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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
24.4 m
Wingspan
17.8 m
Weight
7352.92 kg
Genetics
Black
Wasp
Wasp
Metals
Bee
Bee
Gold
Runes
Runes
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
| ......................... |
There is nothing. Or rather, she thinks there is nothing. It is….hard to tell. The mist swirls slowly, nearly stagnant - a heavy mass of particles suspended in time and space. Purposeless. Liminal. Almost white. Almost, but not quite. They call it the Grey. Although who ‘they’ are is…unclear at first. A voice carries in the stillness - half echo and whisper, a wordless murmur she strains to understand but can never seem to concentrate on long enough to make sense of. And then suddenly they are beside her. They seem solid - their impression stationary, but impermanent at the same time - wending through the air in a twisting endless rhythm with no beginning and no end - impossible shapes made even more boggling by the slick Stygian blackness of Them. Like ink spiraling through water, unfurling and collapsing in a simultaneous progression. The movement is only perceptible at the sides of her vision. Every time she tries to make sense of it her mind softens and drifts. They are moving, but in ways she is not allowed to see. "Where did you come from?” They ask, half crooning as though to a beautiful child. Her instincts light up but the sensation is a useless one - the mist is so thick that even if there was somewhere to go, she would never find it. The swirling paleness presses in against her eyes and ears until she feels like she is choking on it, thick on her tongue and heavy in her lungs. Strangely, her body does not respond to it’s own turmoil - a moment of resolute stillness, sharp and unnatural beside the perpetual shift of Them. “Hmmm,” they hum happily, thoughtfully, calculatingly, “We do not often get visitors. What shall we do with you….” They shudder-shiver-flow in all the spaces around her, existing everywhere at once, and she cranes her neck, twisting to keep them half in her peripheral, eyes wider than they ever were during her lifetime. Because this is death, it has to be. There is no questioning the ageless, eternal, divine nature of Them. This place is death. They are death? She IS dead. Her thoughts swim muddily through the sluggish waters of her struggling mind, dulled by crisis and memory and the crush of the fog, but They do not seem to notice. “We could keep you for ourselves. We found you first.” The tone is equal parts laughable and terrifying and the band around her chest and wings loosens fractionally when They seem to think better of it. |
RARE COLOR COMBO
1/3
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Exalting Strych to the service of the Earthshaker will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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