03-20-2017, 07:51 PM (This post was last modified: 03-20-2017, 07:52 PM by Sybil.)
Ethereal jade light filtered in through the base of the river. The Queen lay a the edge with her chin resting on the surface. Ghostly figures floated past but none dared reach for her, though if she were any other wolf they would've snatched at her with violent motions. The dead respected her more than her own pack did, how fitting. Sybil figured that if she was ever killed Mordecai would have a run for his place as king, then again, Exilium had no one else to rule. So maybe not.
A particularly bold spirit brushed against her flesh and snuck a thought into her mind. He's waiting. At first the words meant nothing, just the attempts of a lost soul to be found once more. But she heard it again, this time a different vessel sped past her and whispered it a bit louder. Sybil's attention was caught; these ones were never this vocal about anything. Life in the river had mellowed them out. The woman rose and stepped into the water, two figures snaked over to her and cried it out. He's waiting. She stepped farther out, daring to fall off the edge as she peered into the endless depths of the river. If there was any chance it was him... Sybil turned around to where her children were resting. Would they want to meet their father? She'd never been so hopeful, but if it really was him it meant that he was lying dead somewhere. Her stomach twisted as the spirits cried out in unicen. Free him! Sybil had never felt such a thing before; the ghosts were actually using magic to pull her deeper in. With magic of her own, she remained just on the edge before the drop off and refused to be sucked down to her death. “As you wish,” she muttered.
There was no telling how long he'd stood upon that barren place, awaiting the proverbial ferry to draw him out. It was a weakness forced upon his being, to wait upon the magic of a mortal and in part, it was somewhat humiliating. After all, of all the beasts and creatures of this place, not a one could step through the threshold and take what was rightfully theirs. However, after the things he'd seen in this place, perhaps, that was for the better. The moral world wouldn't survive and, while Omen had no real connection to the place or care for its survival, he appreciated the idea of there not being eternal lakes of fire.
Mortal days slipped through as he peered through the veil, those slitted eyes searching but never finding that with which he sought. Instead, he was met with the calls of birds, of small fodder glancing past, but never delving in. He saw the spirits spill through the cracks, not quite damned enough to be stuck where he now stood, but still damned in their sense. After all, there were very few options, from what he knew of. Death meant one of three places, none of which would sound particularly delightful.
With disgust mounting and irritation blossoming to new levels, Omen began to whisper to the souls that swam just beyond reach. At first, the action had been done out of boredom more than anything, however, when boredom turned to knowledge... well, one could never say Omen didn't know how to use the tools he had been given. Thus, as they swam and arched their immaterial bodies, they beheld his message. The repetition would surely remain upon their minds... it was like one of those songs that the other demons would sing. They weren't, particularly, any good, but the repetition was enough to lodge the sound into anyone's mind - especially the unwilling.
Omen stood there, stock still with violent tones of green peering at the new world, curiously searching for the one that would draw him free. Though, for quite some time none came and his patience blossomed into agitation. In part, he blamed the spirits, they were not doing their part as he had desired. It was apparent that his whispers had barely scraped their conscience and the result was less than adequate so far as he was concerned. However, never one to be dissuade, Omen lifted the octaves of his mental voice and garnered the attention of those he desired and the result was as pleasing as it could be, all things considered. Nevertheless, soon (as soon could be when mortal days passed so easily) he could feel the steps of one drawing near.
'He's waiting! The sound of their voices resounded all around the small opening with which he harbored, and then, much to his mild relief, he saw the corporeal appearance of a female; one the spirits seems fond of, to some degree, one could say. However, even as he gazed upon her, he wondered if a lone figure would be the key for his freedom; surely, if it were so simple, more of these vagrants would have surfaced by now...
He remained silent, despite his desire to speak for himself. For now, he'd allow the spirits to do their work. They'd brought her to him and thus she should understand what was meant by their cries. However, all the while, he was preparing himself for what he believed would be her list of demands - after all, he'd heard such things of mortals. They were like demons that way, their greed made them fine companions and even finer tools.
03-23-2017, 01:36 AM (This post was last modified: 03-23-2017, 01:36 AM by Saida.)
The longer she had been here, wandering from her beloved Devon for the time being, the more the witch doctor began to expand her reaches. Exploring her beliefs, stretching, yearning to learn more, to become more skilled. Saida was young, she had much to learn about the beliefs she held so dear. And in doing so, it was this mysterious place that...something had called her to. The young witch had no resistance to the pull, each step was made with ease and grace of her small stature. Silver eyes, one that no longer worked peered into the dim ethereal light through the gaps in the heavy ram skull she bore upon her head. Long teal banner flicked casually, despite how eerie the atmosphere was, the young girl remained calm and collected.
This didn't frighten her; this felt like home.
A slight pause was found before she drew herself closer, trailing behind another woman of rich ebony. She did not approach close to this other wolf, but stayed behind, watching through her single good eye, a single ear twitching as the voices cried out. Of course Saida had no magic to be able to free whoever these little spirits were speaking of, but how she wanted it. How she wanted to be apart of this, it was something deep inside her chest, a longing, a craving need that she could not shake. Inhaling deeply, chills ran down her spine before she spoke.
"What do we do," it was more of a statement than a question, something that said she was going to help - in anyway she could. She would give anything to be in on this. She needed to do this. She couldn't ignore the desire.
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