Solanis
08-08-2017, 06:25 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: ]
Solanis.
It wasn't a place he remembered as intimately as he remembered the Rainforest Cliffs, Ennunyenda, and the Summit—it wasn't a place he barely remembered, like the Labyrinth itself. The wild specters snapped at even his heels, and it was hard to discern the spectral forms of the bamboo when it kept on swirling and changing, never still, never silent. Always, a voice humming, roaring, shrieking, keening, crying. Never a moment's peace, never a true memory, the splendor of the Riptide Isles lost in the same haze.
Holes, where the land's hearts had been ripped out. Everything awash in the blood, a tide of power, draining the Rift from within. Drying it up. Bringing the Helovians here hadn't fixed things.
Their Gods had seen to that.
It offered them respite. It gave them a few more days, a few more weeks, maybe even a few more months, but unless they began to give—which would be faster than him taking—they were still lost. At risk, he liked to think, but the anger washing through the land was too strong to ignore.
And it seemed to follow him, just like the burnt prints of his mismatched feet did. Even Solanis, a strange and wondrous place, seemed to dim in his presence, as the rain sluiced down in thicker and thicker sheets, like needles trying to hammer into his back. In the distance, the thunder roared at him.
Kisamoa ignored it all. He swept into the illuminated forest, a large shadow, a monster in such a place of light—truly a demon, leaving a scorched trail for any to follow.
His rain-wet skin smoked from the heat of the little suns, and they chapped his lips as he stopped in a clearing, and began to pluck them from the earth. Strangely enough, none of them went out as he severed them from their roots, but rather, one by one they rose in the air around him, little globes of light following the shadowbeast.
Solanis.
It wasn't a place he remembered as intimately as he remembered the Rainforest Cliffs, Ennunyenda, and the Summit—it wasn't a place he barely remembered, like the Labyrinth itself. The wild specters snapped at even his heels, and it was hard to discern the spectral forms of the bamboo when it kept on swirling and changing, never still, never silent. Always, a voice humming, roaring, shrieking, keening, crying. Never a moment's peace, never a true memory, the splendor of the Riptide Isles lost in the same haze.
Holes, where the land's hearts had been ripped out. Everything awash in the blood, a tide of power, draining the Rift from within. Drying it up. Bringing the Helovians here hadn't fixed things.
Their Gods had seen to that.
It offered them respite. It gave them a few more days, a few more weeks, maybe even a few more months, but unless they began to give—which would be faster than him taking—they were still lost. At risk, he liked to think, but the anger washing through the land was too strong to ignore.
And it seemed to follow him, just like the burnt prints of his mismatched feet did. Even Solanis, a strange and wondrous place, seemed to dim in his presence, as the rain sluiced down in thicker and thicker sheets, like needles trying to hammer into his back. In the distance, the thunder roared at him.
Kisamoa ignored it all. He swept into the illuminated forest, a large shadow, a monster in such a place of light—truly a demon, leaving a scorched trail for any to follow.
His rain-wet skin smoked from the heat of the little suns, and they chapped his lips as he stopped in a clearing, and began to pluck them from the earth. Strangely enough, none of them went out as he severed them from their roots, but rather, one by one they rose in the air around him, little globes of light following the shadowbeast.
beauty in darkness
kaos in light
kaos in light
.. and kaos opened up its eyes
