The forest stands tall and lush here; ancient trees reach weather-twisted arms to the sky, fighting monster-like storm clouds back with their interlacing fingers. Shadow seems to lurk everywhere you look, but it spills calmly, coolly, inspiring a sense of stealthy calm or protection rather than unease. That is, if you've forgotten what kind of creature might be stalking just out of sight...Abendrot is a land cradled by the dark woods on all sides; in the center, some of the larger trees stay behind to reveal a small plateau - a citadel where this pack can gather and defend itself from invaders. There are, of course, softer sides to the land. Clearings here and there allow the sun to throw down its rays in incongruously resplendent gold showers. Ignore the lingering scents of blood spattered here and there along the borders: those do not concern you. The river on one edge of the territory is playful enough when it hasn't been gorged by violent rain. You can choose to note the ragged claw marks raked down tree trunks and the forest floor as friendly "Home Sweet Home" signs, if you wish.

All who treasure loyalty, order, victory, and the occasional indulgence of raw visceral pleasure are welcome, once they've been approved by the ever-watchful eyes of Abendrot's Alpha. But keep one thing in mind: no matter what your motive, this is not a fool's Paradise. This is the land of soldiers, assassins, and spies. This is ABENDROT.

Make up your mind quickly and prepare to prove your worth. You wouldn't want to add to those blood spatters, would you...?

Refresh/Reload

{ without the night, there would be no stars }
IP: 168.223.70.183
Posted on December 2, 2013 at 04:40:02 AM by { GEMINI }

Gemini

There is a chill in the air but it does not faze the slender beast. Days have gone by, long hours of walking, moving through the lands. Deep clouds roll, light gray forms dancing slowly across the black above. The sun is long gone though the sky is bright. A haze resides above, a gray haze swathed in the white of the moon. There is a silence about the pale being, an eerie ghost like silence that draws the eyes to her in an instant. She is not like any other, the pale creature with that alien like form. Foreign is a polite way to put it. A freak, outcast, that was how the rest of them had put it. The night engulfs her, causing her to seem as if she shines through it all. How bright she appears to the outward eye, how innocently colored and yet, she is not as she appears. Ashen stilts carry her form, moving through the brush with this empress-like grace. She was never and will never be a queen of any land. Broken, kicked out by her own kind. That causes no queen to form but a Judas of sorts.

“It’s up ahead, dearie. So very close now.” Hushed, coarse tones flow from slightly parted jaws. Who she speaks to is not seen by any other. The beast is within her, speaking back through her very own mouth. “You speak with excitement, sister, though I see no reason for this emotion.” Another voice, this one so very raspy. It appears through a haze of invisible smoke, as if she had choked upon it. The girl’s head shakes, a vicious snarl erupting from her as she falters in her graceful movements. It as if there are two bodies fighting for one in this small moment. She silences then, in an instant that the show starts, it is over and she moves once more. Mismatched gazers move swiftly, one a deep brown it appears black. The other such a delicate blue it looks almost grey. So different, just like the one who bears them.

The all too familiar odor of piss reaches her nares and she lifts her gaze slightly. This is where she pauses, a few feet from the border. It had been told that this was a land of assassins, killers and the like. Solar, ashen audits perk, listening. There is not a sound save for the sounds of the night. The ghostly girl was in a way, a nighthawk. This is how she traveled and this is how she lived. How ironic it was that one of white lived in the black? “This idea is foolish.” The raspy chords drip with venomous irritation as eyes narrow at nothing. There is a moment of silence for the girl does not bother with a reply to the one within. Instead she waits, her body stiff as she stands contrast to the darkness in wait for whomever was to come greet her.

ooc: sorry it’s bad! I’m getting the hang of her charrie still!

{{ year of;; three }}{{ gender of;; female }}{{ bound to;; none }}{{ a part of;; nowhere }}
{{ puppet master;; SuneeDee }}





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