07-11-2018, 08:24 AM
[align=center]
DOES THE BLANK STARE-
SCARE YOU MORE THAN THE FROWN?
[W]iskerDOES THE BLANK STARE-
SCARE YOU MORE THAN THE FROWN?
[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;color: #E0EEEE;"] It was easy to fall into comfort within the clan. Easy to forget the old hurt that they had caused- forget the havoc they had done within their life in it's entirely. But fire brought it back again- reminded Argus what it was they seek to bury. The Quartermaster wondered if it was viable within her from how tense she was comming closer, even as cremates gathered around in the mirth of 'spooky stories' mirth clear on their faces as Argus numbly tried to figure out what it was to feel anything but dread.
When she approached there was a mirthless smile sitting onto her features. Dull eyes watching everyone else and seeming to flicker away from the fire. Paper cutter wanted a mini competition on stories then, huh? Argus was an encyclapedia of stories. Having spent too many lives under their own insanity. It was a matter of choosing one that wouldn't be too... revealing to their character. "I've got a story if anyone is willing to listen."
Argus settled beside Lucifer, letting her body relax slowly, wings coming lax and hitting the sands where she sat on either side before she finally let her gaze sit onto the fire. Breathing in and remembering. Letting the words come to her. "The stories called Immortal fever. I have little idea if it was an actual sickness, but i Prefer to think of it as one. " She started the story with a title- classic at least and a good lasting impression. "The story isn't so much of a story as a historical observation. From a few years back, when i was little." A jibe at her rather old age considering the younger body she was currently in. She made a nod towards her step dad a slow smile curling on her expression was less honest by the minute as she recollected.
"In a Desert land- there is a clan carved between sandstone and painted with blood. A war ridden clan- known for it's monstrous nature in battle and a scorn to the other more peaceful clans. Beyond it's dangerous reputation- living in a desert was hard, but at least there was a semblance of community among them all." She let out a chuff, humorless "A family shall you say. They at least liked to pretend it was like that. They were all part of it. Together against the world- and made a life for themselves."
"I am not entirely sure where the stories began, But in the mouths of greedy power hungry creatures it spread as gospel. Immortal and powerful- they claimed to gift, all you had to do- was one simple task. Soul harvesting they called it. It worked like this- if you managed to consume a soul within your life- when you died you would come back to life. It had a limit, like all common abilities have now- it worked only 9 times. Like most things- the secret grew to include more than simply coming back to life- people forgot the limit of the power- and heard only what they wanted to hear. Battles became more gruesome- clans turned against each other- clan mates fighting clan mates for a chance a hope of living again."
"It became bigger than leaders could handle- stories of people gaining the powers of those spirit they consumed. Ice, electricity, telepathy. War became less meaningful, no longer justice or frighting for a cause but a chance to become something. Suddenly people were forgetting the reason to eat souls- mortals gaining a taste for something immortal. Craving it- becoming mindless beasts of war. My own clan at the time- fell to these delusions. I am honestly unsure how i managed to survive it." Of course- bloodclan fell for different reasons than a claim to power. But that wasn't necessary to tell, had to keep a story interesting, no?
When she looked up- she let her eyes flicker blue as a evil smile fitted across her features. "Or maybe, i do." She looked up to see the expressions of her cremates, her features shifting to more humors one that the serious edge she had when telling it. Of course, she knew how she lifted past it- but what she was inferring about her living past it was all wrong. But she had too keep the story spooky no?
When she approached there was a mirthless smile sitting onto her features. Dull eyes watching everyone else and seeming to flicker away from the fire. Paper cutter wanted a mini competition on stories then, huh? Argus was an encyclapedia of stories. Having spent too many lives under their own insanity. It was a matter of choosing one that wouldn't be too... revealing to their character. "I've got a story if anyone is willing to listen."
Argus settled beside Lucifer, letting her body relax slowly, wings coming lax and hitting the sands where she sat on either side before she finally let her gaze sit onto the fire. Breathing in and remembering. Letting the words come to her. "The stories called Immortal fever. I have little idea if it was an actual sickness, but i Prefer to think of it as one. " She started the story with a title- classic at least and a good lasting impression. "The story isn't so much of a story as a historical observation. From a few years back, when i was little." A jibe at her rather old age considering the younger body she was currently in. She made a nod towards her step dad a slow smile curling on her expression was less honest by the minute as she recollected.
"In a Desert land- there is a clan carved between sandstone and painted with blood. A war ridden clan- known for it's monstrous nature in battle and a scorn to the other more peaceful clans. Beyond it's dangerous reputation- living in a desert was hard, but at least there was a semblance of community among them all." She let out a chuff, humorless "A family shall you say. They at least liked to pretend it was like that. They were all part of it. Together against the world- and made a life for themselves."
"I am not entirely sure where the stories began, But in the mouths of greedy power hungry creatures it spread as gospel. Immortal and powerful- they claimed to gift, all you had to do- was one simple task. Soul harvesting they called it. It worked like this- if you managed to consume a soul within your life- when you died you would come back to life. It had a limit, like all common abilities have now- it worked only 9 times. Like most things- the secret grew to include more than simply coming back to life- people forgot the limit of the power- and heard only what they wanted to hear. Battles became more gruesome- clans turned against each other- clan mates fighting clan mates for a chance a hope of living again."
"It became bigger than leaders could handle- stories of people gaining the powers of those spirit they consumed. Ice, electricity, telepathy. War became less meaningful, no longer justice or frighting for a cause but a chance to become something. Suddenly people were forgetting the reason to eat souls- mortals gaining a taste for something immortal. Craving it- becoming mindless beasts of war. My own clan at the time- fell to these delusions. I am honestly unsure how i managed to survive it." Of course- bloodclan fell for different reasons than a claim to power. But that wasn't necessary to tell, had to keep a story interesting, no?
When she looked up- she let her eyes flicker blue as a evil smile fitted across her features. "Or maybe, i do." She looked up to see the expressions of her cremates, her features shifting to more humors one that the serious edge she had when telling it. Of course, she knew how she lifted past it- but what she was inferring about her living past it was all wrong. But she had too keep the story spooky no?