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 silence is deafening. Neither of them speaks. It's not their way. The Russian dancer cuts through the darkness, her brother at her side. It's their way. Neither speaks. They both have sharp eyes, sharp figures, sharp features. Though some pieces are different, they are very much the same. The same thread of madness runs hot in their veins, and they cannot shake it. Father. Fathers. Born of two men and one woman, what do you expect? Expect them to come out normal? What a laugh. What a laugh it is. They're nearly barking mad, if they barked. No. Silence. Perfect silence hangs between them on a silver thread. That is the way things have been as of late.

Things. Charming but insane. Insane but charming. A perfect match for one another, and that's how they've come to be this way. Timing and class. They're painting the evening red, and the illusionist's fur is stained at his chest. Red. Dark. Rusty red. It's enough for his rolling rainbow eyes to catch and light up with the contrast. You'd think something was wrong, but it was the opposite. They'd feasted. Feasted as kings. Kings together, as they'd be once more.

Soon. So soon they would be, the pair kept promising each other. They would make promise after promise, and it was all they could do for each other. A dearth, a dearth of things once felt. It was the way of things. It was their design. Together, and yet so apart. The things they did for each other were more than they knew. It didn't matter.

They saw better at night. They knew better at night. Things like this, they couldn't be touched. Though it was a strange sort of thing, they wouldn't let it go. From the treeline they broke at a dead run, full moon hanging like a ripe fruit in the sky. A howl breaks Delya's voice in the dark first, and Dimitri's a moment later. The dancer and her shadow. That was the way they happened to be. If anyone was out here, they could come for the pair. They were ready.

That's the thing about madness. You're ready for anything.












delya & dimitrithe russian dancer & the illusionistall we've got is this family unbroke
by jake help from russ



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