Dragon Share

[center] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/1997330#post_22977835][img]http://orig08.deviantart.net/df0d/f/2016/277/6/8/arcane_shield_divider_4_by_starkindlerstudio-dajun3p.png[/img][/url] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2593443][img]https://i.imgur.com/hC0oysb.png[/img][/url] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=51019006] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/510191/51019006_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] [indent][img]https://i.imgur.com/3USjIMB.png[/img][/indent] [center] An arcane circle flickers to life beneath Temeraire as the Ravenghast tilts its head back, hungrily swallowing the pearl whole.[/center] [indent] [i]Temeraire who was left behind. Temeraire who left the world behind.[/i] They were two sides of the same marred and faceless coin, scuffed and scratched beyond recognition by the cruelty of circumstance. And now he wished to sand the remains down to a mirror shine, scrubbing out the final etches of the relief that was once molded on top of it. [i]Who was Temeraire? Who is Temeraire?[/i] The questions floated aimlessly in the air, taunted and teased by malicious specters that tittered and laughed gleefully at his misery. The cathedral was no kinder than the world he had turned his back on. [i]They[/i] too hid here, no better than the scoundrels they were in life, only more twisted and warped from having nothing left to comfort them save the motions of their meager handful of memories, worn and twisted by the constant repetition. Only the ghast did not laugh. It only was. It loomed as an ever present pillar of a small and oppressive corner of the universe. It listened quietly, or so it seemed. A black grasp had brushed over his mane and caressed his cheek while the words flowed from his withered heart where he sang out the prelude to his wish. [i]The scientist's subject. The thief's slave. The illegitimate son.[/i] The ghosts continued to heckle and jeer from the safety of the dark. Temeraire the powerless, Temeraire who could not stop them and likely deserved all that he received. Yes. They would haunt him in life as they would in death, no matter where he chose to go. But was it his fault or Temeraire's? If he had been someone or something else, would things have ended up here all the same? Yes, it would be better--better if he were not him. Better to escape. To run. But to where? And would that be enough to stop him from being Temeraire? Was it his memories that held him back? Perhaps it was his body born of a tryst that should have never been? Would it be enough to stop the pain? As the Ravenghast lifted its ebon grasp away from him, so followed his memories and little by little like bits of broken glass, the things that had made him... him. But the ghast could not simply take away. It did not reset. It moved things. Souls, hearts, and dealt in both pieces and wholes. It wasn't always known where these things came from, or indeed, where did they go. The last shards of him floated eerily in the air, sparkling and shining with sunset glow. Where Temeraire once lay, became a hollowed thing--a soul carved out and gaping hungrily to be filled. He would have no identity of his own. No memories. A clean slate--too clean, that it was polished like a mirror. He was no longer himself. But what if he could be someone else? Someone who was not Temeraire? The grass had often been greener, not always, but often. The sun on the other side of the fence beckoned him with a warm, gentle beam that filtered through the proverbial trees. It was enough to make one cry at how deliriously unfair life was in its distributions. The Ravenghast left him hollow, but not without means. His foolish wish was a welcome meal, no doubt, but the apple core that would be left behind would simply rot away, discarded and unfulfilled at this rate. A duly unfitting fate for a contractor who had made it this far. Temeraire who was not Temeraire, a polished mirror. He would take from others, their identity for his own. He need not be the scientist's subject. He could be the scientist. Not the slave, but the thief. Perhaps he would even prove to be a better father than his own had been. So long as someone wishes to discard a piece of who they were, he could cling to that small trail of crumbs and follow them home. Home, where he could hollow their hearts and fill the empty space between his flesh, wear their memories, their confidence--and even their face--pick through the scraps until the polished surface that he is, reflects something anew. A life not his own. Fueled by a mixture of hate, envy and the desire to escape pain... he would flit from one fate to the next, in pursuit of his happiness. The one thing that had always been denied to him, and he would have all the time in the world to find it. A constant journey of forgetting, and running away. A constant journey of living in the present--but as who? Would he have really been content with only being a blank slate? It was a dangerous lie to tell oneself, having once known what it was like to be warm. Such a fate could only be embraced by those who never knew better, everyone else would always be just a little bit hungry. [/indent] [center]...and the pact has been sealed (a known contractor has been added to the registry!). [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=51019006][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/510191/51019006p.png[/img][/url] [i]Temeraire[/i] @Dragonfire546 [/center] [b]Epilogue(?)[/b] [indent] There is a rumor of a nameless being, who seemed to come from nowhere at all. It held no discernible origin to the roots of any clan nor culture. In fact, the thing itself sounded no different than a tale told by fairies and nymphs to scare one into goodness or sleep. The tale goes to hold onto what's you and yours with a fervent conviction. Do not lose yourself. Do not lose your way. Whatever you discard, something will follow. Something more miserable than you, who would love to fill your shoes and see through your ungrateful eyes, and have a taste of your privileged life. It will wear your skin and don your scales, and the world will be none the wiser that you have gone--left with something in your place, wearing your smile as its own. At least, until the moment it is left unsatisfied, then it will move onto the next; but then... where will you be? Not there, that is for certain. Perhaps, not even anywhere at all. So cling onto what you have, and never, [i]ever[/i] throw it away. Your trail of breadcrumbs will invite back a gaunt and miserable beast to your doorstep. [/indent] [center] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2593443][img]https://i.imgur.com/hC0oysb.png[/img][/url] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/1997330#post_22977835][img]http://orig01.deviantart.net/3345/f/2016/277/d/f/shadowshield_divider_4_by_starkindlerstudio-dajul49.png[/img][/url] [/center] ----- [center][size=2]@RhythmSong @StarlitMoonlight @EclipseMirror @nerdynyabbs @Annoyed[/center][/size]

@Viviwren

OH. MY. GOD. I was BALLISTIC when you responded, and your response? It was so good! I was absolutely OVER THE TOP as I read it. And the epilogue! The epilogue was AMAZINGG.

God, I am so glad I did this. Your writing is beautiful! I love how you use a lot of flowery language - I do that too, and seeing another person's writing was so much fun

@Dragonfire546

Hullo! Very pleased to hear that you enjoyed it! I really liked your post as a whole and it helped me play off of it when writing the reply. It was an emotionally charged theme, and the inclusion of the parable was fun as well!

If you ever get another pearl, please feel free to drop by!

In the meantime, let's hope Temeraire finds what he's looking for one day! It looks like he'll be at it a while (or has been, judging by the epilogue).

@Viviwren [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=43371274] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/433713/43371274_350.png[/img] [/url] Diablerie stared at the feather. The day is growing old, and the deep shadows stretched long before him, soon, it will cast the entire shoreline into darkness. Father is dead. Gone and dust like mother before him. But even gone, father's words plague his every step, like a ghost with an oppressive weight bearing down upon him. All those years of nightly lessons, harsh scorn, strict teachings, and impossible expectations; father had tried so hard to mold Diablerie into the ideal son. Something akin to him. Something to reflect him. A follower in his shadow. But father is dead. Whatever knowledge and power he once held, whatever he could've passed on, is now lost to Diablerie. For all those years, Diablerie thought hard work and a bowed head were keys to his father's heart, that he could buy love with obedience. But it was never enough to fulfill his father's vision. And now, he's gone. This feather gave him a choice. He was never enough. But he could be, if he so chose. As the last of the day's light faded, Diablerie closed his eyes. The familiar warmth of magic surrounded him as he uttered the incantations. When he opened them again, Diablerie stood amidst a misty scape, a gentle light eminating from somewhere unknown. The lapping waves reflecting a semblance of a moonlit sea. He could bargain away his past, in exchange for a future. Maybe a future where his father still lived, where he would acknowledge Diablerie as a worthy son. Maybe a future where he could be loved, where everything he worked for would still be within his grasp. All these years, did he truly work for love? It sounded pathetic, even to him. Diablerie could already see the look on his father's face, how disappointed he would be. Father always thought so little of him. No... not love. Diablerie will never again seek love. Father is dead. Rotting and gone in his grave. Bringing him back would do nothing but prove that he was right all along; that Diablerie is weak, clinging desperately to things long past. The best thing he could do, is to obtain what his father never could. He will no longer be the ghost of a dead man. It's time to come into his own. [i]"Wish-granter, Ravenghast. Give me what my father never could. Give me power! Power enough to change the world, power enough that never again shall I bow to another. I want time to slow for me, seas to rise for me, flames to burn and scourge at my command. Take my past and my weakness away, and grant me fuel and fire for my future. Grant me power, now and forever."[/i]

@FelinaeFatale

Hullo! Just a quick update to say that your wish has not been forgotten! I am currently in the process of knotting up a few loose ends and a reply will swiftly follow. I'm looking forward to working with Diablerie!

This is making me wanna get a pearlcatcher EXPRESSLY to do this. The two I have...well, one would never do it and the other one shouldn't do it. But I might be back with a pearlie eventually.

I love pearlies and I LOVE this type of ominous-sounding lore! It's fated for one of my pearls to come bc I named my clan the Ravenwatchers (lol) so I will return when I have something nice thought up

@sellenair don't forget about this ya

[center] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/1997330#post_22977835][img]http://orig08.deviantart.net/df0d/f/2016/277/6/8/arcane_shield_divider_4_by_starkindlerstudio-dajun3p.png[/img][/url] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2593443][img]https://i.imgur.com/hC0oysb.png[/img][/url] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=43371274] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/433713/43371274_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] [indent][img]https://i.imgur.com/3USjIMB.png[/img][/indent] [center] An arcane circle flickers to life beneath Diablerie as the Ravenghast tilts its head back, hungrily swallowing the pearl whole.[/center] [indent]A truth about the Ravenghast was that it was no god, no omnipotent thing. It is a truth that applies to most things worshiped in which we often choose to ignore, perhaps only because we cannot recognize their faults and limitations when compared to our own. Or perhaps that it would be better to gloss over them in a mixture of blind hope or the tantalizing conveniences of gain. Nevertheless. The ghast was no deity, but a magic beast, long-lived and raving with a mad hunger. It could not create, but it could move--change, shift. Things once here, could be displaced across unfathomable lengths and at unparalleled speeds. Power was the same. It was borrowed, but never created. It all came from somewhere. Borrowed, stolen or traded from many places, across many times, from many a soul who was foolish enough to let it go or loose enough to have it filched--all for a wish, they were drawn to singularity. It was the surprising sturdiness of the soul that made these matters work, for they were malleable and soft. They adhered to each other with relative ease, even when they thrash with rejection and painfully regurgitate anomaly atop anomaly when mismatched, they still held together in a rather ungainly manner. The matters of the flesh had been even simpler still when the two compared, albeit with sometimes similar flaws and misgivings when rejected. Diablerie's wish was not the first for power here, nor would it be the last. Diablerie, who was never enough--always chasing the moon, and the same Diablerie who had been blinded and cowed by the sun. He who knew too little of his mother, and of his father too much. Love was a currency whose rates were ill exchanged and warped his mind into a focused obsession with only one obvious answer--power. Father was dead. He would not bring him back. To bring back the sun is to become a shadow once more. It was not the exception, but the rule. ...but without it, everything had been cold, dark and listless. Merely sounds that echoed back and forth between the starless nights. What could possibly fill the void? [i]"Wish-granter, Ravenghast. Give me what my father never could. Give me power! Power enough to change the world, power enough that never again shall I bow to another. I want time to slow for me, seas to rise for me, flames to burn and scourge at my command. Take my past and my weakness away, and grant me fuel and fire for my future. Grant me power, now and forever."[/i] His words were strong and reverberated off the cathedral walls, making it sound far louder than it should have or how he might have intended. It was as if his own proclamation sought to challenge his resolve within the very same moment that he uttered it. He had, after all, lived as a shadow for so long. To lose his memories next in exchange for something new, forceful and raw, would his psyche be able to withstand the trade? Would his identity form as it should when made anew? Perhaps the most fascinating thing was that Diablerie's wish held to it more layers than he might have realised. His wish would test him. He would arrive on the other side either no longer a shadow but iron and steeled, with strengths to match--or, a corrupted shade that was sticky with raven magics and ruled by the untamed wildness of his own desire. He was testing himself, knowingly or not. His final challenge in breaking free--free of the sun. There was no moon, she had gone away and left him behind a long time ago, and now he alone would inherit the night--if he could just overcome. The charred and inky black webs of magic stuck to him. They felt uncomfortably thick and had a tendency to coil in some places but not others, like wayward tendrils, prying for an opening in his flesh. The ghast who could not give him strength born from nothing, gave him the means to find his way. To slow the time. To raise the seas. Flames that scorched, and a past removed of the weakness of his heart. He could have all of that [b]if[/b] he could find them. [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/drs/2665486/1#post_38543967]Scripa[/url] who wished for power was born from blood and flesh, both then, now and the time to come. [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/drs/2665486/6#post_38723791]Apollo[/url] who wished the same stole from the living through the body and in memory. The Ravenghast instilled within Diablerie, the sincerest desire of his wish--power, but robbed from the dead. If he could find their grave, with bones or rotten flesh--even a spoonful of ash will do. Find them, and steal what was them and theirs in life. He could inherit their strengths. He could inherit the strengths of his father, even the the father before him. His friends, his family, and even the would be neighbor who smiled occasionally at him from time to time--none were an exception once enshrouded by the embrace of death. They were corpses ripe for picking, and he the vulture was allowed to descend and partake. It was the new and natural order of things for he who now flew on raven wings. The more pieces of the dead and gone, the more power he could draw from it. Every scrap counted, leave no stone unturned until he could slow the time, raise the seas, summon flames that scorched, and finally find a past removed of the weakness of his heart--the last of which, was the most difficult of all. It was here that he would either overcome or fail at the very first step to very last stipulation of his most desired wish. But no matter what, he would most certainly become powerful.[/indent] [center]...and the pact has been sealed (a known contractor has been added to the registry!). [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=43371274][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/433713/43371274p.png[/img][/url] [i]Diablerie[/i] @FelinaeFatale [/center] [b]A Strange Happenstance[/b] [indent]There was news going about of entire cemeteries becoming hollowed. Mounds of gravedirt had been shoveled and turned as if by hand in a frenzied rush. There was talk of the dead walking again, but it was only that--talk. Still, the missing bodies became more than unnerving, especially as the numbers began to steadily grow. It was sufficient in terrifying the locals and cause them gather and rouse. However, the more guarded and determined they became in protecting these places of rest, the more of living began to disappear. Who knows where they had gone, or if they too became caught up in the predicaments of the deceased; regardless, soon it became enough to deter them from their efforts and they let whatever beast had been scavenging to continue with a deliberate blind, and fearful eye. Some places now began to hide their dead. Sometimes they masqueraded them as the living, wearing masks and layers upon layers of thick clothing and dried perfumes to mask the sight and stench of rot. More equally curious customs began anew in wake of this new and strange happenstance. Bones became mixed and even baked into household items. Everyone who was lucky and loved had now been hidden and buried in layers of complexities. Those who were not quickly became missing, their corpses spirited away. This was the case for the first few months, then it seemed whatever had come to pick the bones had gone just as mysteriously as it came. Or so they thought. It did not take them long to realise that it had simply become picky--and thrice as persistent in its thirst for those who held an inkling of power or influence in life. Like a game of cat and mouse, the living elaborately hid the dead, mixing their blood, bone and ash in things that ranged from the mundane to the extravagant. Superstitions became rampant. Sometimes this worked, and other times it didn't. Loose tongues were always to blame. But no one dared to hunt the beast. Not yet, anyway.[/indent] [center] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2593443][img]https://i.imgur.com/hC0oysb.png[/img][/url] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/1997330#post_22977835][img]http://orig01.deviantart.net/3345/f/2016/277/d/f/shadowshield_divider_4_by_starkindlerstudio-dajul49.png[/img][/url] [/center] ------ [center][size=2]@RhythmSong @StarlitMoonlight @EclipseMirror @nerdynyabbs @Annoyed @pokemoncha [/size][/center]

@PurpleIsAFruit

Well now, that's another familiar name! I've seen a few Effluvial Crow owners pop by as of late. But yes, I share your sentiment! I have a few pearlies of my own that are still clinging to their memories. Nevertheless, I'll be looking forward for when you find a fitting candidate!

---

@Sellenair

You're right! Shadow flight, check. Raven-themed clan, check! It'll be very exciting to see what you have in mind when time comes around. The ghast and I will have to be sure to try particularly hard in injecting an added dose of ominous atmosphere when it does.

@Viviwren (cue me flinging another in because AUCTION HOUSE GAVE ME I D E A S —) [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=54488559] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/544886/54488559_350.png[/img] [/url] Senta looked up at the Ravenghast, then at her pearl. She had known the stories she'd heard about this creature, this deal, were real the moment that featehr had come to her, but it was all so overwhelming all the same. She’d come for one thing, a wish. Just had to say the word... but she had to say it right. From the stories her mother told her of genies and tricksters warping wishes based on [i]exactly[/i] how the hero phrased them... Had to be simple, straight to the point. What happened after was fine, she wouldn’t remember anyways. The pearlcatcher closed her eyes. All her life she was plagued with this... disease was the best word, this thing that bleached her scales like a scar, that made them weak and unsightly. She longed to get rid of it, but she knew that wasn’t exactly what she wanted, no. She wanted something more. The warnings of phrasing were forgotten. She opened her eyes and offered up her pearl with a sad expression. No going back now. [b]“I wish to be beautiful.”[/b]