The Portal she died easy of a broken heart disease - 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: Incompleted (http://riftrpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=26) +---- Thread: The Portal she died easy of a broken heart disease (/showthread.php?tid=565) |
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she died easy of a broken heart disease - Mauja - 08-11-2017 like breaking diamonds with your hands [ Fair warning, this is awful. ] The darkness stretched. Lingered. Filtered around his eyelids, pressed against his face with cold, wet hands, and for a time, he had the distinct impression he was lying in a river, but nothing ever happened and he couldn't quite get a hold of his own body and open his eyes. He even thought he heard the soft murmurs of waters rushing by. Then it all changed. The same force which had tugged him into the Portal tugged him out of it, a sickening lurch as the magic spat him through a rain-soaked forest and onto the wet, mossy floor. (I'll be stuck chasing time—) He groaned. Something stuck into his ribs. Rain sluiced from the heavens, soaking him to the skin, cold seeping into his bones. Slowly, he cracked open his eyes. The world was.. purple. So—when some vengeful creature has killed your Gods, your children, your lovers and your friends, destroyed your home, and thrown you through a Portal. What do you do? What do you do? You don't just lie on your side in the rain, wondering if you finally died once and for all, but.. that was still what he did. The rain sang against his skull. The breaths smoking white in the moist air. Too sunken sides rising and falling. He hadn't been in good enough shape to deal with the world ending, and whatever fire he vaguely recalled feeling when the world as he had known it collapsed was distant, faded; an echo of a memory, a sliver of someone else's life. He blinked a little. It felt like a lifetime ago he'd watched Kaos blow up a lot of things he cared about. And maybe it had been. He, vaguely, recalled an expectation of being flung into the middle of something, not.. not nothing. A hub of activity. More Helovians picking themselves off the ground, looking for their loved ones, for their— Their whatever. Their hearts, souls. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck— He bolted upright, or as well as he could in his half-starved state; he only got about halfway before getting stuck, leaning against his extended forelegs and looking around himself in a gesture which felt so absurd after seven years of just knowing where the fuck she was— (The fuck he was, for that matter.) She was so white in so dark a forest, there was no way he could've missed her. She sat on the ground, huddled into herself against the rain, something vacant in her gaze, as if she was confused or lost or hurt or dazed or something and not just missing from his soul—he felt his breath come in tight, panicked gasps. She wasn't faded, distant. She wasn't there but hard to reach, like static on the radio. She wasn't a raw, gaping hole where her life had been torn from his. It just was like she'd never even been part of him. "Irma," he whimpered, his voice thick, pleading, undignified as the rest of him, limbs quivering in his half-sit. Her eyes finally sharpened, and her head snapped around, the cold glare settling on him. Nothing. No recognition. Not anything. "Please," he whispered, but she spread her wings. And flew the fuck away. "NO!" The shriek tore itself out of his throat, and before he knew what he was doing—before he saw where Diego was, because he still fucking knew that shit—he had grabbed his other, strangely distant and muted, owl by the wing and swung him up on his own back, and tore after the white ghost. Irma's wide wings were like moonshine in the purple haze, a beacon so bright it hurt to look at and his heart was hammering— He just wasn't fast enough. He just wasn't good enough. He was out of hope before he was out of breath, out of breath before too long, and out of chances before he'd caught up. There's no catching an owl in a forest. And just like that, she was gone. "IRMA!!!" He screamed. He swore. He cried and he pleaded until his throat was raw. Then he just stood there, in silence. Stunned and broken and alone. [ @Tamlin @Glacia + anyone ] http://helovia.com/showthread.php?tid=27710&pid=207815#pid207815 Magics:
Enchanted items
Rift-god / Kaos items
Amulets : 5 (3x Spark 2x Moon) Companion/s : Diego 23 Feb 2014 Late Drench 1169 FROZEN /cry Irma 29 September 2012 Mid-Drench 1166 Mutations: N/A Species change (if applicable) : N/A Requests: Normal items: Leather Shaffron Leather Vambraces Diamond snowflake charms on a string RE: she died easy of a broken heart disease - Naerys - 08-12-2017
@Mauja RE: she died easy of a broken heart disease - Tamlin - 08-14-2017
ooc; It was not awful! ;P I however am sorry to ruin this beautifully emotional thread with this goofball ^^' Looking forward to a real reunion thread soon <3 RE: she died easy of a broken heart disease - Rift Presence - 08-15-2017
A feast. The glowing lights and sharp shadows that have lingered in Portal are rewarded for the patience (or their gluttony?). Those that have stayed instead of venturing further into the Rift to follow these delectable morsels of magic have found themselves in the presence of power. They did not care that his life shattered around him. They did not care that part of his soul fluttered away, through the trees. No, these silent, frozen, screaming mouths of shadow streaked after this magic-laden form. Long, forked tongues of light licked even the dripping rain from the spotted coat, in case that, too, had any semblance of power. the Rift | TRANSFER NOTES : MAUJA | Magic: Immortality: Cannot be killed, as body regenerates magically from even the most disastrous/complete injuries. Can only be killed during a lunar eclipse. Offensive: Can summon ice spikes from the ground. Offensive: Can summon ice crystals in veins of others. Frozen: Defensive: Soul and mind are blocked from psychic view The Rift consumes one magic that you had carried with you into the land, even if these new forces wouldn't quite let it linger within your reach. Items: Offensive: Moon Scythe. A 19hh tall crystal scythe with a core of dark vapors. Scythe blade can be summoned and dismissed with a thought. Vanity: An indestructible, medium-sized leather bag. Offensive: Runeblade. A very cold dagger engraved with runes. The flower and rock are robbed of their powers. Rift-god/Kaos Items: Glowing Green Claw from the Tiger God Vial of Tiger God blood Your items have been noticed by the Rift. Watch your step, frozen one. Amulets: These shadows scream in delight, consuming with delight the mass of godsblood you bear into the Rift. They are too absorbed in their meal to leave anything behind. Companion: Diego : Eurasian Eagle-Owl 23 Feb 2014 Late Drench 1169 Frozen: Irma : Snowy Owl 29 September 2012 Mid-Drench 1166 RE: she died easy of a broken heart disease - Mauja - 08-16-2017 like breaking diamonds with your hands His heart, was empty. His mind a storm so wild it became perfectly still—a noiseless sound, a contradiction, spanning the distance between the walls of his skull. A black reflection of a black sky, placid, so utterly still, but not frozen. How long he stood like that, he didn't know. It seemed wrong of his heart to keep beating, but it did, a steady, rhythmic vibration threatening to shatter whatever fragile spell kept him from crumbling. The lake's surface began to quiver. The sound that was not a sound became a low, distant roar. As if refusing to acknowledge what had transpired would undo it; as if staring through the hazy forest where she had disappeared could bring her back. It's a dream, was his first coherent thought, as his lost son ambled by and looked like death itself. It's just a bad dream he told himself as Naerys skidded to a halt next to him. It's just a nightmare he lied to himself as she touched his rigid neck. It did nothing to soothe him. It did nothing to break him. He remained motionless, transfixed, a statue fighting the inevitable. Fighting a truth so deep and so dark and so terrifying he was not sure it would fit in his skull; a reality so hopeless he did not know if he wanted to exist in it. Better, then, to be a ghost, carved from ice, a thing with no mind, no memory, no heart, no future. Dead. But his treacherous breath kept on slipping in and out of wide, tense nostrils. His damned heart kept on beating, carting warmth through his veins and thawing him from his shock. His skin itched where incorporeal tongues licked his hide, stealing things from him. It all paled in comparison to what had left him in the rain-soaked forest, and what he had left did nothing to soothe it. It's a dream, his mind began again. It's just a bad dream. He began to shake. It's just a nightmare. The rain, Naerys, Diego—it felt too real. It's not a dream. His too-tense muscles began to spasm, unable to keep their hold on the tension; his jaw worked grotesquely. It's not just a bad dream. It's not just a fucking nightmare— His eyes rolled back and he staggered, crashing madly for a few steps as he flailed and fought to keep from falling on the owl he had left, and when his shaking limbs finally stilled he was shored up against a tree, trembling and crying. It was real. Irma was gone. [ @Naerys ] |