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 Posted: Fri Aug 09, 2013 1:11 am
The night was humid, sticky and thick. It made it hard to breathe under his mask, but he did not dare taking it off. He was farther from the place that he had made home than he would normally be and he did not want to run the risk of loosing his precious covering. It was the only thing that made him feel comfortable and safe when he was out in the open like this. He plodded along and only stopped a few times to turn over a rock or object with his taloned front feet. He found nothing of great interest so far, and it had been several weeks since he had found any usable remains for his projects. He had become a little frustrated by this. It was as if all his normal locations had been picked clean and he did not want to risk going much closer to the Dead City than he already did. Nothing good would come from it.
Frustrated, the large black hart stopped in a small open patch of trees. His amber eyes pulled in what little light there was from the moon and stars with ease. Upon the ground were what appeared to be the remains of a larger animal. Upon further inspection, Styx determined the remains to be that of a younger herla. Not a child, but still not an adult. Under his mask, Styx clicked his tongue. It was a shame, a real shame that one so young had to die. And from such an undefined cause of death too. Perhaps they had been sick. Carefully he walked around the remains, it reminded him of his own mortality and caused his heart to race in his chest. One day he would be very much the same as that child. Remains to be stepped over and forgotten. The Deathhawk shuddered and his tail smacked into a tree heavily, lodging itself firmly into the trunk. He swore under his breath as he tried to pull himself free, but with little success. "...Don't have time for this..."
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Posted: Fri Aug 16, 2013 4:22 pm
Golden eyes traced the silhouette of the trees against the night sky, speckled with the faint stars and dim moon. In this light, the hart's pale form stood stark against the dark around him. A scarred ghost. In the heavy air, a breath rose, white and wispy, before disappearing into the branches above. Devon's jaw clenched as he raised his head upwards. He squinted. It sometimes astounded him, how long he could go without crossing paths with another. Even Peris, who could at times seem physically attached at the hip, was nowhere to be found. Devon didn't day say he was lonely; he should have been more than grateful for those he did have, but the hart couldn't deny the aching twinge within him.
The sound of a thunk--something against a tree?--pulled the hart from his stupor. Devon's head dipped lower to the ground as he weaved around the trees. His wings tucked close to his side and he hunched ever so slightly, the end of the sheathed sword trailing against the ground. The light of a clearing grew near. As did the smell of... a corpse? The hart frowned, pausing a moment as he considered the smartest action.
Well, it had been a long while since he did anything of interest. And with the thought, he stepped into the clearing.
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Posted: Thu Sep 05, 2013 12:51 pm
It wasn't as if Styx had anywhere important to be, he never did. Other than the time he spent with his dearest friend Edith, he has nothing to do at all. But still, it was a nuisance to be stuck in a tree for a good portion of the night. Or perhaps longer. He tugged and pulled and strained with his own limb for several moments before the bone blade pulled free with a sound of slicing air. The large hart heaved a sigh of momentary relief. He could not express properly to any soul just how many times he had harmed himself with his own appendage because it had become lodged into one object or another. He was quite lucky in the fact that he had never had the misfortune of actually lodging it into another herla. So at least there was that and thought comforted him somewhat.
So lost in his escape had he been that he failed to take notice of the newest arrival to his little clearing of trees. The hart froze against the chilled air as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The battle was on. Did he dare turn and look? Should he run away? If it were nothing, he would feel foolish. Then again, if it were nothing, he wouldn't know if it were nothing if he didn't look. Styx swallowed hard and turned to look toward the new arrival a snails pace. His tail lashed behind him nervously as he first laid eyes on the white hart that had come through the trees. It smacked against a tree, but did not become stuck as it had earlier. This part always made him anxious; knowing if he were to run or if he were to stay.
He took several cautious steps backwards as he stared at the hart, but said nothing. What was there for him to say?
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