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: 24.96.175.152
Posted on April 20, 2016 at 03:21:08 AM by alaska
cause they know, i know __________________________________________ The gales of winter were gone. The whip of crystals of ice that had adorned stony cliffs and the heartless being that ruled the arena were melted. And the shadowy Czarina that inhabited the peaks was slowly piecing herself back together. The break in her own crystalline structure had been devastating, her mind was disturbed and sleep was pointless. The slitherine hiss of the glacial dragon still haunted her, allured her, tortured her. The obscuring glaze of lightlessness that blocked away the clarity in the singular obsidian pool was burned away into the recesses of her brain. The entirety of their calamity was. The morning had started as any, the soft drip of melting water had awoken the queen from her rest. And the cavern which she inhabited was chilled to below freezing temperatures, so much so any normal wolf would have frozen. The shadow caped czarina’s lusciously, plush coat had kept the chilling embrace of the stone from touching her skin, but that would not have saved her from the frigid embrace of her contending Monarch. Nothing could have saved Alaska from the contradictory amatory and vengeful grasp of Kershov. She simultaneously felt herself hating him and wanting to pursue the basilisk. She could not place her heart’s desires and the sharp precision of her mind had all but disappeared. The tundran lady felt incompetent. And yet she was still far from it, because the slithering beast within her Czar would have swallowed her whole if she had no wit about her. She would be lifeless upon the cliff’s edge, her soul left to haunt Kershov. She’d still besiege the glacial King when given the chance… there’s was so much still unsaid, so much unknown. And Alaska had to know everything. She would know everything. An eerie, lonesome howl ripped through the thawing air—the reverberation of the sound waves against the rocky mountainside creating an echo effect. The origination point coming from deep within the cool confines of a cavern, and within was the haloed figurine of the Czarina. Her chest heaved with effort and the gears of her mind ran wild, flashes of her demise flashing before her eyes. The overwhelming feeling of nostalgia, pain, and a certain sort of respectful fear filled the cavity of Alaska’s chest. Snowy lids snapped open revealing crystalline sylvan optics that mirrored the fathomless pit of her soul, but the lady saw nothing save the scream inducing memories that burned her retinas… Emerald optics watched as time suspended into an eternal stillness. Their figures tangled into a lover’s embrace, but a war raged between them. The chasm of obscurity swallowed them, hiding them from their salvation. And in an effort to live through this hellish nightmare she clawed her way into Kershov’s shattered embrace. Her forelimbs wrapped around his neck and claws ripped into the cavity between his shoulders, trying to purchase any sort of grasp. Her rear claws found only air as she pawed, and she could only wonder how this would end. Would she survive long enough to watch the last gleam of light leave the Czar’s obsidian gaze? Or would his monster delight himself in watching the last shred of her soul escape into the frigid atmosphere? But before her nightmare could push her farther over the cliff of insanity a cry of agony shredded through the tundran shaman’s conscious. Alaska blinked slowly pulling herself back into reality. Her pinnae swiveled uselessly trying to pinpoint the sound, but she had been too far from existence to truly know whether she had ever truly heard the outcry. Slowly Alaska pushed herself away from the ground and steadied onto her four paws. Mats of blood marred her cape and withers, her mind felt foggy and it was likely the grounded impact had given her a minor concussion. She had lucky that… the Czarina swallowed hard and pushed away the name. It threatened to rip itself from her throat and flow delicately from her tongue. A deep, burning hatred filled her heart. How could this monster have ruined her so? She had built herself with a meticulous mind taking care to keep the shards of her life far from her heart and soul, but within moments of their contact Kershov had ripped away everything she had created. He had left her vulnerable and wanting, but for what? Again the soft cries stole the Czarina from her tumultuous thoughts, and it her singular moment of clarity Alaska locked away the shards of her broken façade. She would have to rebuild, rethink, and become better than before. The sole point in her life that remained constant was the ingrained disposition and knowledge of herbology and healing. And without much thought she dawned a calmed mask and cold temper. With a slight grimace Alaska stepped out of the confines of her cavern and surveyed the rocky precipice before her, searching for the crying calamity that was abound. Snowy pinnae oscillated finally finding the source of the whimpering. She strode forth, feeling the caked blood crack and the warm liquid begin to ooze down her shoulders dripping down her forelimbs and onto the stony surface leaving a distinct trail of blood as she walked onwards. Her sylvan, frosted optics suddenly came across a supine figurine. Her sides had slowed into a sleeping pattern, but the wet stones below her chin and the streaks down her cheeks told the tundran shaman that this was the source of crying. As she scanned over the whole of the child, for the ess was merely a babe. Her figure was thinned and looked to be bordering on malnourishment. A frown graced Alaska’s lips, what was she going to do? She could not just leave the little bird upon the cliffs in this state… Without disturbing the petite girl, the healer turned and padded back into brush her body crouched into a stalking position. And within a few minutes she had a plump hare hanging limply in her jowls. Alaska headed back to the child with the meal, but the girl would need more than this to get her going. And in an attempt to settle her frazzled mind the tundran woman had begun to store herbs around the cliffs in areas the she frequented and with her den nearby she would be able to grab a few herbs to help the girl. Ginseng being the first one in mind Alask stepped up her pace and loped back to her den. She went straight to the back and plucked from the stony crevasse Ginseng. She wrapped the leaves in a pouch of moss and rearranged the hare to hold the herbs as well before the headed back to the girl. As she approached she made sure not to frighten her. She placed the hare near her nare, hoping the scent of fresh meat would awaken her senses. She placed the wrapped ginseng to the ground gingerly and sat back waiting for the girl to wake. She was not interested in conversing with a sleeping figure nor even having one at all. Alaska wrapped her voluptuous plume around her paws, her sylvan optics focused on the little figurine. She would wait. Sleep was a necessity and this child obviously needed it. __________________________________________ that they don’t look like me ~ Alaska ~ Adult ~ Femme ~ |
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- Sweet as Honey - By Macaria May 5, 2016 at 07:03:22 PM
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