[Naesala's Tale] My mother the lightning, my father the rain

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Echohawk
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[Naesala's Tale] My mother the lightning, my father the rain

Post by Echohawk » Mon Apr 06, 2020 5:16 am

Hairs standing on end, every motion touching over her form like a current. Not smooth like water, it pricked and it struck, every motion causing a jolt as her gaze flew from shadow to shadow in the cavern she found herself in. Far from where she remembered.

And yet it was far from the first feeling that came to thought. It began on a night so many years ago now, a shrill voice calling out to her, after her. The sound of thunder as a royal steed pilfered from the nearby stable carried the sun elf forth from the cover and into the open moonlight. The trees shook, the grass trembled, and between every house and alley was another set of hands coming to grab after her.

Another strike, trembling with claws that gripped the wall. Her own, and yet anything else. The storm at the nexus falls breaking through the constant roar of the tumbling water.

A flash as battle rang out among heated breaths and opponents, after running so hard to find it. Her pulse was in her feet, her legs, her ears, inescapable. And yet no longer could she move. The strikes of fist and flesh before her coming hard and fast, a sound of shuffling cloth, hidden armor from within. First the female fell, and then the roar of a patriarch who sired none, a man who appeared only as armor stepping forth only to fall the same.

Screaming, something that was a void, endless and hungry. Pits of fear and doubt as she found a smaller rock to hide behind.

The hand came down, the piercing red vision behind the drow's haunted expression. Her instinct to hunt, to purge, to kill at the end of an arrow tip now pointed at his throat. Helpless as he was, even in pristine royal armors, the wound was clear and infected. Her expression flinched, something bit her as her strike was held. A hand of help to save him, a glance to her side as the shadow laughed in her mind.

"Weak."
"Disappointment."
"Failure."


Striking, her motion was fast, too fast now. The fangs she'd grown had found the bat as she began to feast on the flesh however meager. Alone. It was quiet while the mandibles went to work, the dark keeping her cloaked away from the rest. A beast she'd feared from within, now without barrier or restraint. An arachnid of all things, she would never fly high as the eagle, this was the wretched truth.

Alone the dripping cavern walls, she remembered her tears as he left her.

Cowering now, she did not know what days and nights would pass. This would be safe, this would be her place.
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