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BrokenDollEyes's avatar

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Ania Corva

Its said that death is only the beginning in some cases and others said that there is nothing past death. No other life, nothing: you are no longer of the realm of the living and those that crossed over the threshold into the other world are said to be placed in asylums for public safety. Those that have come back with enlightenment are cast as crazy. But this is what is said, what real proof is actually there?

A howl cut through the air as thick as a knife, startling the women on the ground into being awake. Icy blue hues searched around the area; looking for something anything to grasp on to. Where was she? What had happened and what was with the taste in her mouth? Huffing slightly mouth forming a slightly oh shape, throat constricting to bring up saliva and then spitting it out on the ground. The ruby coloring was a dead give away even in the limited light. Slowly the women wiped the back of her hand across her ruby stained lips. Slowly pushing off the ground and on to stable feet the women glanced around. It was hell it really was, or what she was told of it. Images flashed in her mind of what happened, yet they were blurred together. A movie on fast forward and the remote was lost somewhere.

Dusting off the leather pants that encased her legs like skin, some what protective armor, nothing really substantial or protective about the flimsy material. Bloody red nails scrapped across the fabric creating a slight scratching sound that echoed in her ears. Ania inhaled the sent of death clung to the air. An unholy power surging across awaking senses that were never that sharp before in the walking realm. Slowly moving Ania wondered around slightly hoping she would run into something or something would find her wandering about. Trust as not something to be attained here.

"We shall see"


Her voice was husky from lack of use, though that would soon change even if she were to speak to herself most of the time.
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<<<.THE YELLOW KING COMETH.>>>

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The Yellow King walked alone, hearing the howl in the distance of some forsaken creature, he moved without fear, but with an all consuming animosity for the White-Man.

He felt something comparable to surprise as a woman clad in leather of sorts rose from the dirt, and in a barely audible voice that sounded as dry as old Egypt muttered something to herself. The yellow silken mask he wore showed no sign of emotion to her, but this world was strange... and there was no telling how far and wide the White-Man had reached even here. Perhaps she knew something...

"And where did you come from?" He asked in a voice that befitted a water logged corpse more than a man wandering this Otherworld. It was a wet, gurgling noise that sounded as if had been laboriously formed by organs that were never intended for making human speech.

She looked like what mortals might consider pretty, yet he could feel nothing for her physically if he wanted. The cosmos had given him more than what the flesh ever could, but at what most might consider a "terrible" price. Necessary sacrifice was how he classified it. Once dealings with his white adversary were through, he could focus on other worlds, and other gods too. The one who lurked here, at least the only one he could discern so far, was elsewhere, and this was good... it left the King free to his own devices unhindered.
BrokenDollEyes's avatar

Beloved Sex Symbol

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Ania Corva

Her eyes shifted to the figure in yellow, eyes taking in the mask with little interest in the being. Casting aside the feeling brewing within her belly, was it dread? Fear? Impossible to tell at the current moment. Alas the woman had to answer to which was asked, so without much caution to the creature.

" The land of the living has sent me here, for what purpose is unknown. Though no longer am I living"

The words spilled out of her throat and whispered against soft lips, the nature of a female was to be gentle and soft. It made them the greatest weakness of almost anyone, the way she moved her hair from her face, or the way her hips would sway in a walking motion. All a deadly weapon to be used.

"And of you? What is it you seek from me?" the question buzzed around her ears as if it was not said from her lips. Slowly moving towards the yellowed masked creature, because man simple was not used to describe anything here, man was a term for humans. And well if they were a living human in this part they wouldn't last to much longer. Yet the being caught her attention the closer Ania strode forward.
Nation Prophetic's avatar

Conservative Conversationalist

MEDITATIO DUO

Scattered strokes from the wrenching oar swore swath and brim, the trickster sea with swirling, whispered wavings thus, in quiet forward towards the shore.

The Boatman made ready the passage of the passenger…

Tenderly raising Thomas Messenger to his feet by the grasp of a hand that patted out his wrinkled garb as he shuddered up. Bits of bone and brain from the suicide remained and were plucked by gentle fingers as though Charon were preparing his passenger to meet a date. Parts and pieces of skull jutted jagged and cracked through the ragged outline of a gory hole blown out the back of his head by a .357 magnum to the mouth. Those brown eyes blinked in a steady stream of tears with the left of them bloodshot and discolored from the pressure of the bullet passing behind it. He would have spoken, but his vocal chords were charred from the discharge of the gun. What he could not speak, but would have said were words of question for the sights ahead.

The shore was bleak and black as born from the swirling slosh of languid fog became seen those dreary docks and wakeless waters rippling upon the gray shore. Fields of black grass waved in a slow and fetid breeze from the east behind the scene of the docks decrepitness. Palpable heat came forth, as through the mirage of a shimmering shadow off the water boiled the tired reflections of the Otherworld.

Shadow hung as though painted on buildings burned with char from the blued fires that burned the air alive. Ash fell in tender snow as gray and pitch in the quiet wind that spun the vision down through his perceptions of its sight. There were spires of dark metal stabbing through the ashen clouds upon a tornadic vortex that clung to the space above all of Overworld. Pieces of all architecture were there in some wild amalgam of design across all of time into reaches gone to memory and places yet to be seen. Victorian mansions mingled with Tajmahalesque rooflines with Parisian buttresses to make this wild and weirdly beautiful cityscape.

Beautiful, if not for the horror of its truth… The fact of its matter made truth as Charon saw the scene through the hole in his passengers head. This was a dead city. A world of death for the dead to dwell in their rebirth from life to the cyclic end that greeted now Charons passenger. Some went mad with their first glimpse. Some drove the view into whatever they believed it to be. Saw heaven. Saw hell. The whole place was less an actual place and more accurately a mirror for the mind to view its end upon. A vestige of reality where, if you really looked hard and long enough… Everything that was for now could change with just the thought of it.

The dock extended to meet Thomas Messenger. Warping through the water like some wooden snake with crab-like claws pulling the thing along towards him. Charon willed the vessel ceased… And at the halt went moving on for the dock with a step from his place at the bow of the boat. The pole he reached back for Thomas Messenger was grabbed upon as the young man stumbled forward. Charon spoke with his grasp as he pulled his passenger ashore.

“Steady now Thomas. You’re arrived. Mustn’t falter of step here… Welcome child… To the Otherword.”
BrokenDollEyes


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<<<.THE YELLOW KING COMETH.>>>

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"Then you are dead, and trapped here..." The King said plainly. "I seek a man in my debt that has denied me my due. Wearing all white and kept company by a Shadow denizen." He spoke in a wet hoarse voice that strained to make human noises, and beneath his mask could be sensed horrors left to the imagination. The King stood statuesque as the woman came closer. Noting her disorientation and strange speech as she adjusted to this odd plain of existence.
Nation Prophetic


--- Renegade ---

))) ...The Light Can Keep Itself (((

As A Famous Man Once Said...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Ren had arrived at the docks just as the boatman, Charon, seemed to approach, ferrying some newcomer to the shores of this odd ball world. Ren stood by waiting, his shark-ish grin still stretched from ear to ear, in a manner he hoped wasn't too startling. His shadow swam underfoot, churning and rolling like the waves of the sea. And yet he couldn't shake the odd feeling from earlier, that another force, familiar in its age, was here for him...

"Welcome to the Otherworld, new guy..." Ren said cheekily, "You look as lost any other soul here..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...Wait Till They Get A Load Of Me.

))) For The Darkness Gave Me You... (((
BrokenDollEyes's avatar

Beloved Sex Symbol

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Ania Corva

Words were spoken between the two holding no ground to her ears it would seem, a man in white, a debit to be paid. "A high price for you to seek" spoken carefully as the body came to rest only paces from the yellow man. A twisted pull of the lips was the only indication of a some what smile. Almost painful to watch the skin being stretched across white teeth with sharp canines. The action almost being unnatural in concept, it was brief mind you. A flicker in the candle light, had one not been watching closely they would have missed it all together.

"I shall take leave, if I see this white man....should a message be passed along."
BrokenDollEyes


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<<<.THE YELLOW KING COMETH.>>>

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A high price for you to seek

"Higher than you have any sensssssssssse." The King said, the last word coming out with a hiss. "What I gave was invaluable, and what I asked was not negotiable..." The writhing motions beneath his silken yellow mask seemed to intensify as the anger in his wet voice seemed to climb.

....should a message be passed along.

"No." He said flatly. "He knows I come, whether he has sensed me this close or not is faulted only to him. Know merely that should we cross again and you should find yourself on his side, my wrath is old and timeless, and takes many forms, be it as accurate as the lightning bolt, or all consuming as a Martian sandstorm... do not get in my way." The King said firmly.

A dark tar seemed to be pooling off of his boots onto the dirty earth, yet it absorbed nothing from it, but seemed to repel the filth and grit of the world.
BrokenDollEyes's avatar

Beloved Sex Symbol

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Ania Corva

Blinking in  what could of been confusion or the very least understand meant of the hole situation. The raw emotion of it made the females belly twist in a sick way, yet it was pleasing. Tilting back her head eyes gazing up at the man in yellow. Almost seeing through him instead of at him, pupils dilating; stretching out wide to cover as much blue as possible. Gathering in light or as much of it there could be. It was excitement that courses in her veins instead of blood. But excitement of what exactly? Slowly an image came to the minds eye but as quick as it came it vanished with out a trace. 

Nodding her head to the yellow man not speaking a single word. Her alliance lay with no one or at least at the moment it didn't. What gain was there in one when the world they were in at the moment.... Well what real risk was there after all she was dead or so said the yellow man.

[sorry working off my phone]
Trexasle's avatar

Chatty Fatcat

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Bonez


Trip had resorted to begging, something about her begging just made him feel horribly guilty. This was common; while he was dead, he was still somewhat humans. While emotions were normally wasted on him, he did have a sense of humility. In this case, the girl literally begging to be called something else did leave a sense of guilt on him. Funny, that killing murderers, rapists, and war criminals didn’t faze him, but the sighs of a begging dead person did. Maybe he just had humility to his own kind in that sense. He sighed and rubbed his chin.

“Fine…what is your real name?”

He forced the words out in almost a mumble He certainly liked the prospect of calling her Dee Dee, he thought it fit with her. Maybe he’d use it next time he was annoyed, it seemed to go under her nonexistent skin well enough. He crossed his arms, and leaned with his back toward the pillar. He concentrated his senses on the river styx. IT would seem that his conversation had passed the time just enough.

The boat was here, and it had a passenger. His eyes peered at the passenger who was just brought ashore by Charon. IT seemed that the man had ended his own life, The scorch mark near his mouth, the broken skull from the 357 caliber bullet penetrating. IT seemed the man chose eating the gun as a suicide option.

“Hello Charon, Only one today, must’ve been a quiet trip.” It was a joke of course. He could obviously see that the passenger could not speak due to the discharge of the gun. He rarely had time to joke, and he thought the can could USE the joke seeing that this was now his current place of residence.

He uncrossed his arm, and tipped his brown hat up he revealed the face of a zombie. Skin was deteriorating to the point that one could see varying patches of bone beneath; the teeth were broken and decrepit. His eyes, missing of pupils from his eyes rolling permanently to the back of the head, only able to see due to the incantation that kept him alive. His Clothes, a western duster with black pants cowboy boots, and a 10 gallon hat, were dirty and holy from various gunfights and age. His chest was partially exposed by his nearly ripped shirt underneath the duster. One could see the Bullet would in his heart, that had taken his life, along with the others riddled across his body that didn't.
Trexasle


          She heard the boat coming, and moved to be beside him once again, facing outward. There were people on the boat, one who didn't look like he could talk very well anymore, and one that appeared to be the boatman. Although she trusted that neither of them could repeat her name (or would care to), she didn't want them to hear it. It was her best kept secret, after all.

          "My name is Ashley." she said quietly, eyes fixed on the river. It was the least sarcastic and most sincere she had sounded the entire time she was there. And with that, as the boat approached, she disappeared, body reverting back to the thick purple fog it had become earlier.

          "I need you to help me," her voice was watery and hollow in this new state. "I need you to hide me, and help me back to the land of the living. I can help you meet your quota."
BrokenDollEyes


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<<<.THE YELLOW KING COMETH.>>>

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The King stood, staring down at the girl in leather. Disorientation was written all over her face and in her dilated eyes. She was a confused mess and new to this world... but perhaps not useless to him.

He extended an arm to her, or what would appear to be an arm. The appendage was covered by his long flowing yellow robes, and hid from the eyes what might truly lie beneath. "I offer to you a boon..." He spoke thickly and carefully, the King's voice held no hint of generosity or delicacy in it. "Assist me, and I will grant you what your soul desires... power, strength... even passage from this Otherworld." The King's words hung in the air like a sinister storm, waiting for her answer.

The black ichor now pooled around his boots, a writhing black mass that seemed to search for any life to cling to.
Nation Prophetic's avatar

Conservative Conversationalist

MEDITATIO TRES

The Boatman gave a curt nodding of greeting to those denizens who gathered on the shore for the processing of this new arrival... He spoke not for their speaking… Moving as quiet as the waters in which his vessel rocked. Stepping forth across the docks to guide his passenger to his new home, the image of Charon would be made clear… and yet, less so to those who saw him.

The Boatman was very much akin to Otherworld itself… Some saw in the appearance of him a shaded figure coweled and creeping from a crooked ship of black, rotting wood… Thin of frame and shrouded by the darkness of a monstrous, hooded cloak. Death incarnate come ashore. Others still saw gleaming white robes adorning a coruscate form as majestic and brilliant as the sun shimmering off the waters of the river as Charon strode from a glowing vessel of purest ivory and gold. An image of angelic beauty flowing towards them.

Some saw a purple people eater. Others saw Popeye the sailor man.

This Otherworld was all about perspective.

Charon became to them all whatsoever they thought of him as... A disguise perhaps as chameleonic as it was multifaceted. If there was some semblance of unity in his being, none had seen the truth of it so far as he allowed them to see. Everyone saw differing aspects of him and told of him different interpretations. Even his behavior was malleable… Conforming to some as a furious and lecherous old sea dog… To others he was the kindly wayfarer, whose journeys he storied to the young and amazed in dazzling tales of fancy and fortunes explored in far away lands.

Whispers had circulated for eons through Otherworld that perhaps he was nothing more than their imagination.

But there was no imagining the eyes that burned from whatever face he chose for whoever gazed upon them.

His name itself came from the ancient scolars of Otherworld. Charon from the latin χάρων is a poetic form of χαρωπός (charopós), “of keen gaze”, referring either to fierce, flashing, or feverish eyes, or to eyes of a bluish-gray color.

Those eyes glowed, elucidating the otherwise bleak and creeping darkness that curled away before Charons gaze in the face of the Drowned God.

He pressed Thomas Messenger through the throng of reaching hands and touching fingers and the throes of the mob that reached from the shadows to touch and feel for any of the crumbs of life that maybe clung to this dead arrival. Pushed him past the questions and the gazes and the predators. Speaking after the young man as he turned away… Before the darkness swallowed him whole into the throat of Otherworld.

“This too shall pass Thomas Messenger.”

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