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story of the slain - JOINING - Grimm - 07-12-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 400px;font-family: calibri; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify; line-height:10px;"]Death.
To one who wielded it as though it were nothing more than a weapon, had tasted the blood of countless numbers upon their tongue, had allowed their life to become nothing more than a battlefield, it was nothing more than a footnote. Many times when they had stood together, brothers bound by more than blood, who had seen each other bleed and had acted as a shield when they had begun to crumble, wondered if this breath might be their last. They had looked into the eyes of those about them and seen what was reflected within their own – driven to the point of frenzy by blood lust and the desire to win or die upon the field all they could entertain, monsters each bearing down on the unsuspecting forced to stand before them. It would have been a lie to say their heart was no longer in it within those last months, hardened to it all as it was, but what can a monster do when it had been taught only to fight and die for a purpose it no longer understood?
Beneath the touch of cold steel they had found it, bloodied lips uttering a soft gasp as skin parted like silk beneath the sword, their weight dragging them forward until it sank deeper. It did not matter how long they might ponder upon the prospect they had not thought it would be cold. To their bones the chill seeped, yet their chest burned where the blade had pierced, heart racing as it struggled to keep them alive only to doom them all the sooner.
If only they had known, had seen just how twisted their heart had grown, nothing more than a black mass in the centre of their chest. Only moments had passed when their mind once more sparked to life, when skin and bone twisted and shattered, their vocal cords straining to give voice to the unearthly scream which tore from dead lungs. A prisoner within their own body. Through hazy eyes they could only watch as the twisted husk had shambled through the ranks, unknowing and uncaring, a weapon honed to a fine edge, beyond the point of breaking.
This had been their purpose and death refused to put an end to it, forced once more to walk an earth stained by blood, each breath a ragged gasp, broken by faint moans as a rotting corpse moved in their place. Nothing prepared them for those years, for the time when the shadow of a raven would follow their shambling steps, fall seemingly a mocking laugh ringing in their head. It seemed a fitting punishment to feel such pain, muscle slowly rotting away until gleaming bone showed through, fur long since gone from the minimal patches of skin still clinging to them. An existence of pain and hate, all they knew bound in the ferocious anger which seemed a second heartbeat pushing them on until they collapsed, unable to support themself any longer.
Silence and darkness filled them. Never had they dared to hope the halls of Valhalla awaited them, such was barred to those who found life when they had tasted death, but they came to long for an end no matter what it entailed. It seemed the All Father looked kindly upon an old servant, forgotten and left to rot as they wandered the earth, pain enough as the years trickled by. Stretched well beyond their limits, bone-weary from the constant battle their life had become and struggling with the strain of a mind driven too far over the edge, they let the darkness take them.
Nothing can last for long, however.
Slow at first, barely noticeable though it might simply have been their mind refusing to accept what was coming to pass, the darkness they had been suspended within, which seemed a shroud, comfortable and familiar, began to lighten. Tightly they shut their eyes to it once it grew stronger, the golden traces of light outlining a body slow to rebuild, the years of trauma inflicted upon it too much for a simple thing. Bones came together until shattered fragments had become something recognisable as a skeletal structure, muscle, if minimal, slowly covering the ivory bone. Atop this the skin was dark, oddly so, a deep brown hidden by the ruddy tones of red fur. Unfamiliar yet close, not quite the large stature they had viewed the world from, scars missing where the skin had been healed badly, yet the pain was there. An ache worked through their hips and shoulders, a snake winding its way through newly knit muscle.
Atreus could not put any amount of time to this process, slow as it was there was little feeling or sense of time, lost years before when their life had found an end, and they proved disoriented and blurry when finally their eyes opened once more. Beneath the curled body grass warmed by the early summer sun tickled about their sides, a huff of breath seemingly trying to be a laugh escaping them, bitter in tone. Blinking into the light they could only lay there and look about themself at the world which seemed a tapestry of green and brown, so unlike the barren field stained red they had left. They knew too well those they had called brother would be gone just as they had, many would have found peace, possibly something more once death had taken them from that place, but still their heart ached for all they had lost.
Struggling to rise the cub – uncomfortable with this realisation, to once more live the childhood Odin had stolen from them – almost collapsed once more when they stretched out, paw shaky as they took the first step. Uneven was the tread they took, back paws dragging as their hips ached with each movement, yet it brought them some pleasure to feel once more even this pain. They knew not where they were, nor who they might become in this life, knowing only the name which lingered on their tongue, one they had held for centuries now. Though the chapter was new the story was far from it, the prospect of rewriting who they were strange, too much so for Art to think on long, and so they decided not to. None would remember the Berserk who had turned when death had stolen them away, a servant even in unlife, finally set free to walk a path of their own choosing.
Re: story of the slain - JOINING - Warringkingdoms - 07-12-2018
[font=trebuchet ms]The strangers who stumbled across these fields came in many different flavors. Some came on a mission, striding up to the Ascendants' borders with confidence and a preparedness to complete that mission. Others were simple wanderers, wishing to attain a new lease on life- be it out of boredom with the outside world, or a desire for stability (as if they could find much of that here, between the frequency of vampirism, the inexperience of the Seraph, and the centuries-old grudges). Still others knew nothing but their own names, and arrived here only through happenstance.
As Warringkingdoms spotted the cub approaching with their bizarre, pained gait, she could not help but assume that they would fall into the third category. It was not unheard of for a child to appear at their borders, lost and confused. Sauntering over to the young lion, Rin let her gaze wander from their cloudy eyes to their back legs. She would have to investigate more closely to determine the cause of their unsteady pace. "Lie back down," she ordered softly, walking over to the cub's side. "I need to check you for injuries, okay?" Introductions could wait until after the child was treated.
/any specific injuries or just pain?
/also sorry for the low-muse reply
Re: story of the slain - JOINING - Margaery - 07-12-2018
MARGAERY FOLIE-MIKAELSON
[table][tr][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][/tr][/table]MAKE ME QUEEN OR
I'LL MAKE YOU BLEED
I'LL MAKE YOU BLEED
Margaery was no stranger to death.
Her childhood had been riddled with it. Friends, family, even mere acquaintances that she often passed in her village succumbing to the inevitable as the wolves - though sickness and old age did occasionally claim some - came for them. Ripped them to pieces. She had been so frightened by the idea of death, terrified by its finality, its promise, that she rarely got to live when it counted. Erlend, her warrior, had taught her more about doing things in the face of fear than anything else but in the end, that hadn't mattered. Nothing had mattered when death finally came for her beloved, closing its icy jaws around her neck.
But the prey did not remain the prey. She had crossed over that divide, had become death, just like her father and mother had wanted her to. Had become themselves. At first, she still carried within her that uncertainty, that horror. She was sweet and innocent and unstained by the horrors of the world, her family's precious flower, their sweet pearl. How could she be expected to kill others? She was not made to be a harbinger of death. She should have lived and died in her tiny viking village. And yet, here she was one thousand years later, history splattered with blood and deceit. A godforsaken creature of the night. A monster.
That word had never sat right with Margaery. She was of the firm belief that she hadn't asked for this fate, hadn't wanted anything to do with it actually. Her parents had paved this road for her, forcing her to offer up her mortal soul and exchange it for an immortal one. There was a price though... there always was a price. Immortality was a wonderful concept to consider until one remembered the consequences that it carried with it. Bloodlust was not pretty, nor did it benefit anyone but herself. And that hunger... that terrible, awful, rotten hunger... It ate at her day in and day out.
Margaery would not lie though: there had been brief times in her history when she had relished in her immortality. She was a death incarnate, stronger and faster and far more intelligent than her prey. She could rip apart anyone if she felt like it and then dine for hours upon their blood. It was times such as those that she truly had become the monster. Unfeeling. Unbothered. Unattached. Her behavior from those days disgusted her, absolutely disgusted her.
Rin's voice suddenly pulled her from her thoughts and, concerned, Margaery brushed her troubles away to investigate. [b]"Is everything alright?" She inquired quietly upon arriving, a gray gaze falling over the form of the cub with newfound concern. Bastilleprisoner had once told her that she was a monster, not a mother, but she had long since come to the conclusion that she could be both - was both. She'd be lying if she said that she didn't feel her maternal instincts kicking in with every passing second. "Oh my," She breathed after another moment, "Are you lost?" She wondered if the cub had been separated from their parents or if their split had been at their own accord. Whatever the reason, she of course would be there to mother them.
"I'm Margaery Mikaelon, love. This is the Ascendants."
Her childhood had been riddled with it. Friends, family, even mere acquaintances that she often passed in her village succumbing to the inevitable as the wolves - though sickness and old age did occasionally claim some - came for them. Ripped them to pieces. She had been so frightened by the idea of death, terrified by its finality, its promise, that she rarely got to live when it counted. Erlend, her warrior, had taught her more about doing things in the face of fear than anything else but in the end, that hadn't mattered. Nothing had mattered when death finally came for her beloved, closing its icy jaws around her neck.
But the prey did not remain the prey. She had crossed over that divide, had become death, just like her father and mother had wanted her to. Had become themselves. At first, she still carried within her that uncertainty, that horror. She was sweet and innocent and unstained by the horrors of the world, her family's precious flower, their sweet pearl. How could she be expected to kill others? She was not made to be a harbinger of death. She should have lived and died in her tiny viking village. And yet, here she was one thousand years later, history splattered with blood and deceit. A godforsaken creature of the night. A monster.
That word had never sat right with Margaery. She was of the firm belief that she hadn't asked for this fate, hadn't wanted anything to do with it actually. Her parents had paved this road for her, forcing her to offer up her mortal soul and exchange it for an immortal one. There was a price though... there always was a price. Immortality was a wonderful concept to consider until one remembered the consequences that it carried with it. Bloodlust was not pretty, nor did it benefit anyone but herself. And that hunger... that terrible, awful, rotten hunger... It ate at her day in and day out.
Margaery would not lie though: there had been brief times in her history when she had relished in her immortality. She was a death incarnate, stronger and faster and far more intelligent than her prey. She could rip apart anyone if she felt like it and then dine for hours upon their blood. It was times such as those that she truly had become the monster. Unfeeling. Unbothered. Unattached. Her behavior from those days disgusted her, absolutely disgusted her.
Rin's voice suddenly pulled her from her thoughts and, concerned, Margaery brushed her troubles away to investigate. [b]"Is everything alright?" She inquired quietly upon arriving, a gray gaze falling over the form of the cub with newfound concern. Bastilleprisoner had once told her that she was a monster, not a mother, but she had long since come to the conclusion that she could be both - was both. She'd be lying if she said that she didn't feel her maternal instincts kicking in with every passing second. "Oh my," She breathed after another moment, "Are you lost?" She wondered if the cub had been separated from their parents or if their split had been at their own accord. Whatever the reason, she of course would be there to mother them.
"I'm Margaery Mikaelon, love. This is the Ascendants."
© MADI
Re: story of the slain - JOINING - Grimm - 07-13-2018
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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: times; color: #59595b; font-size:14px;text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px; margin-top:2px"]recall the deeds as if they're all
Deep breath drawn through their mouth, held for a time, savouring the burn slow to grow within their chest, rushing forth with the edge of soft laughter. They had forgotten the simple pleasure found within life, the mere act of breathing oddly pleasant and sweet. Possibly it could be considered naïve the desire to believe this place different, to think good might come of it when their life had been shaped by hardship, scarred by events out of their control from those early days. Yet they found themself unable to care, refusing to let the feeling be stifled, light as it filled their chest, warm as they took in the surroundings about them.
Drawn back from their thoughts Atreus could offer only a soft sound of surprise at the approach of the stranger, caught between a gasp and something seemly stretched beyond the border of words, jumbled and with no real defined edges. By no means were they confused, simply by the definition of the word lost fit rather well for them, out of place in a world they had no memory of, yet seemed strangely familiar, some part of them straining to keep moving. Fighting back against it Art merely watched Rin as they approach, stepping aside when she came to approach their side, almost stumbling over paws all too large for them.
“What?” Short and clipped their tone was strange, light and proving squeaky where once it had been deeper, a displeasure seeping into their expression as they came to realise just how much had come to change. “I'm not hurt.” Confusion touched the words as they spoke, looking down at her with a raised brow. They had grown accustomed to the way their gait had become lopsided and dragging, though they had not expected it to come through here. Barely out of their first fight they had felt the touch of steel, heavy weight pressing against bone until their leg had shattered, the healing process going rather badly. Though no scar decorated their leg here it seemed the damage had come through in a different way, the very nerves within their hips and back legs damaged beyond repair, yet it seemed a comfort in a way, a familiarity they would have missed had it not been present.
It seemed they were drawing attention. Small ears flicker forward, their gaze raising from where it had come to rest on Rin to find the other who had spoken. Neither used to nor welcoming of pity their brow lowered, a scowl forming upon their lips they struggled to suppress, only coming to change, a soft frown taking it's place. “By Odin's fucking beard,” all too familiar the words rose to their lips unbidden, muttered beneath their breath, just time enough for them to attempt to organised their thoughts.
“Ascended. Guess I am lost, extremely so,” speaking softly now Art finally let their weight drag them down into a seated position, confusion clear upon their features. They knew well this place was not their home, the familiarity was minimal at best, enough to entice them and draw forth faint memory, yet it resembled the place they longer for only in small ways.
Drawn back from their thoughts Atreus could offer only a soft sound of surprise at the approach of the stranger, caught between a gasp and something seemly stretched beyond the border of words, jumbled and with no real defined edges. By no means were they confused, simply by the definition of the word lost fit rather well for them, out of place in a world they had no memory of, yet seemed strangely familiar, some part of them straining to keep moving. Fighting back against it Art merely watched Rin as they approach, stepping aside when she came to approach their side, almost stumbling over paws all too large for them.
“What?” Short and clipped their tone was strange, light and proving squeaky where once it had been deeper, a displeasure seeping into their expression as they came to realise just how much had come to change. “I'm not hurt.” Confusion touched the words as they spoke, looking down at her with a raised brow. They had grown accustomed to the way their gait had become lopsided and dragging, though they had not expected it to come through here. Barely out of their first fight they had felt the touch of steel, heavy weight pressing against bone until their leg had shattered, the healing process going rather badly. Though no scar decorated their leg here it seemed the damage had come through in a different way, the very nerves within their hips and back legs damaged beyond repair, yet it seemed a comfort in a way, a familiarity they would have missed had it not been present.
It seemed they were drawing attention. Small ears flicker forward, their gaze raising from where it had come to rest on Rin to find the other who had spoken. Neither used to nor welcoming of pity their brow lowered, a scowl forming upon their lips they struggled to suppress, only coming to change, a soft frown taking it's place. “By Odin's fucking beard,” all too familiar the words rose to their lips unbidden, muttered beneath their breath, just time enough for them to attempt to organised their thoughts.
“Ascended. Guess I am lost, extremely so,” speaking softly now Art finally let their weight drag them down into a seated position, confusion clear upon their features. They knew well this place was not their home, the familiarity was minimal at best, enough to entice them and draw forth faint memory, yet it resembled the place they longer for only in small ways.
someone else's atrocious stories
[/td][/tr][/table]© MADI
Re: story of the slain - JOINING - Margaery - 07-13-2018
MARGAERY FOLIE-MIKAELSON
[table][tr][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][/tr][/table]MAKE ME QUEEN OR
I'LL MAKE YOU BLEED
I'LL MAKE YOU BLEED
Their response certainly succeeded in shocking the Cosmic General, her expression twisting into something far more contemplative. Odin's fucking beard? What on earth could that mean? And why was a child, of all people, using such language? She thought hard for a few brief moments, going through options in her mind before a thought occurred to her: perhaps this was not a child at all. The idea was farfetched, but she knew that she could not discredit it. Not entirely, anyways.
She wouldn't say a word though, mainly because she figured it'd be inappropriate - unladylike - of her to. Instead, she frowned. [b]"Would you like to stay here for a while?" Margaery inquired, a confused glance only momentarily being shot in Rin's direction. She wondered if the medic was as perplexed as her. She wanted to be able to assist them, but she really didn't know how, not successfully anyways. "We have an Observatory and a Bunker full of rooms for you to choose from. Where exactly are you supposed to be, maybe I could point you in the right direction?" She was doubtful, considering she didn't know much of the land outside of the Ascendants and its immediate groups, but she could at least try to be helpful.
//super rushed i'm sorry!!
She wouldn't say a word though, mainly because she figured it'd be inappropriate - unladylike - of her to. Instead, she frowned. [b]"Would you like to stay here for a while?" Margaery inquired, a confused glance only momentarily being shot in Rin's direction. She wondered if the medic was as perplexed as her. She wanted to be able to assist them, but she really didn't know how, not successfully anyways. "We have an Observatory and a Bunker full of rooms for you to choose from. Where exactly are you supposed to be, maybe I could point you in the right direction?" She was doubtful, considering she didn't know much of the land outside of the Ascendants and its immediate groups, but she could at least try to be helpful.
//super rushed i'm sorry!!
© MADI
Re: story of the slain - JOINING - Grimm - 07-14-2018
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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: times; color: #6d6767; font-size:14px;text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px; "]recall the deeds as if they're all
Indeed there was nothing within the youth which might prove close to a child, the very memories of those days faded, little more than the tang of salt on the air and the sharp cries as they had wrestled with those they had once seen as family. Yet in a way it seemed fitting as well for what were they but a child in this world, taken all too soon and what little they had known wiped away to be replaced with something more. They held no worldly experience, had seen little of the world they had once inhabited and this was one alien to them entirely, an unknown which bred within them a sense of fear. It did not matter their attempts to bury it the hard knot was there, curling within their stomach, hard and uncomfortable.
Swallowing thickly they seemed to remember their manners, tone lowering and growing ashamed, their ears slicking back. “Please. I'm sorry for how I acted, it has been... a long time since I was last around anyone.” They held no idea how to interact with either, choosing to center their gaze upon their paws. Claws dug into the soft earth, tearing grooves into it as they spoke, wanting nothing more than to be out of this situation. Used to orders or being scolded for the smallest wrong doing they were unused to the soft offer, nor had they been expecting it, unable to fully show their gratitude that these strangers seemed welcoming of them. Surely it was only because they appeared a child to them, barely old enough to be alone, yet they took it where they could, hoping they would not take their sudden shift as something negative.
Their brow furrowed once more as Margaery spoke once more, wondering at just what she was speaking of. They had expected others yet the strangeness of it all, of this 'Observatory' and 'Bunker', was proving too much for them all at once. “I-I... no, there is nowhere.” Settling on the best answer they could give Art gave a small smile, trying to dismiss this line of conversation, not wishing to get into where they came from for it was long ago, a place they could never go once more.
/ it's more than okay
Swallowing thickly they seemed to remember their manners, tone lowering and growing ashamed, their ears slicking back. “Please. I'm sorry for how I acted, it has been... a long time since I was last around anyone.” They held no idea how to interact with either, choosing to center their gaze upon their paws. Claws dug into the soft earth, tearing grooves into it as they spoke, wanting nothing more than to be out of this situation. Used to orders or being scolded for the smallest wrong doing they were unused to the soft offer, nor had they been expecting it, unable to fully show their gratitude that these strangers seemed welcoming of them. Surely it was only because they appeared a child to them, barely old enough to be alone, yet they took it where they could, hoping they would not take their sudden shift as something negative.
Their brow furrowed once more as Margaery spoke once more, wondering at just what she was speaking of. They had expected others yet the strangeness of it all, of this 'Observatory' and 'Bunker', was proving too much for them all at once. “I-I... no, there is nowhere.” Settling on the best answer they could give Art gave a small smile, trying to dismiss this line of conversation, not wishing to get into where they came from for it was long ago, a place they could never go once more.
/ it's more than okay
someone else's atrocious stories
[/td][/tr][/table]© MADI