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: 24.207.68.101
Posted on August 3, 2014 at 04:11:59 AM by PYREO
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The whole thing was too white. Simmering within the ashen carnivore’s jaws, the metallic tang of blood was taunting… it painted an image over the pure canvas, one that was splattered with IMMEDIATE action - a purely animalistic reaction to the days of inanimate waiting. Kershov should pay for his inconvenience. He should BLEED and SCREAM and wallow in the gutting of his excessive pride. The shattering beast became a winter storm shifting closer. Billowing against the wall of white darkness, amber fire flickered out from Py’s fathomless eyes and flaming words licked out of his dark soul. Pull and twitch, tug then release. Py stood so inanimately still as the venomous snake moved hypnotically as if to attack - he was the puppeteer, holding the strings as the King jerked in and out of his terminal condition. And release. Like a marionette with slack ropes, Kershov’s whole being curled limply around this newest development. And the puppet lord Pyreo would have loved to see a trace of rebellion… of question. See, his icy friend might have been more considerate - given Py something more, like a foothold on the creature writhing within. And it would have taken so little, just a small slip… The simmering white ash clad dragon could have extinguished it. Oh how agonizing it must be for the falling czar… falling star. Apparently something so wretchedly broken can still speak. It was comical in a twisted, grim way. A scathing snarl carved itself left to right across the demon’s skull; the same way lightning might fracture a perfectly calm facade, only here… the lightning was the trick that hid frigid waters below. So “Trust me Snow Rabbit. if you were ignorant I would know…” Lips curled and the last words were spat out and the snow was no longer a spotless white.: “…you would be dead by now”. If it was possible, Py’s stature seemed to swell - a crisp breeze delved into his white fur, parting the surface to reveal the smoky gray. It swirled around his legs, long and lean before it moved on to sweep towards Kershov. The king was insnared. Nobody beat Py at his own game, NOBODY could pull strings the way he did, the way he did with his own facial tools to create the perfect trap, illusion or effect. And the storm cleared, canvas eerily blank once more, a dry and subdued chuckled sifted from black lips. “No my friend. Not a blessing… nor permission. You see, there are consequences to what I am prepared to do for you and I must ensure that the decision does not… cause future problems. I have plenty as it is”. If practicality could ever have a sharp glint it was now. Kershov’s situation was already a blueprint against Py’s inner skull - keeping the fiend alive was simply alluring to him but the deal must be fully sealed for any investment from the ashen dragon. HE would not be caught in the tangled mess of his own doing, that separated Pyreo from others. The idea was already roughly formed. Kershov wanted out from this hopeless life, Py thought it slightly desirable to maintain that very life. Common ground? Kershov was to disappear… vanish with his reputation intact and left to grate himself against his demons. And abendrot would be left in Py’s black claws… to be enhanced… taken to the next elevation of the perfect hellish safe haven. Obviously missing the perks of flattening the king to ground himself, the compromise was satisfactory. Suddenly jaws SNAPPED shut with a force that sent shockwaves through Py’s skull. There were dealings to be made now. Finally he could move forward from this torturously grid locked conflict. Leaving his face stone cold, Py surveyed the ice demon with something akin to weariness. The devil fought a devious, never ending battle and here was yet again another loss. He might have preferred to see a rearing spastic animal than the admittedly defeated beast before him. Even through the hardest of shells, the devil could weed, bore and slip itself through to turn insides black and heartstrings poisoned. Fair enough bastard. Now it was time for Py to make his advance and he was already preparing the pitfall. “Run along to your hideaway Royal, but come when called or I’ll stage you a pitiful suicide”. Long limbs shifted in the snow and a statue shivered to life. Py turned away from the scene that was tiring his eyes… there was work to be done now. Before he threw off his iron shackles completely… “I trust you will recognize my voice. After all, if there were any like me I might have found at least one by now”. Turning around, Py let himself meld with the mountainous cliffside, half hoping the abominable Kershov would lunge and fight back. It would save him from the irksome task of finding an assassin. |
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