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tethered to the dark [DEATH]
Posted 02-08-2018, 09:13 PM |
Tristan
Spirit Wolf
Male, 7.25
Meso-runner
30 in, 115 lbs
186 ep
© Xechi



It was time. Death's heavy hand lay against his head, and no longer could he fight it. The brute rested against his wife's memorial, the stone cool and comforting against his feverish flesh. Aster had helped move him the night before, ever-gentle with her dying Grandfather as she laid him in the fresh moss bed. She knew death's shadow hung over him, but no amount of insistence would convince Tristan to let her stay. "Let me be with my wife," he'd said, voice nearly unrecognizable with its hoarseness, "You will know when it's time. Everyone will." Aster reluctantly agreed, though she whispered a fervent promise that she would be close if he needed anything, anything at all before her pale frame slipped into the darkness, leaving Tristan, blessedly, alone.

Sleep was compulsory now, something that took him whether or not his still lids fell. Pain wracked every bit of him, from twitching, drooping auds, to shaking tail-tip, but still he fought. Fought to hold onto life just a while longer, even though his very soul begged for release. He woke in the morning with a start. His heart hammered painfully against his chest, and his breath came in short, wavering gasps. "No!" Tristan cries, and presses his burning forehead to the cool, obsidian stone. "Not yet, not yet, Ramona..." Soon, the wolves of Enigma would slip through the shadows and rush to his side. His emotions ran on high, pulsating through his mind, and therefore, through the minds of others. They would come, gather around him, and watch him die. He wasn't ready. Though he was more a corpse than a man, Tristan did not welcome death. Despite spending all his life devoted to the craft, he still felt incomplete. There was always more to learn, more students to teach, more wolves to heal. 'But everyone you loved is dead,' a dark voice said, whispering into his ear in a way Tristan had scarcely allowed before. It was true that he had outlived his best friends, his wife, his children. He'd outlived the blessed Singer, the darling Greenfire, and even his muse, Nagini. He'd watched the death of his wife, and missed the death of his son. (Blood or no, Szymon was and always be the son of his soul.) "But...," he said, eyes hot with tears unshed, "They need me. Aster, Yvie, Ianthe." Even now, he would not fool himself into thinking Rue needed him. Ruellia had long outlived the need for guidance, at least, from her Father. 'It is common to think yourself and others' needs more important than death.' The dark voice responded smoothly to Tristan's pleas, speaking directly to the part of the pious man that would understand.

Tristan's sighed heavily, shoulders shaking as they rose, then fell. He could not argue with the voice anymore, could not fight against the black that hung in his peripheral. His body crumpled at the base of the stone, though his cheek remained pressed against it. His eyes were clouded, unseeing, and staring. "Have I failed you, Kaede?" His hoarse voice rose into a broken plea as he beseeches the god who claimed his heart. Time and again, Tristan's loyalties were tested and always he followed the path of his family. (He remembers the moment Ramona told him, that she held his child. He remembers, with a sad smile, the fire in her eyes as she demanded his loyalty.) Tristan had committed himself to a life of servitude, in service, always, to Kaede, but when finally he had his God's grace, where did he go? Into the dark, into the deep where his wife lay, his family grew. "Forgive me, I...," he gulped the sadness caught in his throat, "I love them more than... anything." Even you.

Tristan coughed, and couldn't feel nor taste the blood dripping from his limp jaws. "I'll... never leave you... again. Ramona. My Ramona." He could hear wolves coming, and felt glad. 'Hurry,' he thinks, he begs. He didn't accept death, but neither could he fight it, but he would not leave. Not until his children had their closure. It was the last thing he could do, and finally, he could do it right.


"Remember me as you pass by,
as you are now so once was I,
as I am now so you will be
Prepare for death and follow me."


Tristan will die in my next post! Anyone and everyone is welcome to say their farewells.

Ianthe Yvaine Szymon Vaitan Ramona Divine Intervention




[ Reply ]






Posted 02-08-2018, 11:16 PM | This post was last modified: 02-13-2018, 08:37 PM by Ianthe
Enigma
Ianthe
Enigma Heir
Female, 3.25
Mesomorph
27 in, 100 lbs
108 ep
© Lou
Her name is a whisper hush in the darkness, the last of a list that unfurl from jaws that push to speak even though they shouldn't. Hurry.. the voice forces her eyes open in the early morning, and as the shock hits her so does the relief. Her throat fills with some sort of object, it tightens her breathing and the more she tries to swallow it back; the less it seems to hear her. "Papa?" her voice is a whisper, a breath hot on her darkened lips as she rises to her feet. Enigma had been her home since the very beginning of her life, she'd been brought into this realm in the dark, and it was where she would remain; even though most of her family had since disappeared. Her brothers and sisters, her mother, and now... her father. She doesn't hurry, so much as walk her way through the tunnels and corridors of Enigma's labyrinth, until the familiar monolith and memorial for her mother rises up in front of her. Beside it, Tristan lays with his head on his paws, slack as the life melts away from him and into the stone. "Pa..." she breathes, and all of a sudden that lump in her throat threatens to shut off her breathing altogether. She is frightened, grief-stricken, alone.

She moves to his side just like she had the first time, her cheek brushes against his own and she places a delicate kiss to his forehead. "You have been a good father," she tells him through a hushed whisper, as if she could sing him to sleep with a lullaby of reassurances, "I will always remember your wisdom and guidance, and I will always love you." another kiss as her eyes fill with tears, and Ianthe takes a step back to sit with him. To make room for those who want to come and say their goodbyes. She was too used to loss to shriek and moan, but inside she was screaming in pain.

Yvaine Ruellia



[ Reply ]






Posted 02-09-2018, 07:36 AM | This post was last modified: 02-14-2018, 02:54 AM by Yvaine
Enigma
Yvaine
Enigma Hunter
Female, 4.50
Ectomorph
39.5 in, 96 lbs
8 ep
© Amber

With the first pulse of pain that shot through her she jolted from the place she stood. The hare bolted, and Yvaine did the same, but in the opposite direction. Run, oh feet, can't you go any faster! Time, what an elusive thing, did it have to happen now? But she would've thought the same even if it happened in a year, even if it happened after a lifetime. She wasn't ready! She wouldn't have ever been. Her paws only lightly touched the floor as she dived into the Calignous once again to face death. 'Hurry.' "I'm coming!I'M COMING-""I'm coming." she whispered as her eyes welled with tears she desperately tried to keep.
In a few blinks she was there by his side, by her sister's side, by her mother's side. She wished she could erase the image she was seeing - the blood spilling out of him; but it would be imprinted in her forever, just like Szymon's lifeless body and her mother's corpse engulfed in shadow. "Please, stay." A whimper escaped her alabaster throat. She crouched, aiming to gently press her nose to his cheek. She sighed. You are the best father. her mind's voice was cast to his. And I will always remember you and love you. She was desperate for a miracle, she needed to know this wasn't really happening... but yet it did, and it ached like a knife thrown at her throat. Pale, she straightened to a sit next to Ianthe, their white coats brushing.

"..."


Edited
;-; ;-; ;-;



[ Reply ]






Posted 02-14-2018, 03:39 PM |
Enigma
Ruellia
Enigma Alpha
Female, 5.25
Meso-fighter
33 in, 115 lbs
371 ep
© Xechi



Time was against them all. Ruellia thought she'd made peace with her Father's death the night she spent wrapped in his fragile arms. His history could play across her mind like a storybook. Unlike her Mother, Tristan had not left Rue with questions. Or, so she thought. But, as his mind lit on fire as the pain of death descended, questions she never thought to ask came unbidden to the fore of her mind. Her chest tightened as his desperate plea echoed in all the minds within Enigma, and she was single-minded as she raced through the halls. All the knowledge in the world could not prepare her for the sight of him before the obsidian stone, blood seeping from parted lips as he clung desperately to the last few, fleeting moments of life. Her sisters' pain was a deeper blow, echoing inside of Ruellia in time with her own, aching thoughts. She is a solitary figure a wolf's leap away from her grieving family, a figure carved from stone. Rue breathes, and it feels like jagged daggers against her hammering ribcage. Tristan shuddered, and time was against them all.

"No!" The pale Queen cried, her voice echoing down the dark halls like a clarion cry. Time stopped, and though it pulled from Ruellia all her strength, she moved forward, pressing past her unmoving sisters and collapsing before Tristan. Ocean eyes meet clouded blue, and in the privacy of stilled time, Ruellia wept. "Oh, Papa. I thought... I thought I was ready but," she pressed her forehead to his, eyes shut as she pretended, just for awhile longer, that this wasn't happening. "I'm still your little girl, Papa." Her limbs grew tight from lack of blood flow, and every breath, every word a nail in the coffin. "Everything that's happened, all your guilt, Papa. Be free of it." Rue pulled away, her tears staining both their cheeks. Kisses were placed to his forehead, to his cheeks, to his muzzle. Sweet, and gentle and unlike anything she'd ever given him. For so long, Ruellia resented Tristan. Held him responsible for the early pains of her life. Thought him weak in the face of Ramona's wrath. Found him wanting in presence of parenthood. It all seemed silly, small and infantile now. It was knowledge that could only be seen in the face of death and she hated all the time she took for granted.

She felt her energy draining, and knew, this brief pocket of time she'd trapped them in could not be contained forever. There was nothing Rue could do to change the outcome. Her Father was dying, like her brother before him, like her Mother, Aunt, Uncle. A sob escaped her lips, and again she pressed fervent kisses to his brow. "I love you, Papa. I'm sorry, I'm so-" Rue gasped, shuddered, and stumbled backwards as time began to tick again. She was silent as she composed herself, though her breath came in great, heaving gasps that pulled Tristan's attention towards her. Through clouded eyes, she saw recognition, as though he had heard her in the time between time. She needed to get a hold of herself, put away the ache the reverberated through her entire body and be strong for her sisters. "Goodbye, Papa." Rue said, her voice childlike despite wanting to seem in control.








"Stars, hide your fires;
let not light see my black and deep desires."


[Image: EinF1lS.jpg]



[ Reply ]






Posted Yesterday, 10:16 AM | This post was last modified: Yesterday, 10:16 AM by Szymon
Szymon
Spirit
Male, 5.25
Meso-fighter
35 in, 122 lbs
465 ep
© KittyKookiez

Perhaps they knew. Perhaps they had felt his soul wandering these halls for the past few weeks. He had never ventured far from the Crypt, as though his soul were attached to it, despite having died somewhere else (a place he can't remember). Regardless, he makes no grand entrance, no flash or loud noise. He simply appears behind them all, radiating a soft, pale light. Somber and quiet, the man feels just like Rue at the presence of Tristan--a boy again.

In his time as a spirit, he's come to not mind the thought of death. Life was over for him, and he understood in an almost stoic manner that it would be for his father. He gives Tristan a soft smile as his eyes land on him, walking forward silently. Death doesn't mean the end, Dad. he says softly, so softly; an almost whisper. I'm here for you when you're ready... and even though he cannot feel, he would touch noses with Tristan, and allow the others space to grieve as he waits for Tristan to join him.

talk.



I probably didn't express how Szymon is feeling properly in this post, so co clarify--Szymon absolutely DOES love Tristan, but is at peace with the idea of death and so won't really feel sad because he believes that just because Tristan is dying, doesn't mean he won't be there for them anymore.
Also, Szymon is offering to guide Tristan's soul to the "afterlife," so they can explore the Island together for the first time~


KittyKookiez OOC Accountcredit

There is no need to tag me in any threads I am already in (unless it is my turn to post AND it is a multiple-party thread)!

Adopt one today!
Check out Doodle and his friends on Dragcave :3




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Posted Yesterday, 11:56 AM |
Ramona
Spirit
Female, 9.25
Ectomorph
40 in, 94 lbs
181 ep
© cat
She feels it. The oh so familiar crackle and pop that it took to drag her form to the world of the living. It seemed to take an eternity in the time of the frozen for her ivory pelt to become visible. Ever as vibrant and lush as it had been in her youth. Eyes sparkled their natural hue and blink away the black that would soon allow her to see. So long she had remained gone. Away from their lives and hidden in the nothing that was her prison now. She had not wanted them to be hindered by the baggage of a dead mother. Did not want to keep her beloved husband hung to a false reality that they could be normal. You could not love the dead as you did the living and it was a hard fact that had slapped her in the face time and time again.

It is only when she heard his last breath expel did she feel the tug at her blackened heart. She is there. A hovering image of what she once was. Eyes stared down at the lifeless form of her love. Her soul mate. "I am here Tristan..." Her voice is ragged and sounds so foreign to the ears that had not heard it in ages- her own. It is quiet and barely above a whisper, but soon her eyes lift from her lover and take in the forms of her children. So beautiful they were, each and every one of them. "I am here." The words are louder now. A soft boom in the cavern.

She would wait for the soul of her loved to arise and meet her. To finally dance together as they had done when their hearts first touched. She would no longer be the absent figment of all their memories.

Ramona was here.

Tristan

I am ok with being tagged multiple times as reminders if I have failed to post Ramona after 3 days.



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