AW flight —

Vëalíre,

Lioness of Prideless

Played by pine

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healing came gradually — a slow dance of time and m a g i c, weaving its spell over flesh and bone; heart and soul. two halves, torn asunder in the plummet from earth to sea, had come together once more — a renewed union of pink flesh that left the curve of shoulder tender, but no longer a pulsing staccato of haunted dreams. the soul, though — the soul, it mourned: a gasping, heaving pain that bubbled and popped, rising ever closer to the cracked surface.

until, at long last, it burst forth.

from the shadows of her refuge, vëalíre fled — the roar of blackened waves thundering in her ears. a stranger in a strange land, vëalíre ran without any sense of direction; without any awareness of the world around her. it was instinct ( a flight from the furl of ravenous water upon her heels ) that drove vëalíre — that pushed her until her breath burned in her lungs, her chest heaved, and the warm ooze of fresh blood ( tender union severed once more ) mingled with the worn leather hide of her shoulder. she stood, trembling, enveloped in a darkness she did not remember entering.

who’s there? the darkness hissed, demanding, and in her trance ( heave, ho, quiver, r e p e a t ), vëalíre spoke — her voice naught but a whisper, ”our ghosts.”

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note, this takes place after her marooning (two to four weeks?? idk!!); so, she’s not on one end of aesseldar and then the other in the blink of an eye.

code to pine

Anatole,

Lion of Junior Member

Played by Werge

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Chase the Morning

Yeild for Nothing

The smell of blood was enough to attract a vulture.

Slithering through the darkness with soft paws on hardened ground he made his way in silence, curiosity tugging him away from his cousins (they didn't need him anyway right now, what did it matter?) and into the darkness within. A cavern in the mountains, glorious stalagmites and stalactites could be seen a further ways in, meanwhile his paws paid heed to the puddles of water and slippery rock.

He needn't not go far to find the source of the smell. Fear was permeable on the woman, even at a distance. His body grew taut, every small move calculated and aimed for complete and utter silence as he observed her, taking a few careful steps every now and again.

The slender assassin would not let himself be seen, only on his terms would he make himself known. However, he sat weighing his options and decided to do just that.

"Hiding from something?" His smooth voice doing it's best to present gently, reverberating off the walls. If his voice didn't give away his position, his glowing orange and brown hues surely would now.

Background | Table by Werge

Vëalíre,

Lioness of Prideless

Played by pine

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i

n another life, vëalíre lightwood would not have blundered, so blindly, across the rolling expanse of an unknown land. In another life, vëalíre would not have fled, headfirst, into such cavernous darkness, where the shadows loomed, silent and waiting. In another life, vëalíre would have moved with an awareness — a purpose that guided her step, silent and sure, upon the mossy bed of her woodland home.

However, the life vëalíre had lived was no more — gone with the crumbling of earth from beneath her paws ; gone with the plummet of souls into foaming, sanguine waves.

And so, when the voice danced forth ( muted in its reverberation amongst the stalagmites and stalactites), vëalíre merely blinked. the beat of her heart drummed in muted time with the dull heave of ivory chest, and in its time, vëalíre turned her gaze in a slow arch. h i d i n g ?, the voice had asked—its question registering with numb delay ; “no,” she whispered, settling her own detached gaze upon the orange glow of her companion, “running.”

»«

n o t e , sorry for the wait, werge! ( @Anatole )

code to pine