January 21, 2022, 04:48 PM
the prophet woke again with a gasp and tasted salt. cold salt, filling her lungs. the spirits shrieked.
the sea. renewed, she fought. fought the tide. the pull of the frigid dark below. the pleas of the spirits. stay, they wailed, walk with us. bless us with your light. and why not? why shouldn't she, who had been blessed with their song and their secrets, ascend to the world of spirits? the world of ever-lasting peace and time without change.
no. no. she belonged to the druids. to her god.
in the darkness she struggled. cold tendrils brushed her face. driftwood struck her flank and left her gasping again, a cruel stinging mix of icy air and lashing water filling her mouth. something softer struck her paws, fleshy and frigid and alive with swirling fur. the stormborn.
the skyrock.
in a blur of pain and breathless panic, the prophet wrestled with the corpse. grasping with limbs, teeth, anything. tearing. digging. searching. where is it? where where the skyrock where was it air she needed air
teeth struck stone
and the sea tore her away.
awareness blinked into the void, and the prophet drifted. lost, until her paws struck sand and the frigid air kissed her nape. she pitched forward, desperate, grasping at solid ground. stumbling. the sea lashed again at her back, and threw her forward.
she fell into the sand, and breathed even as the water rushed in around her again. crawled. on shaking limbs she lifted herself, skyrock clutched in her jaws. forward. away from the sea, the desperate grasping pleas of the spirits.
and when she passed the threshold, where the spirits could reach no further,
she collapsed.
the sea. renewed, she fought. fought the tide. the pull of the frigid dark below. the pleas of the spirits. stay, they wailed, walk with us. bless us with your light. and why not? why shouldn't she, who had been blessed with their song and their secrets, ascend to the world of spirits? the world of ever-lasting peace and time without change.
no. no. she belonged to the druids. to her god.
in the darkness she struggled. cold tendrils brushed her face. driftwood struck her flank and left her gasping again, a cruel stinging mix of icy air and lashing water filling her mouth. something softer struck her paws, fleshy and frigid and alive with swirling fur. the stormborn.
the skyrock.
in a blur of pain and breathless panic, the prophet wrestled with the corpse. grasping with limbs, teeth, anything. tearing. digging. searching. where is it? where where the skyrock where was it air she needed air
teeth struck stone
and the sea tore her away.
awareness blinked into the void, and the prophet drifted. lost, until her paws struck sand and the frigid air kissed her nape. she pitched forward, desperate, grasping at solid ground. stumbling. the sea lashed again at her back, and threw her forward.
she fell into the sand, and breathed even as the water rushed in around her again. crawled. on shaking limbs she lifted herself, skyrock clutched in her jaws. forward. away from the sea, the desperate grasping pleas of the spirits.
and when she passed the threshold, where the spirits could reach no further,
she collapsed.
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Messages In This Thread
dreadful, like death - by Ingram - January 15, 2022, 06:34 AM
RE: dreadful, like death - by Tulok - January 16, 2022, 07:12 PM
RE: dreadful, like death - by RIP Fury - January 16, 2022, 07:30 PM
RE: dreadful, like death - by Alduin - January 17, 2022, 04:38 AM
RE: dreadful, like death - by The Listener - January 21, 2022, 04:48 PM
RE: dreadful, like death - by Ingram - February 02, 2022, 06:00 AM
RE: dreadful, like death - by Tulok - February 03, 2022, 06:15 PM
RE: dreadful, like death - by Alduin - February 03, 2022, 11:43 PM