Post by Lone Dancer on Dec 3, 2021 5:37:32 GMT
The sands were an all consuming black, each grain a speck of the void itself, sharp and unforgiving. They dug into Gypsum's claws and under her scales. Unlike the sands of her desert, which blistered with heat, these burned with frigid cold. She shivered, each breath an exhalation of vapor, every intake a freezing gust into her lungs. She clutched at her satchel, holding it close, the leather straps around her neck the only thing she could really feel anymore. Painful numbness permeated her body.
It was cold. So cold. So dark. So alone. Tiny little whispers, wisps of maliciousness decorated around her consciousness. She lost track of the minutes, days, years; time losing all meaning in this place where eternities happened within eye blinks and eye blinks within eternities. There was no sun, only the fractured remains of a moon that were far too close, always threatening to crash down into the sands, yet merely staying in place, countless shards of star illuminated mountains in the sky. An eerie beauty to it.
Creatures formed from the sounds raced across it, dancing in the tune 0f predator and prey; illusions formed to bring a sense of slight normality. Yet the feeling was only fleeting. She was so cold. She wanted to lay down. But something within her told her that she could not. She had to keep moving.
Moving with no end in sight. Lest the shadows finally consume her, in this dark, frigid corner of the realms, hidden away from mortals and dragons. The sands shifted with the sound of footsteps, rustling with an unseen movement behind her. But she didn't dare look back. In case it was something she didn't want to see.
It didn't go away, merely keeping steady pace with her. It was patient, but she didn't detect the same sense of cruelty the others things that existed here did. This one was more of mystery, the unknown. An aura that bespoke of things not uttered. Slightly out of fear, but also ignorance.
Still, she never looked back. Gypsum learned that on day one, to never look back. It only brought pain. Eventually, she began to speak to the thing that walked beside her. It never responded, but always listened as she began to ramble on half-forgotten stories, tales of a world not this abyssal wasteland.
It brought her minor comfort, the sense that she wasn't quite as alone before.
It was during one day, in a period of silence that the entity spoke a story of it's own. Beginning with a life of chains and shackles, used for perverse means. Then escape, at a cost that was perhaps too much. A loss of identity, having to try to find a proper one to replace the one it once had. Searching for a name. A new one, for it no longer had its old one.
It finally found one, after a special deal. A deal that marked the beginning of the next chapter of its life. It began to grow a purpose beyond that of revenge for the suffering it has endured. Then it found magic. A proper will to live. It found someone to love. Over the span of centuries and millennia, it become a well known figure. Unfortunately, many only knew it for one act it had down to stop a war.
A title was granted that day, one that it could never leave the shadow of. It was infamous, hated, feared. Looked down upon because it used 'inferior' magicks, despite its ability that exceeded those of the Arch-Kind. It then fought a second war. One that never quite ended. One of such horror that normal men would insane after merely an hour. It fought in the thickest of it for millennia. It was the only one that would fight anymore.
No one else wanted to face the nightmares. To face horror incarnate. That war changed it. In a way neither positive or negative. It granted a new strength, cemented an undying will.
"Well, perhaps that is enough of my own story. Now what is yours, little dragon? You've regaled me with tales of others, but never of yourself." Gypsum remained silent at the prodding whispers of the entity.
"Mmm. I think you've been here for far too long. You're lost, but I think you've forgotten that fact. These sands are not friendly towards your kind. I think it's time you headed back. To finally rest; you need it." As it spoke, they climbed one of the pitch dunes, and when they were at the top, it shoved Gypsum tumbling down.
As she rolled down in the freezing black sands, she found herself atop a trapdoor made from a white wood. She looked back up the dune, and the always smiling face of what walked beside stared down, giving her a little wave. Its sapphire eyes twinkled of pale white flame, tiny stars against the darkness around.
"Go find your story. And when you have it, perhaps come back and tell me. I always love a good story. Farewell, little dragon. Farewell;"
"Gypsum."
Its voice carried down the sandy hill, and she watched as it finally turned away, and continued its own path across the sands. When she faced the white trapdoor once more, a simple leather journal rested atop it.
Opening it, she found blank pages, with only a note attached behind the front cover.
Gypsum's Story Book.
Clutching it close, a final gift from the strange individual, she pulled at the trapdoor's latch, revealing a place she thought she never would see again. She couldn't help but smile as she fell through the trapdoor.
She was finally,
Home.
It was cold. So cold. So dark. So alone. Tiny little whispers, wisps of maliciousness decorated around her consciousness. She lost track of the minutes, days, years; time losing all meaning in this place where eternities happened within eye blinks and eye blinks within eternities. There was no sun, only the fractured remains of a moon that were far too close, always threatening to crash down into the sands, yet merely staying in place, countless shards of star illuminated mountains in the sky. An eerie beauty to it.
Creatures formed from the sounds raced across it, dancing in the tune 0f predator and prey; illusions formed to bring a sense of slight normality. Yet the feeling was only fleeting. She was so cold. She wanted to lay down. But something within her told her that she could not. She had to keep moving.
Moving with no end in sight. Lest the shadows finally consume her, in this dark, frigid corner of the realms, hidden away from mortals and dragons. The sands shifted with the sound of footsteps, rustling with an unseen movement behind her. But she didn't dare look back. In case it was something she didn't want to see.
It didn't go away, merely keeping steady pace with her. It was patient, but she didn't detect the same sense of cruelty the others things that existed here did. This one was more of mystery, the unknown. An aura that bespoke of things not uttered. Slightly out of fear, but also ignorance.
Still, she never looked back. Gypsum learned that on day one, to never look back. It only brought pain. Eventually, she began to speak to the thing that walked beside her. It never responded, but always listened as she began to ramble on half-forgotten stories, tales of a world not this abyssal wasteland.
It brought her minor comfort, the sense that she wasn't quite as alone before.
It was during one day, in a period of silence that the entity spoke a story of it's own. Beginning with a life of chains and shackles, used for perverse means. Then escape, at a cost that was perhaps too much. A loss of identity, having to try to find a proper one to replace the one it once had. Searching for a name. A new one, for it no longer had its old one.
It finally found one, after a special deal. A deal that marked the beginning of the next chapter of its life. It began to grow a purpose beyond that of revenge for the suffering it has endured. Then it found magic. A proper will to live. It found someone to love. Over the span of centuries and millennia, it become a well known figure. Unfortunately, many only knew it for one act it had down to stop a war.
A title was granted that day, one that it could never leave the shadow of. It was infamous, hated, feared. Looked down upon because it used 'inferior' magicks, despite its ability that exceeded those of the Arch-Kind. It then fought a second war. One that never quite ended. One of such horror that normal men would insane after merely an hour. It fought in the thickest of it for millennia. It was the only one that would fight anymore.
No one else wanted to face the nightmares. To face horror incarnate. That war changed it. In a way neither positive or negative. It granted a new strength, cemented an undying will.
"Well, perhaps that is enough of my own story. Now what is yours, little dragon? You've regaled me with tales of others, but never of yourself." Gypsum remained silent at the prodding whispers of the entity.
"Mmm. I think you've been here for far too long. You're lost, but I think you've forgotten that fact. These sands are not friendly towards your kind. I think it's time you headed back. To finally rest; you need it." As it spoke, they climbed one of the pitch dunes, and when they were at the top, it shoved Gypsum tumbling down.
As she rolled down in the freezing black sands, she found herself atop a trapdoor made from a white wood. She looked back up the dune, and the always smiling face of what walked beside stared down, giving her a little wave. Its sapphire eyes twinkled of pale white flame, tiny stars against the darkness around.
"Go find your story. And when you have it, perhaps come back and tell me. I always love a good story. Farewell, little dragon. Farewell;"
"Gypsum."
Its voice carried down the sandy hill, and she watched as it finally turned away, and continued its own path across the sands. When she faced the white trapdoor once more, a simple leather journal rested atop it.
Opening it, she found blank pages, with only a note attached behind the front cover.
Gypsum's Story Book.
Clutching it close, a final gift from the strange individual, she pulled at the trapdoor's latch, revealing a place she thought she never would see again. She couldn't help but smile as she fell through the trapdoor.
She was finally,
Home.