October 02, 2018, 03:55 AM
(This post was last modified: October 05, 2018, 04:44 AM by RIP Wintersbane.)
a wild DB "The Ghosts, They Sing to Me" quest appears! b/c a kind of halloweeny-themed thread for a high af wintersbane seemed like fun!
it took some time but as dusk breaks and settles across the wilds the mushrooms that wintersbane had thought had been safe to eat — although why he thought it was a good idea to try any sort of mushroom in the first place is beyond even his own sensibility — had turned out to be otherwise. they weren't poisonous per-say. he doesn't feel sick but his head begins to feel foggy after an hour into his patrols and with the strange feeling growing he abandons the patrol and seeks asylum deeper within the woods. the world around him at times moves in a slow pace, there is one tree and then suddenly there are visual echoes of the same tree, as is if it were trying to multiply itself.
the tundrian's head swims with the high, pupils dilate and his steps falter as he staggers and presses against the nearest tree for support. shapes begin to appear; at first, little more than wisps of writhing smoke. but as he blinks and squints in the distance, the veil between the spirit realm and the realm of the living splits wide for wintersbane and the smoke takes form. into wolves he doesn't recognize. deceased wolves of the woods ...and gods and monsters — for surely the wolf-looking shape with multiple eyes and spider-legs, and the skeletal being translate to wintersbane as more monsters than gods. they speak in a language older than bones; words are guttural and foreign to the tundrian. he does not speak deity and their words fall on ...not deaf ears but ears that cannot translate their otherwise feral noises, like the rasp of bone against bone.
his hackles bristle as his flesh burns hot beneath his pelage, an additional side effect of the high he suffers through. and he pushes off the trunk, curious. wanting to get closer to the deities and ghosts of the woods now that he can see them ...even if he's far from a lucid state of mind.
the tundrian's head swims with the high, pupils dilate and his steps falter as he staggers and presses against the nearest tree for support. shapes begin to appear; at first, little more than wisps of writhing smoke. but as he blinks and squints in the distance, the veil between the spirit realm and the realm of the living splits wide for wintersbane and the smoke takes form. into wolves he doesn't recognize. deceased wolves of the woods ...and gods and monsters — for surely the wolf-looking shape with multiple eyes and spider-legs, and the skeletal being translate to wintersbane as more monsters than gods. they speak in a language older than bones; words are guttural and foreign to the tundrian. he does not speak deity and their words fall on ...not deaf ears but ears that cannot translate their otherwise feral noises, like the rasp of bone against bone.
his hackles bristle as his flesh burns hot beneath his pelage, an additional side effect of the high he suffers through. and he pushes off the trunk, curious. wanting to get closer to the deities and ghosts of the woods now that he can see them ...even if he's far from a lucid state of mind.
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Messages In This Thread
each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil - by RIP Wintersbane - October 02, 2018, 03:55 AM
RE: each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil - by Titmouse (Ghost) - October 04, 2018, 07:52 PM
RE: each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil - by RIP Wintersbane - October 06, 2018, 04:15 AM
RE: each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil - by Titmouse (Ghost) - October 06, 2018, 11:49 PM
RE: each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil - by RIP Wintersbane - October 07, 2018, 05:52 AM
RE: each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil - by Titmouse (Ghost) - October 08, 2018, 02:13 PM
RE: each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil - by RIP Wintersbane - October 10, 2018, 04:09 AM
RE: each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil - by Titmouse (Ghost) - October 15, 2018, 12:31 PM
RE: each night reunites me with the feral tenderness of my own evil - by RIP Wintersbane - October 18, 2018, 04:01 AM