Altar of Twilight my own lived mythology

Altar of Twilight my own lived mythology - Printable Version

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my own lived mythology - RIP Wintersbane - November 17, 2017

part 2 of this thread. :-)

Drogon leads @Ganondorf to the Alter of Twilight: just a territory short of Moonspear figuring it is a good place to call for Hydra and her sisters. The tundrian is happy to lend to silence during their short journey but he answers any questions that Ganondorf might press him for with a vagueness that he thinks will be satisfying enough ( for now ) …even if that ends up not being the case for his companion. Typically, joining processes are a lot more simpler than this but Drogon wants Hydra’s assessment of the flame-kissed boy as much as he wants to impress her with the gem he’s brought her. It was all circumstance really: Drogon happened to be in the right place at the right time and seized upon the rare opportunity that presents itself to him with enough caution to not blindly trust but with an eagerness of a magpie spotting a shiny bauble. He believes Ganondorf to be sincere and he believes that the flame-kissed male will be invaluable but that does not eradicate Drogon’s inherent weariness of him. It’s not personal but he’s walked among them and observed and learned enough in his short stay to not be willing to put anything past them. Ganondorf could be a spy but Drogon truly doesn’t think that’s the case.

“I will call for The Cerberus here,” Drogon speaks as his steps slow to a cease and he turns to face his companion. He assesses Ganondorf once more, offering the other male an ‘are you ready?’ rise to his brow before he tips his head back and calls for @Hydra and her sisters.

273 words

RE: my own lived mythology - Ganondorf - November 17, 2017

He follows the boy — Drogon his name was. While the black and blue boy weaved a tail of the Cerberus' magnificence, Ganon had yet to be impressed. He lived his whole life being told exaggerated tales. He had learned long ago to believe his eyes rather than the twisted memories of others. But he followed nonetheless, hoping that these three weren't worshipped as gods or anything ridiculous as that. Perhaps the boy was lovestruck.

He had never been to the Hinterlands or the mountains that preceded them. He had long seen them — who could miss it? — but he had never beheld their majesty. His head snapped back, staring up, trying to find the peak.

His head turned back down, eyes blinking at Drogon. Alright, He responded. Ganon nodded to the coywolf, stepping back. He didn't know how to look when the three women arrived. Calm? Casual? Smug? Beaten? He settled, looking blank for the moment, until they arrived.

RE: my own lived mythology - Hydra - November 17, 2017

The three girls had been tearing into their prey, an injured buck they had felled. The call of Drogon came, then, and Hydra rose from their meal. There had been enough for the three of them and no need to snap them away—and she had sated herself on the still warm creature. She looked to her sisters before turning, and they heeded her look, following at her shoulder.

He had summoned them outside of their territory, which meant perhaps he had found something. Perhaps he had found the wolf with a death sentence hanging over his head. This caused her pace to quicken, and in no time at all the triplets came upon Drogon and his companion.

It was not who she sought, but the smell of him was an indicator that he was from their fold. She revealed her fangs as she approached, tail lashing predatorily behind her. It was bold of the other to come here, so near to their home—there was not just a price on the head of the man she hunted, after all, but Blackfeather as a whole. And though her interest lay primarily in the blue-eyed, pale son of Potema, she was not beyond snapping at his comrades when they came too close.

But he was escorted. Her eyes did not shift toward Drogon as she spoke to the sienna-stranger: We do not keep prisoners, her tone cool, cold—the implication was clear. They would kill him, if he came for the wrong reasons. But he was not the one Hydra wanted and, truth be told, the tactician saw value in letting him live. What is it you came for? Hydra asked, direct. For Drogon to have brought him here meant something, and she need not ask him. Her ears were pricked forward, the whole of her alert and ready to act as surely as her mirror images were if he made one single wrong move. Their teeth were the proverbial noose, reapers scythe, a blade lying in wait... There was not a single kind thing about the sisters as they patiently wait for the single good reason not to loose themselves upon him. Hydra did not seek his strengths, did not seek to analyze his appearance—red, even before it bled—she only sought to hear him out, to give him his chance at life.

RE: my own lived mythology - Alya - November 18, 2017

Alya was, as ever, a step behind her beloved sister. When Hydra stopped and questioned the male that her protege had brought home to them, Alya fanned out to get a look at the male from all angles. Too, she hoped that leaving his line of sight would keep him off-balance and weaken the surety of his attack, if that was what he'd come here for. Eventually, she halted in a position near his flank - looming, but not invading his space. Her eyes met Hydra's over the male's back, silently communicating her readiness to fight or interrogate as needed.

The sisters all had their strengths, and Alya hoped that Hydra would remember to call on hers, should she decide the power of friendship manipulation talking too much was needed, here.

RE: my own lived mythology - RIP Wintersbane - November 18, 2017

y'all can probably skip drogon from here on out since he's just observing. if he's needed at all just let me know with a tag! :-)

Upon the approach of the triplets, Hydra informs Ganondorf that they do not take prisoners, inadvertently answering an earlier question that Drogon himself could not but it did not come as much of a surprise to the Ansbjørn. No, Moonspear didn’t really seem like the prisoner type. Drogon moves to stand to the side, to give the triplets the floor: he had done his part now. He had brought them a wealth of information providing Ganondorf was serious and intending and willing to share it. Admittedly, to withhold now would be a fatal mistake: there’s really no backing out of it for the flame-kissed boy. He’s already a traitor to the Woods and Hydra’s made it clear what fate awaits him if he makes a misstep. Drogon’s glacial gaze touches upon each of the triplets though it lingers the longest upon Hydra as she takes charge of the situation. In his silence, in his step back he lingers now as the observer but is ready to answer should the questions turn to him at any point.

176 words

RE: my own lived mythology - Ganondorf - November 26, 2017

@Drogon @Alya @Hydra sorry for the wait. Was enjoying my thanksgiviing break

His question was answered, not by the boy, but by one of the three black wraiths that had come to answer Drogon's call. The Cerberus. While he lacked the attraction to women that Drogon perhaps had, he could not doubt their allure. They moved as one, though only one spoke at the moment. He looked to all of them, unsure who to look at as he answered. The one who spoke? All of them? His eyes flitted to all three as he spoke, lingering on the one who spoke, but dancing to the others as he spoke.

I am leaving my pack — Blackfeather Woods. He spoke, the obviousness of his statement fully apparent to him. But it needed to be restated, reiterated. They are my family, but I have long had issues with them. It seemed the right time to leave.

RE: my own lived mythology - Hydra - November 27, 2017

He was direct and to the point, which was good.

But he also spoke on wishing to join their fold due to familial issues. That was neither bad nor good at this point in time—it was something to be explored, certainly. We have common ground then, it seems—we, too, have an issue with your family. Hydra's eyes remained upon the russet wolf, her eyes observant and seeking any change in his demeanor. Though, not the whole of them. We three seek only one, her eyes flashed at the words. It was very fortunate he was not that wolf. Drogon escorting him was the only thing that kept him safe for the moment. Had he been alone, the scent would have been enough for Hydra to attempt to be rid of him. He might be a spy, after all. Drogon had informed her of their ways, after all.

They were his family, at the end of the day—he called them that. And so she wondered why he had truly come. Are you here to speak on their behalf? He was leaving, he had said. Not on good terms with them. Hydra did not dream that he might think to join Moonspear, but that he might be here to plead the case of the scarred boy, the boy who lived at present... but who would certainly die. Already it was perfectly clear that Hydra was disinterested in having such a conversation, but to hear it from him would direct her feelings on the man before her, at least.

RE: my own lived mythology - Ganondorf - November 30, 2017

Permission granted to skip @Alya!

His face turned, thinking of the small twisted messes who lived in the Glen, giggling playfully without a care in the world. It was not them he had an issue with. It was not all of them. And it was not with the savagery and hatred that these three wraiths — and many other packs — had with his family. My grievances with them are not to the intensity of yours, He admits to her. He is already betraying them by leaving. He does not want to be mistaken for a malicious conspirator by them or by his family. But his face twists with silent resignation, knowing for sure who they were speaking about. I know him — my brother,

They didn't send me. No one knows I'm gone, or here of all places. But I will speak for them. I have to explain a lot, so you can either sit through it all or cut me off, They deserved a plea, some kind of explanation to those ignorant of their ways. He knew enough and was well enough in the brain to speak to these wolves and explain himself — to explain them. We...They're religious. My pack. It's a sect of some widespread cult which is just a smaller part of some larger pantheon. The Daedric Gods, they're called. And my pack worship in Mephala — Goddess of murder, sex, secrets...stuff like that. That's why they're so fucked up — well, there's a lot of reasons — He stopped himself, sighing as he began to ramble. It wasn't very often that he lost control of his words. He shook his head. And I was going to be trained as a priest, but I...lost faith? Not sure if I ever had it — but they haven't been too fond of me since. My mother's high priestess and all of my family believes in the Gods to some degree but I don't. I've been looking for an excuse to leave. And here's my chance — saving my hide. He speaks the words with some nugget of self-loathing, because he still considered them as family. But he could not live there anymore. He did not belong, and he had merely been hanging around. Anything else you want to know, you can ask — or just kill me. That's fine too. He resigned himself to death or some immense pain, knowing that if it was not to come for him at the Woods, it would come to him from an outsider, someone who smelled the thick blood-and-feathers scent that he carried deep in his fur. It felt unnatural and yet right at the same time, this submission of his own life to another wolf.

RE: my own lived mythology - RIP Wintersbane - December 02, 2017

popping drogon back in here

It does not fall beneath notice that despite having multiple opportunities to give them a name, Ganandorf does not name his brother. It is on the tip of the selkäjakaja ’s tongue to ask if this silver and sand heathen even has a name at all ( in the most scathing way he can ask such a question ) but bites his tongue to bid it to be still. This wasn’t what he expected when he brought Ganadorf here. He didn’t expect a plea, an attempt made by the flame-kissed boy to understand them as if this was all just that: a misunderstanding. There was no misunderstanding clear signs of war; and besides that Drogon understood the wolves of Blackfeather very well. Perhaps better than he’d ever like to admit. His upper lip curls back, wrinkling as his teeth flash as Ganandorf begins with the explanation of religion. As if religion is the save all. “Religion is a symptom not the antecedent. It’s nothing more than a convenient veil to hide behind in the face of consequences.” Drogon cannot help himself from speaking, breaking his silence since The Cerberus arrived. The words slip out in a low snarl though his temper is soothed — thankfully ( potentially for both of their sakes ) — when Ganandorf admits that he lost faith, or never had it in the first place. Their strange religion is one of the many facets of reasons why Drogon left and he is thankful that he has. Drogon falls silent once more, still hesitant on where he stands with Ganandorf, how he feels about the older boy all the while watching Hydra and her sister's own reactions to Ganadorf's explanation. The ability to understand them will be undeniably useful in the coming reckoning but Drogon likes to think that's what he's for, and Drogon's not so sure he wants the competition nevermind that Ganandorf will be more useful ( and if Drogon felt any jealousy before — he hadn't — he certainly felt the stirrings of it now oops). The Blackfeather wolves have been a blight upon the Wilds for too long and their ruin was coming, Drogon was sure of it. The selkäjakaja wanted to be there when it happened: right on the front lines.

I will become death, the destroyer of nations.

RE: my own lived mythology - Hydra - December 05, 2017

Hydra had desired that he speak more, if only to learn. What he provided her did not help her at all, though—it echoed her sentiments, but she did not learn anything new or useful. Hydra's eyes drifted slowly over to Drogon as he spoke, but her eyes were back upon Ganondorf. He spoke on not following their beliefs any longer, but these were all words. She had trusted Drogon because he truly had no attachments there, but the ties of this wolf were far more prominent.

He put his literal neck on the line, and Hydra had yet to decide if she would take him up on his offer. He had come to survive, and yet he was ready to die? Perhaps she should kill him. She could sense her sisters mute agreement, and the blue-eyed Ostrega at the center contemplated in long moments of silence.

When she spoke, she still had not come to a decision. If I am to accept you among us, I must know you are a wolf to be trusted, Hydra decided at last. As I said, I seek but one wolf. Would you lead me to him? Would you watch, as I do what I must, without retaliation? Hydra tilted her head as she watched him, her eyes cold and calculating. This was more than a question, it would become an expectation. She thought of her fathers words, of his plan. Drogon and Ganondorf could lead her exactly to where it was she wanted to go in the battle to be had—a battle she did not reveal to Ganondorf, in case he were to be a spy. If he were, it would be of no consequence to Moonspear, Hydra decided—after all, it was not Moonspear who had decided to march against Blackfeather.

RE: my own lived mythology - Ganondorf - December 05, 2017

No it isn't, Ganondorf looks to Drogon as he speaks. Perhaps they all had some twisted urge to hurt other wolves inside them, but he did not see proof of it when he tended to his younger siblings, or even in his mother. They encouraged it — he did not deny that at all, having participated in more of a few torture sessions — but it was not inherent in them. It was inherent to him, yes — he had forced his blood to stop boiling at the thought of being a prisoner to someone else — but not to all of them. It was just life for the members of Blackfeather.

He sees nothing on the Cerberus' speaker's face to suggest that this was all new knowledge to them. Or maybe she just had a resting bitch face. Or she was just good at hiding her emotions. But he couldn't let himself be without value to them. Sure, he had offered his life, but he did not mean it in all sincerity, simply a show of his own submission to them. They would easily kill them, as they almost did his brother. He did not want to die. If you want more I can give you more. Perhaps it will make you understand more. Perhaps it won't. He promises to her.

She asks for his loyalty. He is not sure he can give it in so easily to her, without question. Would you watch one of your sisters die, even if she had done something to hurt you? He looked to the two matching women on either side of the middle head. It will be difficult for me, I will not deny it. Vaati is a damned fool but he is still my brother, But it was more than just brotherly love, wasn't it? He had pined over and lusted for his brother, a taboo that he was well aware of. It had not been truly condemed in their culture, but it was still looked upon with disgust. He remembered Vaati's digusted face alongside his submissive one, the brief flits of the latter being overshadowed by the latter. The memory of that girl rising from Vaati's pet to a member was bile-inducing.

He doesn't for a second believe that she is only intent on killing just Vaati. He knows who brought in the red wolf, and he knows that the other wolves Vaati brought were from other packs. There were others who hated them, and perhaps knew who they are. And only, him, correct? He says it hesitantly, wondering what she might reveal to a maybe-spy. They might all pride themselves on being the worhsippers of the Goddess of Lies but they were not the only liars in the world, nor the best.

RE: my own lived mythology - Hydra - December 05, 2017

She had her rejoinder prepared, ears erect and posture all the taller as she prepared to speak. Hydra would never permit it—nor would Alya or Lyra—but Hydra would also have never of left them. The discussion would never be humored or had. Hydra's protectiveness was fierce, and it showed in the flash of her eye. He was quick to go on, however, and Hydra seemed to soften, her features looking somehow sweet. I can imagine how difficult it must be, she breathed the words into existence, her sisters nodding beside her. but you must know that hesitance is not something you can afford, for it would be his neck on the line, then—and he would be taken care of. There were more than her set of teeth that would ensure of this. Regardless of his assistance or not, his brother would be killed. With a sigh, Hydra at least offered him one thing to put his mind at some ease: we will be merciful, and you need not watch, if you do not desire to. Their mercy his brother did not deserve. And without Ganondorf, she would not promise the same.

Hydra hears his inquiry, and hears it from every angle. She does not take time to consider her response—she does not need to. I speak for only me and mine. What you hear is neither mystery nor news to you, I am sure. Your assistance would allow for me to trust you, and make my endeavor as seamless as possible. No one else need die or else be harmed by our fangs that you care for, should you assist, and if he did not, there was sure to be collateral damage. In fact, Ganondorf himself had all but guaranteed it. But what she told him was nothing but the truth; there was not a lick of deceit to what she said. She was giving him an honest shot, but the cost he would pay was high.

RE: my own lived mythology - Ganondorf - December 20, 2017

*screeches* itsnearlybeenamonthhhh @Hydra

He was surprised to see her face change into something that looked like what sympathy was supposed to look like. He was still tense, frightened at the thought of dying, and terrified at the concept of his family dying for the mistake of one wolf. Not Vaati, no, his grandmother. Had she not come here, had she not enforced these rules and tenants into the minds of her children, would they be the same as they were now? How many lives had she ruined in her quest to spread the Web of their dark goddess?

He had no desire to see any of them hurt, even if some of them truly deserved the pain he knew was coming to them. He nodded, knowing that the small mercy was the least that she could do for his sake.

I know you can say that for yourselves, but there are others, correct? Other packs? He could only guess. There had been so many foreign scents that passed through Wolfskull Cave in the past half-year that he could no longer identify each one singularly. He had a feeling that it was more than just these three, this mountain pack, that cursed Blackfeather's name with every breath. He was no fool. What am I saying? You can't be accountable for them, He breathed, more to himself than the three women and the one boy gathered near him. They were briefly pushed out of his consciousness for a moment, before they regained his attention. Now what will you do with me?

RE: my own lived mythology - Hydra - December 20, 2017

Skipping others due to that!

Hydra listened to him speak, though her face revealed nothing as he asked the questions she would give no answer to. Her ears pricked forward at his inquiry, and Hydra pressed: that is dependent on what you will do for us. Will you do as you were asked? Her eyes held him as pale fingers clutching to a collar would—without the desperation, but with the implication that there would be a price to pay—as though she were ready to snuff the light out of his eyes if she did not hear what she demanded. It was a steep price, but his life was worth it. Ganondorf did not know it, but Hydra did—and his mother, as far as Moonspear was concerned, was safe and would continue life uncondemned. She presumed her father would go to lead her away if he had not already.

RE: my own lived mythology - Ganondorf - December 21, 2017

She says nothing, but he already fears some great reckoning. Her lack of any answer, be it confirmation or dissuasion, does nothing to soothe him. He does not let disappointment or fear rule his face, but his mouth turns in a slight frown.

He expects this. Submission in the truest extent. She does not say it blatantly — for she has said very few things blatantly in this whole conversation — but he knows what she wants of him. Slavery. Perhaps a prisoner, in the same way the red furred woman was made one, or Cassopeia? Unconditionally, no. But most things I can do,

RE: my own lived mythology - Hydra - December 22, 2017

He was wrong—that was not what she desired or asked of him. Moonspear had no slaves; his conditional acceptance was that he lead them to the wolf she desired to cull. To prove his loyalty. Sensing he misunderstood by his answer alone, Hydra clarified what she wanted of him: I want but one thing, Hydra informed, her tone cool and collected. When the time comes, I want you to take me to your brother. You will lead me through the tangled web of your territory to where he can be found. In the meantime, while within Moonspear, you will remain within the pack borders until that day comes. You must prove that your loyalty, now, is with us, that much, she felt, was fair and ought to be understood. After all, he could be a spy. Hydra was content to let him loiter in their territory, given that even if the enemy was told of it traversing through a mountain when one was not made for them was no easy feat. But he would be watched anyhow, to ensure this, which surely he knew. Will you do this? She inquired, wanting his explicit word.

RE: my own lived mythology - Ganondorf - December 22, 2017

Of course they would ask him. When he knew the twisting tunnels of Blackfeather Woods so intimately. He is not sure that he is glad that that is all they ask of him. He expects manual labor, punishment for being a member of this pack. But all he has to do his search for his brother. A difficult task, even for him. The tunnels have not been fully explored and the they change with the seasons. He nods his head. Done, He wonders what the pack is truly like, outside these three dread wolves and the young boy. Perhaps they weren't all as brooding or angry. Perhaps they would be no better than home, with only a change of perspective to grant the Woods that edge of darkness about them. He didn't know.