[ Post a Response | Desreal ]
Posted by primordium on December 3, 2008, 7:23 pm, in reply to "pretend the world has ended; thread"
68.83.84.179
There is frost upon the grass where she lays… trembling and weakly sprawled against the frozen earth—shivering, always shivering. The green earth is paled by the icy grasps of winter, the wind biting at the flesh, biting and breaking—tiny blood droplets falling down her cracked skin. The earth below her is cold and unending, it never once considers her; even as she breathes upon it. Yet there in the darkness, hungry Gaia watches, prying eyes narrowed upon the shaking creature; the thing whose body lays mangled and sick upon the snow. There is a disturbance amidst the bodies; a most queer argument for a single body.
Wily Gaia shouts; “Take her! Hold her to your bosom and keep her warm!” her voice screaming loudly; echoing and drowning out everything.
Silenced Elemmírë whispers keenly to the bodies ears; “Leave her; she’s not worth it.”
Ancient Primordium hungry and merciless laughs, malevolently shrieking—like a wild harpy… “Kill the child! Show her mercy with swift dispatching jaws!”
Ichabod the noble cries out, but cannot speak- for in a single second there is a bizarre warmth which shakes through her bones. She looks upon the shivering thing, covered in blood and winters frost; and for a moment she sees it die. She watches the life bleed from it; and silently she approaches. Her cold eyes narrow as she looks upon the strange thing; she lowers her nose—it is newborn and dead. She looks at its eyes, silvery white with no sort of markings; not even veins. She notices the color, the strange cherry-chocolate color, and the bizarre stripes; almost like a zebra. Gaia moves to seize the body; but silently she is repressed.
( it’s cold and the snow touches her; the stumbling mare-child clinging to her life falls to the earth, the infant inside of her twists and turns; but it is dead. The mare-child is infuriated and angry, she stumbles, falling to the ground as the baying wolves of Desreal hunger. She is wild and feral, kicking as she struggles against the earth; vines grabbing her legs and the soil absorbing her into its domain. In the distance a shadow lingers, malevolent green eyes peering as the stumbling mare is held; screaming while wolves spring upon her. the figure disappears into the shadow; and the wolves yelp wildly, they tear into the corpse and strangely die… from the mare it rises. The thing stumbles across the frigid earth, its movements sloppy and drunk; the earth burning to black ash around her. )
“What are you?” says the shadow.
“Azshara.” says the corpse.
“ Where did you come from.” The shadow speaks.
”The same place… as her.” says the corpse.
( she comes to rest by a stone, falling to the ground with a thump, her white eyes closed as she lays; the frigid earth around her unresponsive to her sway and control. She lays, wounds dripping blood and chlorophyll, and body slowly growing ever limp. She is dead; and was dead… and here she dies again. )
“Come with me.” Says Gaia, her eyes looking away as she turns into the darkness. behind her the body moves; the girl stands, and she walks; “yes… mother.” Her voice is disgusting, mechanical and bitter. She stumbles after her, Gaia smiles; the primordium smiles.
elemmírë & azshara"Then shadows began to gather;
first little furtive ones under the table,
and then bolder ones in the dark panelled corners."3
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