[ prp ] safe in these streets ( lurks beneath & wrath )

[its me debz]

Lurks skittered around, eyes wide and wrapped up in too-many scarves, wings trailing along behind him.

"Hello!" he greeted every passer-by, with an enthusiastic wave of his skeletal hand, "Hi! Have you seen the mother!" The Famine horsemen cut through the grass, ignoring most pathways, unused to the way that grass felt under his feet, cold and wet and dewy.

It was so different, in comparison to the sands.

"Hello!" Lurks greeted again, his laugh like cicadas swarming, staring up at his new encounter, blinking almost owlishly.

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[Seussi]

Wrath was not wandering around so much as he was leaning against a tree somewhere on Amity grounds, running his thumb against the edge of his sword as though testing it to make sure it was still sharp. He wasn't looking at what he was doing, however. Instead, his dark gaze followed all those who wandered past, his face falling into it's usual broody patterns of thoughtfulness.

It was curiosity that brought him here. He had heard about the students involvement at the time of the clans falling. He had heard that there were some who served the high priestess, and Charon, and Death himself. Initiates, they were called, and he wondered if he would recognize one even from a distance.

He would not be so bold as to call out to them as they passed, however, or even to approach them. He had not the faintest idea of what to even say to them if he did.

It appeared, however, that others did not find such things so difficult. Wrath soon found himself lowering his gaze to one who approached with absolutely no hesitation at all, one who spoke to him as though they knew one another. His gaze narrowed, and he lowered his sword, desummoning it as he stared at the other for quite some time.

"Hello." He finally spoke in return, his own voice a deep rumble compared to that of the one who approached. "Can I help you with something?"

astrazilla

 

[its me debz]

"No," Lurks said with a wide, toothy smile, a spider crawling out from between his exposed jaws, wispy and shadowy around the legs, "unless you've seen the mother." This statement was accompanied by a manic widening of his eyes,

Of course, it should have probably dawned on the Famine that no one knew who he was referring to, but it did not, because he was, at times, the simplest of the hivechildren.

"Are you one of us?" he asked, almost immediately afterwards, crowding around the other being and waving his head back and forth like an investigative spider-- Conquest rejected nature, Death ended nature, War tamed nature-- but Famine became it, assimilating into the hivemind, becoming one with the intuition and instincts of their patron saints: bugs.

Another spider crawled out of his hood, black and shadowy.

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[Seussi]

Wrath eyed the other carefully, snorting when the other asked him if he'd seen the mother. "No, I have not, and my mother is dead." He rumbled, though he seemed, outwardly, not to be too bothered by that statement of fact. At the second question, however, he reached up and stroked at his beard thoughtfully.

"If you mean a horseman, then yes I am. But not of Famine, like yourself." It was not hard to guess, not after so many days back in the sanctuary, now living amongst all of the clans, and getting to know them each.

And so far, Rathisvith found that he enjoyed the company of those from Famine best of all. They were just so very interesting.

The spiders did not go unnoticed, and Wrath's usual stoic, firm line of a mouth twitched at the corners just slightly, the very beginnings of a smile. He liked spiders, very much, among other arachnids. "Friends of yours?" He asked, gesturing with a metal clawed index finger at the shadowy spider that had crawled out of the others hood.

astrazilla

 

[its me debz]

"Ohh," he said, blinking. "Well. Mine is too! But, my mother is not the Mother." He chittered in laughter, and wondered what the other horseman's beard felt like: it looked like rugged moss! He was too young to grow any facial hair himself-- decades older than humans, centuries younger than the oldest of horsemen, a strange place to be.

"They are," Lurks Beneath crooned, softly, pleased that this one liked his friends. "They are of me, by me, from me! All me!"

A curious moth flew out, fluttering around Rath's head. "I am new here! Halloween air tastes strange."

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[Seussi]

"So then, who is the Mother?" He asked, curious as to what answer the famine horsemen might give to such a question, while himself imagining who he himself might consider to be.

Medea, perhaps, or even Charon, as funny as that was. It was so funny, in fact, that the right side of Wrath's lips twitched up just slightly in amusement.

Intrigued by the spider, the ashen soldier leaned in closer, his lips twitching up yet more. "Impressive." He boomed, eyes lifting as a moth flew about over head. He raised his hand, a finger crooked out, as though hoping that the small creature (that was not actually a creature but apparently a part of this one from famine), would land upon it and give him chance for closer inspection.

At the others proclamation, Wrath's gaze dragged back down towards him. "It does take some getting used to, I will admit. I am fairly new to this area as well. Were you also stationed in the human world until recently?"

astrazilla

 

[its me debz]

"She is the beginning," Lurks said, breathing them as if they might float away like sand on the wind, "and the end. She should be Queen, but she walks and walks and walks allll over."

That was, not, in fact, very specific.

At the compliment, Lurks preened like a cat, looking proud. The moth landed, and it was obvious up close that it did not have a corporeal form-- it was wisps and shadows, loosely curling around his finger with every flap of its wings.

"I was! We were. Me and brother. All the sand in the world, all of it. We were there, even when it fell. I did not see, but I felt. Many many many gone. Did you see it? Was it a big big blast?"

xSeussi