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+--- Thread: Blackfeather Woods sins not tragedies (/showthread.php?tid=21689)
sins not tragedies - Abraxas - May 05, 2017
the bird was dying.
this was a rather unforeseen complication, even though it was inevitable, the boy had hoped that it would last a little longer. he had not spent hours catching a bird without killing it for it to merely die.
the bird was a crow. it shrieked madly, one wing stretched above its body and the other torn, and set aside, by the boy who had moments ago ripped it from the bird's body. he watched with calculating eyes as the bird screamed, beak diving towards her face but falling short. the complete absence of emotion on the boy's face was unnerving as ever so carefully he grasped the crow, shrieking fearfully, and paced towards the edge of the chasm.
the rest of the wood was quiet. perhaps silenced by the agonising cries of the injured bird, the others had fled silently from the little patch of wood where the boy often attempted his experiments. striding by the pile of dead birds he had amassed, the boy reached the edge of the chasm. as if, perhaps, sensing that it's life drew near, the bird screamed ever louder.
the boy flung it into the rift in the earth. gaze watched its single wing beat frantically, watched it's descent slow, for a time. but then the bird plunged down to the earth, down amidst the other bones that already rested in the bowels of the earth. the boy did not waste a moment before turning away, unimpressed.
RE: sins not tragedies - Potema - May 11, 2017
It was not the first bird to suffer at the hands of Nemesis' brood.
She observed Abraxas with the same icy silence he gave to the birds. She knew that nothing would deter him from his intent, and she had no interest in getting herself in deeper trouble. So far her children have been spared, but she knew for sure that that levity could be ended without a moment's hesitation.
So she watched. But not without malice. The witch muttered a chant under her breath, the Daedric tongue dripping like venom from her half closed mouth and hidden fangs. They, Abraxas and Atshen, would not go unpunished.
RE: sins not tragedies - Abraxas - May 12, 2017
thanks for joining!
gaze roved the trees, under the distinct impression that he was being watched. dead stare landed on the woman, Potema, the witch who's brood wandered the woods too, now. he did not offer a greeting of any sort, staring at her with an intensity that was masked by the vacant way his gaze seemed, clouded and without a spark of life. he was utterly still as he watched her, maw moving as she uttered some sort of chant, low and evading his hearing.
he did not think much of the gods these ones followed. did not believe that Princes lived in Realms besides their own, did not think that their was anything but here. nothing after this life, that would simply end with an absence of anything. he was not phrased by whatever she might be chanting, be this woman or any of the lot who believed in the fancy tales they clung to with passion.
RE: sins not tragedies - Potema - May 13, 2017
Her words slowed, then ended as the pale eyes found themselves on her. They were sharp, chips of ice that remained frozen, like a glacier. And they unnerved her. She wondered what presence lingered in the soul of Abraxas. She could link the other three siblings to Daedra, or presences as she often did to the others of Blackfeather Woods: Astrid, Boethiah. Keelut, Hermaeus Mora. Atshen, Molag Bal. But Abraxas? He was an anomaly. No Daedric Prince matched his eerie silence, his cold gaze. Sometimes she wondered if he was Jyggalag. Sometimes, she wondered if he was Sithis.
Why are you hurting them?She asked, wondering if she would find any answer, or silence and the pained cries of crows.