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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
sad prayers for guilty bodies
Open Rainforest Cliffs 
Kisamoa
Currently championing:
#11
He was, he decided, not going to be offended by honesty. Now, had it been said with vehemence, with a lust for vengeance running hot beneath her skin, with a complete denial of ever considering things from his aspect—why, yes, he might've decided to take offense. It made them mere beasts and brutes, and no better than he, which they believed themselves as they paraded around clad in their self-righteous anger.

Kisamoa let the rain remind him of who he was, call him back to his aching body. With his memory spanning eons, the deaths of a few mere mortals (and a handful of immortals) were inconsequential, for their lives would've burned bright and brief anyway, but the realization that he wasn't dealing with eons anymore was still jarring.

He didn't have eons to fix this, and that was why he dabbled in regret.

"Interesting," the creature said when she struggled to express herself, to somehow unsay what she had said. He found it sweet, but unnecessary—he was not childish enough to fly into a tantrum simply because she stated something he, regrettably, admitted as truth. But what he did find interesting, was that she had sought to soothe him in the first place. Had he somehow expressed some kind of remorse, doubt, with his words? They had been honest, yes, and they had been born in fear of what time might do, but.. she had been trying to make him feel better. A slow, gruesome smile curved his lips. "Thank you."

Her father had erred too, it seemed, and like him, had set his cursed feet on the path to redemption. No matter how brief the time Castiella had had with her sire, it seemed he had left an impact on her, and he found himself strangely relieved he had not been the one to kill the stallion. If he had been, would she still have helped him? "Perhaps you will," he said quietly. It sounded like premonition coming from him, but maybe he was just alluding to the fact that he brushed death on all planes quite often. Maybe he knew something about death and reunions beyond the grave—maybe he didn't.

"Except you are my god, and I am your loyal servant." Now, see, he was never sure what he thought of his own godhood—the deities he were sprung from were not gods, although they wielded enough power to be regarded as such. And he, he was just the remnants of them, but did that make him a god? Some thought so. Some days, he thought so. At other times, he thought that, no, he was made from gods but he wasn't one. And other days, his mind screamed for power and vengeance and pointless things, of enslavement and feasting on force and blood and minds, of devouring until He was the Only Thing to matter in the whole of the universe.

Did he like the idea of having servants? Or did he consider it sort of embarrassing, maybe even a bit uncomfortable? When he gazed at Castiella, did he see a misguided filly he wanted to protect from an even more misguided world, or simply a tool to hone and sharpen?

"Your god," he replied softly, wondering if she would begin to think him dense for his repetitions, his quiet voice, soft, short words. He pressed his jaws together for a moment, teeth pricking his gums in places. He grinned, tentatively. "Your god needs another corpse." The bones, carefully laid out, lifted by some spectral force, hovered next to him and folded into his flesh. "Come on, my little bird." Without further ado, he turned from the dead Pistris, and began to stride towards the steep Cliffs, clearly intending to scale them and head into the forest beyond.

[ @Castiella ]
beauty in darkness
kaos in light
.. and kaos opened up its eyes
Castiella
Currently championing:
#12

The growing smile of the monsters face might have given others the chills, but Cas allowed her face to brighten and glow. He was smiling at her. Kaos was telling HER thank you. Something about the whole situation made the girls heart flutter and the sparks across her back wave. Her banded muzzle giggled softly while teal eyes looked to the ground. For once she felt like a child again. She felt like she had a FATHER. Call her naive, call her stupid, call her what ever pleases the mind. Castiella only lived for herself ( and her brother ). She did not care if others died, suffered, or simply blinked out of existence. For once the fallen angel did care. It just so happens she cares about a monster that causes total destruction, dismay, and DEATH. It should come to no surprise though, seeing as Castiella tends to bring chaos anywhere she goes.

The soft giggles were hushed as the shadow beast spoke again. His voice sought to comfort her. It sounds odd, right? The creature, the reaper, the monster that goes bump in the night wants to comfort a young girl.

Perhaps you will

His words, they sounded almost like he was telling her that Calstron might rise from the grave. The girl did not even realize that she lifted her left wing. Teal eyes gazed upon the blood knight on her ribs. No, that could not happen. Hell was a place where NO ONE leaves unless the dark lord has plans. White and black rear legs shift under her weight.

What if hell did rise? What would happen to everyone? Would black tar fill the land and burn all who touch it?

Snapping her mind back to reality Castiella realized she did not care what would happen. Half of the snotty assholes would be dead. Look what happened in Helovia. Kaos told them not to fight it; he told them to let it happen, and the DIDN'T. They went against his word, and they died. A small giggle escaped her maw as she looked back up at HER master. Haunting tones filled the air once again. He spoke softly repeating her words. Her head tilted to the side, and her white mask twisted into a Cheshire smile.

"Your god needs another corpse."

The girl did not question why, or where they would find another one. She simply watched as he picked up the bones from the Pistris. When the beast began to walk, he called to her, and just like a little bird she followed.

Tri-tones hooves skipped merrily across the cold, wet sand. Her honey sweet voice rang out with deviant undertones floating in each word. " What type of corpse do you need now sir? " Then her sparkling bodice came to a halt in front of the cliffs. " Race you to the top! " Her voice giggled as large blood red wings opened and picked her strawberry body into the air. Crimson speckled eyes looked to see if Kaos would play this one little game with her. The girl did not expect a god to participate in her little game, but the shadow beast has not stopped surprising her.


" Talk "

@Kisamoa


Castiella
I'm Well acquainted with villains
that live in my HEAD
image & coding
Violence may be used at any time, but Castiella is volatile 
THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING
 {Image: UbaggXG.png}
Kisamoa
Currently championing:
#13
It was, probably, a good thing the conversation about dead fathers ended, and that the one about what, precisely, he needed bones for didn't come up. Instead, he found himself simply faced with the question of what type of corpse he needed. "A dead one?" he said, his voice rough, his jaws mismatched—but was that..a humorous glint in his eye? Or, was he implying that there were not-quite-dead corpses around?

Maybe, a little bit of both, but what came next shocked the deity into stillness. "Race you to the top!" she declared, lifting her sparkling body into the air. Kaos found himself down on the wet sands, the thunder rumbling at his back, the waves rising higher and higher, rain lashing down—staring at her.

He just.. didn't understand. He knew the nature of her magic, the reason why her gold hide sparked and arced, but he couldn't understand why it did. It seemed that the longer they'd been on the beach, the more she'd sparked, and he couldn't understand it. She seemed genuinely unhinged, as far as the horses went, and that was why he did not believe her afraid, or deceitful.

So what was it, then? And why this.. dare? He raised his head as far as he could, which was considerable. Race her to the top? Please, he was Kisamoa, he could defy physics with relative ease, he could pluck her from the sky like a sparrow and make her the next corpse.

Why, then, did he feel his lips pull into an ugly grin? Why was he throwing himself against the constant shifting of his body, wishing he could control it? Why was he—

His mismatched feet, claws and paws and hooves, kicked up the wet sand as he surged into motion, leaping up the mountainside with more strength than grace. He couldn't fly, but he had no need of paths. He could go where he wanted. All he had to do was exert himself, and he did, as he scaled the tall cliff.

A gods versus a mortal. It didn't seem fair.

One with wings versus one without wings. That didn't seem fair, either.

Life isn't fair. His sides rose and fell slightly faster than they had on the beach.

[ Up to you who makes it up first! He's just standing at the top of the cliff now. He ..mountain goat leaped his way up, p much. @Castiella ]
beauty in darkness
kaos in light
.. and kaos opened up its eyes