Rainforest Cliffs the woods are lovely dark and full of what? - Printable Version +- the Rift (http://riftrpg.net) +-- Forum: Archives (http://riftrpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=20) +--- Forum: Year 1174 (http://riftrpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=63) +---- Forum: Incomplete (http://riftrpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=65) +---- Thread: Rainforest Cliffs the woods are lovely dark and full of what? (/showthread.php?tid=760) |
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the woods are lovely dark and full of what? - Varuna - 12-27-2017 Varuna stretches his muscular wings, flexing them like a young man trying to impress a girl. Only there are no girls here, just the dark and the dusty dry air. It is daylight, but this deep into the trees not much of it can be seen, caught in the canopy that looms so high above. It's a typical day for this belligerently feverish season they are having, the likes of which Varuna is not very fond of. He likes rain, a bit of chill to the air, a dampness to keep his coat sleek and wet and shimmering. With the sun bearing down at all hours there is none of that. None at all. It seems to the rainchild that there is no wet thing to be found in the wretched heat, neither to parch thirst nor keep cool. Even his feathers seem to grow brittle, bleached by the light. He finds refuge deep within the trees. The air is not so dry among the foliage, though the darkness is deep and crawling with phantoms real and imagined. Sounds and shadows and other things that can not be fully made out. The imagination fills in the gaps. Varuna, being a glutton for exploration and all things mysterious wonders at what might lurk where the eye cannot see. He feels his hide bristle with every shape that takes form at just the edge of his sight. It is easy to feel claustrophobic this deep in the woods. His wings will shift and flutter every now and again as one might bite their fingernails. And still he moves ever deeper, skeletal muzzle probing the deepening shade with a curiosity that he knows might end up coming back to bite him (perhaps quite literally). Is he brave or foolish? He will find out. RE: the woods are lovely dark and full of what? - Aei'ith - 12-27-2017
RE: the woods are lovely dark and full of what? - Varuna - 12-27-2017 The yearlings ears bristle as a voice, clearer and more real than the rest, rises from the gloomy dark. This one is not disembodied and unintelligible. It is girlish and unashamed, carrying a tune that doesn't sound quite right. He flicks his gaze to peer behind him, trying not to make it noticeable that he has spotted her. She is so hard to miss, a blonde little bird twittering amidst the hushed whispers of the wood that swallows her deeper with every step, oblivious to the schemes being dreamt up in the shadows whose jaws gape ever wider. Deciding the small filly is no threat, he continues on, noticing that she seems to be following him. Varuna grins impishly, picking up his gait, leaves and other sorts of decaying matter crumbling beneath the shuffling of his hooves. The shadows grow deeper, and if she means to follow him, well, she ought to be brave. Does she not fear him? He makes like a spirit and weaves through the trees and brush without words. He must look like a phantom - black as sin, juxtaposed with the low-light forest and the bones glowing white through his muzzle. He plays the part gladly. Varuna has seen things in the shade he isn't so sure of. He's heard the growling, twisting shadows mock him from their refuge; taunting, coaxing, with voices that beg to come near despite your better sense. Sometimes if you peer in deep enough you might see the glittering of teeth. He often dreams of being dumped out of the sky, sucked through the void with a million eyes watching him. He's not sure if that's a memory or something his baby-mind made up - fever dreams, or an over-active imagination. Wild Azulee is nothing more than a wisp of a memory now. The boy no longer yearns for his mother's teats, no longer fearful of the rift and all its secrets, but curious; daring; reckless. Lonesome. He is only too eager to lead the babe deeper. She is naive to the dangers that stalk about, but so is he. He's watched the way wolves stalk their prey for long hours, noticing how they tend to go for the smallest, the youngest, the ones easiest singled out... Varuna's not so big when considering the size of his father, but he's begun to grow into himself, and maybe, if something does try to eat them, it will go for the child... especially since she is bleating so loudly. You go where? Come and find out. The path winds on, rocky and treacherous. He is careful to place his hooves. Even Varuna is unsettled by what he cannot see but does not hesitate as his heart beats in his ears, keeping the girl behind but not too far behind. RE: the woods are lovely dark and full of what? - Aei'ith - 12-27-2017
RE: the woods are lovely dark and full of what? - Varuna - 01-25-2018 She does not turn away when he ignores her. She does quite the opposite, growing louder in her protest. Like a scolded baby she stomps her feet, demanding his attention. Varuna scoffs. It does nothing to discourage the yearling's trek onward, deeper. She means to follow him? So be it... She is just a dumb filly still wet behind the ears; he, a headstrong colt with a knack for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. Perhaps they will both learn a lesson on the trials of courage and adventure. Eventually, the babe falls silent, but he knows she is there by the groans that come every now and again and the soft stirrings of hooves. Is she as brave as she pretends? Or does she simply have no where else to go, no one else to shadow? He grows curious of her, peering behind from the corner of his eye. He remembers a time when his belly twisted up with the absence of mother's milk. A time when his wings were too weak to carry him (they were only just getting to be strong enough now). He wandered around like a lost lamb for a time, frightened and alone, 'til a great big shadow scooped him up and called itself father, then went away again. He feels no pity for her. Has she been left alone in the world as well? He has survived... so far. Will she? His ears flick at the sound of her gait quickening. He glances back to see her cantering toward him, rather ungraceful on her match-stick baby legs, shuffling through the dark. He doesn't quicken his own pace, but lets her catch up to him, noticing the way she reaches for the tresses of his tail with eager teeth. Bold. And stupid. He waits 'til she's just behind him... Varuna stops and spins on his haunches, hoping to lash the babe in the face with his whip-like tail before she can latch on. Lifting up his fore-body, he spins around three-hundred-sixty degrees to face her, stomping his hooves and snapping his skeletal jaws in front of her face. The muscles in his jaw bunch and roll about as he grinds and bares his teeth, gnashing them threateningly. They glow milky white under his barely-there lips and puffs of air billow from his nostrils into her face. Boo. Scary, yes? He won't patronize her with questions of where is your mother? or why are you all alone? No, that means nothing to him. Being an orphan is all too familiar, especially in this place between worlds. In his short life, Varuna has kept the company of ghosts more than he ever has the living. But her ignorance and naivety is so irksome. Perhaps it reminds him of himself. Whatever the reason, he is annoyed by her following him. "You shouldn't sneak up on strangers," he warns, trying to sound menacing, as though he knows a thing or two. Is he as frightening as he'd like to think? Ever since he tried to knock over one of the shadow demon's bone lights, Varuna's face has looked like this. He might as well make use of it. RE: the woods are lovely dark and full of what? - Aei'ith - 03-31-2018
RE: the woods are lovely dark and full of what? - Varuna - 05-12-2018 The babe recoils, baby limbs stuttering in fright as she reels away from the gnashing of teeth. He is gratified by her fright, but also pitiful. She is so alone and frail. It occurs to him that she could be swallowed so easily by the monsters that lurk in the shadows (if not by the shadows themselves). She stands there in his wake as still as a statue. He grits his teeth and scrutinizes her, mismatched gaze unashamed in its judgement as he commits her features to memory. She is small, even for her age, and a pair of blunted baby-antlers sprout from her noggin. Most peculiar are the bright white eyes peering back at him with a ghostly glimmer; milky and hollow, as if she is blind, though surely she isn't. She cowers as his words lash the open air, and he snorts, unimpressed by her meekness. He ruffles his sun-bleached feathers in discomfort, hoping to dispel a bit of the heat accumulating under the large appendages. Varuna swats his tail, twisting his lips and knitting his brow. She doesn't move a muscle, defiant, unwilling to leave his company. Still, hot breath puffs from his nose, inches from her face. He challenges her with a heavy gaze for a few long moments before it becomes clear that she isn't going anywhere. Truth be told, lonely as he is, the colt could use a bit of company. "Can you speak?" he questions, and without waiting for a response: "What is your name?" If she means to shadow him, it is only appropriate that he knows what to call her. |