Post by Pavane on Jul 31, 2010 3:38:28 GMT -5
Setting:
Storyteller's Butte and Sweeping Steppe
Late Summer (RL day 8), with a full moon (98% full).
Characters:
Niyt - Female Juvenile Wolf
Shadows - Spirit NPCs
--------------------------------------------
Niyt is dreaming, tonight. The night is dark, the light from the gibbous moon somehow seeming tenuous and dim as the young wolfpup walks through the desert, hanging over her head to keep pace with her but veiled in clouds. A scattering of stars prick through the heavens, and on the earth, amidst the shadows, specks the color of old bones glint on the sand. It's a dream she's had before, walking over the desert to - someplace. She doesn't know where; before, she's always woken before she finds out. Tonight, though, is different, for one simple reason: She's not actually dreaming. The dark shadows twisting around her are as real as the sands beneath her feet, and that tugging at her thoughts, that dreamlike whisper telling her to keep going - that's real too, and it's luring her deeper into the desert, away from her pack and protectors.
The shadows writhe, whispering amongst themselves in alien tongues. They slowly coalesce together, bits of darkness joining with each other to make darker shadows still. The place where Niyt walks is free of their darkness, for now, though the path behind her is closing, one tendril slipping across it, and then another, cutting her off from safety. As the shadows thicken, their words begin to have meaning to them. "See. You see. Why do you see? Why should you see?"
Niyt keeps padding forward steadily. The shadow-voices have been murmuring for a long time, an undercurrent in the pattern of world - though hearing words from them is a rarer thing. But her dad told her not to interact with them; so though her ears perk when they begin speaking words she comprehends, she makes no reply, even though - or so she thinks - this is just a dream. The soft whisper inside her thoughts keeps talking, calling her onwards to - she doesn't know. It doesn't say. But it's important, whatever it is.
The dull, forboding hue of the shadows is all around, now; it hides the soft velvet of the night darkness with its grimy shade. This darkness is not merely the absence of light; it has a quality all its own. Decay. Death. The light is not gone. The light is dead. The shadows speak again. "You don't understand. None of you understand." Their voice is growing agitated. No - their voices. They speak from a thousand throats, and the tones drift out of tune with each other. Some sound angry. Some sound mournful. None sound pleased. "Why should you See? Can't understand!"
Niyt hesitates, stopping in her progress as the shadows creep closer. It's true - she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand why her dad is so worried about these shadows. She doesn't understand why only some people seem to be aware of them. She doesn't understand a lot of things. But... her understanding has been growing... hasn't it? She can still faintly remember the time before her eyes opened, when she couldn't see at all; and she didn't know nearly as much, then, as she does now. But she also had a lot fewer questions... fewer mysteries. She didn't know as much, but... perhaps she understood more? It's an odd thought, and a troubling one. Perhaps this darkness will help her understand - after all, with it looming around her, she can't see.
"Yes," murmur some of the voices, as others chant, "Don't. Can't. Won't." They loom upwards around Niyt, tendrils reaching for the heavens and then wrapping down around her, beginning to block out even the weak light of the moon. "Let us take your Sight. Give it to us. Give it to us!" Beneath their words the chant of denial continues, like a throbbing heartbeat. The pulse of it feels wrong. Out of balance.
Niyt whines, softly. She doesn't know what to do - she knows she should ignore these shadows, and yet, and yet the things they keep saying make a strange sort of sense. She wants to ask someone what to do, to hear a friendly voice guiding her. But even the whisper inside her head has abandoned her now, and that throbbing rhythm of their voices surrounds her like their darkness does, making it hard to hear. To see. To think. She shivers, and takes a step backwards, trying to get away, to find some room to think. Maybe these shadows are right, but - she doesn't want to lose that part of herself. Her instincts say - No! Preserve yourself! - and what creature can deny their instincts? So she retreats - but the shadows are behind her, too, and her attempt at retreat instead brings her into their grasp.
"Yes!" cry the shadow-voices, and those tendrils of shadow begin to wrap around Niyt, grabbing at her, coiling around her legs, twisting up around her body. They're not physical, and yet she can feel them - they reach at something deeper than her body. They reach at her self. At the her that Sees. That Hears. That Is. The crazed pulse of their chanting isn't wrong. It's her heartbeat that's wrong. It's the world that's wrong. But the shadows can make it right. She just has to give in. To let them take her Sight. Her Hearing. Her Self.
It's so seductive. And so frightening. Niyt trembles, closing her eyes as she shakes in place and the shadows entwine her. She tries to move forward again, but she can't - the shadows have a grip on her, tugging her back as she tries to escape. Her muzzle opens, and she gives voice to a wordless cry, like the wind as it howls amidst the standing stones of the desert, a keening sound that travels out over unseen sands, hidden by the darkness.
As the shadows wrap around Niyt, encircling closer, the wind begins to rise, as though in answer to her call. It makes the shadows writhe against the ground, tugging fragments of their darkness away. As it continues to rise, the sound of it begins to take voice, humming something just on the edge of understanding. It blows stronger, slipping through the shadows and ruffling at Niyt's fur, teasing it and drawing the talons of shadow-creatures off. They grab in at the pup again as soon as they're displaced - but they're having a harder time, and each gust of wind delays them a bit more. At last the voice of the wind comes clear, a single word as it gusts powerfully - powerfully enough to blow the tendrils of the shadows away from Niyt, to push them back for a moment and open a path for her to sands once more lit by the pale moon overhead. A single word. "Run!"
The wind doesn't just clear a path for Niyt from the shadows. It clears her mind, too - and so, run she does, stumbling forward through the opening before her. The shadows seem to have some truth to them, but - they don't have all of it, not even among spirit-things. The wind has shown her that much. And so, how can she trust them fully? Besides - if there's anyone who should have her trust, it's her parents, and her dad's the one who told her to stay away from them! So she runs, bounding forward across the desert, little paws flying over the sands as she follows the wind's warning, follows her father's instructions, follows her instincts, and flees from those shadows - though every step also brings her further away from home.
The shadows howl their disappointment and anger, their voices a cacophany that makes the hair on the back of the neck rise, that makes children cuddle closer to their parents and the night guards simply hope that whatever it is will pass on and leave them be. Even those who cannot Hear may stir restlessly in their sleep. They chase after Niyt, flowing in an intertwining horde along the ground, thick and viscous as their darkness sweeps over the desert, pursuing her as she flees. "We'll get you! Get your eyes! Eat your Sight! Can't get away! Don't understand!"
Niyt keeps running, her ears back against her head. She knows she doesn't understand. But just because someone - something - else claims they do, that doesn't mean they're right! Especially when what they want is her. She may not understand, but she's not going to let something eat her until she knows why - and is actually sure it's a good idea. Even then, she's going to have a hard time convincing her hammering heart and adrenaline-fueled paws of it!
The shadows keep chasing, through the night. Sometimes they seem to fall back, then surge closer again to harry her as they scream and howl. The moon sets, leaving the world darker still. The wind whispers encouragements from time to time in Niyt's ears, ruffling at her fur as it passes. The land is growing rougher, uneven beneath her paws and scattered with more piles of rock, more patches of grass and other plants. She's come far from home, in this one frantic night.
Niyt runs herself into exhaustion, losing track of direction entirely as she ducks down gullies and detours around piles of broken rock and other barriers. She can barely see, especially once the moon sets, running blind through the night. The wind is one of her guides, the sounds it makes over the landscape telling her where to go, where to avoid. The hue and cry behind her tells her where she must not go, where they have already come. She stumbles, a few times, but her paws always find their footing again, pull her back to her feet and bring her onwards in her flight.
At last, the sky begins to lighten, the faint glow of dawn building in the east. East. Behind her, where the shadows are strongest. Their cries grow angrier as dawn comes. The light begins to weaken the shadows and force them to disperse for now. Their voices grow wilder, more out of tune, and then slowly fade as they turn from hunting pack to lone flitting darknesses. The sun peeks up over the horizon, casting its warm and comforting light across the land.
As the sun rises, and the snarls from behind her fade away, Niyt's frantic flight finally slows. She's exhausted. She's used up more reserves than she even knew she had, in that run, and her eyes can barely even focus to take in the land around her. It's strange and unfamiliar, to her, and she slowly walks through it. Where is she? More importantly, where is home? She stops at the edge of a bit of shade, and looks up. Before her is a scraggly, twisted sagebrush - a tree. She's heard about trees - they're part of the forest. It's not safe, there... that's what dad says. But she's too tired to run any further, and besides, she doesn't know where to go. So she simply collapses at the base of the tree, curling into a tight little ball and falling into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
Storyteller's Butte and Sweeping Steppe
Late Summer (RL day 8), with a full moon (98% full).
Characters:
Niyt - Female Juvenile Wolf
Shadows - Spirit NPCs
--------------------------------------------
Niyt is dreaming, tonight. The night is dark, the light from the gibbous moon somehow seeming tenuous and dim as the young wolfpup walks through the desert, hanging over her head to keep pace with her but veiled in clouds. A scattering of stars prick through the heavens, and on the earth, amidst the shadows, specks the color of old bones glint on the sand. It's a dream she's had before, walking over the desert to - someplace. She doesn't know where; before, she's always woken before she finds out. Tonight, though, is different, for one simple reason: She's not actually dreaming. The dark shadows twisting around her are as real as the sands beneath her feet, and that tugging at her thoughts, that dreamlike whisper telling her to keep going - that's real too, and it's luring her deeper into the desert, away from her pack and protectors.
The shadows writhe, whispering amongst themselves in alien tongues. They slowly coalesce together, bits of darkness joining with each other to make darker shadows still. The place where Niyt walks is free of their darkness, for now, though the path behind her is closing, one tendril slipping across it, and then another, cutting her off from safety. As the shadows thicken, their words begin to have meaning to them. "See. You see. Why do you see? Why should you see?"
Niyt keeps padding forward steadily. The shadow-voices have been murmuring for a long time, an undercurrent in the pattern of world - though hearing words from them is a rarer thing. But her dad told her not to interact with them; so though her ears perk when they begin speaking words she comprehends, she makes no reply, even though - or so she thinks - this is just a dream. The soft whisper inside her thoughts keeps talking, calling her onwards to - she doesn't know. It doesn't say. But it's important, whatever it is.
The dull, forboding hue of the shadows is all around, now; it hides the soft velvet of the night darkness with its grimy shade. This darkness is not merely the absence of light; it has a quality all its own. Decay. Death. The light is not gone. The light is dead. The shadows speak again. "You don't understand. None of you understand." Their voice is growing agitated. No - their voices. They speak from a thousand throats, and the tones drift out of tune with each other. Some sound angry. Some sound mournful. None sound pleased. "Why should you See? Can't understand!"
Niyt hesitates, stopping in her progress as the shadows creep closer. It's true - she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand why her dad is so worried about these shadows. She doesn't understand why only some people seem to be aware of them. She doesn't understand a lot of things. But... her understanding has been growing... hasn't it? She can still faintly remember the time before her eyes opened, when she couldn't see at all; and she didn't know nearly as much, then, as she does now. But she also had a lot fewer questions... fewer mysteries. She didn't know as much, but... perhaps she understood more? It's an odd thought, and a troubling one. Perhaps this darkness will help her understand - after all, with it looming around her, she can't see.
"Yes," murmur some of the voices, as others chant, "Don't. Can't. Won't." They loom upwards around Niyt, tendrils reaching for the heavens and then wrapping down around her, beginning to block out even the weak light of the moon. "Let us take your Sight. Give it to us. Give it to us!" Beneath their words the chant of denial continues, like a throbbing heartbeat. The pulse of it feels wrong. Out of balance.
Niyt whines, softly. She doesn't know what to do - she knows she should ignore these shadows, and yet, and yet the things they keep saying make a strange sort of sense. She wants to ask someone what to do, to hear a friendly voice guiding her. But even the whisper inside her head has abandoned her now, and that throbbing rhythm of their voices surrounds her like their darkness does, making it hard to hear. To see. To think. She shivers, and takes a step backwards, trying to get away, to find some room to think. Maybe these shadows are right, but - she doesn't want to lose that part of herself. Her instincts say - No! Preserve yourself! - and what creature can deny their instincts? So she retreats - but the shadows are behind her, too, and her attempt at retreat instead brings her into their grasp.
"Yes!" cry the shadow-voices, and those tendrils of shadow begin to wrap around Niyt, grabbing at her, coiling around her legs, twisting up around her body. They're not physical, and yet she can feel them - they reach at something deeper than her body. They reach at her self. At the her that Sees. That Hears. That Is. The crazed pulse of their chanting isn't wrong. It's her heartbeat that's wrong. It's the world that's wrong. But the shadows can make it right. She just has to give in. To let them take her Sight. Her Hearing. Her Self.
It's so seductive. And so frightening. Niyt trembles, closing her eyes as she shakes in place and the shadows entwine her. She tries to move forward again, but she can't - the shadows have a grip on her, tugging her back as she tries to escape. Her muzzle opens, and she gives voice to a wordless cry, like the wind as it howls amidst the standing stones of the desert, a keening sound that travels out over unseen sands, hidden by the darkness.
As the shadows wrap around Niyt, encircling closer, the wind begins to rise, as though in answer to her call. It makes the shadows writhe against the ground, tugging fragments of their darkness away. As it continues to rise, the sound of it begins to take voice, humming something just on the edge of understanding. It blows stronger, slipping through the shadows and ruffling at Niyt's fur, teasing it and drawing the talons of shadow-creatures off. They grab in at the pup again as soon as they're displaced - but they're having a harder time, and each gust of wind delays them a bit more. At last the voice of the wind comes clear, a single word as it gusts powerfully - powerfully enough to blow the tendrils of the shadows away from Niyt, to push them back for a moment and open a path for her to sands once more lit by the pale moon overhead. A single word. "Run!"
The wind doesn't just clear a path for Niyt from the shadows. It clears her mind, too - and so, run she does, stumbling forward through the opening before her. The shadows seem to have some truth to them, but - they don't have all of it, not even among spirit-things. The wind has shown her that much. And so, how can she trust them fully? Besides - if there's anyone who should have her trust, it's her parents, and her dad's the one who told her to stay away from them! So she runs, bounding forward across the desert, little paws flying over the sands as she follows the wind's warning, follows her father's instructions, follows her instincts, and flees from those shadows - though every step also brings her further away from home.
The shadows howl their disappointment and anger, their voices a cacophany that makes the hair on the back of the neck rise, that makes children cuddle closer to their parents and the night guards simply hope that whatever it is will pass on and leave them be. Even those who cannot Hear may stir restlessly in their sleep. They chase after Niyt, flowing in an intertwining horde along the ground, thick and viscous as their darkness sweeps over the desert, pursuing her as she flees. "We'll get you! Get your eyes! Eat your Sight! Can't get away! Don't understand!"
Niyt keeps running, her ears back against her head. She knows she doesn't understand. But just because someone - something - else claims they do, that doesn't mean they're right! Especially when what they want is her. She may not understand, but she's not going to let something eat her until she knows why - and is actually sure it's a good idea. Even then, she's going to have a hard time convincing her hammering heart and adrenaline-fueled paws of it!
The shadows keep chasing, through the night. Sometimes they seem to fall back, then surge closer again to harry her as they scream and howl. The moon sets, leaving the world darker still. The wind whispers encouragements from time to time in Niyt's ears, ruffling at her fur as it passes. The land is growing rougher, uneven beneath her paws and scattered with more piles of rock, more patches of grass and other plants. She's come far from home, in this one frantic night.
Niyt runs herself into exhaustion, losing track of direction entirely as she ducks down gullies and detours around piles of broken rock and other barriers. She can barely see, especially once the moon sets, running blind through the night. The wind is one of her guides, the sounds it makes over the landscape telling her where to go, where to avoid. The hue and cry behind her tells her where she must not go, where they have already come. She stumbles, a few times, but her paws always find their footing again, pull her back to her feet and bring her onwards in her flight.
At last, the sky begins to lighten, the faint glow of dawn building in the east. East. Behind her, where the shadows are strongest. Their cries grow angrier as dawn comes. The light begins to weaken the shadows and force them to disperse for now. Their voices grow wilder, more out of tune, and then slowly fade as they turn from hunting pack to lone flitting darknesses. The sun peeks up over the horizon, casting its warm and comforting light across the land.
As the sun rises, and the snarls from behind her fade away, Niyt's frantic flight finally slows. She's exhausted. She's used up more reserves than she even knew she had, in that run, and her eyes can barely even focus to take in the land around her. It's strange and unfamiliar, to her, and she slowly walks through it. Where is she? More importantly, where is home? She stops at the edge of a bit of shade, and looks up. Before her is a scraggly, twisted sagebrush - a tree. She's heard about trees - they're part of the forest. It's not safe, there... that's what dad says. But she's too tired to run any further, and besides, she doesn't know where to go. So she simply collapses at the base of the tree, curling into a tight little ball and falling into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.