how do i make my spirit cold ⚘ open, failed speaking

[aesior]

AESIOR OPHELES

✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go

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Facing out from the circle of eyes, his own gaze upon the sky as he contemplated, his mind lost and wandering as he sat in statue-like silence. Tail curled around his paws, claws sheathing and unsheathing. He barely remembered coming up here, but the biting gale around him chased away those thoughts. Ears laid back to try and preserve what little he could hear, he watched the stormy clouds brewing deeper in the mountains, his maw open as he drank in the air. The feeling he got from those clouds was a familiar one, watching them tumble and twist with the promise of snow for either their mountains or others. Gaze cutting away, he would watch birds diving in calmer winds, eyes narrowed as he observed, watching the river cutting through the territory. Closing his eyes to give himself a sense of peace, he began to fear the memories that would come back for him. He feared to hear the screams of the dead if he relaxed too much.

Shaking his head, the tabby tom would get to his paws and travel away from the plateau cliff at a trot, tired eyes barely placing each step in fron of himself, a voice in his head luring him, calling to him, summoning him. Once upon flatter ground, in an expanse where he wouldn't hurt himself, he let the flickers of hope appear in his chest. It was them - they'd come to talk, hadn't they? Well, he had told them he was going off to die. And he surely must have to be reborn in this body, unable to change, stuck reliving his life in it. Was that another life? Was it this one? He had lived an amount too many to bother with the small details, he only knew he was alive and had experienced some of his life in this body.

The closer he got to the border the louder yet softer the voice would grow, sweeter as it called his name, causing him to break into a run. The one he served called for him - he must heed their call. Sliding to a stop at the border as the voice screamed inside of his head in that painfully sweet and adoring voice, he knew it was his mind. It was just his mind playing a trick upon him. He wasn't hearing them, not the way they would have been calling for him had they been here. The two friends hadn't split well, not with a one-sided love that needed to be hidden for the other's happiness, clever bastard that they were and he had run, run from the pain and the refusal, run from the only being who had ever cared about him since the big incident, since he'd watched them die in his arms.

Shaking his head as he stood at the border, tears dripping unbidden down his face, only aware of the strangled sounds he was producing from his throat, trying to cry out their name to draw their figment from his memories. Paws and claws digging into turf and around rocks, he would pace the border, trying to cry out for them. How he regretted running like the coward he was - how was he supposed to protect them when he was missing. Not that it mattered, they were safe with their family around them. He was here now, he had others to get to know, but he couldn't stop that aching pain, their scent fresh in his nose as if it were as real as a physical entity. They wouldn't visit the Beyond just for their grim - they couldn't guide the souls here anyways.

// he's now pacing the border trying to call out a name in a bit of a worried/upset state as he tries to calm himself down enough to think about what's going on - he thought he heard a voice and smelt the scent that belongs to the being he served before coming to the beyond //

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✯ — MALE. THE GOLDEN EYE. MEDIUM DIFFICULTY. REF. LANGUAGE GUIDE. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[CLEOPATRA THEMA.]

[ARLO M.]

[align=center]

ARLO MAXIMUS

[div style="max-width: 600px; height: 24px; background: #b0a089; padding: 5px; line-height: 15px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; color: #943c3d;"][align=center] — [b]DRACONIC FELINE - GOLDEN EYE - VANGUARD - TAGS —

Arlo had some doubts about Aesior. How to communicate, first, was one of the big points, but the second, was their story. He didn't know Aesior, and couldn't truly get to know him without vocal speech. But Arlo had decided to set that aside- nothing worse then not trying, right? He had decided on this particular day to get up and find him- but there was a gale blowing in. Stepping out of the cavern, his eyes lifted to the skies- flying might have been a predicament in this weather, so he decided to leave that aside.

Slowly, Arlo had searched the territory. It wasn't a pressing problem, but seeing Aesior head for the border, and Cleo stepping over after him, he huffed a sigh of relief. What a strange thing to get worried over. He knew it was his responsibility to watch after his clanmates, to keep them safe. Arlo shook his head and headed over, hearing the strangled shouts and seeing the clearly ruffled state of Aesior.

A frown crossed his muzzle, glancing at Cleo. Something was clearly the matter, but he left it alone, looking back towards Aesior. Arlo shuffled his wings, stepping a bit closer. "You're alright. If.. if you need help, let m- us know. We're here to help." Red eyes shifted towards Cleo, threatening muck duty in the cavern silently with his eyes if she refused.

"speech"

[aesior]

AESIOR OPHELES

✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go

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Their presences were a reminder that he wasn't fully alone. He couldn't express everything, he couldn't say how much it hurt inside, how much it hurt to remember those he could no longer touch. Even if they weren't on friendly terms, the two right here were still the closest things he had. They were his groupmates, and they'd followed him, maybe they'd heard his sounds and came to see why he was making them. How did one explain that they missed the dead and absent?

Shoulders shivering as he looked up at both Arlo and Cleo, raising a paw to rub at his face, taking deep breaths as he held onto the name, it felt so strange, as if they were his secret. They had been his best friend, they'd been close before, before all of this. Eventually he might be able to tell them all of his stories, to those who wanted to speak to him. Inhaling and exhaling as he gave a nod of his head, feeling the tangling of willow, blood orchid and yellow roses making their presence known upon his shoulders. Putting his paw over his chest, where his heart rested, wearily pulling out his notebook.

Setting it down on a flat stone, he would do his best to write out simple words to explain what happened. His gaze falling upon a black snake's body, his ears switched back and he took a breath to hold it in. It wasn't them, they would never make the trip here. He just had to accept it. Turning his attention to his notebook, he would scrawl I'm sorry. Grieving. Thought I smelt someone I lost., his gaze would hover over the snake, making a mental note to bury it in some sort of respect for the one he'd run from. They were as good as dead to one another - they each had their own paths now but it didn't mean the past hurt any less.

// willow is sadness, blood orchid is feeling overwhelmed by loneliness and yellow roses are grief and sorrow //

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✯ — MALE. THE GOLDEN EYE. MEDIUM DIFFICULTY. REF. LANGUAGE GUIDE. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[FRAGGLEROCK.]

Grief. It wasn't an emotion that Fragglerock had a lot of experience with, at least not to his knowledge. He supposed part of him grieved for the memories that he had lost, but he couldn't truly miss something he didn't even know about. For all he knew, said memories could've been filled with pain, and suffering. They could've been traumatic and horrible, and his mind got rid of them for a reason. It was because of this that he wasn't trying too hard to actively seek the past out. Or, well... it was the part of the reason, anyways. The other part was that he didn't really know how to draw those old memories out. He didn't really think he could just force it. Either way, he didn't really grieve for his memories, so much as he just wondered about them. The only thing he could really feel grief over was his family, and the fact that he didn't know where any of them were. Hell, he didn't even know if any of them were alive. The boy was trying his best not to dwell on that, though, not willing to let any sort of feeling of grief overwhelm him. He had more things to be happy about than sad, after all. He finally had a home, and a place where he could presumably make new friends – maybe even find a new family.

Aesior was part of that new friends category, although Fraggle was sure the other didn't consider him to be a friend just yet. The rabbit still considered him to be a comforting presence, as he and Arlo both had been fairly kind at his joining. They had been what had kept the boy from bolting the moment Cleo arrived with her harsh words, honestly. He had quickly been made aware that Aesior couldn't talk, but... that was okay. While talking was the easiest way of communicating, it wasn't the only one. Frag still hadn't mastered the art of reading, and he was sure it would be a little while before he could, but that wasn't the only thing he was looking into. Charades was also an option, and sign language as well. Although... the boy wasn't sure if Aesior knew sign language, and it would be such a pain to ask the feline to learn sign language just to communicate with him. Nevertheless, Fragglerock still decided to look into it, just in case. Both for his own curiosity, and also just in case he stumbled across anyone else that was mute, or even deaf.

Occasionally when the boy stumbled across the scent of other members of The Golden Eye, he would decide to follow. Mainly so he could say hi, and also because he didn"/ know the territory all that well, at least not yet. Today he had decided to do so with Aesior's scent, having stumbled across the other's trail while exploring the rocky plains. He found himself wincing a little when he followed it and found Cleo's scent trailing not far behind as well, but that was okay, he wouldn't allow himself to be intimidated. Besides... Arlo was there, which meant that he was safe. Cleopatra wouldn't do anything in front of the leader... right? These thoughts drifted from his mind when he finally reached where Aesior and the other were, Frag's ears drooping when he saw the state that the other was in. He was unable to read what the mute feline had written, but it didn't take much to figure out that Aesior was upset, and needed some kind of support. With this in mind, Fragglerock took a few more hops forward, leaning over to try and give one of Aesior's legs a soft hug. As he did so, he found himself muttering, "I'm sorry, Aesior... I hope that you feel better soon." He wished he could've helped out more, but hopefully his comfort would work out alright.

[glow=#4c2c1c,2,300]YOU CAN WRAP MY BRAIN IN PLASTIC[/glow]

[CLEOPATRA THEMA.]

[Grimm]

[table][tr][td]

ultimum eques
the golden eyes
stoneguard
albino oriental
tags

[/td][td]

[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: georgia; color: #664b4a; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 12px;"]NEVER GETS ANY BETTER, ONLY GETS WORSE

Is there a cure for grief, a way in which it may be assured to never bloom as those thorn laden roots twist and coil in the hollow emptiness of a split open chest — learn to never love.

That which lacks the fleeting chance to find a sure footing may not cause harm, yet such contained too many variables, numerous the chances sound reasoning may be diluted. A lesson hard learnt, over and over hammered home as though the experience may stick, an effect of such grandeur it may not be replicated. But it always was. To love, allowed that gentle warmth a chance to worm past walls so carefully erected and maintained, expected and thus acted out, sought even as better judgement called for its rejection.

Hand in hand went it and grief, the bitter tang as the sweetness abates, the reminder an end is always coming though malleable, an unknown bearing too many possibilities. Why was it they chased love, wished for it upon those glittering points caught in the vast expanse of the sky well above, to appear pen drawn to scrawl stories of an affection that might never end for it was all fantasy. Maybe it was for a mere taste of that euphoria it promised, a fragile moment given purpose and meaning thus the price was a trivial thing.

He knew them both, understood them in frames so different. Lingered on the clumsy affection and hasty warmth of childhood sweethearts unprepared for the reality as they play at make believe. Indguled in the unsure but hasty meeting of new love blossoming, understood and feared, wanted even as it incited terror. Always was he drawn back to the soft comfort of the years, a love created and maintained over years, a smoothed gem cherished for the time he was allowed. And so too he knew the grief of their break, held it as though it were a stone in his chest, a compressing weight that stole his breath and left him only endless agony beneath the desire to turn back the clock.

Vincent would not pretend this led to a perfect understanding, that he knew the manner in which it ate at the fickle heart, so soft and ready to take even with the danger that came from it. No, he was an imperfect mirror that may not reflect grief in the manner Aesior experienced it, but he could understand it.

As to the reasoning which drew him away from where jutting peaks met, land carved by a river that speaks with the voice of melted frost, one may only fathom a guess. In truth he bore none, movement sought to quell the activity that left his mind buzzing with the static murmur of white noise. It never helps. Yet continued his mindless wandering, languid pace unbroken, landscape never changing. Maybe this was simply how it was meant to be, change proven nothing more than an illusion, the brush quietly whispering back.

The thread of his thoughts broken, ragged strands falling away as the world came into slow clarity, numerous the times he blinked. Fool did he feel with the realisation behind was left his covering. He had no hour at which he planned to turn back and yet even without the peramiter to break, the impossible supposedly accomplished. Lacking a reason to do so now closer he stepped, caught only the offer put forth by Cleopatra, little, if any, the clue as to what prompted it present. Slow the shift of his attention to pages written with well articulated meaning, prolonged the time he studied them. Understood the written word to some degree, enough he was capable of getting by, rusty had he grown with it, however, numerous passed made before the words settled.

It seemed they shared a common ground he much preferred the other need not carry, a burden none equipped for and thus often were they crushed. Gentle the hum that bypassed his pursed lips, vision held for a moment on the written message before it rose, met a scene rather tender. An intruder was he reduced to, mouth opened and closed at irregular intervals another focal point sought. The barren landscape offered nothing, always back was he drawn. "I am sorry…" Quiet that he finally settled on, an echo of that said prior, nothing else felt adequate and so it was left at that.

[/td][/tr][/table]

© MADI

[aesior]

AESIOR OPHELES

✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go

space

The pressuring weight of the misery within his chest that made it a challenge to draw in any resemblance of breath, his heart quivering within its cage. Gaze upon black-scaled corpse curled beside the stone, seeing orbs of glazed over bronze within set skull, his brows drawing closed as he shivered. Nose tickled by Fraggle's scent, gray eyes falling upon the child with a lonely ache in his chest. He missed his own brood long lost to time, a bad parent that he had been for his first, children that he kept a forgotten secret for their own happiness. They hadn't had need of him with their guardians to care for them.

Press of tongue to tooth, accepting the child's hug with a wordless sniff, attempting to put his paw around his back in grateful response. It eased him somewhat to know that the child was at ease enough to approach him and make physical contact. Lifting his gaze to Cleopatra, he would give her a soft blink, raising his other paw to write upon his pages once more, thank you but their spirit is not one that wanders here. they are alive and happy far, far away, he would script out as a flame of shame overwhelmed him for a moment.

who was he to covet the one who would never be his? he was wrong to do so, but that nibbling feeling in the back of his mind when he had see them everytime had been enough, that he could be happy remaining as their grim. exhaling now as he felt and heard a new presence, his gaze falling upon vincent as the oriental joined the small gathering.

he could feel the choked emotion once again, something he desperately swallowed - he didn't want to be deceived by his loss and grief again. shaking his head at their apologies, he offered a sad and worn smile, they were lost to him but he was not to be forgiven for the love he had been tainted by. gazing at the barren lands for a moment more, he lingered, wondering if he should share the tale as painful as it was or if it should remain his to take to the eventual grave. settling, he would simply expand further upon his prior written words, they were my master. I was their servant, of a reaper, a grim. gathered the dead. i dearly miss them, we did not part well, he didn't want to give too much away but they should know in some part the truth that set heavy in his bones.

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✯ — MALE. THE GOLDEN EYE. MEDIUM DIFFICULTY. REF. LANGUAGE GUIDE. — ✯

#psychosocial.