[P]  when all that's left is dust

Irial

3 y/o large Male







Founder’s Grove. To most of those who grew up in Nidria, it was a place to steer clear of - a place that you hope you never find yourself ending up. That was particularly true if you possessed any of the affinities that clung to magick as if it was their lifeline. But if you were one who aligned themselves with the affinity that treated magick differently - the Mundane - then this place, this forest filled with the deaths of many within its history, was the one place that you called home.


Home…


The soft reverberations of paws striking against the ground filled the air as a single entity strode amongst the trees. If the creature had been colored entirely black, he would have looked nothing more than a shadow. However, he wasn’t. Instead, he was colored in light pastels and carried upon his head two long twisted horns and a set of long wispy whiskers. Behind him flowed five tails. He was beautiful at first sight like a maiden gracefully gliding through a magickal forest. But as one would look longer and closer they would come to realize the horror that surrounded the beast. They would grow to notice that his movements had purpose and strength behind them and weren’t really graceful but instead just precise and quick like a guillotine falling down to behead its victim. If one grew closer they would first feel the air of intimidation that hung and dripped and oozed from just his presence that most would find their hearts and souls trembling from fear. And lastly, they would notice his piercing eyes that were enshrouded in the hue of the darkest night sky with no stars - black and devoid of any decent emotions. What one would’ve once thought was a beautiful maiden would quickly turn into a cursed ghost, which, honestly was more befitting to his pelt colors.


He knew this place though. He knew exactly where he wanted to go. He knew every turn and every facet of this land because this...this was his home - and it forever would be even if he had to raise it up back to glory again himself.


Legs grew still as the beast slowed to a halt before a scene of a collection of large stones that were stained red - red from blood. Many had lost their lives here in the sacrifices that his relatives had held. But that was long ago now. Emotionlessly he seemed to stare a the structures almost as if he was waiting to hear a reverberating scream from the past or for an equally frightening acquaintance to meet up with him. No single onlooker - if there were any - could possibly guess what was going through his mind as they watched from afar, but perhaps they’d be able to guess if they stayed to see what would happen.

"Speech."

Iri has 5 tails. Air is harder to breathe around Iri which can make him seem more intimidating (see passive power).
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Anaru

3 y/o large Female

How long had it been since she'd been home? Not for months, for she'd been busy rallying and pulling together the remains of their people in her endless effort to rebuild their kingdom. But it was time now, time to set foot upon the place she knew so well, the place she was born. Home. Long legs carried the dame from the far south up into the central territories, through the wash finally she wove between the trees she knew well, the ancient hum of their branches swaying beneath the weight of snow. Still her shoulder burned from the wound that the magicka had inflicted, the wound was still very clear, it would take more to heal but she was in no place to lay around while it took its sweet time, she had things to do. The weight of her responsibility heavy upon her back. Who all did she have now? There was Satchel, Savas, Ialu...hopefully and perhaps the young male Rat. And there was Irial, though she hadn't seen her brother in some time, she knew he would be at her side when the time came. 

Even with her limp she moved with a certain elegance, hips swaying as she slowed the closer she got, hips tucked neatly against her thighs, fluffed audits flickered upward as she breathed in. That familiar scent, it belonged only to one, her own blood. And it was fresh, Irial had been here. Finally. The exhale was almost reluctant as the woman pressed forward, pale blue pads pressing into the snow, he would likely be at the heart of their homeland, perhaps looking for her? She pushed on and soon the great towers of stone would become visible, memories flashed through her mind at the scene, she could hear the screams, the begging and the pleading of the many victims that had lost their lives here. If only they understood - it was for them, they could move on now that they were freed from their prison.

They had saved them. 

And there at the center of the massacre was her brother, she drew closer quietly pressing close to him she started from her muzzle, pushing it into his side allowing the entire side of her body to brush against his, nuzzling deeply into the thick fur around his neck. Golden hues settling upon their throne "I have been very busy" she breathed, eyes slowly glancing up at him taking in the elegance of his stature. 


"anaru speaking,"


Table by Centience. Art by [email protected] DA
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Irial

3 y/o large Male
Echoes of the past reverberated upon the air as he stood there. Screams and pleas and visions of those begging for their lives to be spared filtered and danced before him as he remembered the ceremonies and traditions of the past. They had freed so many cursed beings here when he was younger - when him and his sister were both younger. They had freed them of the plagues of the other affinities. The mundane should have been praised, worshipped even. And yet the curs had the audacity to rebel and attack their own saviors. What appeared to be a calm beast on the outside was nothing more than a collection of boiling, seething anger. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t see that freedom could only be achieved through their death. He didn’t want to understand why those who were cursed didn’t seem to agree with the order’s beliefs.

Time seemed to stand still as he waited with his seething anger - muscles tensing and coiling beneath his pastel coat and whiskers flicking about. It was only when the arrival of another came about that he began to relax. Ears flicked backward as he listened to the footfall upon the clean, white snow. However, the wandering thought as to whom the newcomer might be never came to him. For the scent that filled the air was familiar and familial.

Anaru.

The feeling of her pressing against him calmed him down and forced the boisterous memories to fade away. Yet despite the calm he displayed, the irritated anger continued to fester beneath his skin like a rotting, fungus infested corpse. “If they’d only understand and cooperate…” his deep voice rumbled and broke the air just as his sister pushed deeper into his pastel fur. More than likely he needn’t finish his sentence. Anaru probably knew the general direction he was going. If the other affinities would only understand and cooperate with the Order then everybody would be here - then Anaru and he would not be forced to start over from the ash and dust that was leftover.

I have been very busy. Anaru’s words reached his pointed ears and his depthless and seemingly emotionless black-hued eyes glanced down as he started to reply, “Have you…” but once his eyes caught sight of the injury upon her shoulder and a low growl coursed through his body until it escaped into the air. His ears flattened upon his skull as he fought to control the anger that had now turned into a writhing beast clawing for freedom.

“Which insolent wretches dared to injure you?! I will hunt them down and make them regret their decisions!”

His voice was full disgust and fury, but it wasn’t towards his sister. It would never be towards his sister, for in his eyes both him and her were the model of perfection in the world of the mundane and the Order. Instead, his anger was directed at those who had thought that they were of equal footing to lay a claw upon any mundane let alone Anaru. Whomever it was, Irial knew that he would be certain to exact his revenge and then if they were from another affinity free their soul from the prison of the magick while listening to their pleas and screams with his own ears and watching the life in their eyes fade into nothing with his own emotionless and neverending gaze staring back at them.

Yes, that was what he would do. That was what he would do for all the curs that were a waste of perfectly good bodies. He’d kill them all. Every. Last. One.

@Anaru

"Speech."
Iri has 5 tails. Air is harder to breathe around Iri which can make him seem more intimidating (see passive power).
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