Silverlight Terrace blackout

[ There's a sting in the way you kiss me

 

Something within your eyes

 

Said it could be the last time ]

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The breeze weaved through the pliant grasses alike fingers combing through a slumberous lover’s hair — a soft, delicate motion, fingertips curling the soft tresses at their ends as the touch wanes into the quiet, open air. The moon laid upon the land as though a sheet of silk, casting an ambient glow upon the tips of undulating pasture, its silvery hue flippantly dancing like waves of a calmed sea. His is a lamented motion, powerful limbs ambulating him forward with a withdrawn, unhurried pace; parting through those illuminated swells as though a tamed leviathan. As usual, he was just passing through — he had no home to return to, nor did he particularly feel invested to sow the flesh of the land he walked upon into a restful abode. There was no point for him. The only thing that seemed to quell the parasitic ache in his chest was the quest to unearth newness: always searching, always distracting from the inevitability that should he linger too long, his mind would begin to consume him. Not even for sleep could he justify stopping — no matter his fatigue, no matter the blurriness which trickled into his vision. How long had it been? His chiseled brow furrowed. He couldn’t remember. Had his feet always been this clumsy? What was happening? He shook his head, the bountiful mane of black furs draped over his shoulders swooshing as he tried to dispel the void creeping into his sight. His once undaunted crown began to swim. Something was wrong.

She watched from the peaks of Moonspear, eyes following the great shadow as he strolled unhurriedly across the terrace. At first glance the Ostrega was ready to howl a rallying call and tear down the mountainside to warn him away from their peaks, thinking him to be a small bear, though a further inspection revealed a more canine form. Even from this distance she could tell he was a formidable brute, though the season had filled Lyra with insatiable curiosity. She began to pick her way down the cliffs and head in the stranger's direction.

As she approached quietly from behind, she saw the man sway sluggishly before shaking his head as if chasing away sleep. Was he hurt? She tested the air but could smell no blood. She kept her distance however, choosing to remain a silent observer, though the gleam in her eye betrayed her interest.

He took notice of his siblings periodically, but it was different compared to the time before his coming-of-age adventure; whereas he used to adamantly patrol the lower reaches of the mountain or try to creep after his outrider siblings as a means of extra protection, now he kept to himself, he did not disturb them nor offer them anything. They were fully capable — and while Revui did not doubt his own abilities, he did not think there was anything to gain by being a pest within the great shadows that they cast off.

To say that he was actively hunting for his sister was erroneous; Revui was keeping busy with patrols but did not actively seek any of the triplets. When Lyra's shape whipped past him with all the finesse of a jungle cat on the prowl his attention was caught. He followed doggedly after her, wondering what had caused this great momentum down from the mountain. He told himself he would not get in the way unless required — but a part of him was eager for action all the same.

The leviathan liked to think of himself as a powerful force upon Moonspear, biding his time and anticipating greatness once he was given a chance; it was why he demanded the Beta rank from his father, and was so sore about the refusal afterwards. It was why he had left the mountain for those long months too — he needed more in his life, enrichment and combat, stimulation and blood. Perhaps he need not have gone so far.

He slowed his chase when she did, giving her a wide berth. As eager as he was, Revui had learned to play the long game by now. He wanted to rush in, but only fools acted without thinking first; he was determined to be better than his past self. Lyra was watching something in the lowlands - and he tried to spy it too, but saw only shadow. He paced behind her but did not get too close, unsure of the surroundings, not realizing the shadow he'd spied was actually a mammoth of a wolf.

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Imprisoned, banished, into a nexus of my own design...
Now Time mocks me, and my sentence is Gravity.

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Though nearing enough of hormones, the cursed Witch switched and swatched her body forward, her narrow frame bereft from her, pregnancy betraying what was once a seductive and limber creature. Zafina kept her grace, her walk no amble, no shamble, and certainly nothing to pass an eye over. The short Divine moved with the fluidity of a panther in their prime, the silence from her paw pads enough to startle none. She glided over this plane, and even in pregnancy her captivating movements were breathtaking. Each limb moved in tandem, perfectly timed with the other, as she pulled herself from the mountain she had desperately prayed to call her new place for rest, for practice, for magic. 
But, should the Alphas find her predicament, if not already having done so, surely she would be banished, would she not? 

As this breeze caressed the crowd, it brought to life the locks of her own pelt, a dangerous ebony with peeking of auburn, mahogany, cream, all fighting the curtains of locks to be brought forth, seen. But lo, the veil only hid them further as the rivers of midnight danced phantomly against the colored crests. The Goddess wondered- would Amekaze shed mercy on her plight? Would Charon have pity on her soul? As she brought herself to this passing boulder of shadowcraft, of swaying meat and decadent duress, she feared nothing in reprocussion. She was, however, worried for her spawn- who would take sorrow on the gift of the unborn?

As her catalyst brought her to this lumbering male, her voice was soft, dulcets of hymn strung comfortably in their midst.

”What is it you seek here?” Typical greetings were beneath her to strangers. Frankly, she had kept herself away from her own ‘packmates’ so they too had been spared her ineptitude in conversation. However her gaze, blood hued diamonds, struck true to the giant, never letting go. 

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But every sky will build my throne.

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The stars perched in the inky seas of the night sky began to descend, slavering strings of blackness dripping from a mosaic of galactic hues like paint overloaded on a canvas.  His vision swam with the ghosts of a fatigued mind -- illusions hexing his eyes with vivid swirls of light which sparked like fireworks in the dimming of his consciousness.  Spots which blinded him made his gait ungainly, his once reposed -- if perhaps princely -- stride bordering now on the same unpracticed greenness of a freshly birthed fawn.  His large paws struggled, knotted and ripped in the tall, pearlescent grasses, and before being suddenly approached, he barely caught himself from toppling forward.  "I..." His deep voice choked on the precipice of his throat.  What had she asked him?  She?  His hazy, unsure gaze attempted to locate her -- to no avail, as she could not begin to be found in the flickering dots.  "Whe..." Perhaps an endeavor to seek some kind of clarity, but it was too late.  He dropped.  A mountain crumbling under its own weight, he plummets -- a resounding thud beating off the ground like a thunderous belch from a perturbed sky-deity.  His eyes remained open, though it only feigned sentience: he was trapped in a fever dream, gasping, fevering flesh trembling as sweat beaded across his brow.  It was nearly blackout.

@Lyra @Revui @Zafina <3 sorry for the ugly phone post loves

She remained hidden in the grasses, noting the man had not yet taken notice of his company — either that or he was far too detached from reality at the moment to even know where he was. He powered onwards robotically, swaying to some unknown, stuttering rhythm. Lyra's notched ear flung back as she heard a rustle behind her and she tested the air silently. Revui. While she didn't fear the stranger before them, she felt slightly more secure knowing she had her own gargantuan brother as back up.

She was about to turn to acknowledge his presence before another shape caught her eye, and Lyra quickly looked back to focus on the dark, ethereal figure who almost seemed to glide towards the man. No other scents apart from the man's own and Moonspear were present, and Lyra had been told by Hydra that they had accepted a few outsiders as of late. Still, the way the woman approached the suffering stranger so brazenly, with such impudence had rubbed her the wrong way.

Any concerns for the man's well being were shoved aside, replaced by irritation by her pack mate's display. She rose from the grasses, sweeping forward with her tail arched high over her back and no care as to where she currently sat in the ranks. She was the Alpha's daughter and as such, she (and Revui) were superior — for blood reigned supreme in Moonspear.

As she drew up to face the woman, her attention was stolen by the man, who uttered a barely decipherable attempt at a word before collapsing to the ground with an almighty thud. Lyra stared down at the beast and his unblinking eyes, remaining open despite his now unconscious state. Had he died? She moved slowly around his fallen form, looking for sings of fatal injuries; or anything that could explain why he had suddenly dropped like that. "Well, you obviously won't get an answer now," she stated, glancing at the woman with a wry look. It was then she noticed the subtle curve of her belly, highlighted by the moon's light, which caused her eyebrow to lift ever so slightly.

The beastly figure moved with a lethargic quality that Revui had never seen before, save perhaps in the form of the swaggering bear that he had encountered, and he was at once entranced and cautious of them; then there came another body, black as pitch. His first thought was of his siblings — the sisters maybe, or Arcturus — and he was briefly elated at the thought of sharing this strange moment with his shadow of a brother. Yet it wasn't any of those familiar faces. The dark shape was burdened by weight that did not appear to bother the tempo of their stride — and Revui watched as the pregnant woman boldly approached the goliath, even spoke to him, before the great beast crashed to the earth. From his distant vantage point it seemed to Revui as if the woman had cast a spell. He was instantly dismayed, and he slipped closer with his lurching, loud steps.

By the time he'd closed the distance there was a familiar silhouette - and a voice - as Lyra made herself known. She had likely been watching for a while, and Revui was comforted by that thought. He wished it had been Arcturus though, deep down. Together they could've faced this mountain of a man, shown off their skills, perhaps learned something through the struggle. But the beast was laying in the dirt and Revui, circling in a vulturine fashion, was slowly losing interest. He glanced between the two wolves who were present and found himself staring for a long minute at the pregnant creature — a woman he did not know.

As the boy was not wise in the ways of womanhood or motherhood, he did not realize her impressive bulk was because of the illness associated with carrying offspring; had he known, he might have just chased the woman off. He glanced to Lyra quickly, sharply, frowning as his gaze trailed between his sister and the roundness of the stranger, forgetting all about the fallen mountain settling between them. Who is this, he was thinking, and had he the capacity, who dares bring new life to our mountain?

---

 

Imprisoned, banished, into a nexus of my own design...
Now Time mocks me, and my sentence is Gravity.

---

As though descended from Atlas’ own strife, the befuddled behemoth babbled near nil as he crushed everything beneath him in a doomed perish. It was almost history in the making, repeated, and left to cool as the titanic collapse lay silent, still, and steaming in this graven day. 
Her sorrow for such a sight was planted, but had not been able to root as her senses were brought to focus upon another two whom neared. One being as thickly blacked as the heart of a greedy and starved star, eyes of crisp and near searing focus burned into a pair of verdes. The other was not as dark, yet something clearly indicated they were related- perhaps it was how they moved in gear with one another, connected by unseen genetics that was meant more to be lived than seen.

She who would be Lyra commanded her space, but cheeky snark flipped from her slipper tongue. Zafina paid it no mind- she was not on a level to contest anyone here, and wouldn’t regardless. She would could not risk lives that were not hers to allow harm. 

But that burning sensation began, and as a laser, it was direct to the plump of her sides, and the Divine could nearly feel the ebonian picking apart layers of fur, flesh, fat, just to see what dwell within. 

Her neutral form seemed to pull away from them, wafting away as silk and satin would in a thrustly breeze. She did in fact retract herself, relieving her control of the ground she had bodily claimed by Grim. The Goddess wasn’t meant to feel this uncomfortable here- but how Lyra and Revui stared at her as though they saw her in disgust. It was the bane of all Deity, and her confidence faded. 

But she could go no where where where they too were not capable-

and all prey knew to run was to invite a chase...

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But every sky will build my throne.

 

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