At the densest section of the forest, there is a brief clearing where a steady flow of water streams down the slippery stone staircase. The water here is cool and refreshing. Staircase Falls has been rumoured to be the place where reality is met by magic; where peaceful spirits dwell. They are rumoured to have healing powers that are used to help the desperately hurt, though no one has experienced this, except for, perhaps, Kaive.
IP: 168.103.250.127
Posted on November 19, 2014 at 00:21:32 AM by ROMULUS
MAY YOU ALWAYS KNOW ONE THING Ever since he left Cold Summers, the bastard prince had been wandering around Blossom, making a life for himself by learning himself. What he could and couldn’t do, and what his limits were. Recently he had ventured upon Abendrot’s deadly borders. What the ice king thought of him, he could not know. Nor could he see. Not that he cared. He was only burrowing himself into a hole he knew he would not want to redig himself out of. The pages to his story were now full of sweat and survival. There was no other thing in their depths. The ink that he had once written with was empty. No light came to his vision, and why would he want it? He did not deserve it. Romulus had done far too many horrible things in his life to even have the gull to ask for redemption. Sophie’s death had promised this to be true. Even now, her leaving the earth seemed to be a nightmare that he had woken up from. Sometimes he lingered near the borders of Cold Summers. He would find entrances that he knew he could go through if he wanted to, but after moments of standing there blindly, he would turn and disappear back into the foliage behind him. These visits were few and far between. If anyone saw him, he had no knowledge of it. For no person ever came after his own, nor did he hear his own name being called out to him. Which was strange because now he suddenly wondered if he did even have a name. If there ever had been a world before this neverending darkness. Paws hit water now. The kalak stopped dead, surprised that he had managed to startle himself with it. The male had gotten remarkably good at making his way without his vision. His other senses had been remarkably brought back to him in a way that he never knew was possible. Every bite he took out of something was a flash of color. It was the only way he was able to dream anymore. Now the russet boy lowered his head to the liquid and tested its depth with his tongue, reaching near his paw so that he could get the distance correctly without appearing the part of a fool who couldn’t see. The scars across his portals had sewn themselves shut, though their deep creases still remained. The flesh no longer opened when he tried to flick the blinds. Forever they would remain closed, thanks to the way that the flesh had healed. Romulus was not pathetic. Nor was he dangerous. He had merely become an ember where there used to be a flame. With his joining Abendrot, he was hoping that that ember would spark back into something different. Something greater than he used to be. Perhaps even something that he could admire, though that dream was a far off one and he wouldn’t mind if it didn’t progress. At least his life could be moved into a new stage. One where he didn’t have dreams of sight. Where Eriel’s wet cloak sent her perfume to his own fur. Where he couldn’t remember her palette and its emotions. It’s joy, it’s sorrow, it’s anger, it’s disappointment. He didn’t want to recall his own name. When he had gathered his fill of crystalline, he stepped back out of the water and allowed himself to take in what was around him. Based on the strength of the gales and the frigidity of the atmosphere, winter was on her way. No doubt there was already snow on the ground—but he had yet to come across a pile of it that would spark his interest. Truthfully he had been in more mud than usual, but that could have been from a late autumn rain that had taken place just days before. Suddenly the brujo pricked his ebon eaves and turned his scarred face in the direction of what he thought to be a sound. Talons dug themselves into the terra and his nares flared. Another varg? Of what nature? Curiosity gathered in his stomach and he stayed put, not wanting to retreat to the bush just yet. Of course this would be his first mistake.  |
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- it consumes me - By E R I E L December 4, 2014 at 03:07:48 AM
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