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 //
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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THE FLOWER BURNS