were one in the same. The gift of the lurking wolves, armed to the teeth with ferocity and fight- even the land itself was draped in murky and frightful things. Yes, the Valley was a terrible goddess, and she brought forth terrible gifts of power. Eight was not surprised that you, dear Topsail, were seen fit to birth inside you a most dreadful beast.
Your words call out to him – vaulting through his mind, like a galloping of horses on the horizon. He knew you would call, and you knew he would come.
He waits, his eyes half closed in light anticipation – he knew what was coming. He knew what the Valley goddess had washed over you, he had felt when the magic seeped into your pores, mixing with the mirth of your skin, the solid bone of your skeleton – he felt the change that birthed you into something anew.
Ah yes – there it was. The soft lilt of your voice in his head had come something different- it was now in the open air, reverberating quietly from the thick of the forest. And no longer was it a voice befit of a queen, but the predatory language of clicks and whirrs. A smile came ever so slightly to his face.
In moments, he disappeared from the quiet of his cove and appeared at the edge of the clearing, his eyes reaching yours when your head whips around in the suddenness of his presence.
“Magnificent. You have done well.”
And now it was his turn. He stepped slowly forward, and with each movement, his body shifting with momentum. His body stretched taller and longer- his tail melding together –a dome of spines fanning up from his back. His skin turned into a mosaic of tough skin, his forelegs shrinking smaller and his hooves turning in sharp talons, his skull stretching further into a crocodile like smile.
With a final step, his transformation is complete, his body towering over the ground in a glorious display of primal power and savagery.
Topsail, steady yourself now. His words travel to you as if they are almost underwater – a fight at your domestic side. While Eight’s magic and experience held him true to his sanity, there was no telling what the primordial power that lay inside you would wreck to your lucidity. The power of that much magic running through your veins, of a change so vicious that there would be no way for you to hold on to each slip of your sanity. It's possible you would become a danger to yourself, and more importantly - your kingdom, until the primal power had ran its course and made peace with your body.
Well now, I suppose, was Eight’s true test of being your guardian.
Your words call out to him – vaulting through his mind, like a galloping of horses on the horizon. He knew you would call, and you knew he would come.
He waits, his eyes half closed in light anticipation – he knew what was coming. He knew what the Valley goddess had washed over you, he had felt when the magic seeped into your pores, mixing with the mirth of your skin, the solid bone of your skeleton – he felt the change that birthed you into something anew.
Ah yes – there it was. The soft lilt of your voice in his head had come something different- it was now in the open air, reverberating quietly from the thick of the forest. And no longer was it a voice befit of a queen, but the predatory language of clicks and whirrs. A smile came ever so slightly to his face.
In moments, he disappeared from the quiet of his cove and appeared at the edge of the clearing, his eyes reaching yours when your head whips around in the suddenness of his presence.
“Magnificent. You have done well.”
And now it was his turn. He stepped slowly forward, and with each movement, his body shifting with momentum. His body stretched taller and longer- his tail melding together –a dome of spines fanning up from his back. His skin turned into a mosaic of tough skin, his forelegs shrinking smaller and his hooves turning in sharp talons, his skull stretching further into a crocodile like smile.
With a final step, his transformation is complete, his body towering over the ground in a glorious display of primal power and savagery.
Topsail, steady yourself now. His words travel to you as if they are almost underwater – a fight at your domestic side. While Eight’s magic and experience held him true to his sanity, there was no telling what the primordial power that lay inside you would wreck to your lucidity. The power of that much magic running through your veins, of a change so vicious that there would be no way for you to hold on to each slip of your sanity. It's possible you would become a danger to yourself, and more importantly - your kingdom, until the primal power had ran its course and made peace with your body.
Well now, I suppose, was Eight’s true test of being your guardian.
∞
and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
Eight went all spinosaurus like. Raaaaaaaaaorrrr.