December 1, 2014 - 6:38pm — DistractedLemon
Warning: Adult language + themes — still need doctor for plot!
Sac needs more interactions so I'm posting a little something here. Everyone is welcome to join. He's in a particularly foul mood because of the weather (it's snowing for me) he hates the cold.
This fucking forest...can it get any worse?! The demon thought out loud through laboured breaths of cold air. Every inhale felt like snorting down ground glass as it scrapped the back of his throat leaving it feeling dry and raw. Every step he took left behind deep imprints in the fluffy snow that had already fallen and many sparkly droplets of melted snowflakes adorned his fur glistening in the pale light of the overcast day. The sun was barely a distant speckle giving off no warmth and even less light; this he didn't mind too much as the white beast had always preferred the darkness. The three large claws on each of his dinosaurian feet were stained with half frozen mud that clung to them as if their life depended on it, no amount of shaking of his limbs managed to dislodge the brown substance from them.
He sighed in resignation looking up spitefully to the sky cursing the day he was forced into this disgusting place filled with even more disgusting beings. He hated them all and everything they stood for,everything they did offended every fibre of his being and made him want to gore them to death. Just then it occurred to him that he hadn't seen nor heard a single sound since he left the safety of the Great Oak a few miles back. Perhaps he did have something in common with those animals. No. no. They're probably gathered somewhere doing stupid things as usual. He corrected himself; the last thing he wanted was to find similarities between his great self and those lower beings.
Sacrilege shook his body in an effort to rid himself of the water that had accumulated in his fur and as he did small droplets of cold liquid flew through the air like elegant diamond projectiles. Some hit the trees around him but most just landed and quickly soaked into the snow. Feeling satisfied with how his body felt he continued pushing through the banks of piled white powder, the snow was dry and was carried by the wind easily. His antlers snapped frozen branches and quite a few icicles as he moved forward.
The beast looked miserable, his face frozen in a permanent frown and eyelids half-closed to protect his eyes from the chill of the winter winds. He had no particular destination in mind and was mostly walking just to keep warm, maybe snag a meal along the way.
((Eeh, throwing Manda in
The orange stag was worried about how fast the snow had fallen this year. It had been just a few days since he had been basking in the sunlight by the Idol. The snow had come almost overnight - the stag was lucky to have gathered all the necessary herbs he needed in advance. His fur hadn't even grown to its full length yet. He was more than used to the cold, reminding him of his old home, but his ankles couldn't take it this fast. They had already serious frostbites in them, and it made walking anywhere painful.
He knew perfectly he'd be excellent pray for predators. His muscles weren't any weaker than they had been before, but he wasn't sure he had the energy to fight back if he was attacked. Just how Camomille had been killed. The orange stag shivered, desperate for shelter to start attending to his wounds. Giving the leathery bag around his neck a nervous look, he wondered how long the herbs would last. He couldn't use all of them on himself, just enough to stay alive.
He had to gasp for breath as the sudden breeze of cold wind was blown against his face. The mask blocked some of the cold, but it felt the orange stag desperate to find his balance again. Ah well, this much was to be expected. The summer had been warm. The gods wanted to maintain the balance. Carefree, the stag stepped on a frozen twig, making it crackle loudly. Quickly he pulled back, as he noticed the twig's condition. Somebody had walked through here, and just recently. The stag couldn't smell anything as sniffing made his nostrils full with nothing else but bitter cold. But he was SURE - somebody had stepped on it. The twig had felt a little different under his hoof - like it had already been broken. The orange stag sharpened his senses in fear. Someone was here, but was it a friend or a foe?
As the demon grumbled and
He turned his body so it lined up with his head always keeping his eyes locked on their target. His body crouched down until the snow graced his firm underbelly sending an unpleasant chill up his body; he ignored it for now. His steps were silent and precize with the same hesitation a leopard shows before planting each paw down. Quiet as death itself the large beast stalked his prey. Long strips of saliva fell from inbetween his jagged teeth and large clouds of condensation rose from each of his four nostrils and mouth as he breathed quietly. He knew he needed to close the gap between himself and the orange stag before he had any chance to snag a meal. Sacrilege's pupils narrowed into pinpricks with excitement as he felt himself closing the distance; he was now a mere couple of feet away from his target and he shuffled and settled into the snow that provided him with an unexpected cover as his white fur blended into it perfectly. He watched carefully waiting for the other to drop his guard again before striking.
The orange stag sensed the
The orange stag let out a grunt, feeling his blood flowing through his veins. He had gone through the training, he had made himself strong for a reason. He wouldn't run away like a coward - not like his body possessed any speed, anyway. The fear that controlled him was pushed aside in just a few seconds, and his natural instincts to survive began to take over. Not only that, a distant thought made his adrenaline levels rise. What if this was one of the same creatures that had been involved in Camomille's death? If that was the case, the orange stag would give his all to fight.
He scratched the ground with his heavy forehoof and lowered his head to shield himself with his antlers. The candles seemed to burn stronger, ready to burn the predator if it was stupid enough to be unwary. The stag knew he could be attacked from behind, so he spread his legs a little, ready for a painful kick.
"What are you waiting for? Show me what you can do!" As he yelled, he felt new energy flowing through his body. It had been a long time since he had tasted the excitement of battle. If he would go down today, he wasn't going to make it easy for the beast.
His impatience grew as he
With no effort at all Sacrilege had covered the distance that separated the two males, jaws spread wide with his sharp teeth ready to dig into the other's flesh and tear it right off the bone. He was upon the orange male in mere seconds using his chest to destabilize him before lunging forward with his head for a bite around the other's upper back and shoulders. He remained silent and focused even as he attacked the only sound that came from him was the sound of his massive lungs chugging along like a locomotive.
The orange stag only noticed
The orange stag could see only red as he tried to shake the large predator off with fierce shakes, jumpes and kicks. He wasn't sure how many of his attempts to kick actually landed - he just acted as his body told him to act. 'I have to survive.. I just have to!' He thought as more blood gushed out from his shoulder, 'I have to know if this is the same beast.' He wanted to say it out loud, but could only let out angry grunts for the challenger. No use, he'd have to immobilize it somehow, before its teeth could proceed further into his tendons and muscles. Acting with rage and immerse power, the orange stag began to run in the direction of the nearest tree. His steps weren't quick, but they certainly were heavy and would give the beast quite a ride. Unsure whether it was even on his back anymore, the orange stag attempted to crash against the tree to free himself.
Sacrilege's knife-life teeth
He was expecting to at the very least have a fractured rib or two from such force being applied to his side by the blunt impact against the tree trunk. The stinging sensation also let him know the bark had scraped a few layers of skin off. The hulking predator staggered to the side, each breath felt like a stab to his side but he was determined not to lose his lunch; his jaws tightened once again digging deeper into the unfortunate male's shoulder. He was sure he had reached the bone and that indicated it was the best time to try to tear the muscle away. The beast began to shake his head like a vicious rabbid animal, side to side he shook his skeletal face, side to side his sharp teeth dug and tore at the other's flesh.
The orange stag felt the grip
The blood loss had already made the orange stag's head dizzy, but he wasn't afraid. No... this was his last chance to say what he wanted to say. As he threw his massive bulk against the tree time after time, he shouted through the wind : "Tell me, beast! Tell me how many have you killed in your travels! How many of them were female? He dared not mention his old friend's name in the fear that it would disturb her eternal sleep. "Please! I will do anything to know!" He didn't even care if he would die, he didn't even care he would be eaten - he just wanted the answer. His body continued to move on its own, remembering all the important parts of his training. It all felt so useless now... had all the studying been in vain? He didn't remember if he had ever been this close to death. What a dumb way it would be to die. To end up being someone's lunch.
Sacrilege braced himself for
The orange male bellowed and the words caught Sacrilege by surprise. He had expected the other to begin begging for his life but instead he acted disgustingly selflessly and worried about the wellbeing of another. The demon paused his onslaught to think about his next course of action, if only Adrasteia hadn't come, if only he didn't desperately need another wicked soul to trade he would have devoured the trapped deer in an instant. He was forced to reconsider, forced to pause and forced to give up his much needed meal to insure his further survival.
Sacrilege's long teeth pulled out with ease and he stepped away from the weakening animal. "Camomille?" he huffed out between breaths as he struggled to calm his speeding heart. The stranger's name just popped into his head as he eyed the other; striking a deal with his lunch wasn't something he had planned for but it was something he couldn't walk away from.
The instant the beast's teeth
Still, the beast said that one word. THAT ONE GODDAMN NAME. Why was the orange stag so obsesessed with it, anyway? Camomille had long been a rotting, smelling corpse, torn apart at the teeth of predators. It was funny, really. He could die any second now, and still his thoughts were only focused on her. Not on Xarxes, not on Itzel or Aela. Just Camomille. He tried to laugh, but could only hear the sound of blood gurgling in his throat. The stag was now too weak to even get angry at the beast. "It was you, wasn't it? Or maybe one of your pretty friends with teeth, yeah?" His words were almost uncomprehensible, as he gasped for air. He just felt like laughing at how ridiculous everything was. What had he even accomplished in his life?
Forcing his thoughts to focus on this moment, he tried to ask more clearly now: "How do you know.. of her?" The candles in his antlers still burned strong. The gods wished for him to live... but he had no idea about what he was getting into.
"Argh great...losing my lunch
I have no friends He hissed in a hushed raspy voice. He looked down at the other like a disappointed father would look at a failure offspring. His eyes filled with an unexplained contempt for this creatures very existence.
How I know the name? Simple, you told me. Sacrilege wanted to begin one of his unnecessary and very long speeches about his many talents and abilities but the very life was fading quickly from the orange stag's body. He, no, they were both running out of time, the orange male by Sacrilege's hand and Sacrilege himself by Adrasteia's in due time.
I can help you find who hurt your friend, in return all I ask is that you let me have the perpetrator.
((May I jump in?))
Pixel made by Draak
The orange stag saw the
Maybe it was better this way. Better the stag than somebody who everyone loved and looked up to. Everyone was already more than capable of surviving on their own. Struggling to keep his thoughts from wandering around, he said with a faint voice: "I see why." His voice was too weak to sound angry, and he felt like he understood. Not like a monster needed any allies, they'd just live their life like beasts from beginning to end, stalking beings weaker than they were. Law of the nature, as they said.
The stag raised his head to look at the wound in his shoulder. Almost all the flesh had been torn away, leaving it hanging against his leg. The pure snow had been tainted with his blood, now deep red and almost blue. An artery had been damaged. He didn't have a long time to live anymore. He lowered his head again. 'It's better this way.' He tried to convince himself. All he really wished to do was to say his beloved goodbye. 'Hah, how romantic would that be' another voice in his head wanted to ridicule him, 'but nature doesn't work that way, friend.'
He seemed to freeze all over as he heard the words through a thick layer of blood in his ears. He started laughing again, this time spitting blood on the ground under him. The idea of it just sounded too unfitting for the beast's mouth. "And what's it to you? I don't see how you'd benefit from it other than finding a new lunch for yourself." It had to be a lie, maybe a sign of disgusting remorse. It was just so unexpected from the beast's mouth. The stag's eyes began to close, and he had to force themself open. They stinged like a nest of bees, ordering him to close them and let them rest. Maybe soon... but he had to know.
((also, would you care to describe Sacrilege for me or do you have a reference available? I'd love to doodle something from this))
(( @bearwatch: sure thing.
Sacrilege rolled his blue eyes again and as he did he exhaled forcefully making a muffled whistling noise as the air tried to escaped his jagged mouth. He felt annoyed and was quickly growing impatient with the orange one for his stalling questions. The demon needed an answer, a quick one before his opportunity slipped once again.
"I'd rather take the life of a killer than that of an innocent." The demon spoke with a soft remorseful voice. He was after all a charmer and master deceiver.
"Look the only reason I attacked you was because I need to feed myself." He paused and sighed again looking down at the ground as if ashamed of his own predicament. "The least I can do is try to make it right.
Feeling the life slipping out
The change in the other one's tone caught the stag off guard, though. He knew it was a lie after all he had gone through with him, after sensing how violent the beast's aura was. He couldn't care less anymore, though. What could he even do about it? The beast would never have respect or courtesy for his opponents even on the hour of their death. The stag ignored his words altogether, only shook his head and closed his eyes, ready for a final breath. He thought he was ready for it, he thought he had prepared for it. No.. he was afraid. He didn't want to die. How childish.
What a dumb way this was to go. Still, he couldn't feel anything for the beast that had taken his life. Not anger, not pity. He deserved none of those things. He gasped for breath one final time, until his lungs were not capable of holding air anymore and his body made one last twitch.
He was dead. Lifeless and left to rot. The candles, given to him by the gods long ago, finally went out. They only left behind tiny clouds of smoke, quickly dissolving in the cold breeze.
The snow fell thick on his lifeless corpse, and his spirit was sent for a judgement.
Sacrilege growled as he
He knew what he needed to do and it was a risk to his continuing life but it was one he needed to take. Carrying the lumbering lump of dead flesh would be quite a struggle but he had other worries in mind. He lowered his head and nudged the body with some force; it was dead. With a loud snort he clamped his teeth around the animal's shoulders barely holding it all together and with one powerful swing threw it over his own shoulders and back. The being laid lifeless and the blood stained the demon's white fur as it trickled from the massive wound. The weight added to his back and ribs caused him great pain as it drove the broken ribs into the surrounding soft tissue, a bruise had already begun to form around the impact area.
Every step forward was torture but he was determined; he stomped through the snow leaving deep gashes stained with the creature on his back's blood. Sacrilege was making his way into the birch forest with caution as to not be surprised by Adrasteia.
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(This is Adrasteia's part)
The black pelted demon laid silently watching the miracle of nature's balance unfold before her very eyes; the leaves had turned a beautiful shade of orange and red, most had already abandoned their homes on the branches and were covered by a deep layer of snow. She sighed and closed her ruby red eyes as she listened to the ethereal sounds of nature at work; falling snow, the winds as they changes, the very life force of every creature, they all had their distinct sounds and colors but few beings ever experienced them. Adrasteia felt fortunate for being one, even in her innumerable years as a guardian of balance it never ceased to amaze her every single year.
Her peaceful rest atop the blanketed stones of the playground was interrupted by a sharp burst of light and sound; death had come to this forest. Her eyelids peeled back to reveal saddened eyes. Although it was part of nature's balance the death of any creature was always a sad occasion. She stood on crimson hooves attached to powerful legs and said a prayer for the departed. She bowed respectfully to the sky, it wasn't her place to guide this one as the forest had its own guardians; the Gods.
Once again she was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching her place of rest - a surprise, it was the reason she had come to this forest; Sacrilege. A low rumble formed and erupted from her throat when she noticed the lifeless body upon the white beast. She should have know he was to blame for this loss today. The muscular animal jumped down from the smooth rocks with a gracefulness reserved for dancers, she glided through the air as if carried by it and landed with a solid thud. Adrasteia took careful but confident steps towards the other demon always holding her head high and proud, her eyes however betrayed her apparent confidence as they were filled with sadness and disapointment.
What have you done Dorian. This innocent's blood screams your name in accusation.
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Sacrilege made haste to explain himself in less graceful terms than those used by the sophisticated Adrasteia. He jumped straight to the point and bargained the release of his own soul in exchange for that of Camomille's killer. The black demoness paused and remained silent for many minutes as she considered the deal; yes it was a fair trade but did Sacrilege deserve to live more than the other killer? She sighed and nodded towards the white one who still held the lifeless body upon his own.
Please, set this poor one down before me. I will recall his soul. You won't have much time to ask your questions so be brief Dorian. Sacrilege had already begun to carefully lower the orange stag even before Adrasteia had finished speaking. He set him down just in front of the black deer. She looked at his torn body and her heart filled with sadness for such a violent and painful end to a tough life. His past events flashed before her eyes; all the orphans he had helped, all the struggles and pain he had overcome and now he laid before her, just a cold torn up corpse.
She closed her eyes and an invisible energy began to swirl around both the black demon and the orange stag. It caused the snow to swirl around them both like an elegant tornado of diamonds, delicate and fluffy flowing through the winds. She felt his soul crying out from far away, in this netherworld Adrasteia took on a much different form. A humanoid massive beast with six slender long arms ending in skeletal fingers with a small androgynous red mask for a face. Her entire form was covered by veils of darkness that flowed as if under water. With one of her long appendages she reached deep into the stream where souls flowed in an endless cycle of renewal, she ran her long fingers through the flow and plucked the one she needed. Manda. Wake up. It's not yet your time to rest young soul. she spoke softly to him as she returned the soul to its damaged body. As she did his wounds began to heal just enough to sustain life for a while longer.
((Omigod long post
When the orange stag knew he was dead, it wasn't as dramatic as he had thought. It was so peaceful... all the pain he had ever felt faded away in an instant. He felt nothing as he watched the corpse of his old body. It was just a husk his spirit had used, just a vessel to act as he thought was right. But now... all the days he had spent on the earth felt useless, completely unimportant compared to what he was feeling now. He thought he had known peace and wisdom before. Ah, how wrong he had been.
The spirit had never felt this young, this strong or this free as he felt now. They weren't false emotions created by his own mind - these feelings were passed down to him from the Gods. He felt like he could run for thousands of miles and never get tired, always feeling the cool breeze around his neck. Even though it was dark and cold around him, he felt happy. Maybe he'd finally get his rest and get to meet all his beloved in this endless cycle of life,death and dreams. Though he was only looking for the one whom his heart was beating for.
The stag joined the Endless crowd of white spirits, but was completely oblivious to them. He was only looking for one, one that he could rest with. After wandering around the crowd and yelling her name in a hollow voice, the now naked and maskless spirit found what he was looking for. The spirit was more pure than anything he had ever seen before. The white starlight that covered the doe's fur was so bright it was enough to make a sinful spirit go blind. As she turned to look at the purified and revitalised stag, her eyes glimmered like beautiful moonlight. Her deer-like face formed a saddened smile as she looked at him. The stag couldn't move nor even breathe - his now healed legs shook with shock, and tears burned his cheeks. Time stopped around the two as they watched each other - remembering the years they had been together. "Camomille. I found you." His voice was shaky, as he stared at her in a dreamy state. "I have to tell you. I always loved-" He couldn't finish his sentence. Camomille had closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. 'No, look at me!' The stag's spirit wanted to shout in desperation, but he couldn't. The doe was gone just like that, disappearing back into the faceless crowd.
With an instant, a cold feeling ran through his spirit. It was as if a find was pushing him back, back to the scene where his lifeless husk had layed in the pool of blood. A gentle voice called out, telling him it was not his time. He moved back to where had come from, as if someone was carrying him. He couldn't see behind the veil of tears what it was, but he tried to plead for its mercy: "No, I don't want to go back!" Everything faded to black again in an instant, as his soul sought its former master.
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The orange stag's eyes opened in an instant, and his mouth opened by itself to gasp desperately for air. He felt a sharp pain in his chest as his heart started beating and blood started to flow through their chambers. The burden of life was once more placed on his shoulders, as he raised his head in panic to find out his whereabouts. The stag's eyes weren't still used to the light, so he had to close them as the light made his eyes water. He no longer tasted the salty taste of blood deep down in his throat, but the pain in his damaged shoulder was still enough to make his head pound. As he opened his eyes again, he saw the silhouette of the beast that had killed him. The black antlers and the long mouth that had been enough to make the stag bleed to death. He shivered with fear. Was he brought back to be tortured?
"What's the meaning of this? How am I... here?" Talking felt painful as the voice rised from his dry throat, but at least he felt alive.
(Nah man my post was like a
Sacrilege's mouth was beginning to open as if to speak but the look in Adrasteia's eyes let him know it wasn't his place to speak but rather now was the time for the white demon to leave the scene. Normally he didn't follow orders from anyone but with his fate quite literally in the hands of the demoness he lowered his head in defeat and returned through the snow deep into the forest. Adrasteia reminded Sacrilege via a tight pulling of the strings that attached his soul to his body that he wasn't in control of the situation. Having those tendons of life pulled felt like having your consciousness momentarily leave your body, he saw himself from a third person's perspective and felt the cold hands of death almost clamp around him to plunge him into eternal darkness; the sensation was brief, only a second long but it was enough to scare even the strongest of beasts.
He shook his head and snorted out loudly as he went on his way. He let his body finally rest a few meters away from the other two making sure to put the weight on the side opposite to the broken ribs. Even without putting direct weight on the wound it was excruciatingly painful to breath. He looked away from the scene and ignored the smell and feel of the dried blood on his back and side as he closed his eyes.
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Adrasteia kept an eye on Sacrilege as he left, never blinking or making a sound. Her sole priority was to take care of the younger being she had ripped from the tide of souls she watched over. The mere fact that he was breathing once again was a sign she had done something she rarely ever dared to do; she had upset the balance. The thought made her cringe but she put if out of her mind. Looking down at the injured creature her gaze softened, she had a tender soft expression like a caring mother looks at her young child. The demoness took in a deep quiet breath before speaking.
My name is Adrasteia and I brought you back to this plane of existence. Fear not child for I will protect you. Her masculine muzzle touched the top of Manda's head to try to quiet some of his discomfort with a tender caring kiss.
Dorian; the white beast you unfortunately met has offered to bring your friend's killer to justice. I will be the judge, jury and executioner in the trial for the offender who so callously took an innocent life.
She maintained her neutrality even in her voice, it was deep and androgynous never betraying her gender. The well formed antlers atop her head and her bulky body made it impossible to determine a physical gender for the creature but she spoke confidently and calmly.
I know you will ask this of me but the answer is no, I am truly sorry for your loss. She said as she looked down at the blood stained snow, everyone always asked. "can you bring back my loved one?" The question was so common she no longer needed to hear them speak to know that it was coming. I can care for you until your body recovers. I can also return your soul to the tide; this however is irreversible as I cannot risk bringing you back a second time. Think carefully child, the choice is yours to make. she finished her sentence as she laid down beside him. Using her tongue she began cleaning his wound using short gentle sweeps. Wiping dirt, loose hair and snow away from his shoulder as well as cleaning up the blood that had already frozen upon it.
((PFFF it's okay, I enjoy
The orange stag dared not even blink as his gaze followed the white beast, fur still soaked deep red by the stag's blood. He felt like he had never been so afraid in his life, if not in the very last second of his life - the orange stag wasn't easily defeated and he had learned through the battle that he was not still ready. He was still weak and pitiful for others. As the beast walked away, he wanted to shout something to make it return. There was so much he wanted to talk about. Could he really track down Camomille's killer like he had said? How much he hated and feared the beast for stalking the innocent, he NEEDED his strength. In life, Camomille had been kind and forgiving, not one built for battle. But she had been cunning and fast. Her killer was smart and strong, there was no doubt about that.
A calm, familiar voice snapped the orange stag back to reality, and slowly he turned his aching head to see the demoness. Her black pelt felt so different after he had seen the stars twinkling on Camomille's spirit. There was something motherly about the being, though. Something the stag had never experienced before. Before he could say anything to ask what its words meant, he felt the kiss. It made him shiver with something unusual. The touch reminded him of living, of feeling the touch of others against his fur. The orange stag had to look down to show his respect quietly. With a quick motion, the stag put his blood-stained mask on the ground. The cold breeze was blown against his face and made his fuzzy hair stand up like a cushion of needles, but he took a deep breath, listening to his own heartbeat. It felt so heavy banging against his chest. As he looked at his mask, he felt a shiver that wasn't caused by the cold. He felt ill and suffered from aftershock. He had been so calm as he died, but only now he realized just how final that would have been. What was he thinking?
Closing his eyes to keep his mind together, he tried to listen to the motherly being. "Where is Dorian going now?" Was the first question that left his lips. He was sad to see the beast go. Even if it was for his own purpose, the beast had been involved in bringing him back. He felt strange attachement to the monster. "I thought he killed me." As he was still in shock, he couldn't understand everything the demoness said to him. He had been brought back to his old husk like that, and he struggled to keep his thoughts intact. His tone was like that of a fawn's who complained about a bully for his mother. His dignity was destroyed to a hundred pieces, and he didn't feel like collecting them for a while.
As the truth about why he had been brought back entered his conscience, he stopped to think. This one was able to call souls back from the other side. With a heart full of hope, the stag opened his mouth to speak - but was quickly interrupted by the answer.'The answer is no'. The stag lowered his head, biting his lower lip to stay strong. Still, he couldn't help the bitter line of words that escaped his mind: "Why not?! You brought me back, didn't you? How am I more valuable than she is?" He looked the other way, speaking his thoughts out loud: "I never got to tell her. I tried and she rejected me." He didn't even care if the other one understood what he was mumbling about. He just wanted to say it out loud, as if to break the truth for himself.
The demoness gave him the choice just like that. Life or death? The orange stag didn't even know what he wanted. He wasn't needed in either of those. In life, all that awaited were years of loneliness until it would be the time to take over his father's herd in the North. Camomille had showed him there was nobody waiting for him in death. "I don't know." He admitted it with a sad tone. To be honest, he didn't even want to think about it. The responsibility for his own life was a burden, a burden this experience had made him realize. He had lived so carefree, not caring about changing the world, only doing what he had been doing to this day. The touch of the other's tongue on his wound made his body twitch with pain. He didn't move away from the demoness, though. The touch made him calm and sleepy, like a fawn petted by his mother. "I don't deserve your kindness, Adrasteia. I've hurt others and I failed to protect those dear to me."
She listened with closed eyes
Her head lifted and she gazed upon him with her eternal eyes, red and moistened by tears that clung to her long lashes.
Even the most wicked amongst us have a role to play child. As she spoke she pointed with her muzzle in the direction Sacrilege had gone. All life is precious. From the smallest insect to the mighty and fair rulers of kingdoms. Not one is more important than the other for we all have a part to play in maintaining the great Balance. It is the very being from which all life came forth and diversified. It was the first of the living and is the oldest and wisest of us all, it guards us and keeps life flowing through the many veins and arteries it has grown throughout the many different planes of existence. We must all play our respective parts no matter how insignificant, how painful or how unfair our part may be. We all return to 'life' and in turn experience everything it has to offer but all in due time my dear. every word she spoke was filled with a tangible understanding and wisdom only one her age could ever hope to posess. Her voice had turned much softer something akin to bells ringing in the distance, a noise so soothing it threatened to put time itself to sleep for just a moment as it flowed passionately from her lips.
The ancient one sighed and resumed her soothing grooming of her injured charge, she was tender and caring always avoiding causing too much more discomfort for him as she kept picking away at the debris and frozen blood that had begun to scab on his fur. Her breaths were slow and steady never skipping or hesitating and it felt creamy and smooth to the touch as it escaped her lungs in harmonious rythm. She begun humming once again to help sooth his pain away, a song ancient and Devine known only to her kind of which she was the last. Legends say that those who hear her haunting music experience a bliss impossible to describe in words as their worries all melt away into a sea of white.
The stag listened to the
He couldn't ask for more. The song had started. The orange stag felt dizzy instantly, sleepy like a young fawn at the end of a day full of playing. The pain of losing Camomille all over again drifted off from his mind, all he could think about were the happy memories he had experienced in his life. The joy of helping another, the joy of knowing a young deer looked up to you, the joy of protecting another with your life.. his lips formed a tired smile. His cheeks bloomed with a color similar to roses, and lines formed around his smiling mouth. He couldn't even think about the last time he had felt so much bliss, so much peace in his heart. He wanted to ask the demoness to stop as he didn't deserve to experience all this joy once again, but he couldn't speak. He was too addicted to it, almost falling asleep to the sweet voice. 'Are you hearing this too, Camomille?' He asked her in his head. He wanted her to experience it, too. He let out a comfortable sigh, making sure his ears were fully drawn to the other being's direction.
As her song soothed his pains
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His lumbering form weaved through the trees and snow banks with relative easy but every step he took produced an audible grunt from his mouth as he felt the ache on his side intensify as the cold penetrated his body. Sacrilege was reminded now more than ever of just how much he truly hated the frigid weather; a slightly ironic thing since he himself resembled the season with his cold uncaring attitude and disregard for life as he mercilessly took what he wanted when he wanted. His head peaked from around a dead tree and was met by Adastreia's cold gaze. The creature always sent a chill down his pine with her lack of emotion and overbearing logic-above-all attitude. Sacrilege noticed however that she looked different, he wouldn't describe it as being finally cracked by a mortal but she for the first time since he had first met her was showing some form of caring for something else that wasn't her precious Balance
He smirked at her as if to say 'gotcha!' but his satire fell on deaf ears as she ignored him. Sacrilege snorted and carefully lowered himself onto his uninjured side; he was growing impatient but he knew he stood no chance against her. Even in peak condition he stood little to no chance of ever besting the other in a battle and now that he was severely injured attempting to fight would be suicide. He eyed them both as they rested together. "So pathetic..." He said to himself looking displeased and even a bit disgusted by the display.
If you want to speed his recovery and your quest I suggest you find a doctor. Her voice reached him even though her lips hadn't moved; another of her creepy tricks. He shook his head and reluctantly pulled himself off the cold ground. Snow and mud clung to his fur in clumps as brown water dripped back down to earth. He shuffled for a moment to find his balance and some relief from the pain and turned away from the couple. Sacrilege didn't know any doctors, in fact he didn't know more than two or three inhabitants in the forest; his solitary existence coming to bite him in the ass again. Nevertheless he set forth determined to drag any fool who looked like a doctor, he didn't care if he had to crack a few skulls to get what he wanted. Even in his injured state Sacrilege was no pushover and his towering height were usually enough to intimidate most others into submitting.