08-03-2020, 02:19 PM
* don't read this if you don't like rats? idk if it's bad enough for a warning but you've got it
<center><img src=https://i.postimg.cc/t4LXcSLK/by-kharthian-small.png></center><center><table bgcolor=011d33 style="border-color:#121313; border-width: 0px; border-style: solid; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 10px"" cellspacing=15 cellpadding=15 width=600><tr><td><p align=justify><font color=ededed face=times size=2>Beyza, fresh into adulthood and still brimming with curiosity, does not think twice about following the summons. It’s enough of a fascination that she unfurls great white wings and flies there just to get there faster than her legs could carry her (teleportation still being a trick she had yet to master). When she arrives, she does not recognize the stallion that called them but she feels his power. Older and greater than hers or even Anaxaretes. A power, she thinks, without limits.
When he explains their purpose, she is not daunted - still only curious. Beyza did not fear death. She had told others that point-blank before. It was not that she did not fear dying - she just had no respect for the whole concept of death. She had saved Caledonia from it once, before she knew the extent of her powers, and it had solidified the belief in her that she could do whatever she wanted. Not even death could stop her.
So when the dark god says she must die, she scoffs.
That’s when she feels it - a tickle in the back of her throat. Her eyes meet that of the grey stranger that brought them here - white to dark red - and they remain locked there when she begins to choke.
A dark, oily ooze begins to seep out of her mouth, splashing onto the sand at her hooves when it falls and trickling down her neck. She attempts to use her magic to whisk away whatever is happening but every time she feels relief, it doubles and then triples in intensity. She is gagging on the black liquid as it freely flows out of her, now leaking from her eyes and nostrils too. Staining her bright white skin.
And then when she coughs - an oil-soaked rat falls out of her mouth. She tries to scream in surprise but it only causes more of them to cascade out of her mouth, landing in heaps around her hooves - squeaking and slipping in the oil that continues to pour out of her in their effort to escape.
As she watches them scurry away on the beach, leaving dark footprints in the soft sand, she can <i>feel</i> more bodies pulsing and scurrying up her windpipe. She calls on her magic again, this time to get her away from this beach, but it doesn’t respond anymore. When she looks back to the one who had called him here, she knows he has taken it or dampened it.
The oil continues to pour out with more gusto, blinding her and cutting off airflow into her wide, panicked nostrils as she attempts to breathe in and out. There’s nowhere for the air to go once it’s inside her anyway, there are too many small bodies trying desperately to get out. Her crystalline white blood begins to mix with the oil coating the rats as they make their escape, as they fight each other in her throat to get to the surface first - their confusion and fear at manifesting in such a strange place only matched by hers. When she falls to her knees and then her side, she feels rather than sees her body pierced with a large shard of glass - as though choking to death was taking an inconveniently long time and it needed to be hurried along.
She is mounted on this spike right through her heart like the prey of a shrike, her body supported and her head falling limp to the ground as the last of the oil and rats spill from her.
Beyza loses herself - and when she wakes the beach is duller than it was before. When she stands, she is no longer stained but she still cannot breathe. And it takes her a moment to realize why.
Then she sees Jamie, and her soul drifts to his - they aren’t so different here, in this afterlife, and she brushes a muzzle against his shoulder in greeting. Not knowing whether either of them are solid enough for this brief contact, but wanting the comfort of knowing someone else here. In death. <font color=6aa6d5></font>
</font></p>
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cormorant+Garamond" rel="stylesheet"><div style="font-family: 'Cormorant Garamond', serif; font-size: 19px; color: #ccdeed; transform: uppercase; line-height: 105%; text-align: center; text-shadow: 0px 0px 4px #ffffff;"><i>beyza</i></div></tr></td></table></center>
<center><a href="https://www.deviantart.com/kharthian/art/YHH-Beyza-Littlewillow-art-828263754">artwork by kharthian</a></center>
<center><img src=https://i.postimg.cc/t4LXcSLK/by-kharthian-small.png></center><center><table bgcolor=011d33 style="border-color:#121313; border-width: 0px; border-style: solid; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 10px"" cellspacing=15 cellpadding=15 width=600><tr><td><p align=justify><font color=ededed face=times size=2>Beyza, fresh into adulthood and still brimming with curiosity, does not think twice about following the summons. It’s enough of a fascination that she unfurls great white wings and flies there just to get there faster than her legs could carry her (teleportation still being a trick she had yet to master). When she arrives, she does not recognize the stallion that called them but she feels his power. Older and greater than hers or even Anaxaretes. A power, she thinks, without limits.
When he explains their purpose, she is not daunted - still only curious. Beyza did not fear death. She had told others that point-blank before. It was not that she did not fear dying - she just had no respect for the whole concept of death. She had saved Caledonia from it once, before she knew the extent of her powers, and it had solidified the belief in her that she could do whatever she wanted. Not even death could stop her.
So when the dark god says she must die, she scoffs.
That’s when she feels it - a tickle in the back of her throat. Her eyes meet that of the grey stranger that brought them here - white to dark red - and they remain locked there when she begins to choke.
A dark, oily ooze begins to seep out of her mouth, splashing onto the sand at her hooves when it falls and trickling down her neck. She attempts to use her magic to whisk away whatever is happening but every time she feels relief, it doubles and then triples in intensity. She is gagging on the black liquid as it freely flows out of her, now leaking from her eyes and nostrils too. Staining her bright white skin.
And then when she coughs - an oil-soaked rat falls out of her mouth. She tries to scream in surprise but it only causes more of them to cascade out of her mouth, landing in heaps around her hooves - squeaking and slipping in the oil that continues to pour out of her in their effort to escape.
As she watches them scurry away on the beach, leaving dark footprints in the soft sand, she can <i>feel</i> more bodies pulsing and scurrying up her windpipe. She calls on her magic again, this time to get her away from this beach, but it doesn’t respond anymore. When she looks back to the one who had called him here, she knows he has taken it or dampened it.
The oil continues to pour out with more gusto, blinding her and cutting off airflow into her wide, panicked nostrils as she attempts to breathe in and out. There’s nowhere for the air to go once it’s inside her anyway, there are too many small bodies trying desperately to get out. Her crystalline white blood begins to mix with the oil coating the rats as they make their escape, as they fight each other in her throat to get to the surface first - their confusion and fear at manifesting in such a strange place only matched by hers. When she falls to her knees and then her side, she feels rather than sees her body pierced with a large shard of glass - as though choking to death was taking an inconveniently long time and it needed to be hurried along.
She is mounted on this spike right through her heart like the prey of a shrike, her body supported and her head falling limp to the ground as the last of the oil and rats spill from her.
Beyza loses herself - and when she wakes the beach is duller than it was before. When she stands, she is no longer stained but she still cannot breathe. And it takes her a moment to realize why.
Then she sees Jamie, and her soul drifts to his - they aren’t so different here, in this afterlife, and she brushes a muzzle against his shoulder in greeting. Not knowing whether either of them are solid enough for this brief contact, but wanting the comfort of knowing someone else here. In death. <font color=6aa6d5></font>
</font></p>
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cormorant+Garamond" rel="stylesheet"><div style="font-family: 'Cormorant Garamond', serif; font-size: 19px; color: #ccdeed; transform: uppercase; line-height: 105%; text-align: center; text-shadow: 0px 0px 4px #ffffff;"><i>beyza</i></div></tr></td></table></center>
<center><a href="https://www.deviantart.com/kharthian/art/YHH-Beyza-Littlewillow-art-828263754">artwork by kharthian</a></center>