there's no religion that could save me
no matter how long my knees are on the floor
i'll pick up these broken pieces 'til i'm bleeding
if that'll make it right
Ah, how he has missed the fun. Mountain, dead? His head spins. Where is he? Frowning, his ominously glowing blue eyes flutter open. When the bare Tundra landscape greets him, he jumps out of his skin.
Literally.
The Tundra suddenly is not, and is, all at once. Where hard lines stood at the horizon and upon the small, sparse bushes, undefined edges now waver. No sun adorns the sky, though the sky itself is a dull scarlet, and entirely empty. The earth beneath him is made up of dozens of shades of navy, and it moves hazily, as though a heat of unimaginable magnitude distorted his vision. As though this is not disorientating enough, Nihlus watches as mysterious lights float through the vegetation, lights which perhaps represent souls, or perhaps they are other beings entirely.
Horrified, the young stallion dashes inland, towards a call which sounds incredibly distorted to his astral-ears. Behind him a physical print remains, frozen in terror. His surroundings move like liquid over his skin, making his travel seem slow, even as the earth flies beneath his hooves – or should I say, where his hooves should be. As he looks down, he realizes that he is levitating, and incredibly un-horse like. He remembers the light-balls dashing through the atmosphere with a sickly feeling in his stomach.
This is because of Carnage. Gail. I didn’t save Gail. This is my punishment. My own personal hell.
Before he manages to understand this new power of his – this gift – he arrives to the meeting. Silver light-balls rotate around Errant, the only physical remainder of their realm. Nihlus startles, his physical body twitching as his astral-form begins rotating the new king. The magician’s voice rings strangely in his mind, as though it is, and is not, similarly to the land around him. Nihlus wonders if perhaps he sees his uncle in this way because of his magic. Frowning, the man speaks – or rather, thinks – towards the newly crowned king without realizing that only the magician will hear his other-realmed voice.
"I’m sorry I couldn’t help kill Mountain, I had to rescue Gail – say, are you seeing what I’m seeing?" He glances to the hazy navy landscape, then to the sunless, dust-red sky. "I’m really quite frightened. For the record, I want an alliance with --"
--Oh! The black-bay stallion suddenly disappears from the meeting, leaving behind the random realm he had chanced upon, trading it for the one which they all knew intimately. Breathing heavily, Nihlus realizes that his skin drips in sweat. A frown decorates his handsome face. What the actual fuck. Shaking his head wildly, the young stallion inhales shakily before moving towards the meeting for a second time.
Little did he realize that he had exerted himself to the point of being unable to hold the projection for such an extended period of time. Perhaps, later, he will learn.
"THE JUNGLE!" He gasps hoarsely whence finally he does arrive, in this reality. Everything about him seems ragged, and in his exhaustion, fatigue, and utter confusion, he does not even notice the stares he is bound to get.
Fuck. What did I think, going into a wormhole for the devil’s mistress?
Literally.
The Tundra suddenly is not, and is, all at once. Where hard lines stood at the horizon and upon the small, sparse bushes, undefined edges now waver. No sun adorns the sky, though the sky itself is a dull scarlet, and entirely empty. The earth beneath him is made up of dozens of shades of navy, and it moves hazily, as though a heat of unimaginable magnitude distorted his vision. As though this is not disorientating enough, Nihlus watches as mysterious lights float through the vegetation, lights which perhaps represent souls, or perhaps they are other beings entirely.
Horrified, the young stallion dashes inland, towards a call which sounds incredibly distorted to his astral-ears. Behind him a physical print remains, frozen in terror. His surroundings move like liquid over his skin, making his travel seem slow, even as the earth flies beneath his hooves – or should I say, where his hooves should be. As he looks down, he realizes that he is levitating, and incredibly un-horse like. He remembers the light-balls dashing through the atmosphere with a sickly feeling in his stomach.
This is because of Carnage. Gail. I didn’t save Gail. This is my punishment. My own personal hell.
Before he manages to understand this new power of his – this gift – he arrives to the meeting. Silver light-balls rotate around Errant, the only physical remainder of their realm. Nihlus startles, his physical body twitching as his astral-form begins rotating the new king. The magician’s voice rings strangely in his mind, as though it is, and is not, similarly to the land around him. Nihlus wonders if perhaps he sees his uncle in this way because of his magic. Frowning, the man speaks – or rather, thinks – towards the newly crowned king without realizing that only the magician will hear his other-realmed voice.
"I’m sorry I couldn’t help kill Mountain, I had to rescue Gail – say, are you seeing what I’m seeing?" He glances to the hazy navy landscape, then to the sunless, dust-red sky. "I’m really quite frightened. For the record, I want an alliance with --"
--Oh! The black-bay stallion suddenly disappears from the meeting, leaving behind the random realm he had chanced upon, trading it for the one which they all knew intimately. Breathing heavily, Nihlus realizes that his skin drips in sweat. A frown decorates his handsome face. What the actual fuck. Shaking his head wildly, the young stallion inhales shakily before moving towards the meeting for a second time.
Little did he realize that he had exerted himself to the point of being unable to hold the projection for such an extended period of time. Perhaps, later, he will learn.
"THE JUNGLE!" He gasps hoarsely whence finally he does arrive, in this reality. Everything about him seems ragged, and in his exhaustion, fatigue, and utter confusion, he does not even notice the stares he is bound to get.
Fuck. What did I think, going into a wormhole for the devil’s mistress?
Nihlus
rain manipulating, rabbit shifting, astral-projecting son of Sinder & Noori
