Vindico

Full Version: Slaughter house [Andraste]
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<P>   Light would leak into the mouth of her den, forcing her to flutter her eyes open and become active once again. A sigh would part thin lips, before awkwardly standing to stretch her long limbs. Paradise would shake her fur, letting it fall nicely in place. She has done very little physically, The hunt was now over and again, Paradise had little else to do. She would simply stroll along her home, spotting very few others around, though she wasn't particularly looking. The ashen nymph would decide to take a stroll around the Caelum borders, feeling the need to check for any strangers and make them flee the borders if they chose not to join. Once checking the borders around once, Paradise would stroll over to some shade, leaning against a tree before tilting her cranium to look upon the ground. With very little effort, she would make a single rose bloom and with the help of the moisture in the air, she would make the surface of the bloomed flower freeze, making it seem it was totally made from Ice.
  

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<center><div style="background: url('http://oi57.tinypic.com/qoc1hu.jpg') no-repeat bottom; width: 650px;"><div style="padding-right: 25px; padding-left: 25px; padding-bottom: 420px; padding-top: 25px; font-family: georgia; text-align:justify; font-size:12px; color: #372e57">The heat in her belly had tamed the serpent within for a time, the snarling beast having long gnawed on her senses finally going still. The hunt had gone on well, the members of her new people fed, and with it, Andrastë’s attentions turned elsewhere. A creature of the sky, she needed to remain close to open air, the caverns her people having claimed as their own undesirable in the mind of a Stark. No, it was the high cliffs that hugged the mountainside, the rippling earth creating ledges and lids the land upon which her eye turned, her wings sailing through the air as she sought the perfect place to build her nest. It was what brought her here, far above the forests canopy, the cool clouds a silky ceiling dozens of feet above her head. The stone was rough with time, the ledge sunk deep into the foundation, creating an open den that was neither unprotected, nor claustrophobic. The perfect place for her tastes, a place she would find peace and a place she could bring her brother once he was fit for travel. Large, its floor would offer her means to create a bed upon which both Starks could easily slumber, stretching out along softened materials that would create the sheets. Long hours had been spent in the act of setting down the scaffolding, heavy branches torn the trunks of trees, their weight straining her wings as she ferried them up the mountain side. Arranged just so, with more than a little strategic placing, the pillars as been set, leaving a part of the nests floor jutting out from beneath the canopy of stone.
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From there, she had taken great chunks of flora from the forests below, filling in the gaps, weaving pliant willows within the structure to give strength and stability. Sweet grasses left the cliffs with a fragrance that clung to her pelt long after she had abandoned her perch to continue in her quest, seeking out the most acceptable of materials. It was only half way done, but the hardest work was over, and now that her belly had been sated, she would continue its completion. She was wheeling through the sky now, her all seeing gaze sweeping the ground below, her shadow a constant companion as she glided just above the forest green. Soon Andrastë would delve into those woods, to seek the soft ferns, the tall grasses that could make the softest layer upon which she would place at the peak of her creation, but for now, she sought tough leaves, large leaves to insulate the floor. The ground would sweep out, her flight taking her back out over the dusty flatlands of the peaks, her wings barely beating as she arched her spine, bringing herself up into the currents just above. The day was warm, her sated hunger making her lethargic, and easy to deal with. Patience was something she fought with, something she had learned to pose, but never for long periods of time. Yet, she was content to just ride along the slopes of this land, eyes shifting from one place to the next, finally settling upon a large oak set out in the gentler slopes. Humming, dipping her left wing, she spiral down upon the arches, her hind legs sweeping out to catch the soft surface of the top branches, her wings creating low thumps in the air as she settled herself out. Continuing to fill the silence with a soft hum, she'd examine the leaves, only to lean down, tearing large thatches from the limbs. They'd flutter down from the canopy above, no doubt littering the ground below
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<font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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<P>  Paradise was simply minding her own business, relaxing under a great tree, before a shadow upon the lands would catch her attention. It was large, she noted, and moved rather fast. Slowly she would tilt her cranium upwards to see her queen on a mission. Amused, the ashen nymph would simply watch, what was she up to know?  It would seem Paradise had gone unnoticed, Andraste seemed to be... making a home up there? leaves would fall from all over, landing all around the warrior, they seemed to never end, and when finally it seemed Paradise's spot was all covered, she would finally stand up and shake her long doe like limbs. " What are you doing up there? She would call, though as soon as she would speak Paradise would realize she still held a slight resentment to this woman. How easily she got up in ranks, even if Indian was doing the logical thing. Hopefully her feelings would soon cease as she got to know this purple nymph.
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<center><div style="background: url('http://oi57.tinypic.com/qoc1hu.jpg') no-repeat bottom; width: 650px;"><div style="padding-right: 25px; padding-left: 25px; padding-bottom: 420px; padding-top: 25px; font-family: georgia; text-align:justify; font-size:12px; color: #372e57">The rich greens of the leaves beneath her feet were like a vibrant bed of emerald silks, their touch soft to the touch, their scent fragrant under the warm sun. For a moment, her movements were slow, ivory talons plucking particular finds from the tangle of branch and leaf, stripping thatches away, leaving bald spots in the canopy above. A dense brush commonly found in the world of harsh reality grew prickly the deeper she delved, fresh vegetation yet to be softened by the heat nicking the pads of her feet. Yet even so, she paid it little mind, her particular tastes sending her over the expanse of the wide reaching branches, her clutch of broken off limbs and thrushes growing with each step. A fine addition to the airy grooves beneath the bed of her nest. She hadn’t noticed Paradise at first, so intent on her harvest, the call below jolting her eyes downward, wings flaring out as she carefully moved to the edge of the tree, gazing down at the woman of ashen fur and tropical plumage. She looked up towards her, seemingly puzzled by Andrastës’ actions, sitting up in a tree. She knew the woman was Indians kin, a half sibling from the fragments of conversation she had picked up in the fleeting moments of gathering. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>”A fine day Paradise.”</b></font>
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Gliding down to the ground, the mauve woman dipped her crown in greeting, setting down the bundles of leaves on the ground. She kept her wings off the dusty earth, curling over her strong shoulders, the leathers clean beneath the bright sun. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>”Just gathering materials for my nest. What about you?”</b></font> Glancing around, she’d pause to gaze upon the iced flower, the petals near translucent under the crystal sheen. Humming, she’d step away, lowering her nose to examine the bit of magic, feeling the slightest of chill hailing from the blossom. <font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>”Is this your work? It’s lovely.”</b></font>
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<font style="color:#8b72a6;"><b>Speak</b></font>
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