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in the morning light / return - Printable Version

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in the morning light / return - VIRGO - 10-23-2018

[div style="cursor: url("http://cur.cursors-4u.net/cursors/cur-9/cur836.cur"), auto; margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; line-height: 1.5; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]To Virgo, she knows that they are god's tears - the tears she is privileged to feel upon her back, to acknowledge and realise her glory. The morning dew, golden but unaccounted for, is twinkling like the sea at night. Ripe, rich petals, weightless and floating like pixie dust. It was the kind of glitter that you could hold within the cusp of your palms, wrap your fingers around, close your eyes and make a wish from the bottom of your heart. A wishing well. Beautiful like her eyes, blessing the land with her gaze. The bright hues interlock like waves, a gentle tide in the ocean. The image is frail. The colours pass through stained glass, obsured and changed into something that is neither blurred or clear. A tranquil incandescence. They are intangible streams of light. Sunny webs reach her ivory feathers, marking her royalty. The warmth of soil kisses her feet. It is a form of flattery she is used to, a love that she expects from her underlings. The earth knows where it must stand in relation to her form, it knows how it must act within her radiating presence. She is sure that even god's tears, the golden breeze, are of joy - watching her in admiration, the way sunspots accent her alabaster tones. A celebration of her life, a dance like the glimmer of brave fire.

And yet such beauty, such splendor, can become tainted. It prowled on her perfection, came from the abyss. She imagines it a beast worst than her, a monster that was ugly and unformed. Crawling and pulling itself from a bottomless pit, a nightmare of a face. She never expected to be run down with a sickness during their travels. Teeth clamp at her sides, feathers dissipating along the soil. She was losing them, the beauty that had clung to her pale skin beneath. Virgo thought she would be fine at first. The alpha of the venandi could never be overtaken by a mere cold. To her misfortunate, there was nothing mere about it. The virus was bound within her. Like weeds, it grew roots, strangling her system. It coiled and soiled itself within the places that were hardest to reach, hidden away from the grasps of her immune system. Her temperature ranged from hot and cold, never the sweet in-between and always stuck within the great walls of misery. The worse part of it was when bundles of her feathers became dappled along the undeserving ground. She awoke to shedding during the wrong season and it became difficult to move. She is sure that whatever unseen force was behind this, it was no god. The memories that echoed was that she awoke with a cry.

She told her brother and sister that she wished to return to their island, to their birthplace. It was the place they had hatched as eggs to be raised by their abyssal mother. She longs for the comfort of Luciferus, his warm embrace, his inky scales that will shelter her from whatever monster has possessed her. The barbaric girl is sickly but refuses to show it, for any sign of suffering will be proof of her succumbing to its awful embrace. Virgo walks silently behind the moving forms of Ament and Exodus. Her claws rake across the hard ground, tapping and clicking whilst her eyes scan carefully about, unafraid of the lifeforms that surround and peer at their privacy. She is sure her brethren are aware that she is unwell but she tries her hardest anyway to appear calm and strong. If she looks as though she is dying, it may alarm her siblings but Virgo is aware that it will soon pass. She is stronger than that. She bears blood that is pure to their lineage, a weapon to be marveled and envied. A sickness will not cause her to pass. It will be her who will cause the sickness to be vanquished, smoldering beneath her dangerous talons.

The utahraptor smells what she can, nostrils flaring like that of a typical predator as she takes a whiff of the island. She recognises new and different scents that have become intermingled with the salty air but there are others that are the same. Familiarity sweeps over her, unaccustomed and unwilling to see change. Traditions have and always have been important to her. To betray their own ancestors, their own DNA, was a disgusting act to Virgo. All those who dared try to cross their sacred ways would have to be eliminated. She will not stand mutiny within her precious pack. Her brother and sister know better. Virgo's feathers rustle behind her, wings shifting when she looks for their nest. There is no waiting at the border. She knows no territory lines. This was home for her. They were the beasts The Typhoon should have been afraid of. After having left for about a month or two, the raptors had grown. They were bigger now, ready to take on the likes of dogs who dared challenge them all on their own.

Her feathered crest raises, wary of her surroundings. Something has been scavenging around their nest, poking their nose where they shouldn't have even dared. She knows this before she even reaches their peaceful abode because of the markings along the trees, the inconsistencies that ran with her memories. 'We have an intruder within our midst,' the alpha notes to her siblings, hissing with a raised lip. But before she can react any further, her sickly system revolts against her. She hacks a few painful coughs, organs threatening to spill from her maw that she winces. Virgo wants to chase whoever has been invading their nest but it's impossible with her state, moving and slumping within her nest. Her brows furrow in annoyance at the moved twigs and broken fragments that lie along the ground but she clenches her teeth and coils her body, resting her head against her wing. She knows that she needs not to speak their ancient tongue to Exodus and Ament. They understand the measures she must take to get better. She is no magician.

Instead she orders them this: 'Go tell mother that we've returned for now.'

[ ooc ] the venandi raptors are back from their adventures around all the groups for the time being so please wait until at least one of the other raptors ( [member=1649]EXODUS ![/member] [member=1827]AMENT .[/member] ) or [member=232]LUCIFER GRIMM.[/member]  replies. virgo is currently sick so they decide to return to the typhoon until she gets better. a reminder that no one understands what the raptors are saying as it's an ancient language that only the venandi and lucifer understand - they otherwise appear completely feral. in terms of owen's raptors, i'm p sure we agreed that some parts of their language overlap like ancient greek vs modern greek but they don't share the same tongue.


Re: in the morning light / return - Luciferr - 10-23-2018

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L U C I F E R . G R I M M
"The endless Void, The gazing abyss, The bottomless ocean of horror...It coiled itself around your tender heart"
he is found by his children and brought to his sickliest - though the dark god's flight path had already adjusted, well aware of the familiar lights a soul sense had impugned upon him returning - he would know his children anywhere, by soul or scent, they are a permanence to his senses and he is always somewhat aware of where they may be at any given time.

perhaps a paranoid outlook, but Lucifer has lost too many before not to take some measures - if there is a way to keep an eye on them, to afford a little extra protection should they need him, then there is no length Lucifer would not go for his children.

He lands quietly on the shoreline, only scant meters from his home and where he knows the nest is nearby - where the two no doubt find him just after - to which he moves swiftly through the undergrowth with a grace that belies the larger frame he bears before he find their nest.

he's momentarily bewildered that it's been tampered with - for sure he thought he'd told the others to leave it be while his children were away, hm - before he descends to carefully curl around his sickly child and croon soothingly.

he recognises the signs of a cold - and resolves to later search for ginger, a herbal remedy he knows can sooth and help quicken the defeat of this illness.

his happiness at his children's return is only slightly dampened to see one so miserable but he is happy all the same - he doesn't begrudge their curious nature - ament he knows often lets that go too far, wild child that he is attempting to theft from the others and Exodus with her crabs - for now he curls around his sickly youngest - inviting the other two to join the cuddle pile if they so wish - he fears no illness, living so long and being what he is, it's never been a virus that has laid him low, injuries were what caused that the most.

/oof hope this okay

© LEXASPERATED



Re: in the morning light / return - EXODUS-- - 10-23-2018

[div style="width: 200px; overflow: auto; width: overflow: auto; font-family: timesnewroman; text-align: justify; max-height: 400px; "]Her sister's feathers were crumbling away, like dust. Alabaster and weightless, much like a broken butterfly.

Exodus, quite frankly, never imagined that such a fate could befall magnificence.

The cold. It wracked the alpha princess's body, growing like weeds, choking and writhing deep in that chest, much akin to an infected garden. A blemish. It hurt to look at Virgo. Ivory, heavenly feathers, once healthy were in disarray as it wilted.

Their feathers were a sign of strength and vivacity. The Alpha Sister's quills? Once things of beauty, handled with velveteen gentleness and careful preenings. Groomed precisely, to perfection. Every bristule aligned exactly, particularly. It was an intricate work. One that Exodus prided herself upon, for they often primped each other's feathers out of necessity and kinship and it strengthened the interwoven ties within their pack, further tightening a web of social obligation founded on the pillars of respect, trust and cooperation

But now? She despised the way those velvety quills drooped. A simple cold had made a mockery of her sister's beauty and Exodus's work.

And that sickness-- It should have been weakness,  a symbol of fragility-- but it was not so. Virgo stood victorious and undefeated even amongst illness's infernal kiss. There was no question or doubt from her unerring, solid stance that even in her ailing spirit, she had taken all the power right back to herself.

Her elder sister, the Alpha Princess, shone with brilliance that would put the sun to shame, a halo of power betwixt her head. A crown.  She was the alpha, untouched by the filth of this world with a countenance like silken petals ans ethereal elegance.

Cordial. Pure. Perfect.

To Exodus, she was an unerring deity, wreathed in grace. Efflorescent like shards of sunlight. Far more absolute and holy than any religion that sentient creatures deferred to. To go against that power and divine right was unholy-- unthinkable and a crime punishable beyond compare, for it meant forsaking their customs and the power of Her Majesty, who would shine forever. This rule was written into every line of their prehistoric veins.

Unbeknownst to Exo's own mind, her unwavering and deep set loyalty and worship bordered on fanaticism.

But that was fine. Her zealous, impassioned ardor-- that was better than fine, in fact. Because she could let the devotion keep the sickening, twisted greed at bay that lurked on her heart whenever she looked at the overpowering Sun, the light that guided her. The role of a god was never meant for her. She knew this, deep down inside.

And it meant she could keep that malicious longing and desire staved valiantly.

For now.

Because she was darkness, and whenever she looked at the light, she burned.

Her eyes, sharp, glimmered like honey with vitality.

She couldn't wait to see mother, trembling out of her feathers with anticipation she was. Oh how proud the endless void would be of them, for travelling where they had never touched before! They had learnt much from their travels. Her chest expanded with pride.

She was a viper, a little archaic terror in her own right. A monstrosity made to curvalinear, savage sickle claw glinting ebony as her heavy toes sunk into the blessed heated soil and soft sand. A youthful body, limber and lean and powerful, moved with practiced grace and stealth.

She felt invincible with her siblings by her side. They were destined to conquer by divine right. No one would be able to touch them-- these young monsters, that they were,  beings to bring others cowering with their prowess, wreathed in

There was dangerous force about her presence as she walked, the juvenile running high on her own strength. As the gal moved, she split the reeds with ease and they parted before her, bowing their supplication to the arrival of three heroes.

The untamed girl's seamless motions worked in unearthly sync with her siblings, signifying the unity that she craved for so heavily. Her body? Smooth like water. Lithe and supple, trimmed of the excess baby fat to leave behind only rippling muscle beginning to be honed.

Now she was truly a force to be reckoned with-- always had been in fact, for she sported claws sharper since she had last been here. Truer to the unruly nature she never tried to conceal.

She was a predator prowling through her realm, cloaked in menace, and everything within her calculative gaze was for the taking.

---

Their nest had been invaded. The acrid stench of an intruder sat heavy and thick on her tongue, in the back of her throat and clung jealously to her nostrils. The scent traced along the edges of their garish nest. Disturbed by weeks of being unkept, yet still marked with the same ivory bones of glorious trophies and feathers that made up it's boundary and outer crown.

'Do not fret, dear sister,'
She lisped in their dialect, growl husky with ominous ebb and flow of the tentative lust for blood. 'I will find the invader and kill them myself. You shall get your rest.' The anticipation of her muscles working like a well oiled machine, lethal talons dancing through the air like heralders of death to bring an end to the miserable life of encroacher was like no other. Her teeth itched, white incisors like razors and ancient instincts flaring with the compulsion to rend hot red. Ready to sink into the soft flesh of any who intrude their intimacy or oppose their power.

A cold gaze akin to slivers of ice flickered upon Lucifer's presence. Sensed the familiarity of warmth and tender motherhood. Gossamer and pure, long before Exodus saw him.

Instantly, Exodus was awash with relief and comfort, the ache of journey's gift fading away and stripped all lingering weariness from her being.

Luciferus offers a blanket of protection with his own vessel, and Exodus pushes into it with a grateful exhale of air much like a sigh. She revels in her mother's strength, drinking in quiet comfort. No words are needed. None would be.

[align=right][glow=black,2,300]You got to see the artistry
In tearing the place apart with me, baby
[/glow]