Misty Mountain is opposite of Rainbow Cliff. Mists hover year-round at this high altitude, mistaken by some to be thin clouds. Thin layers of snow cover the mountain, making some areas slippery and hazardous.
Some think it romantic, a place to bring their mates, while others come to play and romp. However, all must agree that there is some level of mystery and spookiness hovering about with the mists...
IP: 174.22.145.196
Posted on June 3, 2013 at 07:06:33 PM by NeMO
He was covered in bruises in welts this one was. His spine ached with the effort of keeping his nape upwards and to attention, but his concious knew that he was making more of a change within himself now that he was actually moving. Moving away from what had been, and going towards something that might be. A stinging incision in his nape pulled his russet and silver portals to the side. The bastard son of a King knew though that his pink tongue would do nothing to soothe such inflictions upon his bodice. And that was okay for him. He was learning-- and better yet, he was actually holding onto those lessons. The crimson and pale queen whom he had caught the attention of at the pack meeting a few weeks ago had given him a lesson he would never forget. Combat had never been taught to the adolescent. He needn't have had it a time ago. He was expected to do as he was told and lay low, not to disrupt anyone's fate or alter his own pathetic one either. Yet here he was, miles and miles from where his father mounted his peasant mother and injected her with his seed. Miles and miles away from where he had been born into a cruel world... miles from Hell, but living within range of his memories. Those memories kept him intact and ensured that he did not do anything out of line. Born a bastard, he would always be a bastard... and that was something he could not shake from his skin. He had been heading the wrong way to begin with. His sense of direction-- that mental compass that all vargs have, had been thrown off course due to the shaking of his innerds. A few times, the soldier in training stopped and vomited up the contents of his stomach, emptying himself and sickening himself further. A fortnight he had gone without the comfort of warmth or food. Andere Seite was his destination, but the lad knew not how to read the stars glistening as tears above his pale frame. The wind carried him and pushed him along, and that's why he was here, facing a masculine he did not know. Ghostly portals blinked in display of disinterest and he paused, not coming within at least fourteen feet of the fellow. Blood spilled down his white frame and soiled that beautiful cloak of his. Not that he cared... he had been involved in worse situations-- this was nothing compared to the true beatings he had recieved as a youngster. NeMO, though he wished to turn around and leave the demon to himself, had not the energy to do as he so beckoned his body to carry out. Instead, his sight drowned him in shapes and lights, casting him into an underland of sorts. He backed up a bit and then leaned up against a boulder, refusing to sit in the presence of another, as it would no doubt be considered rude. Determination flickered in his strange portals and he gathered saliva mixed with blood and soil in his mouth and spat to the ground. Quiet, respectable, brave, and wise. All the attributes that NeMO was gathered to make well... a semi-introvert. Nevertheless, he spoke up to alert the brujo of his presence should the man not already know of it. I will leave soon,. Words spoken to assure the soldier that he was not going to invade his space longer than he needed to-- and whatever his being there did to the male's emotions and attitude... well, that was not in any of his control at the moment. || NeMO || teen || male || |
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- .:Questioned Thoughts:. - By Airon June 3, 2013 at 11:13:37 PM
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