12-20-2017, 06:43 PM
He awakes in sweat, drenched with a heat that is unfathomable within the safety of his cavern walls; the autumn chill had brought him and his dark companion deeper into the belly of their twisting catacomb, and despite the air’s icy fingers trilling across his flesh, the blue of his skin is darkened by the moisture of his intense heart rate, his sides heaving as he gasps for breath. Balto thought that with time the nightmares would begin to fade - that once he was back in his real world, with Faulkor, his mind would realize he is safe. But, if anything, the nightmares have only gotten worse and even more real, and he awakes with thin scratches against his flesh, though nothing would enter the caves this deep - nothing living, anyway. With a deep and shuddering breath, the stallion moves forward to find the cooler parts of the caves - leaving Faulkor to sleep within the warmth of the cave’s underground. The black stallion certainly recognizes the trauma that riddles Balto’s sleep, or is at least aware that something is not the same as it was - but the two men were of little words besides the necessary ones for survival, and though sympathy is not something the two give out freely, Faulkor had been sure to remain nearer to him since his return from the mountain. His hooves click and echo on the cold stone beneath him, turning and twisting his way through the tunnels expertly to the one that would lead him to the opening within deepest part of Beqanna’s forest, where nary other equines travel (except for one). The cool, autumnal air whistles from the pinprick of an opening before him, drying the stains on his coat with chilling fingers. He sighs deeply, allowing the fresher and thicker air to soothe his tired body and mind. Suddenly, the whistle of the wind grows and swells, no longer a whistle but a low, groaning howl. Balto’s muscles coil beneath his skin, his stomach dropping as the moans of demons brush past his ears, yowling for his flesh and blood. He closes his eyes, trying to convince himself that it is only another nightmare, he is still fast asleep next to Faulkor, but the groaning only increases in volume and intensity, licking at his face and neck with hot, sweltering breaths. It feels like hours before the breath of demons finally quiet back into a barely moving breeze, cold on his flesh like it should be. Balto shudders, but the sound of movement from the entrance of his cave catches him off guard, and his flattened ears now prick forward curiously. once the king of beasts but now they feast on thoughts beneath his vacant crown. |
@[keeper]