"You cling to weakness." voices repeated at him in a cacophony of what seemed multitudes of tongues, each and all indistinguishable from one another once together, though he still could understand wha... View More"You cling to weakness." voices repeated at him in a cacophony of what seemed multitudes of tongues, each and all indistinguishable from one another once together, though he still could understand what was spoken. His eye burned, itched, the socket on fire with an agonizing dull sting of the images that flashed into its periphery. Hawk was exhausted, sweat-soaked and the fog of his breath in the cold of early-dawn.
The blade of his weapon rung in the dead night air, the hymn of the blade, a chorus for every foe felled. Its dim glow flashed under starlight, flickering with each strike and stab as the stallion cut through what ought not be there, were it not for the blotted trail that he left behind at his every wake. His muscles twitched and ached and his lungs were on fire. Minor cuts dotted his body, scratches from running through bramble and combating these hellish monstrosities had since taken their toll on the pony, but his resolve was stronger still.
They were like reversed echoes, beginning as whispers and ending as overbearing roars demanding his soul and his flesh, commanding him to relent and give in.
The warrior cried out in a war cry, loud and long. Staring them down while he stood in a very weary stance on almost wobbly legs, he pounded his chest once with his right hoof, then the left. "BEGONE FROM ME, YOU WILL NOT HAVE ME AS YOU HAD THAT DAY!" He shouted at seemingly nothing while ominous cackling flowed in the atmosphere.
He was exhausted, the only thing keeping him standing was the thought of seeing that sun peek over the horizon once more. Only an hour or two to go, and every time he questioned if he would see it this time. And by the time dawn would come, all that would remain would be the heaped form of a crimson pony, barely able to even close his eyes from the severe stress his body had undergone.
Peace...as much as what could be called peace, would rescue him once the light of day awoke unto the world below. There he rested, out of breath and shaking from fatigue. Were it not for the pain, he would have collapsed on the spot to rest. He sat against a rock, looking up to the sky as he watched the stars begin to yield their luster to the waking day. Slowly and eventually, the cold dawn cooled him, and he fell asleep to the safety of the light, the only thing that consoled him in such times anymore.
#rp
As twilight enveloped the land, casting its eerie shadows, Hawk found himself once again navigating the treacherous landscape that had become his reality. The absence of the sun left him vulnerab... View More#rp
As twilight enveloped the land, casting its eerie shadows, Hawk found himself once again navigating the treacherous landscape that had become his reality. The absence of the sun left him vulnerable, exposed to the lurking dangers that thrived in the darkness. The scent of the red pegasus hung in the air, both alluring and foreboding, a reminder of the peril that trailed him relentlessly.
With a wary eye and a heavy heart, Hawk pressed on, his movements measured and deliberate. In towns and cities, he moved with the fluid grace of a practiced parkour artist, weaving through alleys and backstreets, always mindful of the threats that loomed around every corner. Rarely did he take to the skies, for even the open expanse above held dangers in the form of malicious spirits that sought to torment him.
The waters were no safer, with lakes and ponds serving as ominous gateways to unknown depths, threatening to ensnare him in their watery grasp. And the forests, with their dense foliage and haunting whispers, harbored creatures of the unknown, lost souls trapped in the liminal spaces between realms.
Alone and burdened by the weight of his past, Hawk knew that survival was his only imperative. He skirted the edges of civilization, avoiding contact with others whenever possible, knowing that his affliction was not his alone to bear. It was a solitary existence, the price he paid for his youthful indiscretions, now etched into the fabric of his being.
In the quiet moments between battles and flights, Hawk allowed himself to entertain fleeting thoughts of redemption and hope, wondering if there might be an end to his torment somewhere on the distant horizon. But ultimately, such musings were a luxury he could ill afford. For now, all that mattered was the relentless pursuit of survival, fueled by a defiant spirit and a grim determination to defy the darkness that threatened to consume him.
So he pressed on, one step at a time, driven by the stubborn resolve to live in spite of the horrors that surrounded him. For in the end, it was the only thing he knew how to do.
Things to know about Hawk:
He loves sandwiches and coffee, not particularly together though.
He cannot resist chocolate. He hates white chocolate and black licorice.... View MoreThings to know about Hawk:
He loves sandwiches and coffee, not particularly together though.
He cannot resist chocolate. He hates white chocolate and black licorice.
He will not pay taxes, bring it on IRS you don't scare him.
And finally. He cannot sing nor dance to save his life, and will absolutely do everything to avoid doing so. Even fake his own death.
Polo we're gonna have to find a way to bring our characters into an RP sometime.
I don't know how, but it's gotta happen.
How'd you like a nice cup of LIBER-TEA!?
Day [I lost count] of trying to go back to these places in my dreams
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFRVGCCjcxs
You've actually been here before. We just made sure you forgot.
Another video of liminal images, at least ones that work for me.
The word “liminal” comes from the Latin root, limen, which means “threshold.” The liminal space is the “crossing over” spa
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