[PRP] Disturbing visions (Wayra & Jaddis)

[Tanakako]

Something pulled at her, drawing her paws onwards against her will. Yet the feeling was warm, gentled, as if the silent pull was wanting her advice or company rather than wanting to hurt her. Still she was naturally wary of the force and dug her toes in, but to no avail. Gradually she paced closer and closer to the center of that warmth, and from the mists of the dream, a huge white shining egg slowly formed. Eyes wide she touched her nose to the smooth surface, it was warm.. The egg was the center of the gentle warmth that moved round her. Suddenly something cold touched her back, sending a chill down her spine, then as she watched, a hairline crack formed across the snowy white surface of the egg and a tiny mew issued from inside it. Startled, she pressed her paw to the crack, knowing instinctively it was far too soon for it to hatch but the crack raced over the egg's shell, forming more and more dark lines like poison over the pure whiteness. Crying out softly she tried to stop the cracks by wrapping her body round the egg, it had to stay whole, whatever was inside must live!

Suddenly, a blinding light pierced her eyes and she turned her head away, squinting up from the corner of her eye as two huge white wings descended from the black mist. They unfurled and wrapped round the egg, holding it together as the cracks spread, slowly forming a pattern across the shell. Despite the heavy thickness of the wings, she could still see the shell's new pattern and frowned as she recognised it, but could not grasp the memory.

Stepping back as the wings seemed to have protected the egg, she suddenly yelped as the ground dropped away and she was hovering in the air before the egg. Slowly she lowered her head and stared down, shocked to see the sheer cliffs of her home spilling down away from her. Frowning she looked back at the egg, only to find herself at the foot of the mountain, caning her head to see the egg at the summit, yet instead of the winged egg, there was a pair of stars, one very bright, the second smaller, dim, almost a ghost or shadow of the first.

A loud noise disturbed her and she blinked her eyes, the vision falling away until only shards remained in her memory. Sighing heavily she struggled to call them back even as she rose up on her paws, blinking at the children as they charged past. It had been a while since she had been sent a vision as strong as that one... its meaning concerned her, and why here among the cubs as they played?

Feeling strangely unbalanced and worried, she turned and padded away from the cub's area, headed out to the guard paths. She needed some fresh air and solitary quiet to sort out her thoughts. Her disquieted mind was distracted, going over and over the dream-vision, trying desperately to find a meaning within it somehow, and so he walked without conscious thought, her paws following the routes she had taken for so long over the course of her lifetime. Along the pathways, through the deep aves and out from the mountainside, the pale-coated lioness wound her way down towards the base of the mountain, pawpads silent over the loose scree of the slope.

 

[Syrius Lionwing]

He did not need to rest. His paws could take him forever, he could fly despite the state of his wings, gone was the membrane eaten, pecked, torn from the long stick thin spines. perhaps once upon a time those wings had been full, perhaps once he had looked like a real lion, he couldn't remember those times though and why should he? He had no need to dwell on the past, the past was full of spirits, of the dead, of the gone, he didn't need to remember those he had watched suffer and die though he still felt them some where in the recesses of his mind.

He did not need to rest, yet occasionally he felt the wont to lie down, to rest despite the fact that he could and should keep going, every so often he deemed his life quiet enough to lay down and, for lack of a better phrase, smell the roses. He wasn't smelling the roses, far from it, he lay in a broken heap, his breath still, his body so bone thin it looked dead, for what could sustain such a body?

Wind rustled through his tattered mane and rustled the fur along his back, that fur, so thin and broken patched, the way any creatures went when they starved and starved the beast was.

Even in a horizontal position his ribs towered above the rest of him, every bone peering sickly through the thin almost translucent skin. His eyes, stone gray open but dead. Here lay a beast that could surely not be alive. Another rush of wind rustled the fur, those breaths from the very environment seemingly strong enough to simply blow away the bone thin carcass.

Yet at the step of a silent foot an ear moved, roved to listen, the mouth, sown tightly shut banning his body from any form of sustenance pulled in a long ragged breath, a breath which rattled down the hollow throat and echoed off each of the clearly visible ribs, a death rattle..Surely..  

[Tanakako]

Closing her eyes as she sough a moment's respite from the ravaging emotions of the vision, yet the blinding pain that met her mind as she did so forced her to open them again immediately. Shaking her head as her vision swam, she knew she was sinking away again. The world around her slowly faded away into the familiar blackness, not an absence of light, just a blanketing darkness that hid everything. Then, gradually, that faint feeling of welcoming warmth stole over her, pulling her paws onwards in their journey to.. somewhere.

Slowly, the darkness faded from her vision though everything was coated in a pale, delicate glow, the 'dreamscape' she so often experienced. Knowing she was lost in the grip of the vision, she allowed it to lead her onwards. Crimson eyes seemed vacant as she padded slowly along, dipping as she drew to a halt before the emaciated god. Within her vision he glowed faintly, the dullness of his coat became a soft cream and the tatters of wings were fluttering shapes of mist and dreams. Her 'vision' was not of reality, but what the dream deemed as the truth behind the natural flesh. And he was beautiful.

Dipping her head she bowed low to the god, crimson eyes warm, movements slow and reverent. "You are the one who called...."  

[Syrius Lionwing]

He let out a long slow breath, the outtake of air making a sort of ghostly whistle as it whipped over the ties which kept his mouth sewn shut. He had met many who spoke to him with reverence in his time on the earth, he had also met many who feared him more than anything else, his appearance shook many to the core had them turn tail. This one bowed though and he appreciated it, though he never deserved such praise, he did his job, that was all.

Slowly the very large bone thin god wrestled to his feet, his muscles seemingly screaming as he did so each bone clicking in to place as he righted himself., he sits slowly and as if he just remembered, he absently took another bone rattling breath inwards. It wasn't often he deemed it necessary to breath, but it often freaked mortals out all the more if he didn't.

"If you wish I can be the one who called you here young one." His voice echoes though the starvation riddled body simply sat, the head lolling as if it would fall from the neck at any moment, the eyes dead black, the lips sealed tightly shut. The voice, though quiet, commanding, sure, echoed in the air, projected to her mind, it did not truly come from the bag of bones before her.

"What do you need of me?" the voice echoed once again, as he let out the breath he had pulled in far too long ago to be any sort of life sustaining breath. He knew this place, a place of seers and god worshipers, he had passed here before, as he passed every where at some point in his life, he had to go where he was needed.