flawless
04-12-2013, 09:35 AM
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LAST YEARS WISHES ARE THIS YEAR'S APOLOGIES These lands had called out for Kalypso. They had cried her name and begged her paws to alight upon them. And it was her wanderlust that obliged. Through the forest she wound herself, moving with a feline purpose and grace. Of course, it was difficult for her to get lost in these woods. Her memory engrained each path within the confines of her brain, trapping it for all eternity. It was a talent that had emerged within her at the very beginning of her life, back when life had been so much simpler. Back when she was no Darksidy, but Conan. The fact caused her entertainment, but little joy. Was she to become a killer no matter what? Simply with a different surname? The players are the same. But the pawns are now queens, the queens now pawns. It caused a hot brand of rage to stab her breast. For paltry conflict her life destroyed. She had been borne from conflict. Violence had flowed with her from birth, but it had killed everything she had held dear. Swathes of death ran like rivers around her. There was never an end to it, just like there had never truly been a beginning. Chaos flirted her footsteps. And wherever she went, destruction was soon to follow. Kalypso Darksidy was a bastardization of her mother. The long, powerful limbs. The burning eyes. She was a cruel turn on a very bad joke. But ? in her own way ? she was the most worthy sequel to her mother. Kalypso had fought (and won) many a man, woman, and beast. She had ruled and destroyed, pillaged and burned. Although her life had been destroyed by violence, she had been rebuilt by it just as well. The darkness was thick in the deep forest. Fog clouded the walking path, and shrouded her in all-consuming gloom. In the concealing darkness, she moved without effort. Shadows bent and broke to part way for her passing. Each passing shaft of moonlight played across her fur, providing a backlight for her movements. And then suddenly, she was driven into the depths of inky blackness once more. She dove deep, back beneath the waves of shifting darkness and transient gloom. Loamy earth clung between her toes, reminders of the freshly fallen rain. The earthy scent of coming autumn stuck in her nose. She was not here for any particular reason. Simply another product of grating insomnia, her desire to wander outweighed her need for sleep. And wander she did, through each new shadowed forest. Through each new copse of trees, she slithered. Underbrush became her new robes, and birds heralded her approach. But emotion prodded her graceful steps. Emotion that she had never had the chance to feel before. The one that she had actually opened to had gone, left her sprawled in the dusty ruins of what once was. From her breast he had torn something. It was important, she knew only because it hurt. And it did not hurt like any mortal wound. It wept and clawed and snarled ugliness in the cage that was her chest. She felt as if she was bleeding from a wound that couldn?t heal. Wouldn?t heal. Kalypso paused in the underbrush, cloaked in the safety of darkness. It wove her between its covering sheets. The cool safety that it promised was unlike any other. She stayed there, standing open-eyed and hesitating. Not wanting to leave the comfort that defended her. This was her bastion. A sanctuary from what lay before and behind her. She would cling here, grasping at these rocks above a tumultuous sea. Kalypso was no stranger standing here ? she was at home. |
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