Sordid Secrets
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Umbrae Eve {Giselle} - Royal Phoenix - 02-09-2018

هذا الصباح انتقلنا الشمالية 
مرة أخرى
من خلال الأدغال غريب.
ونحن نعلم أن العدو ما زال يتبع:
في الليل نرى نيرانهم،
بعد يوم غبارها. 

This morning we moved north again
through strange bush.
We know the enemy still follows;
by night, we see their fires,
by day their dust.



Few know this, but there is devilry within me. I have kept it well hidden; perfectly concealed therein the tightly knit layers of my psyche, and enshrouded with android precision in my soul. I loved causing suffering. I truly did. But only to others who enjoyed causing suffering. In my homeland I was, to the innocent, a savior. I sought their needs and fulfilled them. I washed their leprosy-ridden wounds. I gave them my palace-made meals. Yes, a savior. To those of wicked intent, I was a succubus from the gaping mouth of the underworld, a seething spitting snake who enjoyed toying with her prey before finally feasting upon it. And though I enjoyed it, and strangely enough never regretted it, I cling to the guilt I have about it. For perhaps guilt is the only thing remaining that continues to feed what exists of my conscience. 

Coming to Victus made me question myself in ways I never encountered. Before, I held no doubt about my ability, and certainly no doubt about my mental fortitude. Now, I wondered what would be the havoc wrought by one piece slipping out of the cumulus that was my composure. I knew fully well what happened to those who did not acknowledge their spiritual health; they became molded into sick, pathetic beings without strength or welfare. Alas, without thoughts or beliefs even. Zombified, by their own slothful stagnancy. It was tragic for me to watch then, and the thought of succumbing to such a fate myself was, for once, imperatively frightening to me. 

The Wardens was a quiet, docile place, where events were typically the same with each passing day. It was a droning, and tiresome lifestyle, and yet part of me relished it completely. I knew that braving the wilderness on my own in such a strange land was foolish, and suicidal risk. To satiate my wanderlust, and my yearning to know this land inside and out, I wandered from the borderlands, feeling slight solace that at least I would have a dwelling which to return. It was early evening, and the sun was beginning to descend. I was losing light, and sought to return to the Lazy River, but something from the vast expanse of thick, gnarled, black wooded brush before me, marked with inexplicable scents that did not smell of anything resembling life, alarmed me. Called to me. With a voice similar to that of the void. 


Heed, and listen closely.





RE: Umbrae Eve {Giselle} - Giselle - 02-11-2018


graveyard pyres & ghostflowers

Spring distilled within her lungs, deposited a vagrant memory of inhalation and purpose. Each time she would dredge forth the kindling zephyrs of air, she was left with the acrid memoirs of how it felt to be crushed with the need of such necessity, but cruelly, perfectly denied. She remembered the salt and the way that oceanic whims and lulled her into eternal sleep. She awoke, a nightmare of life - a nightmare of knowing she was still cursed to walk these mortal plains for what could possibly be until the end of era. It bittered her, leaving her frigid in the wake of feral desire for some manner of closure. Of an ending. Simply, she would stop. No longer did her existence hang by such delicate thread, the lingering impulse of mortality to indulge their crumpling bodice with ventilation. No habits remained within her, no steadfast remembrances that she yearned for from the before days. Only the tart tantalization of sorrow embedded itself like vicious talons within fragile breast. She was poltergeist. She was spirit. She was wafting vexation and mislead trust.

She roamed, endless. Though it always seemed her paths would always intertwine, eviscerated with that woven fates of what the masses of this sundered province knew as Ferus. It was sanctum of the dead. It was a place of rest for those bereaved and negated from the river Stixx. They were the remnants dwindling behind guiding lanterns and instead housed within the encompassing shade of vehement ruler's shadow. However now, wraith sought gentle pulse. The other's presence was a singing beckon, a harrowed siren song that whispered into the cup of attentive ear cusped forward in vigilant heed. It seemed she was not the only one tempted as she detected through piercing scrutiny the hastened approach of dancing flutter. She could nearly dance to it, a slow, lurching waltz of lethargy to move her feet.

She awaited.

Valkyrian visage would enter her plagued sights, burgandy eyes pale in opacity as chilling dust trailed from her haunting frame. She was close to being entirely translucent herself in the impassioned throes of dying Apollo's chariot as it ran rampant towards the horizon in lessening clarity. Artistic brush would sweep blank canvas with a myriad of hues of burning compassion. Already, they were beginning to be pierced by evanescent starlight - spears of the night that initiated perilous revolution each eve. Her stare would lower from perceivable skies, kind - hollow - smile lilting upon her lips in exquisite simper. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Her voice an echo of water, a droplet cascading haplessly into the yawn of the infinite oceans.




"Echoes of ocean"




RE: Umbrae Eve {Giselle} - Royal Phoenix - 02-11-2018

هذا الصباح انتقلنا الشمالية 
مرة أخرى
من خلال الأدغال غريب.
ونحن نعلم أن العدو ما زال يتبع:
في الليل نرى نيرانهم،
بعد يوم غبارها. 

This morning we moved north again
through strange bush.
We know the enemy still follows;
by night, we see their fires,
by day their dust.



Was it because of this place that my sleep ceased to greet me that night, that nightmares plagued my sensory cognition as they resurrected themselves from the depths of my awareness? When slumber evaded me, I would wander, and wander endlessly. It was the nature of the abyss to take control of a woman such as myself; its gender remained inconclusive and yet I could sense the domineering core of its fathomless chasms. Before me, now stood a barricade of a canopy, its harrowing harmony a sheer onslaught on my sentience, sounding the beacon of the temple of black gods within. The earth divulged hotly in vicious penetrating divergence at this particular expanse of scenery; I would truly be a unique breed of fool if I did not heed its strident admonition.

In the Wardens, the dead walked among them like family, spirits of the deceased ever lasting and existing in non-corporeal form, as though they never left this realm.  And yet, as I observed this site, I felt the foreboding aural imminence emanating dangerously from it, as though a portal existed therein, and stood as an invisible, yet perceived prophecy of impending doom. The pessimism driving home throughout my constricted veins this eve proved to be quite the malediction, and provided me with an enthralling chance for atonement. I despised feeling unstable, and I despised feeling a lack of control. As convulsive as my soul had manifested that night, my actions would still have to ask permission from my mind to demonstrate themselves.

When she appeared, a great gust of wind slammed into my form, but with all its force I felt no ill intent within its manipulated energy. The woman materialized, gazing lovingly into the same scene which I was ruminating the darkness of my intrinsic impulses. “Beautiful, isn't it?” Her voice rang like the soft chimes of bedewed bells, the slickened water of her tones coating artful tongue in alluring silver. My charcoal stare incisively gazed upon her, coral and lavender plumage instinctively fanning out in greeting to the encroaching party. Yes...as beautiful as decay can be deemed. I replied softly, my regard ever still focused on her ethereal form roving and seething with bodiless, and boundless energy. Is this the tribe of the dead?


Heed, and listen closely.




@Giselle


RE: Umbrae Eve {Giselle} - Giselle - 02-13-2018


graveyard pyres & ghostflowers


Salacious gaze would drift down, idle like that of a fallen star that graced the peripherals of her vision with glissading tail of bright omen. She peered in curious perception upon her, this wanderer of  eves. Night was yet to fall, hung suspended in temporary trance, the cradle of twilight etched in graying vignette through this sordid land. The moon was ascending as the sun bled out his wretched fury of fire and cinder, holding one another in brief embrace before the pendulums of dominance would be deviate. Dusk suited her well, enticed the colorful guile of her outstanding plumage which danced so poetically within the ire of her summoning winds. It was her keen scrutiny, that held her captive.  Her stare was dark, as amorous and foreboding as the deepened abyss from which she had once so long ago plummeted in glorious free plunge. It brought a twitch to her lips, a meticulous tick beginning within her jaw as mechanical smile seemed to harbor upon her velvet jaws.

Yes...as beautiful as decay can be deemed. Her words were harbored by precise vocals, adept in pining control and reign of sovereignty. Is this the tribe of the dead? The faint, coquettish sound of her coy laughter would ring softly betwixt them, interlacing with those who came to enrapture in the rise of Titania's hollow iridescence. The aria was girlish, ghoulish in its fiendish echo of unnatural hymn. "Decay happens to all." She would purr, silken, dulcet tune lilting as she shifted, exuding a turbulent chill that matched the desperate grasping caress of winter's last breath. "We are the dead. The final resting place, yes." There was pause, her questions riling something within her, the stir of acrid memory.

Theirs appeared a malicious history. Once existing beyond the veil, Ferus was torn through the portal with deranged sacrifice. They were a kin never meant to walk the earth, yet here they were and here they must remain. This was the likeness of rest, the reflection of finality that was shattered in mirror's imagery. "And you. Where do you reside with such eyes of shadow?" She hummed, a coaxing melody. She had always been told that the optics were home to the soul. Should that be true, what manner of darkness must hide within this ethereal, mortal beauty?





"Echoes of ocean"


@Royal Phoenix


RE: Umbrae Eve {Giselle} - Royal Phoenix - 02-14-2018

“And I, half-asleep, half-awake,
just when I am drained of dreams,
am filled with you and replenished."




The woman's aural presence waxed and waned with the divine temporal flow; with the molecular essence of the afterlife emanating from her form, she were truly the ultimate paragon of a wraith. Therein my own existence in my clan, I knew those who had deceased, and the devices of their intrinsic marrow would be forever fascinating unto me. Somewhere profoundly deep I felt the desire to know what it was to take on such a form, to hold onto this mortal world well after dying. Were some so tied to this realm of corporeality that they literally could not bear to cross over after their physical form had deteriorated and fallen? 

Betwixt the femme's words there was ample time for contemplation, for she spoke with the somber rhythm of eternity laced in her tones. This manifestation of the afterlife was considered a crime against nature in my original homeland; spirits were not meant to linger, and it was a detriment to their spiritual health to let them linger. I performed many exorcisms for my people, and destroyed their hopes of holding onto their lost loved ones. As I assessed the past, I realized perhaps there was no crime in lingering after death. For the woman before me, whether she lamented death or not, this was no transgression against the vastness of nature, an entity akin to the universe, and ever still a mind-elongating mystery. 

Sunset was fading, giving birth to the obscured brilliance of twilight. The temperature was already dropping, and I knew this spirit would not feel a single lick of the cold against her unfeeling skin. “Decay happens to all.” Her reply was enslaved by the puerile regard therein her tenor, her youth exquisitely concocted with that of old, and I would bear witness unto her quietly seething duality. “We are the dead. The final resting place, yes. Where do you reside with such eyes of shadow?” My gaze softly blinked, the invisible pupils within my irises dilating fully. 

I dwell in the Wardens currently. I said tentatively, not at all relishing how hungry the other seemed for personal knowledge. But my homeland is one of sand and endless sun.

Heed, and listen closely.



@Giselle


RE: Umbrae Eve {Giselle} - Giselle - 02-16-2018

ghostflowers

"I dwell in the Wardens currently. But my homeland is one of sand and endless sun." Endless sun. The ideal intrigued her, the concept entirely foreign of a moonless eventide. To she who was so embedded within the ocean waves after death and rising, she was akin betrothed to pale Lune's whims. They guided her like the ebb and flow of restless tide. They drew her to and fro, here to there with gentle occult persuasion that she had no means to resist. For the first time in what felt the staggering weight of ages, she would inhale. Her stilled lungs would function, slowly as she pulled in her senses. She was curious of this woman, though malignant or benevolent she knew not herself. No animosity or hostility blossomed within her heart - yet so too was absent the kindred kindness that she had nurtured within her life. There was only the cold, spectral feeling of emptiness that reflected in mannequin movement as she tilted her head in unnatural motion.

"I dwell in the Wardens currently." The words reverberated through her, stirring something within. Smile etched upon her lips, a crack in ghastly, brittle china that ran the length of her maw. Wardens, watchers. Dangerous whispers echoed in fleeting plumes of smoke through cerebral musings. She had not heard of them, no deigning recognition to fleet through her riffling thoughts. What did they seek to preserve within this land? The province itself? This earth harbored an ill intent that sought to constantly permeate and pervert her delicate energies. Dark magic, sacrifice. It was written in the wounded entrails of vast planet that she and now others inhabited. Perhaps her old home was riddled with chaotic bedlam such as this. She had simply been to closed off to realize, her spirit protected, guarded by numbing shell of flesh. Now it was left raw, unadulterated in purest form for all to see. Just as she appreciated the obscurity within her. The more intense the light, the deeper the shadows.

The gale rose higher.

"What is it you wish to guard?" She inquired, svelte skull remaining at uncanny pivot upon her axis. She found her curiosity unsatisfied, unfulfilled in her pursuit. What was it she dredged for? Was it the mires of bleakness and faults within her own being? The other's? "Do you know a treasure that the dead do not?"




"Echoes of ocean"



@Royal Phoenix


RE: Umbrae Eve {Giselle} - Royal Phoenix - 02-20-2018


هذا الصباح انتقلنا الشمالية 
مرة أخرى
من خلال الأدغال غريب.
ونحن نعلم أن العدو ما زال يتبع 

My prayers go unanswered
  my pleas go unheard
  how I still have faith
  is truly absurd.



Wholesome beauty; immaculacy driven with genes untouched by nefarious attributes. Even upon looking at the impeccable surface of her form, I could recognize the conspiring soul lurking right beneath the tranquil waves of a pristine countenance. She were devilishly coaxing me, the provocative and meandering touch of her language sending sickening chills throughout the winding staircase of my skeleton. My musculature inwardly quivered in her presence; the temperature dropped as she approached, warmth fleeing her existence. In the creases of her pretty face I could see the lurid desire, an incubus of sorts dwelling therein below superficial calm, and a guise of supernal carriage. The impulse, the intent, the volition emanated from her as a demonic fume aching to catch fire. Betwixt the poetry of her seeming puerility, her youth portrayed across features faultless and unmarred, I would assume she had lost her corporeal form many, many years ago. The ages of spirits could last several lifetimes of the living, and here she was, untouched by time. She emotes again, her words the tickle of spiders across bare skin, with the gentleness of an ill-intended motherly figure. The void is speaking to me through her. I have no choice, but to heed, and listen. “What is it you wish to guard?” She queries hungrily. “Do you know a treasure that the dead do not?” She alludes to earthly consumption, to the gains of a mortal form of life. I immediately took to intrigue, and disbelief, that the dead could still absorb themselves with such material matters. The Wardens guard nothing but a peaceful way of life. I said slowly, my gaze upon her incisively, as though my instincts subtly alerted me to the woman's inherent danger. A way of life, that the dead, too, are welcome to take part.

Heed, and listen closely.




@Giselle


RE: Umbrae Eve {Giselle} - Giselle - 02-21-2018

ghostflowers

She found herself softly humming, mariner's tune echoing through the lilting notes of clarion soprano as the vibrancy of this woman deftly intrigued her, spinning her along a dangerous thread of interaction. Not many had lay witness to her fleeting frame in her lingering time within Victus, even fewer had dared approach the eye of wicked storms to converse. This creature, this marvelous entity seemed brave beyond default, or perhaps her own curiosity was just as relentless and starving as Giselle's own. The Wardens guard nothing but a peaceful way of life. Almost tender smile rendered her jaws at the words, those elusive marring promises, but never did such expression trespass within the hollow of her emptying stare. Burgundy gaze was a vacuum, a whirling subjugation that cleanly deleted all inner workings of mind save for the cherub kiss of coquettish behavior. How long had it been since that word had wormed its presence into her delicate psyche? Many ages of mortals had wept through living existence since one had transgressed the utterance of those deceitful syllables to her attentive ear. A way of life, that the dead, too, are welcome to take part. Again, the demure peel of impish laughter left her, ringing through restless gale as piercing pools would seek to latch deep into the depths of this femora. She sought shadows through darkness, an encroaching flicker to ignite searing illumination through her, to further cast the devouring eclipse further into her cerebrum, tainting her soul further with struggling apprehension. "Any wraith who swears upon such an oath... "She would pause, optics narrowing incisively, "is a liar."





"Echoes of ocean"



@Royal Phoenix