..consumed by a black fate..

..consumed by a black fate..

Postby Whisper » Wed Aug 06, 2003 3:36 am

Faces swam in a blur of heat; her hands were too weak to tremble. The skies beyond the hospital window pulsed with the black blood of countless spiders, and the shutters groaned a more precise agony than her throat might have managed in this stage of the poison’s path in her bloodstream. The two clerics left to watch her exchanged grim looks, partnered with quiet, quiet words.

“She hasn’t moved.”

“She is not dead.”

“She will be.”

“Were I you, I would not begin to assume the gods.”

They watched as she closed her eyes again and knew it would be another day of waiting. She always slept hard...


~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~




“Tyralor? Tyralor, stop! I know yer ‘ere!” she laughed and ran through the crumbling ruins, turning around and around; time-eaten pillars stretched like gnarled fingers for the sky - the sea of stars giving off their sovereign light to the land. The girl lay her hand against stone, pausing for a breath and calling out again: “It’s only me an’ me shadow! There ain’ no call to ‘ide from us!”

“‘ide from us! ‘ide from us! ‘ide from us!” mocked a hollow echo, rebounding off the ruins and the sky and the treeline. She took off after a shadow disappearing around the corner and stopped again when it was gone.

It might have been quiet as the grave, if not for the wind tittering through her curls, drawing them across her pale throat. Ember coloured eyes, dancing with humour, winked behind her shoulder and away.

She spun around and put her hand to where her breast ached over her heart, clutching her summer shawl tight to her body; anxiety began a deep-rooted growth. She glimpsed a center of pale light in the distance. There was a low sound of hunger coming from the place.

“T- Tyralor?” she whispered in confusion.

Shoving away from the stone, she began to run toward the light - faster and faster, pillars whipping past, grass blades crushed underfoot. There was a chill in the air, but there was no cloud in the sky to promise a storm. The girl burst through a lustrous drape of vines and stumbled to a halt. White heat penetrated her metal eye so that the lid slid over it, clenching.

Turning to adjust, her dark eye absorbed the sight of four, ragged, hooded figures hunched around something in the dirt; little more than a vapour, a naked drow stood beside them, the sentinel of their feast. They tore with jagged nails and ravaged with their teeth. One raised its head, lipless mouth oozing with blood - metal eyes regarding her with manic glee; it quickly ducked back down, moaning amongst a company of ecstatic sounds. Hunger. .

She bolted forward, throwing herself into the undead, swinging her elbows to knock them aside in desperation; she covered the victim’s body with her own, throwing back her head - tears streaming from her livid eye.

“No more distractions,” advised the fading voice of the drow, white hair a sinister contrast to black flesh. The four undead stood back, as though by invisible strings - held and satisfied to be consumed by their master’s control. They left her to her grief, and the sky began to blacken - starlight smothered out, as though turning a million blind eyes to the dark times of the world.

The girl forced herself to look down at the face of the body, and though a pool of blood had spread around them both, he seemed unmarked, serene and white. His eyes were closed in his death. She seized him by his shoulders and began to shake him forcefully, her face intent. “Wake UP! Wake UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!”



~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~


"Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP! " she howled, back arching up from the bed. The two clerics grasped her arms and held her down, for she was thin and weak despite her rage.

"The poison!"

"Calm her!"

The girl twisted furiously as a familiar, white cloth clasped over her mouth and nose. The scent was noxious, and her throat seized raggedly as she stole a breath from the fumes. Almost instantly, she collapsed back to the matress, head rolling onto her pillow, eye glazing over and shut.

They stayed close a while longer to be certain that the concoction served its purpose, dabbing the sweat from their brows. Long looks were exchanged, this time in utter silence.

The shutters of her window moaned on their hinges, and there was no wind to move them...
The hue of dungeons and the scowl of night ...
User avatar
Whisper
Member
 
Posts: 191
Joined: Mon Dec 09, 2002 8:00 am
Location: in your bloodstream.

Return to Myrken Wood



Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 13 guests

cron