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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Any Bit of Comfort; for Erim | |
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| Topic Started: May 14 2009, 02:30 PM (107 Views) | |
| Andromalius | May 14 2009, 02:30 PM Post #1 |
King of the Sexy Guys
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Erik... It was a distant whisper on a distant shore, past the river Styx and the maw of Dis. An ardent spirit screamed in whispers the only name they could recall, placed to a face they could not remember. "...Erik?" Bloodshot eyes slid open enough for the light to break through past a row of white lashes. The scene before his feet was heavily blurred after dozing off in the seat of his throne. Curious how sleep and the lack thereof still seemed to have such a rotten effect, regardless of his body being some kind of natural dysfunction. He didn't need to eat, nor retain any amount of sunlight for his limbs to move, yet sleep still pulled on the sleeves of his robes. Could it have been that Death was eagerly attempting to reclaim him in whatever way She could? Or was it simply that it was time to rest, and he died a little every time his eyes closed. He continued to sit, holding tenaciously onto that single name which had been passed to him on the brink of unconsciousness. Erik. His dreams never meant nothing. This was the real name of a real person, but who? A long lost adversary...? The reason now for the way in which he stirs? Indeed, this Erik was the cause of all of his problems, that being his very unnatural existence now. But why? His eyes closed once more and he began to doze, yet his body rose and began to carry him up the staircase in a somnambulant state of walking. At the edge of his consciousness once more, a face began to come to the name, one that he knew he recognized... With blond locks like that of honey and eyes as blue and filled with life as the sea. He smiled and laughed. And then he died. "...Erim...entha," he muttered as he began to feel the cold stone floor on his bare feet. At long last, he reached his chambers and practically crashed into the door on his way in, collapsing on the shredded sheets of his bed. "Erimentha!" he called, desperately reaching out for any kind of comfort. He felt so cold... so much pain. It had been the third night without sleep. The deprivation was taking its tole as he truly had begun to seem like a ghost. |
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| Anemone Richards | May 14 2009, 07:21 PM Post #2 |
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The sphinx, as was only typical, ever did not stray far from her master's shadow. Early by his beckon, she fast emerged from what walls had concealed her, and bounded up on light paws to put herself dutifully in place at the edge of his bed. Uncertain, she dwelled, reasoning whether it were wise to jump up beside him or whether she should ask or wait patiently for invitation. She opted for an over all compromise, rising up to place the front half of her body on the bed, while the latter half remained floorbound. "Master? You have had myself summoned?" Her voice flowed soft as she gazed at him with her characteristic empty-minded stare. To the side, her head just barely tilted in idle minute curiousity. Daring, for an occasion, that she risk herself to be bold, she clambered the rest of the way onto the cushioned platform and crawled closer to his side. There, she stopped, her head rested upon her paws. At her rear, her cobra body lay limp and unmoving, still as dead in the position that she had dragged it. She lay still, quietly watching, and waited for her command. For what reason he had called her, she was patient to find out. Always patient- as a mindless servant should be. If only she were truly that, then she would not have already climbed her way up onto the bed. |
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| Andromalius | May 14 2009, 09:17 PM Post #3 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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"...Yes..." he whispered, rolling onto his back, somehow finding a pillow to slowly lure beneath his head. The mage's long crystal locks lay splayed out against the red linens beneath. A heavy sigh escaped him, his chest rising and falling with a shortness of breath. His head flopped to one side, eyes opening just enough to see her face as she bounded up beside him. There she was, all doe-eyed and innocent with not an idea in the world of what a wretched creature he really was. "Erim..." his words were delicate and soft, tired... A hand passively reached for her face in the dim light of the chamber, finding it, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her jaw. "...Give me your human form, please." Please. If he cared to remember, he probably could not have recalled the last time he had genuinely used those words for anything other than a courteous plea. Come to think of it, it was entirely unusual for him to allow any soul to enter his bedroom. It was a sanctuary. But Erimentha was an exception. She didn't think for herself, didn't judge, didn't play any tricks, wasn't trying to get anything out of him, and most of all, she wasn't scared. An instantly, completely devoted being, devoted to him. Such a ...curious situation. It allowed her to venture where none were welcomed. "...Remember the name Erik. I know I will not. Remember long blond hair, blue eyes..." he began to drift off again, his eyelids slowly shutting once more. He struggled to keep from allowing sleep to take him away to that nightmare realm again. The nightmares had only begun to get worse. And just as he was almost gone, he shot up in the bed, sitting with his legs bowed to either side, hands in front of his lap. Another groan came with a rub to his eyes, as well as a nasty head rush. He had to keep his eyes open. "Erim, do you believe people could be born evil?" |
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| Anemone Richards | May 15 2009, 05:22 PM Post #4 |
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Without thinking, because that was not a field in which Erimentha particularly excelled, she leaned inward at his touch, and switched her breathing on the brink of a pleased purr. But she would not deny the wishes of her master, and obediantly began the changing process with little more than a nod to affirm it. Her fur receded as her hair grew, with her elegant feline body becoming lost beneath it. As her main body changed, her tail started with renewed life; slithering away as it dettached itself from the sphinx's spine. Soon a woman lay on her belly in the guardian's place, a lightweight gown flowing loosely over her bare form. No longer supported by familiar limbs, the woman Erimentha moved slowly and awkwardly, until she was curled on her side facing her master with both yellow-green eyes. She could not quite comprehend the situation; something was troubling her master, but she hadn't the knowing power to take care of it. So, with her eyes bright in expressionless confusion, she made best that she could of what she did not understand. "Erik... long blond hair... blue eyes..." She repeated, almost dumbly, but the commitment to which she stored the name to memory could be seen in her eyes. As one that little thought, it was hardly a difficult task to memorize small details. Without the great mess of personal thoughts to clutter her mind, Erimentha had little reason to forget. It need not be mentioned, either, just how much the summon dwelled on her master's every word. There was not a single chance that she would forget these details. Never in her unlife. When he shot upright, the sphinx gone human rose to follow, but in her clumsy, unaccustomed body, wound up falling back down again. She was quick to regain herself, sitting sideways with her hands placed before her- like she were still in a feline body, and retained the grace of paws. Her head tilted curiously at the question, considering it the best she could manage with her limited mind. So was precisely how she determined the appropriate answer that be given, as her limitations provided a view that carried with it no bias nor prejudice. Using her best logic, she formulated a response. "It should seem unreasonable, Master, to assume that it be of definite terms. Myself cannot name one of it, being as a subjective fabrication of opinion. Thus, might it not be assumed, that the state of evil be not grounded, but its existance limited per perceiver?" |
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| Andromalius | May 16 2009, 12:48 PM Post #5 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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His fingers stopped their circular motion against his temples when her cat-like form faded away. He dropped his head and turned in her direction, blinking at her slowly with a dead, blank stare. However expressionless his countenance seemed, though, his eyes looked full, more so now than ever before. One might say he almost looked like a simple guy with not a clue as to what was going on around him. There was no air of superiority, no sly grin, no master plans. "I see," he said finally, sighing as he ran a hand back through his loose mane to keep it from falling into his face. "Well, yes, it is limited per perceiver. I was wanting to know what your perceptions could be. But... come to think of it..." a little smile began to threaten to break his emotionless mask. "...You would probably only give me the strict definition of 'evil'. Morally wrong or bad; immoral; wicked; characterized or accompanied by misfortune or suffering... Heh." He gave a glance to her arms which lay before her just before wrapping his long, bony hand around one wrist, forcing it to lift. Then, like a child, he laid, snuggling up to pull that arm he was in possession of around his waist and buried his face within the guardian's neck. In such a comfortable position, he contentedly closed his eyes once again. "Banshees can be naturally evil. Did you know that?" his voice was incredibly muffled, but he didn't seem to care enough to move. "Banshees begin their life when the last has ended, but they have no knowledge as to what happened to them in that last life, except for when they dream. If a person becomes evil in their first life, they may begin their second with the same personality. It's not a clean slate. Something happened to me, Erim... Something so awful that I scream when I sleep. I don't know what's been done to me." He opened his eyes to the scenery of the bronze skin of her throat. "By the way... Uhm... Don't tell anyone I treat you like this. In fact, don't even mention our moments alone. Some people will use it to my disadvantage." |
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| Anemone Richards | May 19 2009, 07:28 PM Post #6 |
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The pitiful sphinx, unused to her human form's balance from any stance but on two legs, nearly lost her balance again when he took her hand away. With the fortunate gift of possessing another, she managed to maintain her position- until he pulled her arm to his waist, drawing her to topple down along with it. Blinking, Erimentha lay still with a head full of confusion. She could not seem to grasp the situation, even as her master snuggled up against her. But, naturally, that did not mean that she denied it. Admittably, she was comfortable, and felt her own sense of ease by his side. In compliance, she allowed herself to be positioned like a doll, but not without feeling compelled to make her own movements: to press closer, and hold tighter. She was near to the notion of embracing him, but had not the will to follow through with it, and thus held limp in the way he had pulled her. Either way, she was happy to be there. "It is not thought, Master, that-" She trailed off, frowning at it. The sphinx firmly felt that good and evil were as good as fiction; not true existances based on fact. Or was it doubt that compelled her? Doubt would imply an opinion, as did belief. What was her reasoning mind implying to her, that she could not seem to resolve? Uncertain, she finished her sentence slowly, as though judging every word. "That... evil... exists." Her eyes took on a blank stare, appearing as empty as was her astral plane, where a soul did sleep but did not realise; could not feel nor feel aware. It was a plan of existance, and nothing but. Yet as her mind seemed to have lost itself, her hand seemed to be discovering as it curled more snugly about his waist, and grasped, rather than hung, about him. Erimentha subconciously wanted to be close, and her hand did act upon it, while her head was not near enough to provide diction. "I... am a spirit summon... my first master called my lingering soul from the courtyard in which it dwelled." Still caught in her confused daze, Erimentha began to speak, almost entirely out of turn. Something in what he had said compelled her to share it, unbidden. It seemed important, and relevent, in some difficult way. "He had seemed... displeased. His expression was dissatisfied when he found that I had no memory to share. It seemed... that he had messed up in some way." A genuine frown crossed her lips before she returned to the present, her expression regaining its neutrality as she focussed on him. In her typical emotionless monotone, she returned to him her obediant reply. "Most certainly, Master. Myself answers to none but you." |
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| Andromalius | Jun 2 2009, 02:30 PM Post #7 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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The grasping of his waist was felt as if it were behind a wall, as if the body it was clutching at wasn't his own at the moment, so he didn't react. His eyes shifted back and forth against her, not looking at any place in particular, listening to her side of her brief story. "I see. So you supposedly have a bit of amnesia as well. I suppose that's something we can have in common." He shifted, squirming upwards a bit until he could rest his chin on top of her head, taking on the more dominant position. His left hand rose to gently be placed into her hair, combing it with a gentle consideration. He allowed the silence to creep around them, so isolated there in the room within the tower. For a moment, his thoughts belonged to no one but himself, though he doubted Erim knew what to think within the darkness here. He doubted she had much more in her mind but 'The sheets are red. My master is beside me. I am on a bed.' Simple child. She probably didn't know how sought-after her way of thinking was. "...Well," he began after a while. "I'm not displeased with you, my dear. Not a bit. Tell me, how have your studies been going? Do you suppose you know enough to apply what you have learned?" Yes, it was a question of opinion. He wanted to see if she was capable of giving him an answer. |
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| Anemone Richards | Jun 19 2009, 04:42 PM Post #8 |
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His question was met with a drawn-out momentary silence, the sphinx's lips creasing ever more downward. Thoroughly she mulled over her answer, taking everything into consideration before processing a single thought. The question was, to some degree, particularly difficult, as it asked an opinion of her. Not being one to judge with aid of such a bias, she was forced to consider her abilities by the extent of her power and the extent of their potention. Given that comparison, she came to an eventual conclusion. Her skills were lacking. "No... Master... it is most certain that I am yet still weak in what I have studied. My power is not... desirable. It is regretted to admit to Master that myself has not found much success in this endeavour. Magic should seem not to be a strength for myself, as I have achieved only mastery over three skills. Such does little suit the goal that Master seeks... it is wished that Master might excuse this failure." The last line blew out past her lips in a meek whisper, as though fearful that he should not permit her forgiveness. For a servant who hung so faithfully on her master's every word, a phrase of disapproval held the same strength and force as a physical reprimand. She had yet to know either one. Looking around with what minimal sight she was allowed, Erimentha began to process her situation once more, still unable to understand the purpose of it. For what reason had her master called her here, to lay with her on his bed? With a blank expression of confusion on her bronze face she softly began to question it aloud, still wary of his dissatisfaction. "Master? Why are we here?" ((Raaaawr... tiredness and ICKY HEAT.)) |
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