Rockette

Where Angels Fear to Tread (Community Revived Edition)

Will be posting for Kylmi tomorrow!
c=

The Spirits Within

I'm holding off my post tidbit for Mags' new spirits because I want to get in more interaction-collab posts before that point because it's going to be a big one. dx
Particularly with Olivia and Aaron next if you guys have the time.

The Spirits Within

---

She saw them in in books, in her mind, in the voice of her father when spoke to them late at night; all of the Abendroth children scattered about next to one another. Gabriele was sullen in these hours, chin in her palm, blonde curls swept back into the most careless fashion. The boys took over from her, with their coiling tresses, fair hues with gold spun through each curl above their ears. Kristoff was ecstatic, he seemed like a child, hair so pale it was nearly white against his sallow complexion but unlike most of his ancestry, the active and jubilant gleam he bore reflected across chartreuse eyes - not azure. Only the twins inherited the eyes of their mother and the overall colouring from their father, set apart yet the same, clasping hands as twins often did. His fascination came from ancient stories of even older creatures, not to be labeled as monsters he said.

But Magdalena could only think of how wrong he was. Chaos was a monster, that thing was a monster - Sam was one now. She had always assumed that the spirits within her were the pinnacle of some netherworld, derived from those tortures and horrors of endless circles and judging tongues. But the parting ebony deluge had summoned forth something that had wrought Chaos and the beings of hellacious wrath inside her into submission, bending in their spitting fury and wails, unwillingly bowing to this apparition in what could only be subjugation. Intimidation had set her apart, and within her mind the alabaster plain was banished and replaced by infinite space, Chaos was there with the nightmarish creature that Sam had become, along with the description of a beast that her father had only spoken of, with a figure donned entirely in black with slivers of tremendous sunlight beaming through the fissures of skin; they glowed, bearing incredibly hues of star fire and bursts of gold. Constantly swathed in blankets of shadow that only submerged half of it within darkness, the ancient being smiled at her and spread arms wide as a blackened, lost and forlorn world sailed towards them all and with that same, Cheshire grin that split seams of ebonette plating, it swallowed it whole.

Tears of magma, hot, boiling, festering in the vermilion goo, spread down her sallow cheeks, carving through until Olivia's voice tore her from the vision and she stumbled after her, only spurred on by instinct as Chaos was quiet, contemplating, as if suddenly biding for time - and for what, she dared not ask..

---

ｔｒｅｅ ｏｆ ｌｉｆｅ»

What little strength had remained within the pale doll’s limbs gradually began to bleed out, making arms tremble with the sheer magnitude of hoisting herself from the debris, wreckage of ancient times were scattered about in fragments of rubbish; each cluster of refuse teeming with the scrap of time. Magdalena sputtered and coughed the ache and dust from filming across her lungs, creating a peculiar wheeze when she inhaled and dragged her uniform sleeve across her face, smudging a harsh line of earth residue across her cheek bone tinged with just the barest hints of hell fire. She had little time to adjust, much less acknowledge the depth of dismal scenery when the reflections began to hit, encumbering her mind whilst she struggled to her feet and found her legs unwilling to corporate with her direction - as if a new babe unable to grasp the concept of motion. Frustration contoured her face in a slight scowl, a rare snippet of emotion crossing her usual indifference when she finally stood to full, diminutive height and unlatched her chakram from across her spine -her smallest one lost, it would seem- finding the weight unsettling, in which shocked her. But more so was the lack of knowledge of where they were at, the events before shadowed and eclipsed by the wealth of fear she had been bridled with in the depths of those molten eyes that had even bid the wail of Chaos silent. All the monochromatic detritus though immediately fell to the backdrop when she saw Emily, positively brooding in whatever it was the ailed her, Magdalena could only guess, but the detached perplexity was what worried her more so.

Thus leaving her chakram propped against random, metal paraphernalia, she limped towards her, hearing a strange pop in her hip as she shuffled from up behind her, dipping just far enough to peek at her visage. Her blue eyes widened marginally, trying to scope her out entirely when she gently reached out, hovered near her shoulder before clasping her palm against her cuff - she felt her flinch.

“Emily?”

The blonde girl sat on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest. When Mags reached out, Emily pulled away reflexively, turning to gaze in her friend's direction. Her eyes were wide and empty. She didn't say anything, but she scooched over slightly to let Magdalena sit down.

Her hand jerked back on impulse, feeling as if her skin may of burned, but the signature heat was devoid of her palm, making her confused as she clenched her fingers into a fist and gazed almost helplessly at the forlorn figure before her. The emptiness was a near, perfect reflection of the pit inside herself now gnawing wide with the eerie silence within her. Magdalena couldn't hold her eyes for long but took the unspoken invitation and reclined beside Emily, staring ahead.

"I - uhm." She inhaled, finding her hands curled into fists that shook.

"Are you okay?" Magdalena finally inquired, barley within a murmur.

Emily thought for a moment.

"I don't know," she said.

For once, she wasn't the only hopeless one it would seem, and a part of her, perhaps deranged and lonely, found a queer satisfaction in her friend's detachment but in that kinship, she could also feel the smallest twinge of regret. Magdalena hummed her consent, casting her peerless gaze skyward and tried, for the most part, not to glance down toward the epicentre of where she could only guess hosted Emily's feelings. And her own, she remembered the disbelief and sorrow back in those dreaded sewers and the amount of denial of it having been her friend lying there with that - thing. Magdalena's eyes failed to stay away from it once her mind conjoured its image and she found herself saying, without reservation:

"Does it hurt?"

"No. I wish it did." Emily said. "Without the pain, I can--"

She stopped, and looked away.

"What?" Magdalena probed, her body leaning forward to try and catch Emily's eyes.

Emily stared down at herself. Her tank top was ripped and spotted with dirt and grime. The scar, whatever it was, pulsed over her heart.

"I can forget it's there."

Magdalena's eyes once more drifted downward, speculating as Emily did so. Her own hand curled up over her chest, pressing over the breadth of her heart, she couldn't imagine what it was like: having absorbed the spirit of their adversary, one that was Xenomorph no doubt, the memory of the Caudata and the pestilent smog that had choked her soul made her shudder. But it had saved Emily's life, had it not? In some peculiar fashion the thing that would be apart of her nightmarish fears was nestled somewhere in one of the closest people to her rumoured, frigid heart.

"Is that what bothers you? That you can forget about it, that it's there?" She asked.

"I don't know," Emily said. "I just feel like, if it hurt, I'd feel like... maybe like it was less a part of me. I don't even know what that means."

She didn't know either, but if there was something that she could relate to, it would be the conflict of having something within you that could not fathom, understand, much less explain. Magdalena uncurled her fingers, allowing her fists to relax in what felt like ages.

"I know," she began, almost awkward. "That the others won't be able to understand, well Remi, maybe. But I do, in some way. I mean." Magdalena sighed, struggling to grasp some form of speech beneath all the incoherent babbling within her head, trying to discern what she felt.

"To have something that is apart of you, and not wanting it. Or rather being unable to stop it or do anything about it."

"What does it mean that these things chose us?" Emily asked. "I wish I believed it didn't have to mean something."

"It means you're alive." Magdalena said, her voice hardening into one of strong conviction, "We may not understand what these -things- want, but there is something within us that calls to them. Or maybe it's they that call to us." She raised her palm, staring at the scar blazoned across her skin and held it towards Emily, as if trying to make a point.

"I don't know what else it all means, but as much as I sometimes don't want it, it's all I have. And maybe whatever happened to you, when you..." She couldn't bring herself to say it, that she died. So she didn't. "When you absorbed it, was for the better. Because you're here, with us - with Remi."

Emily looked away again. She mumbled something, too quietly for Magdelena to hear.

Something in her face fell, along with all the reassurances she tried to say and proffer, to somehow soothe whichever Emily was feeling. Magdalena though also knew what it was like when you allowed them to remain: they festered into something horrid.

"Stop mumbling." She muttered, prodding Emily in her shoulder when she cast her eyes away. "I don't do, this - thing. Comfort." She added, mostly to herself.

"It's not about whether I'm alive," Emily said. "It's about choice. I didn't ask for the things I can do. I didn't ask for this. I want to have -- it was my life to give, not theirs."

Magdalena was silent for a while, slightly taken back what she had said. What point there was to be had struck her something awful, making her hand withdraw and her nails to scrape against the scar.

"None of us have asked for this," she whispered, her gaze darkening marginally. "But there isn't anything we, I, or you can do. We have to live with it. Or just die with it." Magdalena bit her nails into her palm. "But obviously, whether you wanted it or not, you were meant to live. So maybe there's something to be grateful for, in that. If you can't see it, then we'll have to see it for you."

Emily stood, kicking off the ground angrily.

"Fuck it," Emily said. "Fuck meant to. I don't want to be meant for something. Life is supposed to be about picking your own meaning. We're not angels, Mags. We're not predestined - or we're not supposed to be."

Silence blanketed over her, suffocated her as Emily promptly walked away, leaving her alone, seated upon the filth of this dismal, forlorn city.

"Then why are you here?" She inquired, quiet and soft spoken and poised to inflict herself as well as she followed the retreat of a dirtied, swinging braid. What Emily had said in her vent of anger carried a wealth of truth and was accepted with a harsh reflection. She would never assume them to be of fictional, ethereal grace, Mags didn't dare predict that she was anywhere close to that. But wasn't everything selected on some predetermined course; fates, alignments, prophecies of higher powers. She brooded over this, finding herself growing agitated with her failed attempts to placate the fellow blonde, obviously her efforts fell short, fumbling towards the end when she just wanted to say that she was happy - happy that she hadn't of died. Her worst fear was of being alone and if one were to perish, then surely the others would follow and the wailing veneer inside her head would gladly, maliciously laud over her despair because of it. She had wanted to comfort her friend and only succeeded in adding more confusion, hurt and anger that bled out of her as she too stood, casting Emily's retreating figure one more glance that fell into regret before she walked off in the opposite direction, arms curling around herself.

The Spirits Within

Oh, wow I really did not notice!
D:
It's JJ's fault.

The Spirits Within

Six, I need colours for Roy. Unless you posted them already, I'm too lazy to go look.
I believe that just leaves Anima, for Sofia.

Anyways I ended up falling asleep when I returned home from work, so no post from me till tomorrow afternoon then the collab with Ex.

I also just watched Harlock: Space Pirate. Pretty damn good.

The Spirits Within

-Takes notes-
Thanks guys!

The Spirits Within

Those little icons are cute - where did you find them?
I'm going to do a little post with Mags new stuff and spirits over the weekend, but the place I'm staying tonight has a rather slow and weak connection.
So it'll probably come Sunday-Monday at the latest.

For those in wanting collaborations, I'll be available all day Tuesday.

Graphic update:
I've been messing around with the different backgrounds and stuff - but I want to know what colours that you guys associate for your characters as a whole.
Like for Mags: hers would be something akin to Red and Black. Those are spirit related.
Another example is very pale blues and blondes, almost a grey colour because of her overall pale complexion and personality nature - at least what is portrayed outside.

Where Angels Fear to Tread (Community Revived Edition)

Mmkay I posted something.
I'm unsure of where Kylmi will go right now, but I'm sure Shorus will follow up somewhere.
I can edit things if needed, I just wanted to move things a long [considering the plot is quickening] and not drag it out.

Where Angels Fear to Tread (Community Revived Edition)

Kylmi found herself swindled and championed by Shorus's usual bluster, his confidence and strength did not heed any restriction and while she had formerly dismissed him as a a simple admirer, she found intelligence within his execution when he discussed their intentions and movement. The nymph nodded, her antlers gleaming with the swirling decorations and malachite that winked within moonlight, she delicately wove her fingers into the soil at their heels, sinking her claws in deep as the life within teemed and writhed at her call; the thickets swarmed with a plethora of thorns and vines as thick as her arm, clenching into coils at the roots of the brush they currently took refuge in. Using Bones' eyes, she honed in on the tent that Shorus had indicated, a quick scan provided that Tarwin was scouring out opposite tarpaulins pulled taut and hammered effectively, their flaps barely disturbed by his evasions. She signaled that she was prepared with a lift of her thorn crusted blade, Bones' mimicking her salute with a toss of his head and rattling the bones interwoven through his overgrown, ebonnette mane.

Shorus would be a tough act to follow, his effective charge into the encampment signaled by the clash of blades and armour, the Elderborne and all their skills paling in comparison to the wrath bridling the Minotaur as he roared and tore through the guards surrounding the Mad Prince's tent. Kylmi drew in a breathe, withholding it in her lungs and breast as she mounted atop Bones and rode down after Shorus's charge. But her preparations were nearly for not, a terrible thunder clapped within, stealing all breath and reason as she fell from atop her mount and rolled upon the earth in a terrible confine of agony. She screeched, her hawk's cry piercing the air in a ear splitting call that capered across the encampment and drew attention by the immaculate enemy gleaming and clashing against their Mamaluke opponents. The temporary distraction proved beneficial in some, damaging in others as soldiers fell upon the blades and lances of their aggressors. Bones reared, his voice shattering through her consciousnesses and booming in all of its fury:

Get up you fool, or I'll trample you right here instead!

Kylmi's body trembled, suddenly encumbered by her armour as she pulled and tugged upon the tangled threads of her harsh companion, but her eyes, lined in silver and glowing, flickered towards the horizon, dark and woven in shadows, she could see the massive cloud rising above the canopy of Uchfos, coiling and conglomerating into a single, wreathing darkness that spun and ascended higher above the tree tops. With Bones' eyes she could see the finery in details of feathers and leathery wings, every species and creature of flight suddenly disturbed by whichever threatened their mortal plane. Kylmi's heart pinged with the forest's wail, a silent, moaning anguish as the borders resealed themselves and became festooned in thorns and roots, tree trunks swelling in size until all potential nooks were compressed. Another clap of thunder tore through her as she pulled herself upon Bones', throwing her leg over and leaning heavily against his heaving flank as he retook the charge towards the Mad Prince.

Something had happened, something was happening - something was coming.

---

The nymph though had a quest, a designation and one way to figure out whichever was happening was to interrogate one of the focal players in this prophecy of doom. Kylmi seethed against the pain, trying to shelter the earth's sighs of terror as Bones galloped past elven soldiers falling to the Minotaur's merciless assault.

The forest kin did not know what she would find upon entering the tent, she had left Bones outside, listening to his irritation and overall furious qualms as he stomped his hooves repeatedly and spun in mad circles as he awaited his charge, and Kylmi was not prepared for what she saw therein.

"It is she that comes to greet me, but She that has done this to me. And to you. Do you want to know what She has planned for you? For The All." There were no eyes through the slit in his helm and his calm exterior was only split by the manic simper stretching across his cheeks; he was aged in every way she knew, much like she herself was. There was a kinship of pity, but Kylmi did not have sparing notions for those that had burned her homes many times before. She wonders if these Elderborne knew of the glory that was once her Isildier. Would this ancient insanity know?

"Who is She?" Was all Klymi had to inquire, posing her blade of thorns upon his brow, honing in close to the helm, the tines throbbed in tempo with her heart, bidding to be extended. Outside, Bones began his usual ticking, a vibrating sound of annoyance.

"She is that which wills all to come, a calamity and ruin, a fire that will reach beyond your forests and your walls. She has made her Chosen and her desires cannot be thwarted." His tone was an ascending madness, but almost desperate, as if repeating from some other being that whispered and uttered these reflections. Kylmi's eyes narrowed as her vines snaked beneath the tent, coiling up and around the Prince's gleaming armour and his tall stance, cording tight as he did nothing to disturb her, as if without his soul and reasoning that would bid him to react normally.

But he did seethe at her, baring a grimace of disgust.

"You are nothing, you'll be nothing, just like I - you'll suffer a loss that is eternal, an aching pit of despair within your body. You'll rot, decay, much like the wilting plant you are."

Vines closed up around his lips, snaring him shut with a clench of her hands as she trembled with the wealth of everything he spoke of, of his insanity and manic intelligence that bore into her. Her former pain and the forest's response affirmed of this Queen, of She he spoke of. But now as she snared the Elderborne within her vines, she felt something that sunk deep into the flora, a deep loss and hate, something seeded by means of ancient magic and history. Kylmi shuddered with it, whistling for Bones who tore through the tent's external skin and trampled the posts with vicious kicks and snaps. His hooves flashed and his gnashing teeth bore into a snarl when Kylmi hoisted their charge upon his body, using vines and plants to secure him into place. Beneath all the greenery, she heard a soft murmur, a whisper that slunk across her skin and bones and struck inside her mind.

"You can't stop it, no one can stop it."

---

Kylmi ran through the encampment, her eyes scanning with flickers of silver and white as she tried to locate her companions, but nothing could be seen beyond the onslaught of blood and death, bodies littered the earth and the soil became swollen with their life, heavy and thick, over flowing with death song as the world around her moaned and wept, making her face contour into one of tragedy. The nymph lowered her stare, not wanting to witness the vacant gaze of the dead as she led Bones through the masses, upon her treads flowers and vines crawled, smothering over bodies and blood, staining most of the spring colours in hues of carmine and black. She knew she had to meet up with Shorus and Hazim later, followed by Tarwin some where in the confusion, no doubt they'd want to kill the Mad Prince upon seeing him mounted upon the vicious Kelpie, but she'd attempt to reason with them beyond all means.

And so she traversed across the battlefield, veering off in a sprint as the trio of nymph, Fae beast and elf circled around, searching in vain for the Captain that was no longer present among his troops that were dying for whatever cause was deemed worthy by their God and she wondered briefly if death was a price they all were going to have to pay.

Surely Mundhir would not ask that of them, right?

The Spirits Within

I used to have the same issue with having similarities between characters that beheld similar personalities and details as to what you described. I broke away from the mold eventually, mostly just using inspiration and taking minor tidbits from various tropes that I read up on. Switching around helped a lot as well, to what Ten suggested.

Mags herself is the first of her kind, for me at least. But then I prefer darker characters in general.

The spectrum of "evil" is a little more difficult to discern, I'll admit. Some villains tend to blend in together for me, even my own.