05-25-2021, 02:12 PM
a ghost in the darkness.
The mare that tastes of life remembers him. Recalls him from another world that he can no longer call to mind. She recoils from him then, as his name is spit from her mouth and purred from the other, and his disembodied laugh echos beneath the burnt canopy, loud enough to break through the thunder overhead. It feels good to be remembered.
“Harbinger….” He repeats her own words, tasting this new name with relish. Finding it quite fits, now that unlimited power flows through these bones. He’s not sure what he’s bringing with him but it’s sure to be interesting. (Temporary these endless powers, only temporary.) It’s easy to forget that it will not last forever. She accuses him of many things but the red eyes blaze at Nikoline as the skull shakes back and forth. “I did not summon you but our story has not finished yet.” Cool knowing words, all true. He knows deep in his bones that this dryad’s story somehow runs with him. It’s the how and why that haven’t been uncovered yet.
Sabra, sweet sweet hypocritical Sabra. She writhes in disgust at his intrusion into her mind as if she does not do the same with her own hypnotic powers. It never feels good does it? When the predator becomes the prey. She tries to shake off the images, tries to remain in control. None of them are in control, not anymore. She tries to mock him but only gets the fixed skeletal smile in return. Such crudeness, such a lack of imagination. Sylva was just a plot in a much larger scheme, one land of many. The whole world was ripe for the picking, was he not to “shit” or “eat” anywhere if he dominated it. She thought to small, his thoughts ran much bigger.
“Did I fall? Or did I ascend?” His jaws clatter as his skull turns at an impossible angle, his bones clacking as he comes closer. She was delusional as much as she was ignorant. Gryffen had never fallen in disgrace. Whatever disappointments that arose when he had vanished spoke more about their own weak feelings than anything to do with him. Every move he had ever made had been a choice. He had chosen to take Sylva and chose to abandon it. Sabra cared too much and that would be her downfall.
Blood runs from her chest, from the large spear that protrudes from her and he casually leans against it, just to see what would happen if it was pushed in a little further. Curious to whatever magic this was. The scientist in him had never stopped craving knowledge, craving explanations to how magic worked the way it did. He absorbs the story entwined in the shaft of wood and gives a clattering laugh of delight. How very interesting. Water starts to pool around their hooves but still he stands before Sabra, reaching to the power he had always had. “Shall I show you Sabra? Shall I show you what it is you truly desire?” He reaches his magic into the speared heart of her, the bones standing before her starting to shimmer with the image of whatever he finds as his love illusion reaches new heights and pulses with a strength its never had before.
“Harbinger….” He repeats her own words, tasting this new name with relish. Finding it quite fits, now that unlimited power flows through these bones. He’s not sure what he’s bringing with him but it’s sure to be interesting. (Temporary these endless powers, only temporary.) It’s easy to forget that it will not last forever. She accuses him of many things but the red eyes blaze at Nikoline as the skull shakes back and forth. “I did not summon you but our story has not finished yet.” Cool knowing words, all true. He knows deep in his bones that this dryad’s story somehow runs with him. It’s the how and why that haven’t been uncovered yet.
Sabra, sweet sweet hypocritical Sabra. She writhes in disgust at his intrusion into her mind as if she does not do the same with her own hypnotic powers. It never feels good does it? When the predator becomes the prey. She tries to shake off the images, tries to remain in control. None of them are in control, not anymore. She tries to mock him but only gets the fixed skeletal smile in return. Such crudeness, such a lack of imagination. Sylva was just a plot in a much larger scheme, one land of many. The whole world was ripe for the picking, was he not to “shit” or “eat” anywhere if he dominated it. She thought to small, his thoughts ran much bigger.
“Did I fall? Or did I ascend?” His jaws clatter as his skull turns at an impossible angle, his bones clacking as he comes closer. She was delusional as much as she was ignorant. Gryffen had never fallen in disgrace. Whatever disappointments that arose when he had vanished spoke more about their own weak feelings than anything to do with him. Every move he had ever made had been a choice. He had chosen to take Sylva and chose to abandon it. Sabra cared too much and that would be her downfall.
Blood runs from her chest, from the large spear that protrudes from her and he casually leans against it, just to see what would happen if it was pushed in a little further. Curious to whatever magic this was. The scientist in him had never stopped craving knowledge, craving explanations to how magic worked the way it did. He absorbs the story entwined in the shaft of wood and gives a clattering laugh of delight. How very interesting. Water starts to pool around their hooves but still he stands before Sabra, reaching to the power he had always had. “Shall I show you Sabra? Shall I show you what it is you truly desire?” He reaches his magic into the speared heart of her, the bones standing before her starting to shimmer with the image of whatever he finds as his love illusion reaches new heights and pulses with a strength its never had before.
Gryffen
@[Sabra] @[Nikoline]
(Obvi avoid or play along to his love illusion however you wish ;P)