At Leisure Lake the sun is always shining and only a few stray clouds roam the open sky; paradise is the one word that really describes it. This beautiful lake is clean and refreshing, the very best place to swim and fish. Pups are known to play here while older wolves watch at the side, engaged in their own activities.
IP: 24.96.175.152
Posted on February 23, 2017 at 04:48:40 AM by Dante
the darkest places in hell are reserved for those who __________________________________________ What had once been an etched and perfect façade was now nothing but a cast of the inhabitant who had faded into the endless night. Left in the hollowed shell of that once flawless creature is the shade of whom she used to be. The firelight that once glowed in the depths of her soul are burnt out into the dull embers. Their colour hardly lights up the creases and curves of her figure with the life that she once enjoyed and sought out to feed the flame of her being. What changed? What had brought her to this sunken state? Had the depths of Hell and its demons finally come to claim their rites on her? Of any of this the temptress of the Inferno was not quite sure. For she no longer held the crown or title of Queen of Inferno any longer. She had succumbed to it. The darkness, the fiery depths had reached up their tendrils to lay claim and burn the hope from her soul, leaving only the smoldering ash of that once great fire and thirst for knowledge. She had no right to call herself a temptress of it, she was its prisoner. A prisoner to the Kingdom of knowledge of good and evil that she had once laid claim to and called herself Queen of. Those times were long gone now. The Ethiopian woman’s precarious balance between the literal and allegorical kingdoms had come to a quick ruin. Dante for all of her knowledge of the world had never truly understood the constraints that a true Crown brought upon its holder, she had watched many a wolf try to balance this duty in life. Some succeeded and many failed, she among them. Dante should’ve known better than to outstretch her paws to grab hold of the golden title, these were what her dreams had been made of. She had conjured frivolous ideals and laws that she would govern a land by. This land would be somehow populated with subjects that loved and trusted her. She, on all accounts, had discounted the fact that the dream she had dreamt and pulled from thin air into existence was an act that took time. And Dante’s concept of time was not as many perceived it to be. The present in which she existed was a point at which the past and future collided for a mere moment, indescribable to the common mind. And even to those of minds with complexities such as Dante’s it was still a concept that evaded her on many levels. Time was a construct of creation that she had yet to fully understand, especially when it was all eternity that she truly had at her paws. For months at a time fire-lit soul wound her way through untouched lands of Blossom Forest searching for the unfathomable and as seasons reached their end she would retire into a cycle of mutterings. Dante knew know that her dreams were mere wisps that she would never catch hold of. Her void of intelligence told her so, because for all the fantasies she could see there were more black holes waiting to swallow them whole. Block holes that existed in the existential realities that she had lived through and created in the depths of her mind. It was knowledge that had granted her freedom, but had simultaneously chained her within the bounds of reality. But somehow she dreamed on. Dante would forever dream of a day that would never come to fruition, though now she hardly knew what this dream meant. She was maintaining neutrality in a time of her own moral crisis - the greatest sin to commit. Pallid skies extended boundlessly above the equally abyss-like lake, whose depths dived below the sights of wolves eyes. It was wonder as to how wolves did not fear the world in which they lived in to the point of paralysis. The world that surrounded them was filled with endless possible futures and paths that diverged, converged and ended completely. How did this unknowningness not drive them to insanity as it did Dante? She contemplated this idea as she traced the ghosts of her past that had set her down this path. Her bodice sat perched on the claw embankment, the soft claw forming around the weight of her paws, but this time there was no ringing call or gathering for a common goal, instead she sat there utterly alone. The sun’s rays did not burn against her short cropped feathers, instead the air remained heavy and stale in her lungs and upon her shoulders. A soft sigh rolled from her lips, as a single tear slipped from her twisted storms of violet that were contained in her irises. A sudden commotion caught the Ethiopian’s attention and at first she could not believe what, or rather who lay not far from her. Dante stood up and stared at her sister laying down on the embankment a ways down from her. Gone was the small, fluffy, and flamboyant little pup that she had known and left behind. Instead there laid a regal but perturbed adolescent. A fleetingly sad smile held a place on her face before it was once more replaced by a mask not worn in the time since she had last seen Seraphina. A gentle smile lifted at her lips as she approached. Dante’s steps were silent as she slipped up behind, her fiery crown and façade danced into existence across the stilling surface of the water. Dante stood next to her sister looking down into her reflection, What is it that bothers you so, sister? __________________________________________ maintain their neutrality in time of moral crisis;; || Prisoner of the Inferno || Shadow of Alesana || |
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