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09-04-2014, 08:32 PM
Life since the coup; it had been such a bore, but the dead goddess could not fathom what lay out there in the world of Alacritia, what treasures awaited discovery. Upon her crust, she was cold as a stone, still as a star in the night. Cyan gems were dulled, the right marred by scars, as well as a slight tear upon her left ear, a notch torn by the great war two years ago. It ached at her heart just upon thinking so much upon the coup. She had yet to see any of her family; yet she only sought out one that she truly loved and trusted, her brother Fendar. There were no signs of her maskless kin, the one supposedly having survived the battle. Had any of her other siblings survived? It had taken the wounded phoenix two years to travel to these lands; all due to broken bones and spirit. "It's all gone, and I blame them. It was all their fault for the countless lies. I should strip myself of the shameful name soon." What name could be so much more shameful than that of the Xanilov was beyond the temptress, but there were some, amongst them families whom have fled these lands in fear or fright of being challenged for their kingdom and rights. Perhaps the members of the royal court -- that she had been amongst once -- had fled here after the coup, or succumbed to the weakness that was instinct? She did not have a single care in the world.
She found herself in a world beyond hopes -- beyond desires. A gorgeous steppe in the midst of moonlight. Unbeknownst to her, the goddess stood exactly parallel to the lands of a familiar kingdom. Cyan gems searched the vast territory for any sign of her kin -- of her family even. There was no hopes of finding such characters. Even those who survived the coup were far too scattered to recollect them into one group. There was noone she trusted, but a familiar face could possibly reveal itself someday, yet remain masked by lies and deceit. "Hello? Anyone?" Quietly the firebird would call, her voice a dull monotone, lacking any excitement or emotion, aquamarines staring across the lands in utter silence.
09-05-2014, 09:04 AM
Her call had been desolate -- a broken melody and a mere fragment of who the goddess once had been. For moments, it remained unanswered, no others sounding in the distance. Perhaps the pack was simply deceased, an disbanded group of rogues. Just as the golden mask would turn away, came the presence of a glorious living firebird, though she paid little mind to her original pelt tones, but instead to the pearly mask displayed upon the crown of the young woman. A small growl of distaste would come from splayed lips, as her right eye would roll slightly toward the phoenix. "You're a Xanilov, aren't you? You're far too young to have fought in the coup and traveled here." Ah, no sarcasm, no humor; classic Vasilisa. Her voice was slightly eccentric, but held a steady tone throughout the verse, lyrics sung from tattered lips in a desolate and hollow sound. The phoenix's suspicions would become confirmed, as the cyan-eyed tempest would speak of her origins and ask of her reasons of coming to the lands she came upon now. "Raisa... she is alive?" The only surviving child from her aunt's litter had been killed, slaughtered in the face of the coup. There was no possibility that she had been fit enough to come to such lands. "Don't correct me, if she wasn't alive, how would you be in existence?" A quietly spoken smart-ass comment would slip from inky lips, but clearly loud enough for the tempest to hear. Perhaps if she wasn't that cheerful, she could stretch her legs and run for once. The tempest did not want any hint of fighting or war anymore. "If you are going to chase after me like a rabid dog, at least spare yourself the time and allow me to take my leave. What is the point of battle?"
Insanity was doing the same thing over and over; expecting a different result every time. The definition of the word fit the theme of the coup so well, so perfectly, as if it were modeled exactly for the war. She showed many signs of the battle, but the young fae only stood with a clean slate, no scars pockmarking such a vibrant and gorgeous pelt. "I used to be like you, miss Valeriya. War can change someone so much, especially when you watch so many of your loved ones die in front of your very eyes." This yearling obviously knew nothing of what war was, of what it could cause, what damage it can do to one's heart. "I don't blame anyone but those of Old Ebony. So many rumors and lies, I can't tell who to trust anymore. I am sure your mother learned the same way through the coup." The tempest saw a hell before a heaven, a hydra before an Eden. She had bitten the forbidden apple, and in return, her heart had been crossed, casted aside as if she were a misfit. "Just let that be a lesson for you. Don't put too much trust into someone, not even your family."