Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.


Topics - Darion Greenstone

Pages: [1]
1
Little Terreille Archives / midnight sun
« on: December 24, 2017, 03:08:05 PM »
It was a nice room, thought Aeon, but nice in the bland, predictable sort of way: well-made matching furniture, a luxurious bed, plenty of room. He sat on the bench in front of the vanity table, loose and leisurely, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. One hand tucked under his chin, he certainly looked more patient than he felt.

She had not noticed yet. It offended Aeon more than it should have; he’d been careful not to alert the court, after all. And it had worked—or he thought it had, for he had opened his barriers wide to probe and felt no one stirring.

Perhaps she was stupid, he thought. But of course. It was so much more difficult for evil to take root near a Queen who was smart.

One foot jiggled impatiently, his body vibrating in time with the movement. Time. No time. He had a job to do, and every moment lost was a waste, a danger; it had to be now, had to be quick, or he would forget.

He absolutely could not allow himself to forget.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, dark eyes glittering, gaze fixed on the slender figure of the Queen who’d had her back to him for minutes now. “It must be very important, hm?”

2
Little Terreille Archives / [m] incinerate
« on: December 24, 2017, 11:26:49 AM »
He’d nearly missed it, going so fast… fingertips pressed hard against the delicate pattern of the wallpaper, so close he could feel the trembling humid warmth of his own breath rebound against his face. He closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against the cool flat surface, hands tightening against the wall until his knuckles went pale.

So fast. Too fast. Skin crawling, burning with fever from the inside. Deep below, a torrent of emotion was raging, roaring, and Aeon did not know what to do with it. But he knew he could not slow it; inside of the chaos was a delicate balance, a surety maintained only by the speed, and if he stopped too long to rest he knew, instinctively, that balance would fall apart.

“Yinsley.” No question in his whisper. Only demand. Only need.

He moved away from the wall, steps deliberate but eyes storm-wild. Did he look like he felt? Terrible, aching, hollow? His gaze lingered on his lover, the soft lips, the sharp angle of his jawline. A hard swallow as he imagined the tender flesh beneath the clothes, and then the burning returned to him, desperate and alive.

“I nearly went right through the wall,” he said, with a sad choke of a laugh. And then he was on the bed, pressing his body against Yin’s, greeting him with a sharp nip of teeth on his collarbone.

3
Nharkava, Kaeleer Archive / the lingering
« on: October 26, 2017, 03:32:59 AM »
Aeon did not know this land. On any other day, under any other circumstance, he would have relished this; nothing pleased him more than drinking down the sweet aroma of new grass, raking new dirt with his fingernails and listening for the slow thrum of power underneath. But here, now, this new grass scratched and stung at his forearms and face, and this new earth was blurred, vague, spinning.

Mother Night, his head—his temples were throbbing, and the back of his neck, and the top of his skull. Clammy skin flushing cold, hot, cold. His guts felt wrong, like soured milk in a churn. The thought alone made his gorge rise, but his stomach was empty, and he could only choke-cough into the ground, heave, gasp, heave.

Mother Night, his head!—he felt sure that he would die here, drowned in his own bile in this strange place. But the heaving subsided, leaving him only half-dead at best, spent and breathless.

It was early morning, still, humid and warm. His clothes clung to his skin, soaked through from his writhing on the dew-slick grass. One kiss from a passing breeze, and he was shivering, groaning a shuddering groan through clenched teeth that was jarring against the chorus of birdsong that seemed to come from everywhere, though he could see no birds.

He coaxed his body upward, steady, easy, until he was sitting cross-legged supported by trembling arms. Were there people nearby? Houses? He looked, but could not see. Everything was soft, dreamlike: shapes without edges in the dim periwinkle of morning. Aeon squinted, winced, sighed.

“Always my fucking glasses,” he snarled, emphatically, toward the sky.

 

4
Shahllene Province / my, what sturdy walls you have!
« on: July 15, 2017, 07:22:08 AM »
Hop, step—wall?





“Wall,” confirmed Aeon out loud for his own benefit, voice thin and strained in the dark. “Fuck.”

His Ebon-gray sparked to life as he wriggled his way free of the wood and plaster, which had caught him uncomfortably tight around the waist. He pitched forward in a haphazard tangle of limbs, but the hard knock of the floor never came. Instead, he went pomf!, and then he was coughing and struggling against something coarse like burlap that scratched at his forearms.

Where had it all gone wrong?

He didn’t remember. At birth, probably. This was the easiest conclusion to come to in one’s darkest hours, and it was very dark here, thought Aeon, who was ass-up in a giant bag of mystery powder in a strange closet with his face mashed painfully against the creaking floor.

The creaking floor? Yes, but he hadn’t moved. Aeon froze, ear pressed hard against the wood, listening: creeeak-sigh, creeeak-sigh.

Someone was coming. His mental wherewithal came rushing back: walls are attached to buildings which have closets with doors that lead to houses in which people live, generally.

The creaking grew nearer, then stopped. The meager light funneling in from the hallway was eclipsed by shadow.

At least I’ll have a story to tell Yinsley when I get back, thought Aeon, who had temporarily ceased breathing.

And then the door opened.


@WitchesRayvyn

Pages: [1]

Welcome to Witchlight

We are an AU Black Jewels RPG that is continuously expanding the world lore to truly make it our own. Come join us and play in our sandbox!

Open for over a year, we have 9 unique races, from birds to wolf-shifters. Feel free to drop into our Discord, lurk our wanted ads, and see if Witchlight is the fantasy site you should always have been looking for.

We have an RPG Rating of:

Timeline

Summer - AW102

The seasons will change on 01/19.

Recent Topics

the queen of friendship by Nyree
[Yesterday at 10:34:23 PM]


Spies by Kirsi
[Yesterday at 05:15:21 PM]


secrets of fields and ponds by Neha Rajani
[Yesterday at 08:10:09 AM]


Pray for the Wicked by Yash Mishra
[October 19, 2018, 04:03:57 PM]


Tantrums [CW] by Catriona Blackthorn
[October 19, 2018, 09:04:07 AM]

Chat

Guest Friendly Discord
login & choose a name, no registration required!

Wanted Spotlight

Betrayer
Priestess/Other | Open Jewels | Hayll
companion of Neha Rajani

Credits

Witchlight is loosely based upon the Black Jewels Series by Anne Bishop though it has been adapted and expanded by our members. All lore, characters, and writing belongs to the members. Site graphics & custom codes were created by the staff. A special thanks to Wolf & Katarina for all their help with the planning of Witchlight and the writing of the base lore.

Community Awards Winner
May 2018 Featured RPG