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sinner playing as a preacher
RP Wanted The Portal 
Yezdao
Currently championing:
#1


He walks through the forest, not as if he owns it, but as a peaceful visitor, his steps soft and careful. Yezdao is mannerly enough to know not to stamp through here and disturb the land, aware that the arrival of foreigners is not always welcome by natives. Despite the bulging muscles that contract beneath his lily-white skin, he seems to be far from a threat, his wings relaxed at his side and his horned cranium hanging low, somehow making his 18.2hh body seem smaller. The two leonine tails that drag along the dirt and soil behind him- yet still somehow manage to remain a pristine white-  usually writhe wildly like violent snakes, but seem tranquil now. His thick mane falls from his developed crest in soft ribbons of white, reflecting any sort of light with a healthy sheen.

As Yezdao walks through the forest, he wonders who he will find. His groin tightens at the thought of a mare, mouth salivating like a hungry wolf. Imagining the body of another curving with his own, crooked into the dips and curves of his winged flank only furthers the lust that boils behind the appearance of a calm preacher. The quiet thoughts of sin like a voice- a pulse- echoing throughout his mind.

Upon his birth, it had been decided there was a slice of god within him, a drop of honey and hope and devotion that was meant to lead him down a path of abstinence and prayer. To some degree, he walked this path of life, but another trail he often ventured was a darker one. The lines between sin and virtue had been fatally blurred and distorted in the white stallion's mind, but here he was, attempting to spread a definite, black-and-white religion to the heathens of this land. Their eyes will never have fallen on a beast like him. His body forged from the blood of a warrior, his grace crafted by the hands of a healer, his devotion a gift from a faraway god, his mind the sinful combination of all of it.

Yezdao slithers through the forest like the serpent through the Garden of Eden, metaphorical tongue jutting out every once in a white, tasting the air for something to do. Though he appears kind, respectful, mannerly, he is truly a man of lust and sex and sin. Unafraid to beat those who cross him, unafraid to maim his reputation in order to achieve something desirable, unafraid to stray from the path that had been decided for him at a young age. He is a wolf that allows all around him to see him as a lamb.

He catches the faint scent of others... equine, unicorn, pegasus, mare, stallion, his milky eyes watching carefully. Feathered limbs cease moving, his body lurching to a halt. A top his horned cranium, one large ivory ear swivels forward and the other swivels backward, listening for any sounds of life beyond the eerie shuffling of leaves that accompany the neon eyes that watch and stare through the shadows. Dual tails that had been fairly motionless erupt with life and spirit, both moving in tandem with each other, lifting off of the ground and writhing to and fro. Exhaling roughly, his nostrils quiver. The calm man is transformed into one of anticipation and excitement.

***

Yezdao has no items, but does have magic.
- Can erase any memory that involves him/the mention of him from the mind of others.
- Can summon light through cracks in the earth that heal wounds.
- Can exude a white fog-like subtance from his wings creates a choking sensation to any who inhale it.

Feel free to mutate him or his magics in any way! I'm all for anything the Rift does to him.
Alastor
Currently championing:
#2

The fires of hell were no longer licking and nipping deliciously at his fetlocks. They no longer reached up and licked at and singed the coarse hair of his tail. He could no longer hear the pained screams of the tortured, nor could he hear the pleas of mercy from those who bowed at his clawed feet. It was quiet. It was cool. And it was wrong.

But why?

Just where in the fuck was he?

Instead of his claws clicking on stone they dug into soft dirt. The utterly foreign sensation had the stallion looking down in bewilderment, but that soon turned to annoyance. Just where the hell was he? And why couldn't he remember getting there? And why did he feel like he was being watched?

The stallion spun around, ears pinned and eyes narrowed as he searched the area behind him. The only thing he saw was a wolf. One pathetic wolf that he could smash in an instant. He could pin it down, rip its flesh form its bones, spatter blood across the ground. He took one menacing step toward the wold and that was enough to make it retreat into the shadows of the forest.

With the wolf gone the demon turned his attention to the forest. His nostrils quivered as he sucked in deep gulps of fresh air -- so differend from the sulfurous scent of hell. There were many different scents that he was able to differentiate -- equine, mare, stallion, unicorn, pegasus, wolf, demon -- and some that were unknown to him.

He still had no idea where it was he had landed, or how he had gotten there, but just standing wouldn't bring him any closer to any answers. So he began his trek through the forest. Lo and behold, he didn't have to walk far before he was able to spot someone else. The stark white of the creature's coat stood out against the darkness of the forest.

An angel? Oh, Alastor did think it was so.

The stallion moved with a silent, fluid grace as he slipped between the trees to emerge directly in front of the waiting angel. Oh, how he wished to strip the feathers from those wings as he had countless times before. Alastor, the demonic executioner, the slayer of angels. Surely this man would know exactly who he was. He came to a stop and his lips parted and a wicked grin, revealing shockingly sharp teeth. All the better to eat you with, my dear.


sdf "talk"


ALASTOR

THE RIVER GOES WHERE THE CURRENT FLOWS
THE LIGHT WE MUST D E S T R O Y
Image Credits


JOINING NOTES

Alastor - Foreigner (possesses grusha's soul)
Vanity Magic - His apperance becomes skeletal when emotions run high
:: [ Magic: EarthxSpark | Can manipulate dead organic matter. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Can make 1 large item, 2 medium items, or 3 small items per season. ]
Offensive Magic - :: [ Magic: DarkxSpark | Able to create a painfully high-pitched noise around creations. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Noise extends only 5m from creation. ]

ITEM:
:: [ Item: Bone dagger ("Feusohm") | Offensive. Made from the Time Monster; when invoked with a name its tip will always point towards the direction that individual is at until found or the dagger is sheathed. (from Ampere) ]
:: [ Restrictions | Can only point to one character at a time; the correct name must be known (their account name). ]

MUTATIONS:
Clawed front feet (good for gripping)
Sharp teeth (good for his carnivorous appetite)
Red eyes - red iris, dark red pupil (like a white rabbit's eyes)
bat wings

Grusha had one companion on Helovia, he'll be wild since we missed the joining deadline
Nashoba :: Timber Wolf
Rift Presence
Currently championing:
#3
There’s a darkness that seems to pulse around the two of you, with a strange deep vibration strong through the thick opaque fog. It brushes up against your bodies, humming as it does so, seemingly touching every inch of you both. After a few moments, it’s almost like it exhales as it pulls away from Yezdao. It lingers by Alastor for a few moments longer then begins to vanish into a thin mist of nothing, evaporated by the heat of Scorch.
damnation prayer

| ACCEPTANCE NOTES : Yezdao |

Magic:
Offensive: Can erase any memory that involves him/the mention of him from the mind of others but when he uses it, he gets the hiccups.

The Rift takes your first magic and warps it, unable to take it so it leaves a bit of itself in its frustration. It doesn’t last long as the Rift wraps it’s tendrils around your other two magics and takes them with, leaving it pleased in the aftermath.


| ACCEPTANCE NOTES : Alastor |

Magic:
Crafting: Can manipulate dead organic matter but leaves sticky tar-like markings on your body the more you use it.
The Rift reaches out and subtly changes your first magic. The second, however, is devoured.

Vanity Magic:
His appearance becomes skeletal when emotions run high.

Items:
Offensive: Bone dagger named Feusohm. When invoked with a name its tip will always point toward the direction that individual is at until found or the dagger is sheathed.

Mutations:
Clawed front feet.
Sharp pointed teeth.

The companion goes wild, but can be earned back via RF!
» Presence of the Rift «


Explorer Kiada
Currently championing: Vjanta
#4
K I A D A
golden child, lion girl — tell me what it’s like to conquer.
It was a trek back to the portal, and for what Kiada had no real idea. Perhaps it was to try and gain information, to see if the portal would open at will if people chose to leave, or if it was just an eerie version of the Helovian threshold, swallowing and spitting creatures out here and there. But unlike Helovia, the young Harpy had no home to recruit these creatures to. Instead, all she had to offer was information. That this was the Rift, and they were here to heal it. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more she remembered the ball of hope that floated along her hip, bouncing to and fro, illuminating the world around her ever so slightly as she wandered.

At least it was something she could share, unlike a herd to call home. She snorted quietly to herself at the thought, wondering just what kind of beasts roamed this land if it weren’t equines. Would it be like the Metus? Unseeing with it’s menacing churning teeth, set on a rotation of destruction? Would it be like those spirits that called out to Erebos as if he were an old friend to try and lure him into the dark? She didn’t know, yet she wore her armor as if to be prepared in case something went wrong. Her luscious thick body was covered over the top of her with rose gold armor, stretched to cover her spotted rump, her shoulders, and most of her charcoal mane. Her faceplate was adorned with sharp bladed feathers, illuminated with teal-black fire dancing between their points as she wandered.

She looked like a Goddess of War, the way she carried herself with her head held high and Khairi circling her overhead, despite her wandering thoughts.

Her dark inky legs moved her easily across the ground, her icy eyes surveying the world around her until she came across the scent of two creatures – both extremely unfamiliar to her. They smelled equine, though, and that was enough for Kiada to investigate. As she emerged, her eyes were immediately drawn to a creature of pure ivory. She’d have thought him to be an angel, if such things existed. They lingered for a moment, before her gaze caught movement of the complete opposite of the alabaster man before her. This creature was black as death, with white markings adorning his face like a skull. Curiously, she tilted her head slightly from her vantage point, watching as the man directed his attention toward the beast appearing to entrap the ivory man.

Before the unknown creatures can speak, she steps through the glowing eyes in the foliage and smiles an honest wide grin toward them. “Welcome to the Rift.” She announces, her eyes dancing between the two strangers.

fearless child, broken girl — tell me what it’s like to burn.

x


@Alastor @Yezdao kiada had to join :3

TROY FALLS A THOUSAND TIMES,
IN EVERY DREAM I DREAM.
(LIKE ASHES, LIKE ASHES,
LIKE A STAR BURNING OUT.)
Yezdao
Currently championing:
#5


It'd been seconds, mere moments of stand-still when he was joined by a dastardly looking figure. He is blanketed with the darkness of shadows, his body moving gliding like an oiled machine in front of him. Each sharp movement laced with something cynical, something evil, but something worth saving. He lacks forehooves, gifted dragon-like fingers and talons instead. His tail is short, falling only to his hock before ending abruptly. His mane is also short, sitting upright on his neck in a mohawk. The leathery bat-like appendages on his flanks are overtly noticeable, impressive as-well, even in their folded position. All of this was forgotten when Yezdao's pupilless eyes fall on the ivory, skull-like marking adorning his face like a cryptic mask. His velvet lips twist upwards into a slick grin, exposing teeth shaped more like a canine's than a horse's. Yezdao recognizes the cryptic message the stranger conveys for he has exuded such an overwhelmingly dark signal to others himself. He assumes he should be feeling terror, the intense feeling of fleeing, something, but he doesn't. The preacher is calm, a passive expression on his face as his gaze meets the stranger's own. After a moment of simply watching, analyzing the creature in all of its glorious satanic darkness, four words slip past his lips: "She will save you."

The chance to explain who she is, what the Bourqutsarq are, what his religion entails, is ripped away as a fog surrounds them. The fog moves as if it needs to be somewhere, do something. Watching it grow nearer and nearer, his eyes widen momentarily, confused as to what was happening. His white body is enveloped by the darkness, the strange sensation of loss creeping through his hollow bones as it begins to pull away. The sensation after it is gone is immediate- Yezdao had lost two of his gifts and the third had been warped in ways that were unknown to him at this point.

Glancing at the pegasus before him, he notices the fog linger and lick him as if hungry for more. The momentary thought of it is this stranger who summoned the fog vanishes as he sees it interact with him in the same way as it had with Yezdao. Eventually, he comes to the conclusion that the fog was drawn here because of the darkness in the demonic pegasus. If the solidly ivory stallion had been here alone, he was sure that he would've wandered deeper into the territory unscathed by the fog. The thoughts in his head swirl around for a moment as he reminds himself that there cannot be good without evil, there cannot be someone who gives magic unless there is someone that takes it away. The balancing forces his people and he believed in so deeply had a plan, Yezdao was sure of it. They were the ones to strip his magic away and they had a plan for him, too large to see now, but he had faith in them and in their plans.

The air hangs heavily as the two watch the fog dissipate as if it was never there in the first place. Though still shocked (and definitely slightly confused) about what exactly just happened, he is still able to catch the scent of another- a mare. His mind focuses on the scent, his manhood responding in a vulgar way that surely his god, Oukd Oura, and his family, Duvura Rahmukd, would find extremely sinful for a preacher. The pallid wings that rest sweetly on his flanks inconspicuously drop a foot, hanging lower than they had previously, assumably to cover the primitive response to the mere scent of mare. The passionate sins of flesh and flesh would sate the lustful beast within him, but he knew in order to be taken seriously as a preacher he could not partake in such activities (yet). The restrictions he placed on his sins while doing missionary work had made him, for lack of a better word, horny. The intoxicating smell of female devoured his thoughts, forcing his gaze to shift in the direction of its origin. Though he may appear blind due to his milky eyes and faraway gaze, he was certainly not which made the addition of a mare that much more pleasurable.  

She is visual honey, succulently beautiful. The curves of her supple body cause him to salivate. The delightful sway of her body as she approaches catches his attention. Raising his head, he easily reclaims the height that had diminished with poor posture. She is black and white, the color of sin and virtue, evil and goodness with the bright, vibrant addition of gold. The way the three colors twirl and bend on her body lead him to believe that no one would ever wear the scheme the same way. Her pale eyes watch the strangers as her voice dances into the air, singing to him. Yezdao does not hear the words she says as much as the way she says them, the idea of meeting and mingling and fucking a mare clouding his focus.

Gathering his mind together, the white stallion's own voice wafts into the air from his whiskered snout. "“Bekk hmar, kouvakd.” (a common greating in his language with the moniker Lovely attatched to the end.) The words are deep and strong, his voice the kind roar of a waterfall. A brilliant smile adorns his lips, contrasting greatly with the black pegasus's smile composed of only pointed, sharp teeth. The words are foreign, a language none but the Duvura Rahmukd (his herd) understood. "I am Yezdao, a preacher of Tsrader." The announcement of his name and origins is not simply just for the mare, but also the demonic pegasus.

***

Alastor
Currently championing:
#6

The passive expression on the angel's face was not one that Alastor was accustomed to, but it didn't deter him. In the end he would strike fear into the very core of the pristine man. He would corrupt him because hell could always use another demon and the best demons were the ones that used to be angels. After so many years of being good and helping to finally be able to cut those ties and burn those bridges was a drug in itself. There was inimaginable cruelty in those that used to be good and the longer it was surpressed the more powerful it grew.

"She will save you."

The demon barked out a laugh, his red eyes flashing a hint of something dangerous despite the fact that he was laughing. "Oh, but who is going to save her?" He questioned. "Or you, for that matter?" The stallion lifted one paw to step forward, but at that moment fog appeared and began to surround them. At first the demon suspected that it was the angel who had called it forth in an attempt to protect himself, but that assumption quickly disappeared. The fog reacted the same way to the both of them, surrounding them, caressing them, stealing from them.

His ears fell back and he bared his teeth, but then the fog retreated. His gaze remained fixed on the white stud before him, so it was hard not to miss the way his wings shifted and dropped -- how many stallions had done that in their lifetime to cover the proof of their lust? Nor could he ignore the way he seemed to be preoccupied.

And then she arrived and the bared teeth snarl turned into a toothy grin. "Such a sinner you are." He hissed at the man before him. "The only thing pure about you is your color!" How amusing for an angel to lust after a mare, no matter how pretty she may be -- and this one was rather pretty.

At first he paid very little attention to the mare in favor of studying who he had thought to be an angel. It was when the man itroduced himself as a preacher that Alastor finally knew. "A preacher, huh?" He had corrupted many of his kind. Killed even more. His short tail flicked at his hocks as he finally turned his attention to the lady that had welcomed them both to the Rift. "And I am Alastor." He said in greeting, shortly after Yezdao. "Hell's Executioner." This was said with another toothy smile and a wink at the lovely lady.

"."

ALASTOR

THE RIVER GOES WHERE THE CURRENT FLOWS
THE LIGHT WE MUST D E S T R O Y
Image Credits

@Kiada @Yezdao
Explorer Kiada
Currently championing: Vjanta
#7
K I A D A
golden child, lion girl — tell me what it’s like to conquer.
She watched the portal do whatever it did to the newcomers, internally flinching as it seemed to caress each creature. The young woman remembered the feeling as the portal changed her own magic and items, remembered the shock that swarmed her chest as her Kaos amulet exploded, leaving her with the glowing X wound that seeped from her chest. Never the less, she continued her watchful gaze on the stallions, quietly noticing the droop of wings and the smirk that grew on the demon’s face. The demon spoke before she could further investigate the ivory man, speaking of his sinning that sent a small amount of humor through her bones.

Oh, she liked these two already. Opposites, yet somehow as though they were two sides of the same coin. She listened as the demon finished and the pale man introduced himself, of course not before speaking in a language that she didn’t understand. A smirk crossed her face as she dipped her head to the ivory man and spoke in her own tongue. “Sijui unachosema, lakini naweza kusema lugha zingine pia.” (I know not what you say, but I can speak other tongues too) and she grinned at the man with that roguish grin she had mastered after so many months of doing so. Then, as he introduced himself as Yezdao and a preacher, she tilted her head curiously.

But then the demon was speaking, reiterating the preacher part that had Kiada so curious. Khairi remained on her back, ever watchful with those scarlet eyes as she surveyed the onyx man as he spoke. It seemed they were all granting themselves titles. Well, three could definitely play that game. She dipped her head to the demon and reached down to press her shoulder plate to constrict it back into its small form, revealing her spotted hide and golden body littered with small scars. She looked up again, as Khairi bounced up her neck to remove her faceplate and lay it gently across her neck to reveal her exotic striped face, and flashed another smile to the men. “I guess that leaves me – I am Kiada, the Burning Harpy.” She announced, flashing a confident wink in their directions before gesturing with her dark head to Khairi still sitting along her spine. “And this is Khairi.” The bird crooned menacingly from his place on his bonded. She was quiet for a moment before clearing her throat to speak again. “I take it you're both new here?

fearless child, broken girl — tell me what it’s like to burn.

x


@Alastor @Yezdao omg this thread <3

TROY FALLS A THOUSAND TIMES,
IN EVERY DREAM I DREAM.
(LIKE ASHES, LIKE ASHES,
LIKE A STAR BURNING OUT.)
Yezdao
Currently championing:
#8


The demon asks moronic questions, like who will save Her? and who will save the preacher? Yezdao snorts at the ignorance, abhorred by the utter lack of disrespect he faces. Oukd Oura needs no saving, she is brilliantly powerful, a force much stronger than anything the pathetic Alastor could conjure. To speak with no knowledge of what you say is an idiotic decision that Yezdao looks down on pitifully. To not even know what you are saying is the ultimate tragedy. Alastor speaks with ease and spite, but says nothing. Yezdao does not waste his breath on the questions.

After a moment of heart-wrenching foggy darkness, everything moves on, undisturbed by the strange darkness. Yezdao takes interest in the female flesh before him, his mind still wondering what she would feel like connecting with his massive body, underneath him, with him. It seems Alastor takes interest in the preacher, his eyes watching the dip of wings knowing exactly what Yezdao's body- groin- wants to do. Kiada takes interest in both of them, her words equally for the preacher and the executioner. The demon remarks something about Yezdao's coloring and his purity, the words fairly irrelevant as he watches the mare, only the flick of his tails suggesting slight irritation at what the stallion says about him.

When Yezdao's foreign lilted words dance through the air, the mare offers her own back, his large ivory ears spinning forward, listening to the rise and fall of her voice as the meaningless words fill his ears. Though she knows not what he says, and he knows not what she says, part of him respects the duo-linguality of the mare. The easy switch from the language they spoke now and their native languages was, in his eyes, an attractive quality that meant a well-rounded, cultured horse.

It is certain that if Alastor left right now, only Kiada would notice. That is until he introduces himself as Hell's Executioner, a title that garners a pointed look from Yezdao, who thinks the satanic stallion is foolish and naive for choosing to follow a dark path. He scoffs at the thing- the stallion who could be so great but decides to be something so dirty, dark and sinful. "You know nothing of the world and sound horrifically ignorant and not for the first time since we met moments ago." The statement is so plainly said that the bite of his words isn't detectable until you truly understand what he is saying. It is pointless to spit words in the face of others. The tone of language isn't the impact, it's the words themselves. Alastor had hissed words at Yezdao, but it had not affected the stallion in any way. A simple hiss wasn't going to make him tremble in fear, it was the diction. If Yezdao went around spitting I'm going to kill you at others, it would be far less effective than calmly describing in eloquence the way blood will drip from your veins onto the ground underfoot, dyeing the land permanently red from the anger and passion of the sins that so freely taint your blood. One is blunt, with a final ending, one creates tension, suspense, emotion. Part of the fun is in watching others squirm around uncomfortably from your words, knowing there is nothing they can do, knowing every small, beautiful  detail of what will happen right before it does.

This is just the difference between the Executioner and the Preacher, Alastor just does, perhaps even with no thought, whereas Yezdao expresses and emotes, he conveys his message on beautifully packaged words and then follows through with swift, calculated movements. Yezdao knew that if it was truly Alastor versus himself, he stood a fairly high chance of winning, corrupting, demolishing Alastor.

Yezdao's attention floats back to the mare, his thoughts reeling themselves back in as it does so, his focus once again on the curve of her spine, the swell of her flank, and the silky look of her overall. She introduces herself as a harpy and Yezdao looks at her curiously, immediately murdering his thoughts of passion and sex, knowing all too well a harpy just would not do for him. His raw attraction towards her still exists, exhibited by the lust that broils within him from such a simple gesture as a wink and the de-clothing done by the combined effort of her companion and herself. He did not want his destruction to be in the hands of this stranger, someone who announces she is a harpy so openly and willingly. It was rather surprising for the preacher that both of the horses in his company offered their sinful titles with no qualms.

"Yes," he says softly, answering her question before continuing. "Tell me about these lands. Who resides here?" He wonders if there is truly anyone worth saving here or if they are all heathens like Alastor and Kiada. The idea of a land of sinners was interesting in theory, it would give Yezdao the opportunity to truly change their lives, help them find the correct path to follow, give them a chance to apologize and be forgiven, but at the same time it may just corrupt him further, leaving him a man with no identity, once a preacher and now a sinner.

***


idk this post is kind of a mess, im sorry x: @Alastor
Alastor
Currently championing:
#9

The preacher had enough gall to tell him that he knew nothing of the world and call him horriffically ignorant, which in truth was entirely laughable. As a demon he had lived for millennia, taking different shapes and forms, possessing different bodies, wreaking havoc, maiming and torturing poor souls in ways that would make the pale preacher turn even more pale. "True ignorance is assuming one wants to be saved by your wretched god." His voice is even and calm, though the look in his eyes is something dangerous and threatening, as if he were saying "Try me preacher boy, and I'll bring you to the depths of hell where no god can save your soul. I'll skin you alive, inch by inch and feed your flesh to the hounds. And while you scream, beg, and plead for mercy I'll not give it to you. I'll continue until I'm ready to be done with you and cast your soul into the pit. There'll be no afterlife for you, only eternal damnation."

He held the preacher's gaze for as long as he could, then turned his attention to the woman, who was speaking in a language he did not recognize. "Careful." He says to the woman. "Wouldn't want our dear preacher to think you need an exorcism, now would we?" The demon spares the preacher only a mocking glance before he resumed ignoring him and his pitiful existence.

"Kiada the Burning Harpy." Alastor practically purred the mare's name and self-given title in delight. How utterly delightful. And she wasn't too rough on the eyes, either.... he definitely wouldn't mind following her around and letting her show him around The Rift. "I am." He replied in response to her question. He hated to adit that he didn't know where he was or why he was there, so he didn't. Instead he put on his most charming smile and directed it at Kiada. "I do have to admit that I really like the welcoming party."

"."

ooc:// i'm so sorry for the wait, life has been totally insane and a muse suck. i'm also sorry for the crappy post, i didn't want to make you guys wait anymore

ALASTOR

THE RIVER GOES WHERE THE CURRENT FLOWS
THE LIGHT WE MUST D E S T R O Y
Image Credits

@Kiada @Yezdao
Explorer Kiada
Currently championing: Vjanta
#10
K I A D A
golden child, lion girl — tell me what it’s like to conquer.
The bickering between the ivory and night-flecked creatures were something Kiada enjoyed deep down. It was hilarious for the woman to see them go at one another the way they were, but she remained indifferent on the outside. Simply observing. Immediately, her ears flickered toward the demonic one with that sultry voice that extended toward her. “I’d like to see it attempted.” She offered the demon with a wink in the angel’s direction.

As he purred her name, she flicked her tail briefly against her hocks. Never before had she actually given a title of herself out, and while it wasn’t official – something she only called herself, she loved the sound of it as it fell from Alastor’s lips. Yet before she had a chance to say anything, her orb began to sputter – shifting and moving from her hip where it floated. It split into three, one remaining by her hip and illuminating her features while the other two drifted toward Alastor and Yezdao. She dipped her head briefly before a small chime of a laugh slipped her lips.

I’m glad you like it.” She paused, offering him a sultry grin. “The orb will split and be given to newcomers or those that do not have them, it’s important to try and spread it. But, now that that’s over with, this land is called the Rift. There are many of us, some not from here and others born here. It’s a land of darkness and creatures that would do anything to eat you so I suggest you be on your guard.” Her words were pointed more toward Yezao with his light coat and angelic presence rather than the dark hues of Alastor. “This is the Portal, and right out there is the rest of the Rift. You can follow me and I’ll show you out.” She offered them before turning – so slowly, as if she were some sort of seductress, before stepping away from them and into the trees where the glowing eyes continually watched.

fearless child, broken girl — tell me what it’s like to burn.

x


@Alastor @Yezdao she shared her hope with you guys! and then took her leave, but we can start other threads after :D

TROY FALLS A THOUSAND TIMES,
IN EVERY DREAM I DREAM.
(LIKE ASHES, LIKE ASHES,
LIKE A STAR BURNING OUT.)