The Portal Nothing is ever certain (Part 1) - Printable Version +- the Rift (http://riftrpg.net) +-- Forum: Archives (http://riftrpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=20) +--- Forum: Year 1173 (http://riftrpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=29) +---- Forum: Completed (http://riftrpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=25) +---- Thread: The Portal Nothing is ever certain (Part 1) (/showthread.php?tid=358) |
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RE: Nothing is ever certain - Eleos - 07-26-2017
RE: Nothing is ever certain - Zahra - 07-26-2017 Zahra & Ilham It was pride that turned angels into devils He questioned her guilt, that plaguing, septic wound of recollection she felt and believed with every beat of her heart; while her voice failed to answer, she breathed, “yes.” Her thoughts submited to the mellow movement of his tone weakly, freely, as she buried her bloodshot stare into the soupy earth beneath.
"I remember it," larynx better stated, mumbled (still below that steady drone of the rain). But what did she remember? It was the wrath and ruin of the shrill, frightened voice which lashed so violently across the slumped corpse of gilt piebald, the crowd of sombre eyes that glared stupidly back, the golden-walled tomb and the huge stone which had sealed the Gallant inside. Zahra remembered the mare with the badger face who offered forth a beloved feather from his wing - images that had been seared into very lens of each eye.
Or had they?
To the weeping child’s astonishment, he, the stranger, smoothed the frayed air with a gently placed rebuttal - he mentioned that the once ruler had been his acquaintance, that he knew, the story. Unnerved and rightly intimidated (for her father was well loved, revered, ascended), feathered limbs forced in closer and her monochrome frame shrank by half; ears slipped rearward, curved crest sank and pallid tail tucked - all warily.
Guardedly she assessed the expression written upon those dark, chiselled features. There was a softness about him, in his posture, a queer strength and fortitude, that fed her very meek desire to linger; uncomfortable and confused, she fidgeted across muddy, mismatched toes, suddenly unwilling to meet his sun-scorched eye. Lies… Warring discord flared through her chest, hot and overbearing. Who was he to challenge the truth of her identity? Tears began again to amass in those lagging, raw reservoirs and as their lashed banks broke, she fastened a mask of contempt (a defensive, protective shield) across her face. She was vulnerable and this stake of acquittal which he brandished before her, felt awfully like a trap.
But her resolve, that buring ire, was once more challenged as he inched deliberately forward.
Warmth melded through the words that followed, that led his advance, and she swayed awkwardly, stiffly, with a face turned insecurely from his lure. Why was he asking? Why did he care? Her empty, angry gut twisted with anticipation, apprehension towards his unapparent motivation. Behind her, sodden threads swung, their yellowed ends licking across each coiled thigh.
"Wh…who are you?" She retorts with a sniff, and though she worked to resist the strange charm about him, his dominant stance begged for more. "I..." I Don’t know? His gaze was resilient, unwavering; waiting…
Zahra drew a shallow breath.
As she began to speak, that preoccupied focus, vested away in the distance (anywhere but the present), slumped to the ground with all of the force of an avalanche; so cataclysmic was the pain he seemed so intent to discover, to unleash, that she felt a sense of fatigued surrender wash through her. It was all too much. "Da wouldn’t know me," she mewed finally, sorrowfully, hopelessly; ashamed of the creature - the shell - that she’d become. RE: Nothing is ever certain - Eleos - 07-26-2017
RE: Nothing is ever certain - Zahra - 07-27-2017 Zahra & Ilham It was pride that turned angels into devils Wait… Ashen lashes angled harshly down across her otherwise, now, ascending eyes. Within them manifested perceivable doubt, shock, astonishment; she almost laughed aloud. "You… ha... for a second there, I thought you said…" Across the way she glared at him with new, different heat broiling in her belly.
"How dare you…" There was a dangerous undertone, a brooding, blistering rage that spewed through her veins. Zahra, as she observed him (blindly), scrutinised and ravaged that shadowy, masculine mask of deception, writhed internally against a blaring urge to attack; hatred so intense, so fresh and frightening, driving her irrepressible need to lash out.
And she did.
All of the slowness and tact that delivered his crude, cruel and confronting revelation, did nothing to soothe the manic monster screaming within her. Pre-coiled and long anticipating, those thighs unleashed their tension, forcing her trembling, irrational frame forward, towards him. Feathered arms extended instinctively, flaring left and right around her like enormous, stained-glass sails - nets - exaggerating both her size and fury; so too did the crest arch brazenly between shoulders and skull, wielding the furious façade at the top like a riled snake.
The exterior was nothing but savage.
Mud splashed about her wildly, like a frenzy of rain reversed, and the thunder of her sprinting hooves across the slippery sod resonated high into the murky atmosphere; the confused, conflicted creature cared little who the victor would be. Teeth unsheathed from the snapping ivories beneath, and the soft bridge of her sooty black maw creased awfully under the flux of exploding aggression.
How could he? As if the burning pain of loss and guilt wasn't crippling enough... RE: Nothing is ever certain - Eleos - 07-27-2017
RE: Nothing is ever certain - Zahra - 07-27-2017 Zahra & Ilham It was pride that turned angels into devils Zahra couldn’t…
She wouldn’t believe it.
Violent, impulsive anger engulfed her - ugly, wracking sobs, uncontrollable emotion (three years in the making) - as she collided against his sizzling, mortal flesh. With every ounce of the strength left in that withered, wretched frame, she thrust her trembling shoulder in, against him, while sodden quills recoiled and tucked flush against her side; exhaustion loomed, threatened to steal away that moment of vain indulgence.
Retribution!
To her surprise, and her relief, the transgressor remained fixed firmly in place, like the hard wood of an oak against a brittle burst of wind. Skull swung clear, neck bent up, askew, allowing the fullness of her oncoming weight to drive victoriously home, and as she slammed, his enormous wingspan splayed to accommodate their combined energy. He was solid, deceptively so, and jarring pain ricocheted through both sinew and bone in those painfully slow seconds which followed.
With throbbing eyes winced closed, and teeth ground down together - stone against stone - she sucked wildly, winded, desperate for air; fastened-back ears barely heard his pained groan. Neither was she aware of that interjecting knee, as it rose swiftly through turmoil below the smear of bruised flesh, to nudge the button that would, in turn, set her free. The collar broke loose and cool rivulets of rain slithered instantly into those blazing contours which had lain for so long, untouched beneath.
It fell with an audible slap into the mud.
Though golden blood seethed like molten lava beneath rippling, saturated skin, the sudden absence of weight, of pressure - that chill - cut through her rage like a glistening knife’s blade, robbing her suddenly of that maddened momentum. The warmth of meat drew near against the burn of her risen neck, and words wheezed weakly from his lips in the same moment (it all happened so fast).
’Z-zahra…’
The sound, so close, the taste of his breath, stale, pungent, spurred those clenched, yellowing teeth to part and inflict upon him a merciless bite. A hive’s worth of stinging wasps swarmed suddenly, materialising as if from nowhere around them; him. Again those whiskered lips snarled back, driven to punish and maim.
But they fell short this time…
Lulled by that last trickle of his tone.
Instead, her stiffened frown slid away down his girth.
"Why are you doing this?" she hissed suddenly with a voice so hoarse it was almost unrecognisable; ripping herself harshly from that warmth which had risen like freak wildfire between them. Immediately she turned from him, the stranger, wrapping herself in the comfort of familiar isolation and setting long feathers like a barrier between them. Still those tears spilt, and her head ached horrifically. "Why now?" RE: Nothing is ever certain - Eleos - 07-27-2017
RE: Nothing is ever certain - Zahra - 07-27-2017 Zahra & Ilham It was pride that turned angels into devils Death.
That faceless, robed skeleton and his harshly hooked scythe. He wasn’t kind and he certainly showed no remorse; he snatched with cold caress wherever he could, taking the sick, the young and the old… He didn’t discriminate, didn’t care. Death was infinite, definite, ravenous, but all the same gentle, quiet. He claimed without rudeness or pain, severing earthly binds and carrying the soul to cool rest, devoid of greed, hurt and the insufferable living world, behind.
For Zahra - at first – death meant the infliction of pain, loneliness - both immeasurable, and newly perverted perspective. He left her soul frigid, cold and aggrieved, brimming with cruel worldly burden. As the years cycled by, however, death and his ultimate effect had become more a cause for curiosity, rather, yearning, for a life without light was quickly too much for her youthful heart to bear. She began to realise the error in her judgement – that death in fact, was her friend.
Why would anyone return to this?
Disgruntled, and hardly moved by his plight, Zahra held a long, steady silence; albeit bristled and still detached in appearance. This, his re-emergence?
Revival?
Return... defied logic. It challenged the very meaning of life. What hope was there if death wasn’t eternal?
Stuck in the morbid swirl of meditation one thought led to another and, ignoring his own question, she muttered rhetorically, "and what of my mother? Is she here too?" With a hollow expression she glanced about in exaggerated gesture; Zahra didn’t care, wouldn’t force it, couldn’t even remember the face. "…You shouldn’t have bothered," she sighed dismissively, emptily, stepping then away to leave. RE: Nothing is ever certain - Eleos - 07-28-2017
RE: Nothing is ever certain - Zahra - 07-28-2017 Zahra & Ilham It was pride that turned angels into devils It was a consequence of that turbulent cloud of conflicted emotion that she moved to flee the scene (and the… her father), set upon the portal-point’s eerie, fluorescent foreshore. That catastrophic tsunami of feelings, of confusion, hurt, shock - and somewhere, below the all encompassing smog of depression, love - was more destructive, painful, than any physical, tangible wound. Not a load either, able to be spread, thinned, across the shoulders of many.
More than anything else, the golden-bellied girl was exhausted - emotionally and physically spent - and for the first time since her own unexpected arrival on this shadow-licked plane, she felt little inclined to return.
With listless strides she worked to place distance between them, between the shame his reincarnation imposed - the hate for herself, the unconscionable disappointment he must surely suffer - and each sucking footfall seemed to shatter the pounding heart within her a little more.
Zahra, the demon-child, born from the loins of beautiful love.
The collar was gone; the weight of expectation and remembrance was dissolved from her being, she was free! A shadow of built up filth and old, matted grey hair marked the place where it had rested ill-fittingly against her shoulder, for two years and a half. Rain drizzled down to soak and cleanse the warm, odorous skin, and the soft, saturated ball of her nose ghosted across stark, strange nakedness. In all honesty, there was a sense of loss in its absence, an inexplicable sorrow; like a vital piece of herself was gone.
Heavily, she sighed.
Eyes winced tightly as she took those last, clinching steps through the wet, and though subliminally she shuddered with hesitation, she could no more force a turn back, then will this putrid underworld to swallow her whole. There was no mention of chase from behind, no slip or splutter of movement - anything - through the hum of the dreary weather, and for the most part, she was glad, relieved to withdraw into that sanctuary of solitude which had sealed her safety through many seasons in Helovia. |