Member OTS


Arête & Tywin

Couple OTS

Open | the long farewell


give me your hand in flesh, give me your hand in death

“I’m behind you.”

Obsidian particles flit before her in a hive, spinning on itself before narrowing itself and retreating back to the limping femme. Fresh red wounds that would later scar riddle her spine from the atrocities in the all to recent past. The black particles follow them, dissecting before intersecting again, sweeping over her in a film of ichor. Down her left hind they slither, before jumping forward to her right fore; the stiff limb, the knee that every stride she favors without realizing it.

The cloud of eldritch motes spread, forming the vague image of her dearest Jakob. His muzzle hangs at the meat of her upper fore, where inside she can feel her muscle twitching and spasming with each step. And with more attention, the more the pain seems to flare, the more heat seems to rise. Finally, she stops, panting. Ribs rake through her ecru pelt, betraying her nourishment. Like sand through an hour glass Jakob’s image fades, the black presence expanding towards the verdant grasses at her hooves. They linger there, quivering despite attempting to remain static.

“I’m not hungry,” she murmurs. For a moment she stands there, spine drawn tight as she leans away from her aching right foreleg. A wince hisses through her lips as she draws it from the ground, curling it beneath her slowly, pleading the tightness to relent. Jakob’s presence rushes around her, piercing the lingering fog of the fields he’d led her too. An absence so brief draws her back to all fours, pivoting around ungracefully to investigate his uninhibited movements. A streak of black draws back towards, then passed her, ushering her to at least keep moving. Dark harks fall to her bald nape, but she obeys, and her tired limbs drag through the high fields once more.

Things continued as such. Jakob’s refusal to allow her to stop pushes her forward with each hoof fall. It’s the only reason she reached the Bifrost at all. Of course she spied it long before she stood beneath it’s shadow. Through the soft glow of the overcast and mist the silhouette of a massive tree loomed. It’s shape, only a few shades darker than the cream of the atmosphere, loomed in the distance. A moment she stands, panting, eyeing it with distrust. But something about it piques the interest of her Jakob. A moment he materializes again in the hallow shape of her beloved, standing there with his visage cocked as they eye the giant.

Like a loosed arrow, he shoots off towards it, spiraling and twisting back on the trail of his motes to encourage her to move forward again. And she does. She knows she always will.

There is a sadness to her eyes as she regards what is left of Jakob. Perhaps others would have reflected upon her situation with more reverence; they still had their beloved in spirit, even if not in flesh. Of course LaLaurie feels veneration, albeit a sliver in comparison to the breadth she should witness. Yet, she cannot hide that melancholy, that unending droop of her lids that emulates the constant need to sob when she sees him like that… a figure, a presence, a fabric of himself lost in the realm of the living when his body has all but rotted back in the scorches of Riftmarch.

That shuddering sound, like a flock of birds’ wings if they were stiff and firm, and the black motes snapped back to her. Their movement, for they are always moving, slows exponentially so that it may run along the length of her alabaster and umber cheek. She cannot feel it, so grief again eviscerates her gut with its daggers, but she cannot help leaning into it, her lids softly closing, simply remember the warmth that such a touch had once brought her.

But it was not the same. It would never be the same again.

But she is also not one to pity herself. So she follows Jakob. Eventually the stiffness of her limp eases and does not display as prominent. LaLaurie falters only once on her approach; when the great shadow of the tree blots out the sunlight so that a halo encompasses its impressive breadth of branches. Jakob's shuddering image shoots past her, rising and falling over the grounds now marred with tangles of roots. Quickly she retreats after him, torn from her marvel as she continues after her curious husband.

But he is gone, the shuddering ceased and the ethereal motes having vanished. She spirals around the root she'd just crested, wondering if he'd played some sort of sick joke. Dark audits flick atop her crown, and quickly her breathing begins to escalate. "Jakob?" she whispers, though she does not know why she keeps her voice so low. Her lithe legs carry her forward gracefully through the tawny grasses. Their stalks were impressive, tickling the underside of her thin barrel and hips, reminding her of the ache in her stomach she'd denied earlier. Still, she does not stop. Like a scout she pushes forward through the bushes, "Jakob!" she'd snap as she did so, trying to call him from whatever shadow he was hiding.

There. A gaping hole - no, not a hole at all. For the branches have twisted and plaited into intricate designs, and the grounds were far too groomed to have been some simple hole. It was an opening. She approached, snaking her visage and peering into the darkness below. It was so abyssal it reminded her of the strange, light consuming particles the dead displayed. Must he have gone down there? It was the only plausible solution. Hazel visionaries eye the runes etched into the great tree's roots as she inches forward, careful with her injured fore as she slips down into the depths.

"Jakob! Please!" she hisses, her audits slipping back to her smooth nape. Into oblivious she descends until the ground levels out. Here she pauses, her harks swiveling. She tries to call him to her with whatever that strange channel she had with the passed, but... her eyes widen. She cannot feel it. It's sudden absence, it's refusal to manifest, breeds a fear so icy as it clutches her heart she thinks she may collapse there. "No!", her mind shrieks, and before she can fully consider just how her gatorglass induced blessing (or was it a curse?) had been striped from her, the roots are weaving shut the entrance. "NO!" she screams, lurching up the incline with whatever might she had left to spare. As the last slivers of white light are reaped by the tight weave of the roots, she plunges her shoulders into their dirty laden appendages.

But it does not give. Not an inch, not even a centimeter.

Rather she tumbles back, struggling to stay on her own hooves and tripping over the length of her own obsidian banner. Drawing herself to her feet, her right shoulder protesting every inch she takes, her panicked eyes sweep through the darkness. They adjust, but slowly, and even then the visibility is poor. Alone. Entirely alone. And trapped.

"JAKOB!" she screams.

TAGGED: Geminus, Storyteller
WC: 1,188
MUSE: 5/5
OOC: None

coding © soupi
manip © aliyaahgrl @ dA

Tag: @[LaLaurie]


be swift!

Something is happening!

It's quiet, perhaps a little too quiet.

There is no one around, but one could feel as though they're being watched from all sides. The shadows are wide and yawning, who knows what eyes could be leering from the depths and what kind of intentions they may hold. For a moment, there is nothing. The silence itself is loud and suffocating, leaving one to feel as though the walls may be closing in. Check again, maybe they really are? They seem to expand and contract, the path straight ahead seeming to disappear rapidly as the walls swallow it up.

Oh, but what's this at the very end? The flickering image of the one who had lead the mare here. A stallion, seemingly waiting for her to catch up with him. Is it a trick? A trap, maybe? The only way to find out is to decide: will you approach or will caution be exercised? Decide quickly, now! Time is running out...

Tag: @[Storyteller]



Baby, I'm seein' double

Perhaps for the first time, two pairs of glistening red orbs fell upon the interior of the Great Tree.

Having been whelped amongst the peril and myth of Fimbulvetr's forests, the duo had never laid gaze within the dark recesses of the mighty Bifrost. Tales, of course, and hearsay- such warnings were dire, and warranted the proper caution. But it was fortunate for the lost soul in the shadows that neither Caliph was in a cautionary mood.

Patience was never Diadne's trademark, but today she burned with ire. Her wish to create and  lead a mighty people was being stopped up like a dam- the lack of citizens made such dreams of glory and grandeur a fallacy. As was customary for the passionate femme, she wore her complete and utter disgust for fate like a soft coat, comforted by her own annoyed mutterings and the vicious pleasure of complaining about everything. The weather, the firmness of the stone on her cloven hooves, the nip in the air as they descended ever farther into the bowels of the tree. As the mustyness of the caverns reached her velvety nose, her lip curled in outright disdain.
"It reeks of earth!" she hissed the word as if outraged that a cave had the nerve to be formed of soil. "Like dissapointment. What fool's errand have you drug your sister into, Faro?"
It was not often that she turned her disapproval upon her other half, but such was he nature of her mood.

Likewise, it was not often that the stallion wished to be separated from his beloved- but now he would give anything to pull their two sides apart and sprint away from her on Hermes' own wings. Valhalla, take me now. he grumbled inwardly, tail swishing around his hooves like an irritated feline. The hackles along his nape prickled with barely reigned frustration. It was difficult to prod the devoted warhound into such a state, but it was modus operandi to be mercurial. The upset of a small herd had a an enough to drive the fiery man into simmering rage, but now his sibling's unwitting drones were priming a dormant volcano to explode. He felt his skin itch and prickle with the desire to throw himself to something, to taste blood on his tongue, bones snapping beneath his hooves. Barely holding himself together, he gave his mind a stern reminder; they were here, among the roots and stone, to bring lost and weary travellers to their ranks. The fact that his twin had not the farsightedness to see his plan was of no concern of his. Or so he told himself. The fact was, his love was becoming unbearable.
"Will you not shut up?" he snapped, baring his fangs at her throat, muscles ticking below his eye. "Is this how a queen behaves? Control yourself, sister- you foul the air with your whining!"
Gasping in affront, she growled at her beloved with pinned ears. Lapsing into an angry silence, lest her protests prove him right, she harrumphed and ducked her head, eying every twist and turn with a calculating gaze that told him she was quietly judging their surroundings.

As the silence permeated the atmosphere, the more attentive Faro took note of the seemingly deafening quiet- his eyes flickered to the walls as they seemed to shift and dilate like serpentine tendrils, taking with them all possibility of a forward path. Diadne seemed not to notice- so caught was she in her own inner workings. Stunned into motion, the stallion bolted forth, alarming his conjoined sister, who stumbled and attempted to keep up with the speed that was being exhibited by his side of the body. Finally working themselves into a rythym, the double headed creature began to move in their usual perfect tandem, though Dia's look of alarm and irked confusion did not waver. Jerking his head to gesture at the nearest wall, her
urged his sister on with sharp words.
"Faster! We'll both be trapped!"
He sounded angry, but it was fear coloring his tone- not fear for himself, but fear for his beloved. Would the cruel tree rip them apart at last? The thought was blasphemous.
The look in her eyes as she braved a glance at him showed she understood. All was forgiven, but would it be in time to make it out of the tunnel?

They raced towards the narrowing gap, nearing it in moments. There was no time to try for tact- they threw themselves in desperation into the crevice, flesh and muscle bruising as they scraped against the stone on both sides with jarring impact. Diadne let out a feral scream of fury and pain As the closing stone passage cracked against her ribcage, echoed by her mate's enraged roar as they tumbled out of the tunnel into a wide cavern. Lying on the churned, earthy path, the pair panted heavily, snorting dust from their nostrils, blinking grit and pain from their eyes. Their sides heaved, and Dia clenched her jaw as she ran her muzzle over the bloody and raw scraps on her skin. Faro, ignoring his own wounds, ran his mouth along her neck, brow furrowed in a rare show of concern.
"Diadne!" his heart pounded as he looked her half over, knowing and feeling his own nerves scream in an echo of her own pain as well as his. "Are you alright, my love?"
The woman took a shuddering breath and nodded, briefly touching her cheek to his. They had no problem with a little pain, but they both feared that some of their ribs may not be intact. Both trying not to take too deep of breaths, They slowly pushed their communal way to their feet, wincing at their various hurts. Faro's ears perked as he watched the walls- in here moving less rapidly- and knew they must keep moving.

As they turned towards the next path, a sound echoes towards them in the silence- a woman's sharp cries. Alarmed, the Geminus shared a look; and with a determined, if painful gait, they dashed to follow it to its source. Would they make it in time to save the stranger? Did she even need saving?

OOC | They have a love-hate relationship XD @[LaLaurie]

Tag: @[Geminus]


give me your hand in flesh, give me your hand in death

Shadows edged her vision, and not in the sense that the visibility was poor, but one where she feel she may faint. Again and again she clasped her eyes shut and tensed herself trying to will the spectral channeling to bring her Jakob back. Each time she felt more and more light headed, until finally she knew that there was no choice but to cease and desist. Her breath came in rasping gasps. Sobs threatened to puncture the frail and frayed resolve that composed her, but LaLaurie had remained strong for Jakob up until this point. His constant presence was motivation enough to never give up. Just because she could not see him now, just because she could not force him back to her, did not mean that he was not there. Right? Right?

The silence is almost consuming. It gnaws at her deafening breathing like a monster unconvinced to consume it's adversary. For a moment the bay femme tried to simply settle herself. This wasn't the end. She refused to let it be the end. So with every quivering inhale she took a vice grip upon it in her lungs. There she held the air hostage a second, another second, before releasing it just as slowly as she'd let it build. Of course, she'd like to think that these were accomplished, lengthy exercises that were of use, but they were to little avail. Her hazel eyes snapped to her surrounds, examining the subterranean world she'd unwillingly trapped herself in. Roots braided and wove together in strange, almost methodical and purposeful corridors. For something to naturally grow this way? There was little chance of it...

"What is this place...?"

But- wait. The white crescents that crown her hazel visionaries seem piercing in the darkness. Was her vision deceiving her? With each of her breaths the walls seemed to expand and retract ever-so-slightly. Dazed her hooves carry her several absent steps forward, confusion swelling in her throbbing head. Around her bald nape snapped, again to another direction, her greedy eyes trying to study every inch, every eerily slithering branch of the root crafted tunnel.

Then she spied him. Down the corridor. Standing there so expectantly, as if he was surprised she hadn't made it that far yet. "Jakob!" she hissed, and without needing to command them her legs began to trip over themselves in progression. But her gaze dares to look away from him, dares to glance to the walls. Are they getting closer...?

The frame that captured Jakob's image slims, edging closer and closer to his silhouette.

"No!" she growled, and like a cannonball loosed with gunpowder she shot down the dirt laden tunnel. LaLaurie made a conscious effort to ignore the enclosing walls - for they were even encroaching on her own space. No. Not an ounce of her mind could be paid to them, to the soft trickle of dirt falling from the ceiling as the ground adjusted or the dull moan of the roots as they slithered over each other. Nothing mattered but the image of Jakob before her. Thunderous, her hooves carried her swiftly and quickly. A limp plagued her, and a harsh and deep throb of pain roared in her right shoulder, but she refused to give in. Not with him watching. Not when he was so close.

Closer she came, and closer did the walls. The dull anxiety of claustrophobia begun to tickle her spine. Forced to snake her bald crown down to fit, she makes the last ditch effort - to cover the last few feet because there he is oh there he is - LaLaurie bounds once, then shoots herself into a leap with her nimble legs outstretched into the passage. If she can get her hooves there, she can make it. She knew that she could. And they do, they strike true and she stumbled the last few strides away from the suffocating roots and into a safe gangway. But when she looks up it is not Jakob she sees.

Some strange creature, an equidae, is struggling to his- no her- no, their hooves. LaLaurie cannot escape their soft murmurs to one another as concern passed between them. Two heads, one body, both strikingly the same while world's different. Dizziness threatened her again as she shook her head at them, electing to ignore them a moment while she throws her gaze desperately around. "Jakob!?" she called without fear they will hear her. Corridors branch from the aisle, disappearing into further shadow and further unknown. Whirling around her jewelry tinked together lightly. Her hazel eyes were still wide, still all-seeing while seeing nothing at all.

He was gone again.

"Where the fuck am I?" she whispered, her breath shuddering.

TAGGED: Geminus, Storyteller
WC: 787
MUSE: 4/5
OOC: None

coding © soupi
manip © aliyaahgrl @ dA

Tag: @[LaLaurie]


be swift!

Something is happening!

How interesting. Not only was there the one mare trapped within its twisted roots, but there was another. Conjoined, no less. That wouldn't change things, however. Visibility in the tree began to lower until it was pitch-black and navigating its corridors by sight made impossible. There was, however, a spec of light that appeared in the distance. With nothing else to follow, what else could LaLaurie and Geminus do? For now, nothing else happened. There was nothing to strain to hear - it was still dead silent save for the breathing of those that were present. One could hear a leaf falling through the air. It was that unsettlingly quiet.

As for the orb of light, it gave a little wiggle from side to side before pulsing. Brighter then gone and brighter once again before it held it's solid state once again. Whatever could it be trying to communicate?

Tag: @[Storyteller]



Baby, I'm seein' double

Interwoven nerves seemed only to double the pain- each half suffered from wounds not their own, aches layered upon stings upon a deal niggle of fear. There were few things the pair found alarming, but as the adrenaline dulled, the burn in their sides fanned into near deafening agony- and worry became foremost on both twisted minds. They were half hobbled by injury; would they be fast enough to escape?

Cracked? Likely. Broken? Only time would tell. They wheezed and urged themselves forward a few shaky steps, tossing their heads to clear away the haze. Only then did they see her. The voice in the distance had become a woman, formed prettily and with a wildness akin to desperation in her well-shaped countenance, in her voice as she looked past the twins and yelled a single name, as if it held all her dreams and hopes in its syllables. Faro felt a jolt in his pulse- would that be him, soon? Would he be forced to lie helpless as his other half's treasured heart slowed and stilled? Would he be the one left screaming her name on the wind? The last question was unsure- with two hearts and two minds, would their shared body kill him too? the lternative was too horrifying to contemplate... He assured himself with his usual fierce resolve: it his love died, he would follow. No matter what it took.

He cast a glance at her, now- and found her watching him intently, her usual serpentine sadition tempered and replaced with a strange expression. As if she were thinking the exact same.

Diadne forced herself to look towards the woman- despite her best efforts, a twinge of sympathy colored her thoughts. Just a result of your weakened body, she denied to herself. She was never very good at any sort of softer emotion. She was all knives and briar thorns, tangled up inside where her love should be. Faro, though, despite his brutish mannerisms, felt things with far more intensity.

"Ease, madam." he murmured, though he knew there would be no ease here amongst the choking tunnels, shifting his hoof forward and inclining his head urgently, voice rasping and weak with pain. "We must have our heads about us if we are to make it to freedom. What is your name? Is your beau in danger here?"

Diadne barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her lover was cunning and sharp and strategic, but sometimes she just wished he could be like her and act on delicious instinct. She forced herself to calm, the pain in her body a sobering force. Now was not the time for one of her moods. She stepped forward with him, until they were before the woman, supple in their motions even when hindered by blood and bruise.
"We are the Geminus," she whispered in her sultry voice, making it into something meant to reassure. "The caliphs of house Vromme." she couldn't resist adding, eyes reclaiming some of their luster at the title. Faro snorted and glanced her way, and she felt his annoyance like a palpable thing. He spoke again, his tone somewhat apologetic, if blunt.

"It is dangerous here. I and my beloved can help you to safety, if y-"
He was cut off as the walls whispered, closing by a few more inches; the darkness grew blinding, until even their keen eyes saw nothing mere inches from their faces. That same obnoxious but undeniable tingle of fear traveled down the sibling's spine, and their pain seemed to taunt them; you'll never make it out now. Breaths seeming loud in the blackness, Faro leaned forward, feeling his mate's cheek Just I reassure himself it was there, and then towards where he thought the girl was, to offer her the twin's support. In the distance, a light blinked to life- bobbing and pulsing in apparent urgency, like some willo' the wisp leading them onward.

but could it be trusted?

OOC | @[LaLaurie]

Tag: @[Geminus]


give me your hand in flesh, give me your hand in death

Disbelief was all that painted her visage. She had prided herself once that she never passed judgement on someone she didn't know, nor did she every pity anyone because their circumstances and decisions were entirely unknown. But... never had she seen such a figure. And they spoke to her, not in one voice but two. The illusion of their similarities but vast differences continued to ebb and flow. Their movements were orchestrated, most likely had been over time, as they approached her with words they did not understand. Geminus, Caliph, House Vromme. LaLaurie's slack jaw hardly found the tension to draw it back, her hazel eyes glassy with tears that yearned to fall and confusion. But they - the male, that was - had asked her name. Midnight audits having fell back, pinned to her bald nape with terror eased slightly, but could not find the resolve to slip forward entirely. He had asked a question.

"LaLaurie Stranding," her voice cracked, hardly capturing her typical smooth and creamy aria. It was the voice of a mouse, something far smaller than her, something far weaker than her body showcased. And her beau? Her husband... A single tear did fall now. Her jaw fell slack again and she glanced back to the multitude of tunnels, her eyes searching through the - was it increasing? - darkness. "I... I don't know." she murmured again, away from them, visionaries still pleading to the shadows to reveal him. Again she clasped her eyes shut, tensed every muscle of her body in the roll of a river; visage, nape, shoulders, abdomen, hinds, legs. But nothing answered her. Or, well... no one. A defeated chuckle expelled from her lips, and again her alabaster splashed visage swept the surrounds, hearing the Geminus but not recording their speech until beloved. Like a loosed arrow her gaze and visage snapped back to them, audits snapping forward and listening to the rest of their declaration. That was, until it was cut short.

The shadows.... the blackness. It settled upon them in a thick blanket, stealing away any semblance of coordination. LaLaurie found herself prickled with terror. Her spine crawled from the crown on her nape to the base of her obsidian banner. "What is happening..." she began, but did not finished. Then a soft light. It pierced through the abyss like a beacon, deep into one of the many tunnels that had diverted from their corridor. For a moment it hovered still, the soft ambient light almost blinding. It cast off-white highlights upon the moist roots, and if LaLaurie had been of sounder mind she would have begged the question - where they moving? She didn't care to know now, nor did she think this Caliph. The light swayed, as if impatiently, awaiting their approach with eager pulsations. Was it Jakob? He'd always been black, like what one would think of death... but... could he take upon an appearance such as this? She suddenly found herself unable to call his name with an audience. She could feel their presence, hear their breathing just to the right of herself.

They hadn't moved towards it... they were displaying caution.

But LaLaurie had nothing to lose. Appendages dipped in alabaster strode forward, strides long and consuming as she broke their path down the tunnel. Wherever this light - Jakob, please let it be Jakob - was taking them, it'd managed to keep her from roots that had wanted to crush her before... surely it meant well. Right?

TAGGED: Geminus, Storyteller
WC: 577
MUSE: 3/5
OOC: This is horrific I am so sorry

coding © soupi
manip © aliyaahgrl @ dA

Tag: @[LaLaurie]