Rainforest Cliffs
08-08-2017, 03:58 PM
[ Open thread for anyone who wants to chat with Kis! First come, first serve, so it's up to the first who responds if they want to let more people join. c: ]
The waves curled around the shore, foam-topped and blue-green; they whispered as they rolled up over the pale sand, leaving dark silver stains in their wake. Above the pale beach, dark cliffs loomed, and sickly light spilled from between their trunks and over the edge. It pulsed, slowly, like a heartbeat; red and blue, green, purple, orange. Far out at sea, a storm brewed. A little lightning arced between the dark clouds, the thunder a distant rumble, but enough to shake the earth.
It was a storm, and it was going to be a bad one. The shore was probably the last place anyone wanted to be, where the waves, not yet whipped into a frenzy, could carry you up with ease and smash you against the black base of the steep cliffs.
But he did not care, for the water did not dare lift him, and he was the master of Death anyway.
Slowly, the arch of his neck broke the surface between the wave crests, his massive head lost somewhere in the churning water; his shadow loomed in the clear waters, distorted by the lack of proper light. His pace was slow, but certain, and as the sea grudgingly yielded him to firm ground, the reason for his trip was obvious: he was dragging along a dead Pistris, already more than half-rotted and half-eaten.
Kisamoa dragged the carcass out of its grave, deposited it on the pale white sands. There was not any blood left to stain them pink, so white they remained, pallid as the moon next to the shadow-wrapped, ever-changing beast standing upon them. A cloud rose from his misshapen nostrils as he exhaled, one weary eye turned towards the sky. "Stop," the creature rumbled, but his only answer was lightning and a clap of thunder, the lights up above on the cliff pulsing faster. "I'm doing this for you," he went on, his voice thick around his many teeth. Still the storm brewed.
He bent his head to look at the shark. He ground his teeth together, as if considering something, before shrugging. Whatever conclusion the Deceiver had reached, it pushed him into action, for he began to dismantle the corpse, taking each and every pale bone and laying them out in the sand.
The waves curled around the shore, foam-topped and blue-green; they whispered as they rolled up over the pale sand, leaving dark silver stains in their wake. Above the pale beach, dark cliffs loomed, and sickly light spilled from between their trunks and over the edge. It pulsed, slowly, like a heartbeat; red and blue, green, purple, orange. Far out at sea, a storm brewed. A little lightning arced between the dark clouds, the thunder a distant rumble, but enough to shake the earth.
It was a storm, and it was going to be a bad one. The shore was probably the last place anyone wanted to be, where the waves, not yet whipped into a frenzy, could carry you up with ease and smash you against the black base of the steep cliffs.
But he did not care, for the water did not dare lift him, and he was the master of Death anyway.
Slowly, the arch of his neck broke the surface between the wave crests, his massive head lost somewhere in the churning water; his shadow loomed in the clear waters, distorted by the lack of proper light. His pace was slow, but certain, and as the sea grudgingly yielded him to firm ground, the reason for his trip was obvious: he was dragging along a dead Pistris, already more than half-rotted and half-eaten.
Kisamoa dragged the carcass out of its grave, deposited it on the pale white sands. There was not any blood left to stain them pink, so white they remained, pallid as the moon next to the shadow-wrapped, ever-changing beast standing upon them. A cloud rose from his misshapen nostrils as he exhaled, one weary eye turned towards the sky. "Stop," the creature rumbled, but his only answer was lightning and a clap of thunder, the lights up above on the cliff pulsing faster. "I'm doing this for you," he went on, his voice thick around his many teeth. Still the storm brewed.
He bent his head to look at the shark. He ground his teeth together, as if considering something, before shrugging. Whatever conclusion the Deceiver had reached, it pushed him into action, for he began to dismantle the corpse, taking each and every pale bone and laying them out in the sand.
beauty in darkness
kaos in light
kaos in light
.. and kaos opened up its eyes
