Post by Noesis on Dec 29, 2006 17:00:19 GMT -5
If you are bound by lies, I will give you peace
In the pain that continues to cut into my heart
Only the memory that will not return is more precious than all else...
In the dark, desolate lands of falling ash and suffocating snow, the dying sun painted its crimson shade across the sky, losing its battle once more to night as its blood poured thickly across the horizon. The death of the day bowed for mercy under the dark clock of the nocturnal ruler, pleading to end the red massacre that was the taunting, sinister sky. Down; down sank the fiery eye of the sun, sleeping in its dark death beneath the menacing, towering mountains. Slowly retreating, slowly sinking to bed with its mistress Dawn - it was sunset. Snow fell lazily from the battle of the sky, as if the dark, inky clouds had been torn to shreds though night's blades, as if the night began its grueling torture, slowly cutting, slowly consuming. Wind howled in agony, singing a lone, sorrowful solo, crying for others to join his voice, pleading for recognition and glory. But there was only death....that's right. I was death, in all its cold, numb glory, forever safely embraced by shadowed arms. No one will find me here, no one will touch and breath through the suffocating snow...
Singing...singing.
A faint light calls me awake, a shy, nostalgic voice caressing away the burdens, unlocking the heavy shackles and dragging chains as it calls me to a memory of a transient dream. Nearby smiling...you are here. Yes...I completely remember it as if it were yesterday...that look that touched me more deeply than anyone else. Rushes of memories play, projecting its vivid colors through melting after images, singing...singing. Come into the light...can I trust these words? Can I fall asleep and awake with joy? Have the flames of struggle died? Surely it's a dream like world, surely it isn't real.The pleasure of shared memories, of dreams and gentle words and that miraculous encounter, played and strung carefully by His's hands...surely...surely...it's-
Fading...fading...
Only our image is deserted and disappearing.
Where am I? My lunar eyes open themselves to the world like those of a newborn, seeing its world for the first time; awed by the crimson shade of sunset to the snow that lazily falls to the ground. Do newborns see death however? Do they see destruction and despair? Why have I awoken? Why have my eyes opened when I was promised an eternal sleep away from pain, away from memories that should be frozen in snow, away from...her. For surrounding me are the weeping, naked trees long since stripped of their luster green. They remained formless statues, rotting into a gray, figure, into nothing more then clay. To my right are the taunting, snow capped mountains, their towering, menacing height daring anyone to provoke its majestic power. Above, the scavenging call of a raven pierced sharply through the air, its great, ominous wings spreading out as if to consume the light of the sun. But the trees...their vivid, vivacious green did not rot out of snow, or winter's hungry mouth. For snow was its light facade, was its mask against the death that reeked its putrid stench around the land, wrapping it in poisonous fingers whose nature was to choke and suffocate. Like death...
So why is there ash falling upon my muzzle?
Surely...a dreamlike world...
Where am I?
Hauling myself to my feet, I shook the ash and snow from my striped pelt, the colors a brilliant contrast against the purity and untainted beauty of the unmarred snow. I took a few tentative footsteps forth, paws sinking into winter's chilling blanket that wrapped Mother Nature in it's frozen shawl. Nares flared as I inhaled, attempting to find my bearings in this silent world, so serene and untouched. All I managed to scent was smoke, the ice crystals biting the inside of tender nostrils.
The pitter pater of tiny feet had me grumble and curse, the chattering of the rodent harassing my rather sensitive hearing. Vile creature really... damn squirrles. Didn't they know it was rude to inturrupt your superiors when they were thinking? I'd have his life for daring to rouse the self-proclaimed "great" Noesis.
Stretching forth my neck and lowering my mighty crown, maw parted, breath condensing in the air before me. A cloud of death hovering in the air before being consumed by the mist created by the warm air and frigid snow. The low rumbling barritone rose up the scale, windy and lonesome. The call of the most feared cat echoed back to me... and my voice varried in tone and force, sometimes a melodic hum of inquiry, othertimes a pounding bellow that rumbled like thunder. I sumed up my call by raising my voice to the highest note possible, the windy scream of an indignant tiger. I wanted this terra. It was empty and dark... perfect for my anti-soical self. I let all the air from my barrel escape myself in that shrill solo note and I lowered my muzzle, auds pricked as best as possible and listened for a reply.
Yes, Noesis was here, alone and announcing his presence to all. He wanted privacy and his own life devoid of other contact. But with a song such as that, there would either be a reply or an appearance. He let another low call go, more of a moan then a song, but passible. A human might mistake it as a dying cry. But he inhaled deeply, throwing back his head and closing bright eyes as he let his challenge fly again. Such a powerful, lilting voice hadn't been heard here for awhile. His voice was the very essence of the wild and he displayed it proudly.
The whispering laughter of running water accompanied his cries, steam rising from the pools of water lying below him from this vantage point on a ledge above the valley and just beneath the mountains. Mist was thick here, hiding him from the prying eyes of other tigers and the hated humans.
Fading off into nothing, Noesis let his voice echo back to himself via the valley, then have it fade into nothing. He sighed, maw opening as bursts of air escaped him in the form of harsh panting. Snorting, he closed his mouth and shook his fur, letting droplets of condensed water fly off the pelt. Doing his best impersonation of a run, he loped down the hillside, picking his way though the boulders, loose stone, saplings and thicker trunks. Leaping over a fallen log, he landed softly, slowing to a condifent jaunty trot. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, drinking in the details and painting them to memory. It was a soft composition, details blurred by the fog and distorted by the gently falling rain. He halted suddenly, sputtering and retching. Gagging, he took a step back and weezed. Coughing, fluid drained from the once magnificent brute's maw. Ahhh... so the illness progressed nicely. What a way to die... a foe he could not fight with tooth, nail or sheer intimidation. With a rumbling bellow, he bounded towards them, those cursed squirrels, the force of the "greeting" growing in fury as he galloped towards them. Stupid rodets, he'd shut those squirrles up fast. Chest heaving, maw frothy from the internal infection, he watched the furry-tailed rats escape to the branches of the trees above. He snorted, foam painting this thawing ground an ivory similar to the snow on the peaks above. He heaved a sigh, and turned, begining the long trek back up the hillside. Impulsive... stupid cub.
And when this life has been exhausted
There's something precious that cannot be forgotten
Our time together that we fought for
((OOC: and so... his journey can begin here. For the first bit was taken from his history.))
In the pain that continues to cut into my heart
Only the memory that will not return is more precious than all else...
In the dark, desolate lands of falling ash and suffocating snow, the dying sun painted its crimson shade across the sky, losing its battle once more to night as its blood poured thickly across the horizon. The death of the day bowed for mercy under the dark clock of the nocturnal ruler, pleading to end the red massacre that was the taunting, sinister sky. Down; down sank the fiery eye of the sun, sleeping in its dark death beneath the menacing, towering mountains. Slowly retreating, slowly sinking to bed with its mistress Dawn - it was sunset. Snow fell lazily from the battle of the sky, as if the dark, inky clouds had been torn to shreds though night's blades, as if the night began its grueling torture, slowly cutting, slowly consuming. Wind howled in agony, singing a lone, sorrowful solo, crying for others to join his voice, pleading for recognition and glory. But there was only death....that's right. I was death, in all its cold, numb glory, forever safely embraced by shadowed arms. No one will find me here, no one will touch and breath through the suffocating snow...
Singing...singing.
A faint light calls me awake, a shy, nostalgic voice caressing away the burdens, unlocking the heavy shackles and dragging chains as it calls me to a memory of a transient dream. Nearby smiling...you are here. Yes...I completely remember it as if it were yesterday...that look that touched me more deeply than anyone else. Rushes of memories play, projecting its vivid colors through melting after images, singing...singing. Come into the light...can I trust these words? Can I fall asleep and awake with joy? Have the flames of struggle died? Surely it's a dream like world, surely it isn't real.The pleasure of shared memories, of dreams and gentle words and that miraculous encounter, played and strung carefully by His's hands...surely...surely...it's-
Fading...fading...
Only our image is deserted and disappearing.
Where am I? My lunar eyes open themselves to the world like those of a newborn, seeing its world for the first time; awed by the crimson shade of sunset to the snow that lazily falls to the ground. Do newborns see death however? Do they see destruction and despair? Why have I awoken? Why have my eyes opened when I was promised an eternal sleep away from pain, away from memories that should be frozen in snow, away from...her. For surrounding me are the weeping, naked trees long since stripped of their luster green. They remained formless statues, rotting into a gray, figure, into nothing more then clay. To my right are the taunting, snow capped mountains, their towering, menacing height daring anyone to provoke its majestic power. Above, the scavenging call of a raven pierced sharply through the air, its great, ominous wings spreading out as if to consume the light of the sun. But the trees...their vivid, vivacious green did not rot out of snow, or winter's hungry mouth. For snow was its light facade, was its mask against the death that reeked its putrid stench around the land, wrapping it in poisonous fingers whose nature was to choke and suffocate. Like death...
So why is there ash falling upon my muzzle?
Surely...a dreamlike world...
Where am I?
Hauling myself to my feet, I shook the ash and snow from my striped pelt, the colors a brilliant contrast against the purity and untainted beauty of the unmarred snow. I took a few tentative footsteps forth, paws sinking into winter's chilling blanket that wrapped Mother Nature in it's frozen shawl. Nares flared as I inhaled, attempting to find my bearings in this silent world, so serene and untouched. All I managed to scent was smoke, the ice crystals biting the inside of tender nostrils.
The pitter pater of tiny feet had me grumble and curse, the chattering of the rodent harassing my rather sensitive hearing. Vile creature really... damn squirrles. Didn't they know it was rude to inturrupt your superiors when they were thinking? I'd have his life for daring to rouse the self-proclaimed "great" Noesis.
Stretching forth my neck and lowering my mighty crown, maw parted, breath condensing in the air before me. A cloud of death hovering in the air before being consumed by the mist created by the warm air and frigid snow. The low rumbling barritone rose up the scale, windy and lonesome. The call of the most feared cat echoed back to me... and my voice varried in tone and force, sometimes a melodic hum of inquiry, othertimes a pounding bellow that rumbled like thunder. I sumed up my call by raising my voice to the highest note possible, the windy scream of an indignant tiger. I wanted this terra. It was empty and dark... perfect for my anti-soical self. I let all the air from my barrel escape myself in that shrill solo note and I lowered my muzzle, auds pricked as best as possible and listened for a reply.
Yes, Noesis was here, alone and announcing his presence to all. He wanted privacy and his own life devoid of other contact. But with a song such as that, there would either be a reply or an appearance. He let another low call go, more of a moan then a song, but passible. A human might mistake it as a dying cry. But he inhaled deeply, throwing back his head and closing bright eyes as he let his challenge fly again. Such a powerful, lilting voice hadn't been heard here for awhile. His voice was the very essence of the wild and he displayed it proudly.
The whispering laughter of running water accompanied his cries, steam rising from the pools of water lying below him from this vantage point on a ledge above the valley and just beneath the mountains. Mist was thick here, hiding him from the prying eyes of other tigers and the hated humans.
Fading off into nothing, Noesis let his voice echo back to himself via the valley, then have it fade into nothing. He sighed, maw opening as bursts of air escaped him in the form of harsh panting. Snorting, he closed his mouth and shook his fur, letting droplets of condensed water fly off the pelt. Doing his best impersonation of a run, he loped down the hillside, picking his way though the boulders, loose stone, saplings and thicker trunks. Leaping over a fallen log, he landed softly, slowing to a condifent jaunty trot. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, drinking in the details and painting them to memory. It was a soft composition, details blurred by the fog and distorted by the gently falling rain. He halted suddenly, sputtering and retching. Gagging, he took a step back and weezed. Coughing, fluid drained from the once magnificent brute's maw. Ahhh... so the illness progressed nicely. What a way to die... a foe he could not fight with tooth, nail or sheer intimidation. With a rumbling bellow, he bounded towards them, those cursed squirrels, the force of the "greeting" growing in fury as he galloped towards them. Stupid rodets, he'd shut those squirrles up fast. Chest heaving, maw frothy from the internal infection, he watched the furry-tailed rats escape to the branches of the trees above. He snorted, foam painting this thawing ground an ivory similar to the snow on the peaks above. He heaved a sigh, and turned, begining the long trek back up the hillside. Impulsive... stupid cub.
And when this life has been exhausted
There's something precious that cannot be forgotten
Our time together that we fought for
((OOC: and so... his journey can begin here. For the first bit was taken from his history.))
