Ruieze Fields

Open fields and soft grass...
Ruieze stretches far in the midlands of Moladion, laced with streams that feed into Diveen and out of Asteraia at times. The fields are vast, filled with wildflowers and tall, soft grass; trees are sparse, as are rocks, but one can find small shrubs to hide amongst, and the grass itself. To the south of the fields, a Ruieze River widens, and the ground becomes sandy. There is a small, grassy island that can be reached from the banks, with water-birds often congregating on the island rather than the riverbanks.

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the witch king --
IP: 120.149.119.230


She makes me nervous in ways that I am not worthy of feeling. She makes my skin prickle and crawl, infested by the way she watches me. I am sure it is nervousness, this much I know. It is a knotting in my stomach, the feeling of teeth gnawing away in my belly and my chest. If I could be, I would be the leaves of a tree now: I would break away in the breeze and become nothing. Instead, I am here, and I am under her gaze. It is like a mist. It is like Iromar's very core. Still, I cannot move - without even a touch, she is baring down on me too much. Too heavy. Too strong. She is too much for a sour, rotten thing like me. I am a stricken branch and she is the fire that will force me into the ground. This much, I know.

When she speaks, I turn away. I cannot help it. The words conjure more than just images of mist. With it, her words conjure the image of my family: Istas, Vainglory, father and mother. They have been so quiet. They have been absent and yet, I can feel their eyes suddenly in the back of my eyes, their mouths twisting into smiles. Come back to us... to them... so uselessness, to abandonment, to being nothing but a carcass floating in the mists of Iromar. That is what I was to become. It shocks me, now, that I feel my chest rumble. It is a hissing sound, strained but... it is a growl. I keep my eyes fixated on the horizon as I let the sound continue, dying out as I slowly turn to face her once more. The moment my eyes meet hers, I feel the hairs on my spine rise. My bones are cold beneath my flesh.

"Iromar does not want this. Only... you."

Only she wants me there. Only she has come to me. I narrow my eyes, my ears sinking back as I challenge her to speak once more. As much as the mists pull for me, I can refuse. I am weak but I am not so weak to sink, at least.

"Taviora. Home. Why not... come?"

I do not know why I say such words but they slip out between the two of us. With that, I rise further and begin to ease forward, each step long and slow. I keep my eyes on her, wandering if she will follow me.

wraith



image & html by lz


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