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doutaini map

Map of Doutaini

Spring Icon © Astre
Current Layout Image © Sparrow
Map Drawing © Doodle
Coding © Tempy & Doutaini Staff
Original Content © Kaji & Crux
Characters © Their respective writers

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Posted 09-12-2017, 11:52 PM |
Rebel Gamma
Female, 4.75
40 in, 80 lbs lbs
54 ep
© Sylvirr

lorem ipsum She passes through without warning, a bone witch covered in windswept cobwebs, a spider queen who wears the silk of her minions as a veil. The sun is at her back. She is filled with disquiet, filled with a rabble that rattles inside the cage of her bones and screams and fights and struggles against her outward calm countenance. Nails on a blackboard, a screeching sound in her ears as she grits her ill-fitting teeth and finally descents into the warm and dusky madness that is the Ridge, and sharply, a snarl thrown over her shoulder towards the wildcat that that so dares to stalk her-- a poor choice, a foolish choice, for the creature's need has pricked its paw against the thorns of the thistle and Famine is too thorough a witch to allow her lair to be disturbed without due recourse, and like Sleeping Beauty who pricked her finger on a spindle, so too has the cougar who dared walk too close, to dare brush against trees, and so slowly does the feline fall that it seems as if exhaustion has taken it.

Not so.

She turns, she watches, she waits as the cougar falls to the earth in a heap, breath coming in haggard gasps that grow raspy and shallow and she waits waits waits until she hears it-- death rattle.

A time later, she passes through without warning, a bone witch covered in windswept cobwebs dyed in blood, a spider queen who wears the silk of her minions as a veil and the blood and bone and flesh of her enemies as a dress, for she has become the painted lady, a wolf in cougar's clothing. The sun is at her back, but she does not feel it.



Posted 09-21-2017, 08:35 PM |
Enigma Wolf
Male, 4.25
35 in, 130 lbs
63 ep
© joel

He is restless. Bound to some unseen web not beyond Doutaini. It coaxed him towards a deep pocket ebbed for him and only him. The validation of identity, esteem, and psyche. What he abused and restored. Those that came in proximity of his orbit fell, too. He makes certain of that truth. That did not disprove the envy black-holes had for stars and the moon and the planets it maws. The soft precision of his feet gather at the low ledge of mountain side bridging the Styx and the Ridge. Nostrils flare, disturbing the magnitude of his leer. It is the only animation his body allowed. Such programming meant brief, small shows of expression. He is watching. He was inspecting. He was refraining. He can never predict himself, and so cleansed the chance to act. Fortitude was painful for his composure, when denied. He is tall, not out of height, but posture. Self-assurance promotes it. Not ego, no - his is far too scarred and warped to bring any more vanities. It was confidence that he can endure, if all condemned him. Discomfort creates voids. A needle prick within the stitching, he'd weave a means of their business. Unfinished. It rubs him. A gritty texture. He was not familiar to her, neither she to him, and his breach was an unnecessary intimacy neither could share now. In the redrock fell beneath dusk, he is the shadow between their catacombs. Occupied and listless. Asclepius follows her, perplexed by what she meant to accomplish with a cat's corpse.

Famine short and sweet <3