a trace or an outline [descent]

[Lexx]

Tigris opened his eyes, stirred awake by the ending of some half-remembered dream, and lifted his scarred head. It was still clearly night; dawn was still well off, by at least a few hours, from what Tigris could see of the stars in the sky. His left side was cool, while his right was very warm, and a cursory downward glance revealed that his new friend Minske was curled beside him again, much like the night they’d met. He wasn’t pressed nearly as close—it wasn’t as cold here, outside of the mountains, after all. Even so, it was embarrassing. Tigris was debating whether or not to let it slide or scoot away, and then a great flash of white lit up the night around him, driving the thoughts entirely from his head. He leapt up with a vicious snarl, as if to shelter Minske bodily from the comet that streaked through the sky, brighter than the sun itself. It vanished behind the outline of a mountain, and Tigris braced for an impact that never came. The world remained quiet and still; the only aftermath was the way his heart had worked itself into his throat. “Did you see that—?” he demanded of Minske, but before either of them could confer, a wave of power washed through him, and he stumbled. Hello, you quaint creatures, the voice whispered, and Tigris almost retched from how dizzy the voice made him feel. Mortal creatures of flesh and desire—you, far more interesting than any of the gods you worship. I am Chaos, children, and should you need me you need only to wish it, strongly in your hearts. His silver eyes struggled upward from where they’d fixed upon the dark ground, looking to catch Minske’s in the gloom. A goddess? Was it possible? His family had not held much stock in the old legends—and though he knew the stories of Father Time and Mother Earth, the great deities that had birthed Somerset eons ago, he had never heard any tales of Chaos. She sounded like a negative force. He could not ever remember feeling so afraid, even as his family had been attacked and killed all around him. But first, I will give you each a gift. Think of your hearts’ desire. Scream it to the heavens. I can grant you power, my children, if you would only speak it… For I will see your dreams come true. He could feel the heavy, unwavering truth of her words. Would such power be a blessing or a curse? Her magic was still running through him, sluggish and foreign and dark, and he shuddered at the feeling. “I don’t want your fucking gifts,” he snarled, but his tongue was heavy and large in his mouth, and his words came out slurred. Even as he spoke, his treacherous mind reached out to the goddess. It was the dark, half-suppressed monster born of rage that whispered to her, I want every wolf involved in the culling of my family to burn; it’s what they deserve. "speaking" table & art by lexx

[Kenren]

minske mavecci

I am an island, you are the ocean, and all of my sadness taken by the sea

Minske woke suddenly - groggy and disoriented as a predator should not be. His side was a shock of cold, and a snarl sounded above him. He didn't even have a chance to contemplate his warmth, or the loss of it. How he must have moved closer to his companion in his sleep, given that he was standing so close. He tilted his head upward, blinking in shattered darkness and light. The looming figure, brightened by the light of... of? Tigris' gaze was not on him, and Minske turned his head to the sky. A streak of light, blindingly bright, was falling through the sky, and Minske couldn't help but be entranced. It fell to the earth - but did not crash. The accompanying flash of white left him momentarily blind, and he gasped as his retinas seared before he had the chance to close his eyes.

When Tigris' voice sounded, Minske was still gasping, tears running down his cheek and eyes closed against the pain. He didn't have time to answer anyway before... the words of a God. There was such conviction in his heart, as the words rang through to his core, that this was something divine. And all he could feel was unease washing through him, knowing that this was an incredible moment in time, one that could neither be avoided nor turned away from. His thoughts were still spinning when she finished speaking, and he hardly knew how to react. Tigris, however, seemed to have no such qualms. "I don't want your fucking gifts," he snarled to the voice, and Minske forced his eyes open and stood despite the spots in his vision. "Tigris, don't," he gasped, fear spiking through him much more acutely now. He knew his new friend was bold and terribly confrontational, but couldn't he feel this strength? Before he could say anything more, the Goddess, terribly, spoke.

"speaking"

table by lexx

[Kenren]

C H A O S "You are impudent, but perhaps you simply don't understand yet. But do not worry; you will. A bit of a gift, a bit of a curse - you will have the wrath you desire. You will burn from the inside until you beg me to grant you relief. Perhaps, then, you will respect those you should." GOOD JOB, TIGGY. He'll have the beginnings of a fire magic, but it's going to slowly try and eat him from the inside out. Fever, pain, etc, but it won't be so incredibly painful that he can't hold out for his pride, thinking he can get it under control on his own or what have you. It'll start off just painful but over time it'll become unbearable. If he drops in the next post, Minske will panic and I'll have him ask for a way to keep Tigris alive - aka healing wooo.

CODING BY TEMPEST.

[Lexx]

He could hear Minske panting in the dark, his breathing roughened by pain, and Tigris struggled toward him, half-blind and sick from Chaos’s foreign magic. It felt like the earth was rolling beneath him. “Tigris, don’t,” he gasped aloud, and there was such raw fear in his voice, penetrating and sharper than a blade, that Tigris immediately faltered, his bravado flickering out like an ember. “Minske,” he said, as though his friend’s name would strengthen him, and then the voice came rolling back, and he clenched his jaws fiercely together. He would not scream, even as pain stabbed through his mind, his body, his soul. “You are impudent,” the goddess chuckled, cold and dreadful, “but perhaps you simply don’t understand yet.” Her words were waves upon waves, overlapping and pressing against the shores of his muscles, his blood, his bones. A new warmth was kindling within him; at first, it was not unpleasant, but soon that gentle warmth increased, and he was panting as heavily as though he stood out in direct summer sunlight, unable to shed its heat from his black fur. “No,” he started to say, and a single spark flickered from his tongue, flaring golden-red in the night. He froze, breathing in slowly, exhaling tremulously. From the corner of his eye, he could see a fingerlike wisp of smoke uncurling from his maw and fading into the night. “But do not worry,” Chaos continued, mocking him. “You will. A bit of a gift, a bit of a curse—you will have the wrath you desire. You will burn from the inside until you beg me to grant you relief. Perhaps, then, you will respect those you should.” He was shaking now, almost as though he was cold, but he was feverish, sweat-soaked, half-feral from the heat that was building fiercely within him. It coiled in his gut, cramping, searing—he looked to Minske, his silver eyes wide and rolling, and then just as quickly, he had turned and run for the lake. They were not far from the water’s edge, as Tigris had wanted a quick escape from the looming trees all around them; now he crashed violently into the lake itself. Steam rolled from the water in great clouds wherever he touched the lake, but it did not extinguish him. He gritted his teeth against the agony of it and threw his head back toward the starry sky with a great snarl. “Never,” he growled at Chaos, and fire flickered behind his teeth, scorching his throat and tongue. “Never. I’d rather die.” With another crash of water and heat, he whirled from the lake and stormed back up the shore, gasping for air, feeling deliriously sick. It was unbearable. It was unbearable. He stumbled, and quickly righted himself, because Minske was there—he could smell him, smell him everywhere—and if Minke touched him, he would be burned. He stumbled again, falling heavily against a nearby tree. His body slumped to the forest floor, leaving a charred welt upon the tree trunk from where he’d caught himself against it. “Stay back,” he snarled to Minske, his voice almost unrecognizable from the smoke, from the fire. “Don’t come any closer.” "speaking" table & art by lexx

[Kenren]

minske mavecci

I am an island, you are the ocean, and all of my sadness taken by the sea

The die had been cast, and Minske felt a sense of unreality as everything suddenly spun out of control. "Minske." Tigris' voice, in the briefest of calms before the inevitable storm, sent a chill down Minske's spine. He'd never felt so helpless in his life, not when he'd been lost in the mountains, not when he'd been cornered by a bear - that he could fight, even if it was a losing battle. This was something untouchable, unknowable, and they were entirely at her mercy.

"You are impudent, but perhaps you simply don't understand yet." the voice observed coldly. But even with that voice ringing through him, he couldn't miss Tigris' exclamation, and his attention was wholly averted. The feminine voice continued, powerfully, but Minske only heard it from the back of his mind. Tigris was... he was smoldering, like dry tinder after a lightning strike. Minske could do nothing but stand rigidly as Tigris bolted for the lake, frantic with a pain Minske couldn't even begin to imagine. Even in the darkness he could see steam rising from where the water touched Tigris' body, and he was struck with one terrified thought - how could anyone possible survive that? But if he would just-

"Never. Never. I'd rather die." Minske let out a snarl of frustration, legs weak, as Tigris stumbled out of the lake and practically collapsed against a tree. Embers glowed where he touched, threatening to spark into something greater, but Minske moved toward him anyway. He was transfixed by the flashes of flame coming from between Tigris jaws, a single harmless emotion amongst everything that warred in him. "Stay back," Tigris rasped at him, and there was fire in Minske's own eyes in return. "Don't come any closer." A snarl ripped from Minske's lips again, and he didn't halt his movement until he could feel the heat coming off of that black fur. "Don't tell me what to do, you fucking idiot," he snapped, eyes searching for something, anything he could do.

There was nothing.

His head whipped around, into the open night sky, and his voice was pleading and frantic when he spoke. "Goddess, please! He is stubborn, but if you want him to learn his lesson, he has to live long enough! Let me help him!" It was straws he grasped at, and he knew it - but anything was better than watching Tigris die in this way of his own stupidity.


"speaking"

table by lexx

MINSKE GOT MAD omg

[Kenren]

C H A O S "You would have me give aide to a mortal that, by his own admission, will never show the respect I deserve? ........... But, perhaps, I too need to earn such a thing. However... does this not seem like another gift for your friend? I will do this favor for you. I will give you the power to keep him alive, for a time. But in doing this favor for you, you will give one to me when I call on you. Good luck. Best not keep me waiting too long." Minske will have the power of healing, and at the beginner level will be able to repair minor damage. The power takes his energy in return, so the worse the damage, the more danger he is in trying to heal it. He is not able to heal himself.

CODING BY TEMPEST.

[Lexx]

Minske snarled at him, and the sound rippled straight through Tigris, setting his hackles on end. He’d never heard his friend make such a furious sound, and for a moment, it quieted him from pure shock. Minske drew nearer, and he focused blearily on the smaller wolf’s pale shape, a warning growl dancing within his own throat. Minske did not touch Tigris—a relief, as he knew it would blister Minske open the way it was splitting him apart from within. “Don’t tell me what to do, you fucking idiot,” he spat at Tigris, and Tigris’ growl sharpened in reply. He watched Minske cast around helplessly for a moment, as if looking for something to douse Tigris in. Don’t, his mind begged Minske. Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t! Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, and he felt Minske’s mind being made up, as clearly as though he’d had the thought himself. “Minske, don’t you dare—!” he began, but Minske cut him off, throwing his head back to the sky. He watched, mute, fire choking off his words. His eyes were trapped by the pale curve of Minske’s throat in the gloom; he was stunned silent by the way Minske’s voice, the same one he’d made so placating and gentle the night they’d first met, was made sharp by fear. He was struck with the most absurd feeling. He wanted to cry. “Goddess, please! He is stubborn, but if you want him to learn his lesson, he has to live long enough! Let me help him!” The night was silent. They were both breathing in unison; sparks flickered and died on Tigris’s lips, glowing with each harsh exhale. He wouldn’t meet Minske’s eyes. The goddess’s voice returned, slow and cold and calculating, borderline incredulous. Fire twisted in him again; Tigris fought the urge to cry out. “You would have me give aide to a mortal that, by his own admission, will never show the respect I deserve?” He was sweating, feverish and sick; he wanted to open his mouth, draw her wrath back upon him, but his throat was blistered, his mouth full of ash. His lips parted; blood trickled out. “But, perhaps,” she continued shrewdly, “I too need to earn such a thing. However…does this not seem like another gift for your friend? I will do this favor for you. I will give you the power to keep him alive, for a time. But in doing this favor for you, you will give one to me when I call on you. Good luck. Best not keep me waiting too long.” The night was silent, and Tigris, still panting, still burning, finally looked at Minske. “I wasn’t worth it,” he growled, blood flecking the earth at his feet. table & art by lexx

[Kenren]

minske mavecci

I am an island, you are the ocean, and all of my sadness taken by the sea

Tigris' warning, his admonition, fell deafly in the back of his mind as the goddess spoke one last time. "You would have me give aide to a mortal that, by his own admission, will never show the respect I deserve?" Part of Minske shuddered, the weight of her disapproval a physical force that pressed down on him. But despite that, despite his fear, his resolve hardened. He'd come this far, and he'd already risked her displeasure - what was the harm in continuing? Just when he'd steeled himself to argue further, though, her voice rang again. The oppressive force had lightened, but her words brought a feeling of defeat and dread all the same. But, perhaps, I too need to earn such a thing. However... does this not seem like another gift for your friend? I will do this favor for you. I will give you the power to keep him alive, for a time. But in doing this favor for you, you will give one to me when I call on you. Good luck. Best not keep me waiting too long."

And just like that, in a matter of minutes, he'd signed himself away to a creature more powerful than he could truly fathom. There was no doubt in his mind that if Chaos were to call on him, for anything, that he'd have no choice in the matter. And that, if possible, was a powerlessness even greater than what he'd felt before. He swallowed hard, allowing himself to be distracted by the strange warmth growing inside of him. Slowly, carefully, like the heating of a rock by the sun - not uncomfortable, but undeniably present. "I wasn't worth it," came the voice from behind him, roughly, and Minske closed his eyes against every overwhelming emotion. He was exhausted - but he wasn't finished.

"Shut up," he said wearily, no heat to be found. He turned back to Tigris, cringing at the blood he could smell around the stench of... burning. He took the last step between them, unsure exactly of what he was supposed to do. Instinct was as good a place to start as any. The pale wolf reached out a paw, wincing as the padded flesh met hot fur - feeling the burn sizzling up his leg. Giving him at least a brief flash of what his friend was going through. But he could also feel an answering draw of energy from his own body into Tigris - hopefully helping the damage that was being caused. It hurt, but not nearly as much as his friend hurt. If he could endure being burned from the inside, Minske could endure a couple of burns.

He separated from Tigris just long enough to lay beside him, perpendicular so he could keep a paw draped over a black foreleg. The contact allowed the power to continue flowing, even if he had no clue how to direct it - yet. He could only hope it would help. Minske sighed, forcing himself to ignore the pain for the moment. "You're wrong," he said suddenly, but quietly, trying to catch Tigris' eye. "You may not think you're worth it, but... nobody deserves this." It wasn't what he wanted to say, not quite, but he didn't think Tigris would accept anything else. And he really wasn't in the mood to fight anymore, not tonight.

"speaking"

table by lexx