Author Topic: Fear Fiction (Warlock)  (Read 380 times)

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Offline Nүx

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Fear Fiction (Warlock)
« on: July 05, 2016, 07:49:48 PM »
Nyx finds herself to be so very warm here, her fur clinging onto itself in different spots. Burrs and brambles intertwined, she hadn’t been in a situation like this since, well, when was the last time? Her child hood.  She thinks back to the days of the frost, when she was just a girl. Her inside drops, she feels bitter. Her brows furrow, she hadn’t been up for long, the moon just starting to rise in a pink sunset sky, and already her mood was fouled.  There are, she notes, glancing at the sky, distant storm clouds.

She walks the beach, the dark sand squishing against her paws, feeling damp and unpleasant. She frowns. Her eyes scan over the horizon more, watching as the storm clouds roll in, hearing distant thunder. She turns then though, the beach wasn’t her ideal spot. She walks back, towards the central meeting ground of the pack. Her slender body looked so similar in build to her mother.

She sees a ghost, and at first, she is surprised. Her eyes narrow. Hadn’t she been making up the ghost hunting in grims, hadn’t she been playing around with the drugs, and the underlings to fit into a religion she knew wasn’t true.  When she sees him, her mouth opens, she shouts out. “Aisling?” Her fur furrows up, the scent hits her.

She was sure that was her brother.  And her blood absolutely boils. “So, this is where you ran off to? This is who you abandoned your family for. What were you thinking” There is a rage in her as she approaches him, but she avoids crouching down, she isn’t going to fight him. Not yet. “What are you doing here, little boy, pretending to be something? Pretending you didn’t abandon, your poor mother, your siblings. It was just me, and her, Aisling. Just the two of us after they killed father.”

The thunder booms, a bit closer, her heart is beating louder in her ears. “You had to run away to get something for yourself, huh, little prince?” She sneers, the ex princess projecting her calamities onto the younger boy. “You know, I would have thought that maybe you would have grown a bit, little brother” she chuffs, feeling the wind, cold and salty from the sea assault her senses. It wasn’t quite like the arctic air, but it was similar.

“You know, how would all your friends like to know how easily you turn tail and abandon people, was it because you weren’t ever going to be anything but a pawn?” She had stayed, why had it been just her. Why hadn’t she been the heir to her family. “Maybe you should leave here, too? Huh, before you let everyone down”

The wind quiets, there’s a flash of lighting from somewhere over the water, she isn’t paying attention.
« Last Edit: July 05, 2016, 07:51:42 PM by N?x »
After sundown, before sleeping, I am the worst of me. I am a mess of these
Old themes and the murmur of half-dreams whisper seductively and
Stage scenes.
It’s fear fiction, these visions, caught somewhere between delusion and prophesy.
What I haven’t done, what I’ve wanted to, and what I fear you have
Becomes reality here.
994D46

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Offline Warlock

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Re: Fear Fiction (Warlock)
« Reply #1 on: July 07, 2016, 11:46:49 AM »
His family was dead, is dead, would always be dead. Warlock didn’t think about it much anymore, through both the healing salve of distance and the deliberate and conditioned avoidance of those lurking shadows in his mind, but their faces still came to him some nights – his mother, mostly, though Joffrey and Eren lived forever as children in his memory. Hindsight cast a rosier light on his childhood than perhaps was honest, but wasn’t it better to remember the dead on good terms?

Except for father. Warlock didn’t think about father.

The rising damp off the ocean had the one-time prince lost in thought, the feeling so reminiscent of the dank caves of his youth, though the temperature was all wrong. It was warm tonight, humid as the incoming storm drove the thick air before it, and with an electricity that hummed at the tips of his fur and whiskers that kept him grounded in reality. The Whisper was aware enough that someone approached him, though Gemini had done enough to soothe his usual suspicions that he did not lift his head in either fear or paranoia. Instead, the oncoming scent melded fluidly with his thoughts, familiar enough to foster a sense of security, but foreign enough to – after a moment – jar him suddenly from his reverie.

Warlock whipped his head around at his name, confusion written on his face. ”…Nyx?” Older sister. He remembered her spirit; he remembered liking her. They looked so similar, with those same red eyes. ”You’re—“, but he had no chance to continue, no moment to bask in the sudden relief of having family. Nyx tore into him, always the whipping boy, and for the duration of her tirade he was just a boy again – a child suffering beneath his father’s cruelty, his mother’s fantasy, his pack’s division. She sounded so like her.

”I—I can’t—,” he stumbled, turning fully to face her. His tongue ran over his nose, and his tail rose from where it had been half tucked to flutter behind him softly. No. Nyx could not miss that hard edge to his voice – that furrow in his brow. ”You do not get to come here with any authority and play like you can judge me.” Warlock lifted his chin, his ears set forward. ”I thought you were dead, Nyx, that mother was dead. That they tore you apart like—like everyone else.” Barbarians. The thought and memory welled up in him with such a bitter taste, hate burning like fire in his chest the tang of gunmetal on the back of his tongue.

”But you weren’t, were you? You joined up with them? Those bastards who ripped mother’s pride from her, her kingdom?” He refused to feel guilt; it haunted him enough, and he did not need to accept it further at Nyx’s selfish urging. ”I would rather die. That was not strictly true, but his sister did not need to know – he spat the words with angry vehemence, refusing to bow before her. Any relief was washed away in a rush of defensive spite. This was his home, not hers, and he had earned it.

”You are no lieutenant here.” He knew the right words, the ones his mother had taught him. Warlock may have been timid as a child and docile in Gemini’s safety, but cleverness had long served him well; he snapped his teeth at Nyx as he spoke and his language was just as biting, devised to carve her up and lay her open. ”You are nothing. And if you lay a tooth on me,” he warned, ”you will be less than nothing. Your violence is not welcome.” She would have to find a new outlet for her aggressions – and he would not be her victim. ”But if your loyalty is truly so fickle, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding new idols to fail.”

The two of them – always so eager for attention, but never the favorite in the end. Where had that gotten their siblings?

”And don’t call me Aisling,” he added with all the finality of a command, and turned from her as though she were dismissed. ”I go by Warlock here.”




I hear the clockwork in your core,
Time strips the gears till you forget what they were for,
I push the numbers through your pores...

Here's how it goes:
I crack the codes, you end the war.

Offline Nүx

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Re: Fear Fiction (Warlock)
« Reply #2 on: July 10, 2016, 12:58:03 PM »
These were not the  prodigal children. There plights had truly never ended with the happiness or greatness of there family pack. They had made different choices, her brother had fled ,to leave behind a childhood of abuse. Nyx moved on, she blossomed in a toxic environment, she too, made herself a life. In being a harsh doctor, but a quack doctor, she never knew anything about healing.  Not, herself or others.

”I—I can’t—,”

He couldn’t what. She wonders, but Nyx has never cared much about others, not enough to ask. Perhaps she took after her father in that sense, others were simply pawns. She knew she would never truly fit in. Her brother would always be better than her. But, she couldn’t just accept it. She wouldn’t accept fate, much in the same way that she had never stepped down in her goal to one up her sister Satis. Not until, of course, Satis left. Like most of her family.

”You do not get to come here with any authority and play like you can judge me.” ”I thought you were dead, Nyx, that mother was dead. That they tore you apart like—like everyone else.”

Her chest heaves, her eyes narrow, she tenses, and for a good moment it looks like she is going to spring forward, to tear into him, before she slowly exhales.  “Look, you were young, they didn’t kill that many people” She says, trying to calm her tone, “They were trying to survive,” She justifies. “ “As was I-- I stayed with mother, I was the only one” She reiterates.

”But you weren’t, were you? You joined up with them? Those bastards who ripped mother’s pride from her, her kingdom?”

“ “Mother and Father were playing pretend, they didn’t care about us.” She spits out and then, with a sigh, she mutters  “Besides, mother got a high rank quick enough, she must have regained some semblance of her pride” She talked to him about Cortana as if they had remained close, as if the girl hadn’t become estranged from her dear mother, as she had with everyone else.

”You are no lieutenant here.”

It stings her, his way with words would always be better than hers, she looks away  “ “And I never truly was. I was never qualified to be that.”  She let everyone down in the end.  She couldn’t forget that. ”You are nothing. And if you lay a tooth on me, you will be less than nothing. Your violence is not welcome.”

Angriness and bitterness had grown from a fearful and anxious child and her words knock her back into that a bit. She was, nothing, after all. Her heart is already so hard though, already a twisted and tangled thing, much like her stomachs.

”But if your loyalty is truly so fickle, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding new idols to fail.” She has nothing to say, she feels stupid, and worthless. What skills had she acquired, avoidance. A make believe sense of ghost hunting.

”And don’t call me Aisling,” he trails on about his new name, and she says, in a tone that was not any bit docile, gentle, or worldly but not nearly as aggressive as earlier. “Why give up your birth name? Why forget everyone?”

“Besides, I didn’t just up and leave, it was a mutual decision. The arctic is unable to support life” She lies  “To many hell beats wandering around, and too much history to change their thoughts about them”

And then, in a quiet tone she says. “I’m sorry mother and father threw you away too”  She could, even in her anger and bitterness relate to him, her words were hurtful, and while she wouldn’t admit it, she could at least give him that sentiment. “We were never meant to continue Grimsthorpes legacy”
After sundown, before sleeping, I am the worst of me. I am a mess of these
Old themes and the murmur of half-dreams whisper seductively and
Stage scenes.
It’s fear fiction, these visions, caught somewhere between delusion and prophesy.
What I haven’t done, what I’ve wanted to, and what I fear you have
Becomes reality here.
994D46

PLAYED by critter

Offline Warlock

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Re: Fear Fiction (Warlock)
« Reply #3 on: July 28, 2016, 10:42:16 AM »
Aisling – Warlock – steeled himself, ready for his sister to leap upon him with her teeth before her words. They had all been raised with Cortana’s courtly influence, with Osiris’ devil’s tongue, and though Warlock had dedicated himself more fully to the influence of language than the glory of combat, he knew his sister was no stranger to either. He tensed, nervous, and hardened himself against flinching when – when his sibling did nothing. She inhaled, she exhaled, and he breathed right along with her, finally offering a rough swallow as he came to appreciate that she was not about to shred his ears and bloody his face. That she was just as broken as he, discarded by the family they had struggled so hard to find a place in.

It would have made him angry had he not been so willfully blind; Warlock could only direct his disgust towards his father, towards the one creature he still foolishly placed all of his problems upon.

He was glad to have left them all behind.

”I can only apologize for my assumption, not for what I did because of it,” Warlock replied finally. He could not have stayed in a land that killed his mother – a land of barbarians and brutality – but it ripped something in him apart to know that she had not died. That, again, he had failed her – he had proved Father endlessly right. Had Nyx come upon him months ago, when Gemini was still new, he might have crumbled before her then and there. Instead he stood strong, and some piece of him did take grim satisfaction in his sister’s humble compliance, in the way she clung to her pride even as she yielded to him. He huffed a sigh, subdued by his own outburst, and the tension between them gentled more to sibling rivalry and less misdirected violence.

The damage done, Warlock took the chance to sit back down and glance away, offering only subtle body language and soft words in recompense for his biting retorts.  ”I never forgot. I just didn’t want to be that anymore.” He shrugged, for once in his life not knowing how to put his feelings to words, and stubbornly discarded her attempts to blow off her departure from Grimsthorpe as mutual. In the end, truth or not, it didn’t matter. ”I didn’t know who’d come looking.” Paranoid, he’d thought to hide himself away, but he’d also sequestered himself from his family in the same broad stroke. ”…It’s nice here,” he offered, looking back up. ”Better than the arctic.” Better than Grimsthorpe, than all of his family’s so-called legacy.

”I’m sure we could find you something to do.” Something new, something she wanted. Not the foolish responsibilities they had shouldered in the name of a half-mad king and the manipulative wife he hated – but the responsibilities they chose, they decided. ”Maybe you’ll come to like it here, too.”

If you stay.




I hear the clockwork in your core,
Time strips the gears till you forget what they were for,
I push the numbers through your pores...

Here's how it goes:
I crack the codes, you end the war.

Offline Nүx

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Re: Fear Fiction (Warlock)
« Reply #4 on: July 29, 2016, 12:36:33 PM »
While her brother threw his feelings onto their father, Nyx didn’t look to a king or queen, or even anymore to prince of princesses to host her problems. She took them all. She hoisted them onto her shoulders. She was responsible for the fall of her kingdom. Once upon a time, she blamed Satis for holding her back, but now, as an adult, she realized that It was her own problem, she was not good enough for them. She was never good enough for her kingdom and all its corruption.

She was never supposed to be. It was predetermined at some point, maybe even before she had opened her eyes. How had her parents decided who the successor would be. It had ruined her as a child trying to compete, it had planted seeds of bitterness inside of her.

”I can only apologize for my assumption, not for what I did because of it,”

She thinks for a moment, before nodding, she looks like maybe she wants to say something, but she doesn’t have the right words for that, she can’t figure them out. She wants to agree that she screwed up, but her pride is there, forcing her not to.

”I never forgot. I just didn’t want to be that anymore.”

“I don’t understand,” She too was someone that didn’t want to be who she used to be. But she also didn’t want to be who she was today, it was a shame really, that she felt that way. She kept pushing herself down, she kept downplaying herself.

”…It’s nice here,Better than the arctic.”

She tenses as he suggests that her home was bad. Maybe it was. It was, silly of her. She had left it behind, she should feel bitterly, but whenever she looks back on her home she feels nostalgic, a sense of what could have been.  Her lips form into a frown.

”I’m sure we could find you something to do.”

“But, I don’t know what I want to do, or, what im good at.” She admits.  “I was doing, ceremonies, and I lead the doctors for my last job. But, I didn’t believe in it, and It was all just pretending.”

She furrows her brows. It was easy to admit things to him in a way, she had, or felt like she had some leverage on him. It was easy when she felt she had some control. It was simple when she knew what to do.

”Maybe you’ll come to like it here, too.”

“Maybe” She sighs, theres a hint of anger in her voice, of bitterness. She knows that she can’t just like things, it didn’t come easy to her.

“Are you doing well here, brother? I mean, are you thriving?” she asks. “The way you couldn’t in Grimsthorpe?” While she was jealous of his ability to be happy somewhere, she was curious or at least was trying, and with more bitterness in her voice, “Do you have a lot of friends, or, a family?”

How well was her little brother doing compared to her.  How much better than her, was he.




After sundown, before sleeping, I am the worst of me. I am a mess of these
Old themes and the murmur of half-dreams whisper seductively and
Stage scenes.
It’s fear fiction, these visions, caught somewhere between delusion and prophesy.
What I haven’t done, what I’ve wanted to, and what I fear you have
Becomes reality here.
994D46

PLAYED by critter