( 𝗜𝗡 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥 : Thane Barlow. ) ── * Thread. - Blog Posts

tag dump ( 4 / ??? )

if   a   harpy   becomes   a   mercy,   then   curiosity   remains.   (   such   creatures   were   welcome,   come   bear   tooth   and   claw,   learn   what   real   fangs   and   claws   provide.   )   upione   sired   nothing   less   than   a   weapon   of   war——   a   bundle   of   gnashing   fangs   and   daggers.   it   turns,   it   turns   &.   turns   again   till   it   bit   the   one   who   forged   it.   however,   curse   keeps   temperament   even.   scorn——   irritation——   blanket   themselves   with   compassion,   not   his,   but   the   growing   burden   of   sorcery.   it   tethers   reason   to   beast,   instincts   remain   ...   but   call   for   more   eloquence.   a   silver   tongue   instead   of   silver   sword.   cold   kindness.

it   goes   without   saying,   they'll   return.   these   lands   bewitch   him;   it   sings   its   song   of   magnificence   and   danger,   it   brings   forth   memories   of   inodal.   not   it's   castles,   it's   spires   nor   it's   people——   the   stillness   of   the   battlefield.   a   calm   that   captivates,   that   cannot   mask   the   edge   of   danger   looming   above,   a   guillotine   waiting   for   tender   throat.   (   his   throat——   perhaps.   )   a   numb   sense   of   excitement   ebbs   and   flows.   it's   all   they're   allowed,   brief   moments   of   genuine   feeling,   to   trace   that   piece   lost   to   time.

deciding   to   defend   himself   no   longer,   hand   waves   as   if   to   dismiss.   on   dark   feathers,   on   kind   wing,   they   gave   their   warning   ...   it'll   be   heeded.   (   in   time.   )   ❛   if   a   harpy   is   a   mercy   then   that   only   raises   further   question   ...   but,   perhaps   another   time.   ❜   shoulders   roll,   an   elegant   shrug.   ❛   i'll   go.   long   as   you're   willing   to   travel   it   with   me.   we   both   know   no   sane   godling   would   trust   a   guide   with   feather   and   claw.   and,   lacking   in   saneness   as   i   am,   i'm   no   different,   i'm   afraid.   ❜   weight   shifts,   becoming   standoffish   while   expression   remains   cast   in   iron.   ❛   do   we   have   an   accord, o' nameless one?   ❜

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCOAL MINER'S CANARY, WAS SHE ; ㅤㅤㅤㅤfor when danger was imminent, she'd give them at least a chance.

Otraybia, was not kind ; it was a land, lavish, with beauty ; but plagued, by savagery. Her own cousins, molded by that same man, were feral, true. A HARPY, THOUGH, AMONG THE WORST OF THEM.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ( How she managed to be anything but, was still unknown. )

Ears, perk'd and keen, listen, for, it would be rude, to give naught, the chance to defend ones' self. A place, so far from this, but it sounds as if it's a UNIVERSES' DIVIDE ; she thought it impossible. Brow creases, so slightly at that term ; GODLING. GODLING. It, as a term, was not unheard of, for ZEUS was known well, to dabble in the artistry of creating children, with near any but his WIFE.

Gaze does turn soft, shoulders taught, now somewhat relaxed. He'd no reason, to raise hand against her, but within tree, she'd remain. There is pity, in the depths of her soul, for any fostered of a GOD ; even if she, herself, does not know the Sisyphus - like trials, they were to endure. She could not imagine it an easy thing, to live up to. To defy.

❝ ... So you have. And you will wander, still, should you not leave this place. I speak, not out of ire, of wrath and hatred. Many, GODLING, and hero alike, do not escape this forest.

ㅤㅤㅤA harpy, upon you, is a mercy. What else dwells, will not be so kind. ❞

She wonders, in idle, his disposition. His place, his temperament. He could be fiery and foul, as some here, were known to be ; perhaps jovial and good-hearted, as others.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPerhaps, neither.

ㅤㅤ❝ ... I know the way ; out of this place. I travel it, so rarely, but I know. ❞

she  insists——he  refuses.  it's  push  and  pull.  the  tug  of  the  waves  and  the  moon  'pon  each  other  where  neither  truly  wins.  for  a  moment,  he  thinks  of  his  past  ...  when  brandishing  his  spear  would  pave  the  way.  when  filling  these  roots  with  scarlet  would  make  his  will  absolute.  a  time  when  he  did  not  value  life  nor  know  their  pain.  now,  however,  he  does.  his  curse  subjects  him  to  a  sense  of  empathy  deeper  than  mere  sensation  &.  it  pains  him.  a  nagging  pain  only  kept  at  bay  with  his  strength  of  mind.

he  remains  obstinate  as  arms  fold  behind  his  back.  their  gaze  sweeps  these  woods,  drinking  in  the  absurdity  likely  thick  within  them.  it  remains  him  of  inodal——his  home.  a  strange  place  full  of  secrets  and  the  unknown.  maybe  a  trip  back,  after  this,  would  soothe  the  sickness  in  his  heart.  one  can  only  hope.

"i  answer  your  question,  yet  you  spurn  mine.  you  wound  me  deeply,  you  know?"  he  clicks  his  tongue.  "i  have  wandered  farther  than  you  can  imagine——far  from  a  realm  beyond  this  place.  i  am  far  from  a  human.  it's  an  insult  to  them  to  compare  them  to  my  ilk.  what's  the  word  of  this  land  ...  i'm  a  godling.  son  of  the  beast  who  stalks  the  higher  realms  to  bathe  their  eminence  in  blood."  the  hunt,  the  beast:  Upione.  "not  that  i  expect  them  to  be  known  here  ...  peer  deeper,  seerer.  surely  there's  an  answer  that  will  satisfy  you  among  the  stars." 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTRUST NONE, GIRL.

Like something predacious, does he stalk the area, as if looking for OPPORTUNITY ; she would not offer him such. Perched 'pon high, owlish eyes narrow. She could not discern intent, without further prodding ; but she must be cautious — tread with care.

Each and every signal in his body, the changing pitch of his voice ... all of it, a tell. He does not seem to be an aggressive sort, beyond surface expression ; but it was the calm, that held the most wicked of hearts.

❝ ... My vision is not business of yours, outsider. Are you not far from home ? Far from human settlements ? Do you not know, into which you have wandered ? ❞

The DREADWOOD, was no place for man - let alone a man, who dresses unlike all she's ever seen. Perhaps, his continent is across the GREAT SEA, where even she was left in the dark, in regards to their comings and goings.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝ It is not too late, to turn back. ❞