It had started as a simple chase, a frenzied pursuit of small game near the edges of the territory. Never would those steps have been taken had he known what lie ahead.
Slipping, stumbling, sending brush and pebbles skittering downwards along with him—into the shadowed abyss of an alpine crevasse, with only the barest sliver of light to be had overhead.
Night came, and then day again.
Hex looked for a path upward and found no trail but descent, into the belly of the mountains. Darker it became, and darker still, a stygian black that seemed to bely the very existence of the sun.
Night came, and day again—but he wouldn't know it.
There were ancient things in the tunnels. Pale, rippling indents in the rock, remnants of ribcages of creatures long, long dead. Echoes of the past, a dull, aching whisper through the caverns.
Each step he took fell in harmony with the quiet pit-pat of water upon cold stone.
The shadow boy had never known such emptiness and monotony.
Day to night; day to night. Soon days blended together, and then perhaps weeks.
Moons? Years?!
When the hunger pangs ebbed, the spectral figures descended upon him, pale and dancing like morning mist.
Witch,
The deep-set dread of his birthright, humming in his bones;
Hex did not feel the ground upon which he walked. He did not sense the walls closing in around him. Existence shrank to a singular point upon which he meditated.
If he gave into the ghosts, he knew they would take him away.
Still, they whispered.
It was Hex and his ancestors, now, walking alongside him in the endless maze he surmised to be hell. He'd died, falling down that slope; he had no doubt of it.
Now all that remained to be seen was how long this would last.
How long his torture would go on;
And for what?
"The madness," he whispered to himself, breath fogging in the frigid air.
Madness, agreed the spirits.
Hex did not fear hell, for he'd already lived it on Earth. Hell was pain, anguish, abandonment—and here he felt nothing at all.
That singular point? It grew, eventually, into a tiny tongue of flame, and then a starburst of light—
A small opening in the mountain, covered by thorny bushes and dusty, jagged rocks. He pushed through, heedless of the snagging at his pelt, the ungainly slipping of his gait.
Dead man walking. . .onto the northeast edge of the ridge he had once dared to claim.
But that was yesterday—no, hundreds of yesterdays ago.
Today?
He was little more than a pile of unkempt skin and bones as he sagged back upon his haunches, his gold eyes devoid of anything feeling.
Slipping, stumbling, sending brush and pebbles skittering downwards along with him—into the shadowed abyss of an alpine crevasse, with only the barest sliver of light to be had overhead.
Night came, and then day again.
Hex looked for a path upward and found no trail but descent, into the belly of the mountains. Darker it became, and darker still, a stygian black that seemed to bely the very existence of the sun.
Night came, and day again—but he wouldn't know it.
There were ancient things in the tunnels. Pale, rippling indents in the rock, remnants of ribcages of creatures long, long dead. Echoes of the past, a dull, aching whisper through the caverns.
Each step he took fell in harmony with the quiet pit-pat of water upon cold stone.
The shadow boy had never known such emptiness and monotony.
Day to night; day to night. Soon days blended together, and then perhaps weeks.
Moons? Years?!
"Witch."
When the hunger pangs ebbed, the spectral figures descended upon him, pale and dancing like morning mist.
Witch,
mage,
Mayfair blight.
The deep-set dread of his birthright, humming in his bones;
Hex did not feel the ground upon which he walked. He did not sense the walls closing in around him. Existence shrank to a singular point upon which he meditated.
If he gave into the ghosts, he knew they would take him away.
Still, they whispered.
Who am I?
What am I?
WHY am I?
What am I?
WHY am I?
It was Hex and his ancestors, now, walking alongside him in the endless maze he surmised to be hell. He'd died, falling down that slope; he had no doubt of it.
Now all that remained to be seen was how long this would last.
How long his torture would go on;
And for what?
"The madness," he whispered to himself, breath fogging in the frigid air.
Madness, agreed the spirits.
Hex did not fear hell, for he'd already lived it on Earth. Hell was pain, anguish, abandonment—and here he felt nothing at all.
so where am i now?
That singular point? It grew, eventually, into a tiny tongue of flame, and then a starburst of light—
A small opening in the mountain, covered by thorny bushes and dusty, jagged rocks. He pushed through, heedless of the snagging at his pelt, the ungainly slipping of his gait.
Dead man walking. . .onto the northeast edge of the ridge he had once dared to claim.
But that was yesterday—no, hundreds of yesterdays ago.
Today?
He was little more than a pile of unkempt skin and bones as he sagged back upon his haunches, his gold eyes devoid of anything feeling.
October 12, 2024, 05:50 PM
ref and/or joining tag! <3
sacsayhuamán returned.
yana cuchillo returned.
llanthuq'asa called them back as if they had not been gone.
but hex was reduced to little, his shoulders sharp, his head hung low. his spirit looked as if it had been partly torn from his body.
serpent's-eyes, glittering from the gloom claimed by this man, and then muskrat was enveloping him in her strong arms, urging his weakened frame to lie back against her shorter body. "be still," she said roughly, relief sharpening her tone. "here, muskrat. i take care of you."
she sent a high call for @Makono, a small coynote that flickered through the poured shadows. the shadowknife had come back from his dreaming, and eagerly she waited for him to say what he had seen. his eyes. had he wandered? where had he gone? what did it mean for the ridge?
she cradled his head against the sound of her heart and willed swamp panther strength back into his veins, her shark's-teeth glittering. "you have come back."
hex had disappeared along the slopes; she had hunted. but now she saw no marks of teeth upon him, no sign he had been captured. better, then, for she would leave none alive in such a raid for his honor.
Loyal Muskrat, first on the scene. He didn't recognize her at first, staring glassy-eyed at the diminuitive woman before his gaze sharpened slightly into something more coherent. It helped that she spoke in hushed tones, taking him to her breast in comfort.
Home. Home.
He attempted to take stock. Muskrat. Golden Eagle? And—
Home. Home.
Lost inside the mountains,Hex replied in the barest whisper, voice muffled against her pelt.
Dark. Spirits. Hungry,he added, and as if on cue, what was left of his stomach chimed in with an audible gurgle.
He attempted to take stock. Muskrat. Golden Eagle? And—
The girl?he asked, and a strange feeling of panic rose in his breast, as if she too had slipped away in the tunnels. He'd lost much down there—but that, he could not bear.
She's here?
October 14, 2024, 03:23 PM
a galloping horse, a charging bull, the clashing of ram horns.
she saw within the coywolf a special kind of tenderness. the knowing of when to nurture or when to gut. makono wondered if she would ever be able to do that balancing act. yet she saw how the others blossomed for it. the young girl, the sunken shadows of the returned man. all nurtured by the knowing hands and acts of muskrat.
did everyone here love one another?
that she did not know but she found the thought settled heavier than stone in her stomach. how could it be bloodshed that bonded them when none of them had warred together yet? the only thing she could imagine was love.
if it was not blood or love?
well, then she was not sure and that also added to the sense of unsettlement. still she lingered and played witness to it all. felt some sense of detachment that was no one's fault but her own. she felt small embers of warmth as she witnessed the man being cradled by strong warrior arms. jealousy would have once rioted within her but she realized that was not her right.
not here.
there was a power in muskrat that might forever be unmatched by anyone else she would ever know.
maybe it did not need to be love or blood.
maybe there was more in the world than just those things.
she saw within the coywolf a special kind of tenderness. the knowing of when to nurture or when to gut. makono wondered if she would ever be able to do that balancing act. yet she saw how the others blossomed for it. the young girl, the sunken shadows of the returned man. all nurtured by the knowing hands and acts of muskrat.
did everyone here love one another?
that she did not know but she found the thought settled heavier than stone in her stomach. how could it be bloodshed that bonded them when none of them had warred together yet? the only thing she could imagine was love.
if it was not blood or love?
well, then she was not sure and that also added to the sense of unsettlement. still she lingered and played witness to it all. felt some sense of detachment that was no one's fault but her own. she felt small embers of warmth as she witnessed the man being cradled by strong warrior arms. jealousy would have once rioted within her but she realized that was not her right.
not here.
i can be on watch or go gather supplies,her voice was for the one who had summoned her. the one who seemed to have held all of them, in one way or another.
there was a power in muskrat that might forever be unmatched by anyone else she would ever know.
maybe it did not need to be love or blood.
maybe there was more in the world than just those things.
Shadow Ridge
88 Posts
Ooc — Neoma
Offline
October 14, 2024, 06:50 PM
"Hex!?"
Was it him?! Was it him?! Nutuyikruk raced through the mountains after hearing a call out for Makono. The urgency, she could feel, and as the voice of a familiar man grew louder and louder, her feet felt the sores beginning to form.
Be him! Be him! Be him!
Running harder, harder, until Makono's figure blossomed into view. Beyond her, the embrace of Muskrat and the shadow man held into a tight hug. Nutuyikruk's heart stuttered in place. It was him! It was him! It was him! "Hex!?"
Breezing beyond Makono and not thinking for even a moment, she cried out desperately for a third time, "Hex!" Tail, borrowing between both legs as the girl squeezed to wrap an arm around his now frail, frail body. Every day in the mans missing, there had been not a word from the girl. Quiet, accepting- accepting that he would not come back, or that the mountains had collapsed down on their shadow leaders body somewhere. Another had been lost. Another would not come back.
Hex came back and she could not breathe from the elation. Overjoyed.
Was it him?! Was it him?! Nutuyikruk raced through the mountains after hearing a call out for Makono. The urgency, she could feel, and as the voice of a familiar man grew louder and louder, her feet felt the sores beginning to form.
Be him! Be him! Be him!
Running harder, harder, until Makono's figure blossomed into view. Beyond her, the embrace of Muskrat and the shadow man held into a tight hug. Nutuyikruk's heart stuttered in place. It was him! It was him! It was him! "Hex!?"
Breezing beyond Makono and not thinking for even a moment, she cried out desperately for a third time, "Hex!" Tail, borrowing between both legs as the girl squeezed to wrap an arm around his now frail, frail body. Every day in the mans missing, there had been not a word from the girl. Quiet, accepting- accepting that he would not come back, or that the mountains had collapsed down on their shadow leaders body somewhere. Another had been lost. Another would not come back.
Hex came back and she could not breathe from the elation. Overjoyed.
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