Post by ▪ Talar ▪ on Jun 27, 2009 15:53:23 GMT -5
[this is before my other threads]
A place of the old, where secrets are kept, stories are held. A tall shadow rose against the moon scrapping the sky, a crow screeched loud in the night where a castle stood. It was known to be haunted, or maybe even worse. Holding the presence of Wolfbane himself, and some knew it to be a myth while others wouldn’t dare to reach the corners in the land. The farthest north you could go to still stay in Transylvania was here, a cold varg stood. Two sets of orbs glowing a bright turquoise turned green with the night as Tor rose in the sky. They struck into a wanted power, by many, the power to lurk and watch all thing in the dark. The figure looked like a ghost as it floated across the land running into the stone settlement. Abandoned long ago, but still with a longing presence of hunger.
It reached the stone opening, a Fae cub, a mere yearling but old enough to travel, she looked up to see the cold stone, vines and trees grew crawling through it, making it seem even the more haunted. See smelt nothing, it would seem to be safe for the night. The wind picked up making the wolf shiver under her summer coat, the grey and tan hue glowed against the moon. Her black feet blended into the night. Talar, the varg cub stepped in feeling the cold stone pierce her pads underneath her feet. She walked in, her footsteps echoed against the walls, making it feel even more empty. Her head low with her tail, she walked in, feeling to find a safe place of rest from the long trip she had just took. The fae didn’t know where she was even going, she came far from the North, Ukraine the humans called it. To Talar Transylvania was far different from what she had ever experienced. She had never seen a wicked landscape like the one where both the Carpathian and the Transylvanian mountains met to make such large peaks in the sky, able to make the Earth shake against its anger.
Talar’s eyes search around carefully, she had heard about this place before, and it had not been as what she expected at all. The Fae smelt old scat from another varg and the stench of both bats and ravens, the scat was possibly a season old. The varg she had met on the mountain was right, this is a definite feared place. She thought felling a cold draft above her. On the right wing of the castle stood a very appealing stair case, old, broken, but sturdy enough to walk up. Talar didn’t dare want to go up it though, she walked on to the back of the castle where some rock had yet fallen down and you could see the moons reflection scattered on the floor, seeping through the cracks in the ceiling. She was alone, but felt as if someone was also near too, she felt it in her gut. In the sky, where the great Tor had he eye full, Talar let out a lonely howl to her, the howl turned then into a need for food. She felt a pang of hunger burst in her stomach. Long in the dead valleys she could find no Herla, if she did, they were yet too big for a yearling like her to take down by herself. She lived off of lemmings and berries occasionally.
Talar found a small little stack of dead grass and leaves by the wall in the back of that room, it seems that there had been many in here before her, and a little puddle of dirty water from what it probably rained from a few suns ago. She lapped it up, the water was no good, it left a mucky taste in her mouth as she spit it back out. She then layed on the cold leaves and rested, she couldn’t fall asleep though, she felt that someone was near, she feared to fall asleep. Who knows what it was that she felt, possibly another Varg, maybe it was something else. But what? She thought, then hearing a footstep echo in the Castle, a footstep that wasn’t hers.
[glow=black,2,300]What you can’t see
Is also what you can’t feel or taste
But you can hear it speaking to you
Like an old friend[/glow]
[hey, sorry if this is worded weirdly, I have a different way of speaking and describing my actions, so you might have to look it over twice to understand]
A place of the old, where secrets are kept, stories are held. A tall shadow rose against the moon scrapping the sky, a crow screeched loud in the night where a castle stood. It was known to be haunted, or maybe even worse. Holding the presence of Wolfbane himself, and some knew it to be a myth while others wouldn’t dare to reach the corners in the land. The farthest north you could go to still stay in Transylvania was here, a cold varg stood. Two sets of orbs glowing a bright turquoise turned green with the night as Tor rose in the sky. They struck into a wanted power, by many, the power to lurk and watch all thing in the dark. The figure looked like a ghost as it floated across the land running into the stone settlement. Abandoned long ago, but still with a longing presence of hunger.
It reached the stone opening, a Fae cub, a mere yearling but old enough to travel, she looked up to see the cold stone, vines and trees grew crawling through it, making it seem even the more haunted. See smelt nothing, it would seem to be safe for the night. The wind picked up making the wolf shiver under her summer coat, the grey and tan hue glowed against the moon. Her black feet blended into the night. Talar, the varg cub stepped in feeling the cold stone pierce her pads underneath her feet. She walked in, her footsteps echoed against the walls, making it feel even more empty. Her head low with her tail, she walked in, feeling to find a safe place of rest from the long trip she had just took. The fae didn’t know where she was even going, she came far from the North, Ukraine the humans called it. To Talar Transylvania was far different from what she had ever experienced. She had never seen a wicked landscape like the one where both the Carpathian and the Transylvanian mountains met to make such large peaks in the sky, able to make the Earth shake against its anger.
Talar’s eyes search around carefully, she had heard about this place before, and it had not been as what she expected at all. The Fae smelt old scat from another varg and the stench of both bats and ravens, the scat was possibly a season old. The varg she had met on the mountain was right, this is a definite feared place. She thought felling a cold draft above her. On the right wing of the castle stood a very appealing stair case, old, broken, but sturdy enough to walk up. Talar didn’t dare want to go up it though, she walked on to the back of the castle where some rock had yet fallen down and you could see the moons reflection scattered on the floor, seeping through the cracks in the ceiling. She was alone, but felt as if someone was also near too, she felt it in her gut. In the sky, where the great Tor had he eye full, Talar let out a lonely howl to her, the howl turned then into a need for food. She felt a pang of hunger burst in her stomach. Long in the dead valleys she could find no Herla, if she did, they were yet too big for a yearling like her to take down by herself. She lived off of lemmings and berries occasionally.
Talar found a small little stack of dead grass and leaves by the wall in the back of that room, it seems that there had been many in here before her, and a little puddle of dirty water from what it probably rained from a few suns ago. She lapped it up, the water was no good, it left a mucky taste in her mouth as she spit it back out. She then layed on the cold leaves and rested, she couldn’t fall asleep though, she felt that someone was near, she feared to fall asleep. Who knows what it was that she felt, possibly another Varg, maybe it was something else. But what? She thought, then hearing a footstep echo in the Castle, a footstep that wasn’t hers.
[glow=black,2,300]What you can’t see
Is also what you can’t feel or taste
But you can hear it speaking to you
Like an old friend[/glow]
[hey, sorry if this is worded weirdly, I have a different way of speaking and describing my actions, so you might have to look it over twice to understand]