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Post by Vidar on Jul 3, 2018 18:43:06 GMT
tw; depression, suicide, cursing
Over the past months, Vidar had pondered long about the nature of death. Did life continue on some different plane? Or was it just an ending? In the end, he had decided it didn't matter. It wasn't about what as to come or what it might be like, it was about leaving this world. This world so full of joyous reminders of life that seemed to grate on him like salt in a wound. He could not be in this world without her. So he had made his decision. But for a while, it had seemed easier just to lay in the mud, to let himself slowly waste away beside the den where the rotting corpses of his family were interred. At least then they could be together in the physical world if not the next. It had been too easy. Had it been easy for Berry to try to fight off the bear knowing it would lead only to death? How about the pups, perhaps to young to know the inevitable outcome? No, he did not deserve an easy death. So he had dragged himself to the shore. To a cliff. And then he had dragged himself over. The fall was almost pleasant, the water a cold shock. And after that - nothing.
Vidar had had time to wonder if death would be hot or cold. You heard tales of both, you know. He had not expected it to be tepid, with hard shards poking into his belly, and warm water lapping at his nostrils. Oh gods, was he not dead? He had picked a day when the sea was rowdy, anxious to claim one of those arrogant beasts that lived on land. How could he have failed? Of all things, death should be easy. Reluctantly, he cracked open one pale gold eye. Yup, not dead. With a heavy sigh, the wolf began to drag himself out of the water, pointedly ignoring the silty cloud of mud that rippled out from his bedraggled coat. Shards of rock pricked his paws, adding red to the cloud. He growled lowly. So not only was he not dead but now the climb to the top of the cliff would be that much more difficult. Great.
Caught up in a world of his own misery, the blunderhead didn't even look around to inspect his surroundings until he reached the edge of the water. What was there to inspect? Some ugly beach with an ocean and cliffs. Hopefully cliffs that had a rock bottom, since jumping into water had been a useless idea. Maybe a dangerous predator sneaking up behind him? How dreadful. When, at last, the tan and grey wolf had lugged his body to dry land his jaw dropped. There was no sand, just more of those nasty rocks. There were no waves, just a cloud of dirt and blood that marked his path through the water. Instead there was grass, trees, mountains. Vidar stared around, absolutely aghast. Water dripped from his short coat, spreading rivulets of clean fur through the mud. Throns matted his ruff and tail. All in all, he was quite the sight. Not, of course, as much of a sight as what lay before him. At last there was only one thing for him to say, the only thought that could push its way out a mind that once composed the most beautiful tales of his age.
"This is a fucking lake."
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Post by Lirriel on Jul 4, 2018 4:15:27 GMT
[googlefont=Roboto][googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Open+Sans] [attr="class","morpheus"] “Very astute.”The words came unbidden, honeyed tone dripping with amusement. Compared to the wolf who had just crawled from the lake – the lake or the ocean, always water (why did water matter?) – he was beautifully presented, the very picture of godhood, from the white coat that clung elegantly to his slight frame to the sky-blue eyes that crinkled at the edges to the pair of rippling, rising horns that perched upon his crown, tilted back as he inspected the newcomer while a laugh bubbled between his teeth. Morpheus managed to swallow most of it down, but he could not keep from smiling at the waterlogged, distressed mortal. From where had be emerged? It was difficult to tell, but then that was the way of him – a ghostly creature that moved as if within a dream, near one moment, gone the next. But the kindness he offered was entirely real, his head dipping in a polite bow as he said, “Please don’t be alarmed. I am here to help you.”And – because he could remember too many mortals who had asked – he hastened to add, “And you’re not dead. This isn’t a punishment. Or a dream.” The wolf’s ragged appearance lent him an immediate desperation that begged for sympathy, pity – but Morpheus felt that to immediately try and pamper the other would be a mistake. He’d begun to learn something of how mortals acted and what their actions meant – and the words this one dropped like stones from his mouth suggested the type to rebuke Morpheus’ more immediate assistance. He might even be the type to scoff at the idea of him being the type to need help. Mortals, really. [attr="class", "godling"] tags: Vidarwords: 280 [newclass=.morpheus]max-height:440px;color:#E1DFD8;opacity:.8;margin-top:470px;text-align:justify;padding:15px;width:470px;font-family:Open Sans;font-size:10px;overflow:auto;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus b]font-family:montserrat;font-weight:900;color:#F0F0D8;font-size:12px;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus i]color:#C0D860; font: 11px Roboto; font-style: italic;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #2A2A2A; width:1px; [/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 5px; height: 5px; background: #ccc; border: 3px solid #f0f0f0;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar-corner]background: #ccc; border: 2px solid #ccc;[/newclass] [googlefont=Open+Sans]
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Post by Vidar on Jul 6, 2018 1:30:38 GMT
At the moment, tasting snowmelt on his snout when he had only recently thrown himself into an ocean, Vidar was in a rather delicate state of mind. So when a wolf with spiraled horns like a stretched-out mountain goat's appeared before him and starting talking like everything was normal, he had a bit of a fright. A strangled shriek burst, half-formed from his throat. The half-starved wolf scrambled backward, his deadened reflexes preventing his once-casual grace. He ended up sprawled across the lake shore. A new coating of mud coated his boney haunch. It was not his proudest moment. And yet despite his shock and vulnerable position, he could not help but feel a quickening in his chest as his heart began to furiously thump at his rib cage. Size and antlers aside, Vidar had to admit that the wolf was quite the handsome specimen. The blue-lavender of his eyes that was mirrored so dramatically and unnaturally on his ridged horns, his fluff alabaster coat, his sudden appearance... He was like a creature out of the tales Vidar had told in his happiest days. For an instant he longed to be clean and well-fed, standing before a crowd of admiring wolves as he told the tale of two star-crossed lovers and this magnificent beast lounged in the front row, his eyes smoldering like burning coals. No! That wasn't right, that wasn't how it went! It had been Berry with the burning eyes, not this - this thing! Vidar shivered, trying desperately to win free from the spell the creature seemed to cast over him. Perhaps he had died, and this was an angel! The white wolf would lead him to Berry, that was why he would have the confusing vision! Momentarily comforted, Vidar focused on Morpheus' words.
The sheer incongruity of the wolf's statement startled a hoarse burst of laughter out of him. Of course, he shouldn't be concerned! What was there to be concerned about? It was clearly just your average every day teleportation and hallucination. Or death. Vidar wasn't quite sure which would be most alarming at this point. His question was answered shortly. "Not dead!" He scrambled to his feet, sending pebbles flying. Desperately he lunged toward the larger wolf, his pale gold eyes going wide with despair and confusion. "Oh how can I not be dead?" His words lengthened into a howl of anguish. He felt as if his heart was being torn out of his chest by a bear. Oh gods, how he wished his heart had been eaten by a bear! "What is this then?"
Vidar stared up at Morpheus with pleading eyes. He had never felt so utterly lost. What sense did the world make? Berry had been killed as she fought against it with every fiber of her being. Vidar had not only not died at her side, he had apparently been incapable of ending his own life. Was it possible for a wolf to be any more useless? He stared up at the stranger, desiring the pale wolf more ardently than he had ever desired his lost mate, heart welling with love and sinking with disgust simultaneously "Why am I here? Why do I feel this way?" Vidar's voice cracked pitifully on his last sentence, rubbing away his last veneer of control.
words: 548
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Post by Lirriel on Jul 6, 2018 5:55:20 GMT
[googlefont=Roboto][googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Open+Sans] [attr="class","morpheus"] Morpheus had barely begun to speak when the bedraggled wolf shrieked, backing away with surprising agility. The god could only blink, flabbergasted, as the creature fell backwards, fresh mud splattering his already dirtied coat. That – was an unexpected reaction. He’d had doubters, dissenters, those that flashed fang, those that invaded his space, those that worshipped, those that groveled. But never had his appearance been taken so poorly. He had almost a mind to step closer, and one paw was raising to do so, only for the mortal to suddenly laugh. The swift ascent from recoiling terror to incredulous laughter left Morpheus feeling all the more off-kilter. His face showed none of his distress, though, only the blank mask that he presumed all Guides possessed for times such as these. A shield to hide behind, to make them seem more grandiose than they truly were, so that their charges might not sense weakness. Of course, a mask was oftentimes made of a thin material, easy to break, quick to fracture. And so it was when the mortal once more changed tactics, paws scrambling upon the ground for purchase before he practically leapt at Morpheus. The white god reacted instinctively, immediately withdrawing from the other. Confusion rippled through him as he forced his feet to halt after he’d taken a few quick steps back. The way this wolf threw himself about more concerning than any other wolf he had interacted with – and he was being compared against the likes of Iskandar and Caspian – and that black hellion whose name still escaped his grasp. Unable to respond to the other’s barrage of questions, of wails, of sheer desperation, Morpheus could only stare back at him, blue eyes bright and shimmering in the white of his face. Uncertainty locked his limbs, pinned his ears, made his tail bush out with guilt and uncertainty. In a way, this mortal’s response to his new life was incredibly heartbreaking, and Morpheus felt his own heart throb in sympathy, a clawed hand gripping tight about it. I don’t know, he wanted to say, surrounded by these questions, piled atop each other, no way to escape. I don’t know. I don’t know.And he opened his mouth to say so, would have said so – but, no, he was a Guide, a god. Even if he did not have answers, he must spin some. Comforting lies, caressing words, to ease the fight from this mortal, tear free the despair, let him remember how to breathe. Instead, he said, “You are here because you are a god – divinity stirs in your soul. This is a land for those such as us, where mortals are forbidden.” He considered, said more slowly, “I might show you something to prove my own godhood, but I control dreams, and they are not easily shown. I could make you slumber, but I would not do so without your permission. My name is Morpheus. I would know yours.”[attr="class", "godling"] tags: Vidarwords: 491 notes: morph is so far outta his element and just sorta saying whatever sounds best LMAO [newclass=.morpheus]max-height:440px;color:#E1DFD8;opacity:.8;margin-top:470px;text-align:justify;padding:15px;width:470px;font-family:Open Sans;font-size:10px;overflow:auto;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus b]font-family:montserrat;font-weight:900;color:#F0F0D8;font-size:12px;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus i]color:#C0D860; font: 11px Roboto; font-style: italic;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #2A2A2A; width:1px; [/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 5px; height: 5px; background: #ccc; border: 3px solid #f0f0f0;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar-corner]background: #ccc; border: 2px solid #ccc;[/newclass] [googlefont=Open+Sans]
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Post by Vidar on Jul 8, 2018 21:11:22 GMT
[googlefont=Roboto][googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Open+Sans] [attr="class","vidar"] "You are here because you are a god..."Everything dropped away. Vidar floated in a void, cut-off from the nightmare of a horned wolf on a lakeside. How many tales had he told of a mortal who bargained with a god to bring back a dead lover? Of a god who transformed a lover to prevent their death? Of a mortal who was brought back from the dead by the gods? He had begged, pleaded, demanded with the gods to bring back Berry and the pups. When they had not answered, he had become convinced that they were not real. Just more lies to keep wolves content with the drudgery of their lives and deaths. But now... Now everything was different. Now, gods were real. They had ignored him, then, as he lay in the mud next to what remained of Berry's body when the bear was done. Vidar's eyes refocused on the monstrous being before him. Had this creature turned a deaf ear to his wails? Ignored his supplications? For a moment, he wanted to lunge at the larger wolf and tear out his throat. He could imagine the vindication as hot blood dripped down his throat, finally quenching his desire for justice. No. Even at the thought, his heart wept, reminding him that he loved this wolf above all others, even Berry. How could that possibly be? This was all just a trick, a dirty, awful trick! This was no god, he was not god, there was no hope left at all. "...you are a god... There had been no malice in it, no deception. He still had a storyteller's ear for a story. Vidar wished desperately for it to be true. He waited for the white wolf, for Morpheus, to finish his speech. It seemed well-rehearsed, and Vidar was loath to interrupt another's performance even in times like these. While he waited, he drew himself up into a sitting position, arranging his dreadlocked tail around his slightly bloodied paws in a much more respectable position. He was a god, after all. "Vidar," he said slowly, feeling as if he were already in the dream world of which Morpheus spoke, "My name is Vidar."He sighed and looked down at himself, fully taking in his ragged appearance. There was one clear problem with the dream god's tale. "You say I am a god, that I have divinity. I feel no different. I have no powers." He glanced sidelong at Morpheus' horns, feeling once again the stirrings in his heart that must surely be a sign of this being's divinity. Let it be nothing else. "I need no proof of your unnaturalness, that is evident for all to see. But what of myself? I have no powers, no horns or wings." The more Vidar spoke, the less convinced he became. There was no way he could truly be a god. There was no way to get Berry back. Yet something caught at his breath, something tugged his heart. His soul felt more alive than it ever had. ...a god...It was true. It must be true. tags: Lirrielwords: 540 notes: he will tell himself stories all day so it should be easy! [newclass=.vidar]max-height:400px;color:#E1DFD8;text-align:justify;padding:10px;width:440px;font-family:Open Sans;font-size:10px;overflow:auto;background:#000;opacity:.5[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar b]color:#e8b58f;text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px;font-family:montserrat;letter-spacing:1px;[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar i]color:#e8b58f; font: 11px Roboto; font-style: italic;[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #fff; width:1px; [/newclass] [newclass=.vidar::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 5px; height: 5px; background: #ccc; border: 3px solid #f0f0f0;[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar::-webkit-scrollbar-corner]background: #ccc; border: 2px solid #ccc;[/newclass]
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10 likes
321 posts
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Played by
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Post by Lirriel on Jul 9, 2018 6:44:48 GMT
[googlefont=Roboto][googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Open+Sans] [attr="class","morpheus"] Whether his torrent of words was effective, it did allow the wolf time to calm. And he did, enough so that Morpheus made a concerted effort to release his own tension, letting it ebb away in tiny currents. Again he was conscious of the mortal’s unkempt appearance, the knots that tied his fur, the mud that caked his coat. But he was not mortally wounded, as Iskandar had been – and Morpheus was wary of approaching him, had still not made up his mind on whether he should forcibly push his way into his charges’ lives. Still, to learn his name was a relief. There was one task done, at least. And for all the skepticism that roamed the other’s face, passing like shadows beneath a moonlit night, his voice was almost placid as he denied the Guide’s claims. And it was in this consideration that Morpheus regained some of his earlier confidence, fur smoothing down, head taking on an elegant tilt as he considered the other’s words – effortless in his majesty, once more perfection cut from alabaster. “You would not yet,” he said, kindly amusement coloring his voice. He had never fully embraced the cloak of godhood that ever draped him. Now, he drew it close, needing to keep himself separate of this wolf, that he might not realize Morpheus had a number of fine cracks running through him. He spoke as a being many years past ancient might speak to one who had only another sunset to his name. Distant, remote – knowledgeable in a way that made Vidar seem almost pitiable in his mortal ignorance. He hated it. Morpheus continued, “Your proof will come slowly. The divinity that is housed inside you is still awakening – in time it will grow stronger, and you will begin to shape it.”But, Gods, something tugged at his heart, to speak so remotely. He was not this creature – he could not be this creature. The words felt familiar on his tongue – but they also felt leaden, as if they possessed a weight he could no longer hold. He did not know what wolf he had been before the death of his memories – but Morpheus suspected he was no longer that creature, and that to play pretend, even for a while, was to betray his present self for a past he had intentionally cast off. Delicately, he asked, “May I ask why you thought you might be dead?”He did not mention Vidar’s physical state, but the question held a shadow to it, also probing into what had left him such an unkempt mess. He knew it was a risk he took, when they were so newly met. But he also knew that to mask his concern as godly apathy was not the path he had chosen. And he would not begin to walk it now. [attr="class", "godling"] tags: Vidarwords: 472 [newclass=.morpheus]max-height:440px;color:#E1DFD8;opacity:.8;margin-top:470px;text-align:justify;padding:15px;width:470px;font-family:Open Sans;font-size:10px;overflow:auto;[/newclass][newclass=.morpheus b]font-family:montserrat;font-weight:900;color:#F0F0D8;font-size:12px;[/newclass][newclass=.morpheus i]color:#C0D860; font: 11px Roboto; font-style: italic;[/newclass][newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #2A2A2A; width:1px; [/newclass][newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 5px; height: 5px; background: #ccc; border: 3px solid #f0f0f0;[/newclass][newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar-corner]background: #ccc; border: 2px solid #ccc;[/newclass][googlefont=Open+Sans]
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Post by Vidar on Jul 9, 2018 13:55:14 GMT
[googlefont=Roboto][googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Open+Sans] [attr="class","vidar"] "You are here because you are a god..."Vidar could not stop himself from examining the handsome beat before him. Morpheus was tall but neither bulky nor lanky. The width of his shoulders and chest was perfectly proportionate to his height and length. Even more striking, his coat was a pure, divine white. It practically cascaded down his body, the sheer length and weight of it was staggering. Absently, Vidar wondered if he had trouble standing there so proudly. Was his magnificent ruff heavy on his shoulders? Did he practice his posture in front of a still pool? Perhaps gods had no need for vanities of that sort. Contrasted with the subtle of his coat, his eyes were brilliant. They gleamed like two perfect sapphires rimmed with a halo of amethyst. Those same hues were mirrored in Morpheus' most startling attribute. His horns were symmetrical perfection, starting from a point just before his generously tufted ears and spiraling up to the perfect height. Much more impressive than those of a billy goat, but not tall enough to entangle themselves with branches or vines. Aware that he was staring like a yokel at a state fair, Vidar lowered his yellow gaze to the lake shore at his paws. As he spoke, Morpheus seemed to gather power around him. Shreds of it spinning through the atmosphere like he was a great thunderhead of godhood drawing in any spare clouds in the area to add to his already impressive display. His fur, silky and lustrous before, seemed to gleam with a pearlescent light, making the mundane sunlight seem gaudy and cheap in comparison. Where once his eyes had been sapphires, they were now stars. Vidar had thought, he had hoped for reasons he would not, could not articulate, that perhaps Morpheus had felt some kindness for him, perhaps even some empathy. Now, as he sat before that cold and distant gaze, Vidar knew that he was nothing. An insect at the feet of a giant. Of course, he felt nothing. Was nothing. How could he have forgotten his endless list of failures? There was no hope. There never would be hope. Unable to contain the play of emotions across his face, Vidar turned away. His shoulders slumped as Morpheus continued his queries. He had hoped... But he could see now that he was just as forlorn in this place as it had been in the mortal realm. Endlessly he would be asked to confront his failures. Endlessly he would be asked to relive the worst months of his life. Vidar shrugged almost flippantly. "Oh, you know, I just woke up here after throwing myself off a cliff into a stormy ocean, so..." He allowed his voice to trail off as his throat tightened, unable to force out any more. Yes, he had tried to kill himself. Yes, he was still here. Surely there must be a reason. Wolves always want reasons for things, that was why they told stories. Even as he loathed the insecurity in himself that made him believe there was a reason, Vidar turned back to the god. "What must I do to grow this power?" He knew instinctively it would not be easy, but he resolved that he would do whatever it took, sacrifice whatever he must if there was even the smallest chance of rescuing his Berry. And if there was no chance? There would be no point to any of this then, and he might as well lay down and let his body drift away into the earth. tags: Lirriel words: 588 notes: [newclass=.vidar]max-height:400px;color:#E1DFD8;text-align:justify;padding:10px;width:440px;font-family:Open Sans;font-size:10px;overflow:auto;background:#000;opacity:.5[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar b]color:#e8b58f;text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px;font-family:montserrat;letter-spacing:1px;[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar i]color:#e8b58f; font: 11px Roboto; font-style: italic;[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #fff; width:1px; [/newclass] [newclass=.vidar::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 5px; height: 5px; background: #ccc; border: 3px solid #f0f0f0;[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar::-webkit-scrollbar-corner]background: #ccc; border: 2px solid #ccc;[/newclass]
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10 likes
321 posts
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Played by
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Post by Lirriel on Jul 10, 2018 14:41:10 GMT
[googlefont=Roboto][googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Open+Sans] [attr="class","morpheus"] There was an odd fixation about the other – something that wasn’t quite right, set him off-kilter, as if the world had suddenly slanted sideways, and now he was desperately attempting to right himself. It went beyond the standard distress that a wolf experienced upon reaching the land of gods. It was the way he watched Morpheus, with gold eyes that threatened to claw open his chest cavity and lay him bare. It sent prickles of unease up Morpheus’ spine – but there was also something else there, not quite a heat, but close. He ignored it, for he had no name to place upon it. And besides, there were more important matters to deal with. He had not yet considered Vidar the strangest of his charges, for all his previous dramatics and throwing about, but as the other wolf described his attempt at death so glibly, Morpheus felt a true pinprick of fear slide into his spine. He had felt it before – with Iskandar, bloodied in the waves, barely able to stand. And he had despaired and almost welcomed death upon learning he was unable to return home a mortal – but he had not personally sought it, chased it down like a predator hunting its prey. In the moments that followed Vidar’s confession, Morpheus’ mind went into overdrive. He drew upon every memory he had – scant though the collection was – trying to think of how best to prod at the other’s intent. For surely he had not meant to leap off the cliff? Had been forced to, hadn’t he? And yet it was the silence afterwards that told the true tale. The way Vidar fell silent, as if he was being strangled by the very words he tried to speak. Perhaps it was his eyes – the way they dully gleamed, as if robbed most of their shine. But Morpheus knew with a cold certainty that the mortal’s jump had been planned – and the only escape he’d sought was a burial beneath the icy waves. “I am happy,” he said at last, “that you are alive. So that we might meet.” And his mouth closed again, jaw tight as he considered an endless number of words, trying to arrange them in his mind in a way that might best help this wolf. But he was too young, too new. For all this body, his mind, his soul were centuries old – countless lifespans of countless wolves, birthed and grown and dead and dust in the blink of his jeweled eyes – without his memories he had barely a handful of experiences to draw upon, and they did little to prepare him when faced with such a despairing situation. He wanted to show Vidar he cared, though. He did. And so – with the slow, unsure steps of an adolescent, fearful of scolding – he drew nearer the mortal, reached forward as if to press his black nose to the other’s cheek – but at last settled for bowing his head, pressing it forward as if to bury it in the fur upon Vidar’s chest. Though, so awkward were his moments, that the mortal doubtless had time to move away, to object. But he sat there, nevertheless, mighty head bowed, held in such a way that the other would feel only the slightest touch of the front of his horns, for he had grown accustomed to working within the range of their reach and knew how best to angle his head so that they would not cause disruption. The other’s question went unanswered, because, truly, what did it matter? He would become a Guide again soon enough. But for now he was simply Morpheus, mighty head bowed by the sorrows that weighed so heavily upon his mortals. [attr="class", "godling"] tags: Vidarwords: 619 notes: he's tired lmao [newclass=.morpheus]max-height:440px;color:#E1DFD8;opacity:.8;margin-top:470px;text-align:justify;padding:15px;width:470px;font-family:Open Sans;font-size:10px;overflow:auto;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus b]font-family:montserrat;font-weight:900;color:#F0F0D8;font-size:12px;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus i]color:#C0D860; font: 11px Roboto; font-style: italic;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #2A2A2A; width:1px; [/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 5px; height: 5px; background: #ccc; border: 3px solid #f0f0f0;[/newclass] [newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar-corner]background: #ccc; border: 2px solid #ccc;[/newclass] [googlefont=Open+Sans]
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4 likes
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Bee
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Post by Vidar on Jul 12, 2018 14:55:13 GMT
[googlefont=Roboto][googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Open+Sans] [attr="class","vidar"] What little resolve the wolf had gathered to himself quickly began to crumble as he saw the look in Morpheus' eyes. Was his tale so shocking? This was a god; he must have seen hundreds of mortals pass before him. Was Vidar the only one so weak as to seek death? Even more telling, this was a god of dreams. Surely, surely, some other lost soul had dreamed of the quiet release of death. He could not be the only one who had dreamt of an escape from pitying eyes, from empty condolences, from the empty spaces in his life that had once been so full. Could he? Perhaps he was. Perhaps only he had been weak enough, sad enough, stupid enough, to fling himself off a cliff. He was alone in a sea of despair. No other wolf would eve join him. No other wolf would ever reach out a paw and aid him. ALone, alone, alone. How could he ever be anything else? No one could ever feel the way he did now. He felt as if he was suffocating as if his chest was being crushed beneath the weight of his solitude. This is what he deserved. He deserved to suffer, to grieve, to despair. All alone. He wouldn't be alone if Berry were alive. This was his punishment, devised for him alone by some power crueler than the white wolf before him. Imagine his surprise when Morpheus spoke. Soft and hesitant, as if he feared Vidar's reaction. As if he himself did not quite know how to react. Who could? The palisade around Vidar's heart broke, crumbled, fell. This great creature, beautiful terrible, wonderful, was glad that Vidar was alive. Why? Vidar knew he was worthless, knew that any wolf or mate of worth would never have left his mate and children to die alone. and yet... How could he be worthless when this creature bestowed worth upon him like it was nothing? The wolf began to tremble, feeling as if the very world might shudder at the strangeness of Morpheus' act and shed them both like fleas. Not both. Morpheus was far too grand a creature to be compared to a flea. Just Vidar. Vidar, lost and alone, flying through the cold emptiness of space with glazed eyes and an empty heart. It was what he deserved, but the planet did not move. Only Morpheus did. The God of Dreams moved toward him slowly, hesitantly. Weary of touching a mortal, or just concerned that Vidar's ineptitude was contagious? Whatever his reservations, the great wolf lowered his head, resting his forehead and the hard ridges of his horns against Vidar's chest. For a moment he froze. He suddenly understood why rabbits sometimes didn't run. If he moved, mightn't everything change? Perhaps this had all been a dream, was still a dream. He had never made it to the cliff. He lay in the mud beside his empty den, dreaming of a world where he was something other than worthless. Perhaps a god had really chosen to visit him in this world of dreams. It was fitting, Morpheus was certainly dreamy. But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that this was a fantasy, that he didn't deserve any of this, Vidar could feel the warmth of Morpheus' body. He was real. There was a sense of solidity about him that was undeniable. Perhaps he didn't deserve this, but it had been given to him. He must ensure he came to earn it. Vidar left out a half-muffled sob. His muzzle dipped as if to graze gently across the back of Morpheus' head, and yet he could not muster the courage to touch a being so divine as this. His heart broke, burned to ash, reformed itself, and grew. He was not alone. Not lost at sea He had, at least, one other creature who cared, who was glad he was alive. The ocean of isolation around him began to recede. One sentence, one being, had brought him out of the waves. He knew it was momentary, that soon he would once more sink, but for now, Vidar allowed himself to enjoy the peace and comfort he felt in this moment. It had been in short supply for far too long. tags: Lirriel words: 720 notes: i know there's no dialogue, but it just seemed like such a nice moment. [newclass=.vidar]max-height:400px;color:#E1DFD8;text-align:justify;padding:10px;width:440px;font-family:Open Sans;font-size:10px;overflow:auto;background:#000;opacity:.5[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar b]color:#e8b58f;text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px;font-family:montserrat;letter-spacing:1px;[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar i]color:#e8b58f; font: 11px Roboto; font-style: italic;[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #fff; width:1px; [/newclass] [newclass=.vidar::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 5px; height: 5px; background: #ccc; border: 3px solid #f0f0f0;[/newclass] [newclass=.vidar::-webkit-scrollbar-corner]background: #ccc; border: 2px solid #ccc;[/newclass]
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10 likes
321 posts
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Lirriel
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Post by Lirriel on Jul 12, 2018 23:50:17 GMT
[googlefont=Roboto][googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Open+Sans] [attr="class","morpheus"] It was barely a touch – just enough that they might feel each other’s heat, that Vidar might confirm Morpheus as real, as more than the fantasies of a dying wretch. And yet it was in a way it was more – more than the blood of Iskandar, splashed across his jaw; more than the weight of the boar, crushing him down; more than – more than so many things. More than most of what Morpheus had experienced in the tiny sliver of living that he had carved out for himself. And it was so much more that he felt all the heavier – and yet it was not an unpleasant weight, as had pressed upon him when conversing with Caspian. It was not the hard pressure of that black she-devil’s gaze upon her, rattling him as easily as he might disturb a rabbit. It just – was heavy. And happy, in a way that was the shell of bliss, all the joy drawn from its insides, bled dry and left only an outline of what had been. But it was so grand, this quiet peace. For all that it rang hollow, for all that he knew soon the storm would be upon them again – this sweet heaviness held him so comfortably. And yet the other did not deign to press back – and at last Morpheus drew away, ever-considerate of his horns in relation to Vidar, once more aware of the role he was to play. And yet his eyes were infinitely gentle as he gazed upon Vidar, desperate to infuse him with some thread of hope, no matter how thin, no matter how fragile. Because hope could be built upon, he knew. And it was easier to grow an existing flame than try to coax forth yet another flicker from already-exhausted ashes. “Your power will grow as you do,” he said softly. He spoke as if it were a secret between them, hushed tones, still drawn close but no longer to the point of intimacy – though perhaps secrecy was its own form of intimacy. It could be. Morpheus was unsure, didn’t have the knowledge to draw upon and decide one way or another. But it was ultimately arguing semantics; what mattered most was Vidar. He could not so easily read the power of a newly-arrived mortal. True, some called to him more than others. Pepper, particularly, had been so steeped in her own power – and maybe that was why she was ascending so quickly, drawn closer and closer to godhood at such a speed he was often left breathless to see her achievements. And yet, he tried. He tried now, for Vidar, for himself – that he might provide more stability, slowly build a platform on the raging sea for Vidar to climb upon, to be safe from the sharks that dwelled beneath. And that in doing so he might place a balm upon his own heart – to know that he had done his best, offered his best. That he might not be so wracked by grievous guilt. The sorrow of others was a heaviness that he could not bear. The divinity that wafted from Vidar came in the scent of flowers – sharp and pungent, as if they had been trampled. He almost thought he could hear birdsong, staring into the mortal’s golden eyes as he focused. The creak of aging wood – the soft scratch of leaves scuffing across the ground, carried by wind. Not dreams, then. Nor fire, nor death – not destruction, not trickery. But he only knew so many domains, could only confirm that Vidar was the first charge he had encountered to possess this power. “Travel,” he said. “Across these lands. Learn each track, each trail, each brook, each valley.” In truth, he did not know if such counsel would produce results. And he was careful to frame his words, unwilling to acknowledge the truth – that Vidar was destined to be alone again, because Morpheus was ever-needed elsewhere. But he hoped the other would know, would understand – that Morpheus would leave not because he was eager to, but because he had to. [attr="class", "godling"] tags: Vidarwords: 680 notes: gonna go ahead and post his mission so I don't forget, but we can use a few more posts to wrap this up [newclass=.morpheus]max-height:440px;color:#E1DFD8;opacity:.8;margin-top:470px;text-align:justify;padding:15px;width:470px;font-family:Open Sans;font-size:10px;overflow:auto;[/newclass][newclass=.morpheus b]font-family:montserrat;font-weight:900;color:#F0F0D8;font-size:12px;[/newclass][newclass=.morpheus i]color:#C0D860; font: 11px Roboto; font-style: italic;[/newclass][newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #2A2A2A; width:1px; [/newclass][newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 5px; height: 5px; background: #ccc; border: 3px solid #f0f0f0;[/newclass][newclass=.morpheus::-webkit-scrollbar-corner]background: #ccc; border: 2px solid #ccc;[/newclass][googlefont=Open+Sans]
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