In the Youth of the Gods

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 3:25 pm

Before time began, to great Elder beings came upon each other. The first was Alelio, the great silver dragon. The second was Beddru, mother cosmos. Alelio mounted Beddru in many couplings, so vigorously that she was covered in his glittering scales. When they had finished, Mother Cosmos had born a number of children. As she nursed each one in turn, the Great Dragon took several of his loose scales, broke off the tips of his claws and horns and pulled out some of his fangs. All of these he ground together and pressed flat. With each child fed. Their mother placed them upon the world created for them and whispering to each their name.

As the bring of light and the cosmos prepared to continue in their travels, Alelio roared out the name of this world, Daladi! For an age, they watch from high above this new world, as their children slept. In the brief moments before young godlings woke, their parents departed, traveling along separate paths again for time immeasurable until they would mate again. Down below, a dark world waited as the young began to move. Bathed in the faint light from their mother’s now sparking body, the first ones opened they’re eyes.

Cern shifted upon his rocky bed, stretching out muscles that would had never been used to support him before. Slowly the lids opened, uncovering the completely black pools, which where his eyes for a second time. The only other occasion that he had been looking at anything was when he was first born and suckling at his mother breast. There were no words that could truly describe that sight and terms like; magnificent, enthralling, marvelous and wondrous being poor examples of what might be used.

As he attempted to move upon the stony shelf he had been sleeping on, the young godling found that he had been wrapped in a soft, green swaddling cloth. By design, his initial struggling had loosened the corners of the cloth and after a few more wiggles, he was able to get his arms free and unwrap himself. After a few experiments and several falls, he managed to stand up and walk a little ways about on his shelf.

In the eternal night of this world, he might have been mistaken for a young human boy, around the age of eleven. It would only be upon closer inspection (mostly of his legs) what would reveal that this was not a human, mostly because of the smooth cloven hooves that took the place of feet and rings of fur that could have been socks. One might have also starting questioning if this was a human child if they had given his head a rub and felt the two little bumps on top.

Standing naked as he could be, Cern snatched up the swaddling cloth and tucked it under his arm, as he looked around. In the darkness, he could see perfectly fine but there wasn’t much to see at all, just rock in various shades of gray or black. Of course there are places were the rock was higher or lower then the rock around it. In fact he had been place on the side of a rather tall hump of rock. An urge to see more burned in his young heart and the godling looked up, towards the top of hump.

For a span of time (which could not be measure, as he knew nothing of hours or minutes or days), he climbed up, the rough surface of the rock giving many many hand or foot holds. He was stopped close to the edge however, as the once rough rock suddenly became smooth as glass. He could see the flat edge of the top from the ledge he was standing on but couldn’t reach it. For a while he stared with a frown, wishing that the ledge he was on was just a little higher on the hump of rock.

Suddenly the rock under his hooves started to shake and surge upwards. The young godling nearly overbalanced and would have gone plummeting down to the bottom, if he hadn’t leaned forwards and smashed his torso against the smooth stone. Struggling to find something to hold on to, the fingers of his right hand suddenly found the edge of stone that marked the top of hump and held on tight. Taking a moment to pull the cloth from under his left arm and clamp down on a corner with his mouth, he reached up with his other hand and pulled himself to the top. Breathing hard with a combination of excitement, fear and wonder, he turned around and stared over this vast, blank world he had been placed on.

“Daladi” Cern whispered, half remembering something from when he had been falling asleep before shouting it again, letting the word echo over the rock.

“Daladi!”

(want to know more or sign up? Please see the OOC thread and post a character for approval: In theYouth of the Gods OOC-

Litria Death · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Litria Death** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 4:17 pm

The space around her was pure blackness, without a hinting of starlight to prevail in this darkness, and a smooth, stiff object supported her. Her body felt agitated, jittery, the urge of movement an electric shock flowing through her veins.

Suddenly, she saw a ceiling of noticeably lighter black, which reminder her of her mother for some strange reason; thinking of her lifegiver gave her a jolt of a past memory, seeing points of brillance within vast nothingness, and a loving, gentle pressure, like a cradle. She realized that her eyes had been closed, causing the blackness to consume her, as she shut them again, long, dark eyelashes brushing her cheeks softly like a kiss. Sitting up, she reopened her glowing, shimmering, purple eyes, which shone through the dark haze like a beckon of violet hope, and scanned the area around her. It was gloomy here, the world around her a span of gray and black, rising and falling around where she lay, leaning up on pallid, pure white arms. This place seemed to be familiar to her in the oddest of ways, yet, not so much as recognizable as barren rock can be.

She slowly turned her beautifully bright eyes downwards, seeing a pair of smooth, pale legs hidden underneath a small tunic of similar color; so similar, in fact, that the cloth blended easily with her skin. Her feet were bare, hanging limply before her as the rocks were, still and motionless. She knew she should explore this new place, it was a ringing sensation within her that she should, so, clumsily moving her arms forward, she attempted to push herself up onto those white legs, instantly finding a somewhat steady balance. She held her long, elegant arms out from her body as a mean to retain balance, and studied the area more closely. This place was truly empty, like a canvas awaiting its painter.

She was compelled to step down from her rocky bed and into the mist, embarking into this world to discover its secrets. She walked to the rock's edge and bore her eyes down into the dark void below her, which held no inviting properities, but, she knew she had to. She couldn't stay alone on the rock platform for the rest of time allowed; she turned and crouched lowly, gripping the rock's surface with her long fingers, then, slowly, let her body fall into the fog. It took what seemed to her a while before she hit a solid mass to rest her feet on. She watched the area, but there was the same thing here as there was up there. A weird, heated sensation danced along her skin as she realized she should've gone upwards instead of down, but it was too late now. As she turned her eyes heavenward to study the climb back, she heard faintly off in the distance,

"Daladi!" A burst of remembrance shivered behind Milekia's eyes as she suddenly understood.

Duchessa · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Duchessa** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 4:22 pm

Jhera shifted, in that half-there transition between sleeping and waking, where dreams become elusive and hard-to-catch and reality is similarly ephemeral. The rocky cradle which cupped him, though loosely, moved slightly with him, responding to his half-waking desires even as they fell away to his full wakefulness, rising from the deep sleep after apotheosis.

His cradle was dark – blacker than pitch, actually. Nothing moved, save for the tiny god, and the only sound in the awakening cave was the rustle of feather against feather, faintly musical and all alone in the dark.

Jhera’s features – too perfect and too distant to be anything other than divine – creased into a dissatisfied frown. It wasn’t meant to be like this, surely? Last time, he was half-sure – when his eyes had been open and there had been other things around him – there had been not-dark, light, glorious light, every colour and hue, wrapping him, keeping him safe and protected.

So where was that now, when he needed it? Everything else was strange, and large, and unpromising shades of gray and black and brown. Not at all like the rainbow of colour that filled his infant mind.

Jhera wanted light. He wanted to recapture that half-remembered moment. Face screwed into a frown, faintly-glowing violet eyes showing a maelstrom of churning shades, his power – still all new and unfolding, unformed and yet still willing – acted.

His skin showed the first signs of it, a blotchy pearlescence that shimmered and then fled, a scattered radiance that slowly firmed and grew stronger as, in joy and wonder, the young god watched it flow over him, a pale, pearly glow which then spread and deepened as it encountered his wings, darkening to gold as it ran along his pinions and pooled in the bases, striking highlights from his hair. He laughed suddenly, exultant, a cheery and infectious little chuckle, pealing out as clear as a bell, and then just as quickly stopped, shocked at the sound of his own piping voice as it echoed over the rustle of feathers.

He essayed a few hesitant steps on slightly wobbly and unsure legs, not quite sure how to move – and with a soft rush of air there was suddenly flight, effortless and as easy as thought. The luminescence struck shimmering sparks from something, a pale, pale purple shroud – no, not a shroud, a swaddling blanket tucked around his lower half – a present – from...mother? Perhaps. As he moved, something chimed inside; curious, questing hands dove into the yielding silk even as he unwrapped himself more fully. A pretty little trinket, with a brilliant spark of fire hanging from it. Jhera smiled, wide and white and innocent as it turned gently in front of his eyes, now a happy whirl of violet.

Wings shedding golden light, and skin pearly fire, tiring of the confines of his birthing cradle, Jhera’s purple eyes espied a crack, a fissure, a passage, twisting off into the dark.

Bolstered by his light, splashing merrily around him, with tentative beats of his small wings he made his way along the rough-hewn hallway – it was, again, much bigger than he, and just as well, for Jhera wasn’t quite used to his body and his wings just yet, and only a few hasty corrections prevented him from hitting the rocky walls – something he was quite keen to avoid.

It would slow him down on his way to find out where this place led to – and, just as importantly, perhaps where ‘here’ was. It was where he’d been born, he knew that, but unfamiliar senses were telling him there was more to it than just that one, singular fact.

There was a change in the texture of the dark up ahead, and Jhera’s wings beat faster. Mother’s trinket-present rattled at his throat, throwing powerful light-beams far ahead.

Suddenly, the rock ended, Jhera sailed out over the edge of a precipice and hung, splendid and suddenly afraid to have left the sheltering confines of the rocks.

He turned, to look back, and then his gaze was drawn heavenwards, to where the cosmos stretched in all its infinite glory across the skies of the new world, and Jhera forgot – or nearly forgot – his misgivings.

It was glorious!

There was no way to measure time, yet – and so it was impossible to say how long Jhera floated in the empty sky, effortlessly aloft, but eventually he turned his gaze back to the ground which had birthed him – and frowned in displeasure.

Blank and barren, black and gray and brown, it stretched off as far as he could see in every direction. The only thing breaking the monotony was the mound of rock he’d emerged from.

Looking closer, spiralling lower – still thrilling in the feel of flight – he saw another, a thing, tottering on a glassy plateau.
Its shout nearly tumbled him from the skies – not that he would have had far to fall: “Daladi!”

Daladi. The word struck a chord in his body, one that went deeper than his bones – this place, his place, where he belonged, had a name! And so, his first word, in the unsure voice of infant theophany, was the name of the world, raised up in clear, bright chorus with the first.

“Daladi!”

Kohananinja · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Kohananinja** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 4:56 pm

Aislinn awoke from her slumber, perplexed and astonished by the landscape around her. It was dark here, with no light, and she stood out like a shining beckon with her gleaming ivory hair and skin that shined like a thousand stars. Golden orbs gazed upon the rocky ground around her with both curiosity and displeasure, as the rocks lack any brilliant color. After a moment she stood wobbly, like one who had never needed legs before, a gently picked up a small rock in her delicate and slender hand. The rock was ugly, lumpy, and brown, and this displeased Aislinn. She wished for the rock to be smooth and of a brilliant hue like her mother, but the rock did not obey. Unsuccessful, she squeezed the rock with displeasure, ready to throw the offensively bland and unfamiliar object away, when it became soft in her hand, and mouldable. The color, while not completely changed, did turn a slightly redder color, and Aislinn was pleased.

She walked from her cradle like resting place, donning her dark blue blanket as a dress, to see what other wonders this new world held besides the mouldable red brown rock she had named clay. In the distance, as she continued to mould her clay into different shapes, she heard a voice cry out in the distance; “Daladi!” and she some how knew from faint recognition that it was this world’s name, her new home. Aislinn then gave a smile that lit up the area around her. “Daladi.” She said in a rich musical voice. “What wonders await me here?”

7achary · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **7achary** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 5:15 pm

The shimmering scale under Zaccio's head rippled softly as he lifted himself up. His empty sockets surveyed the stony landscape with impunity. The darkness that pervaded existence was broken here and there by shimmering lights that cast a weak shadow behind him. The young giant looked down at his makeshift pillow.

"Father..." A flash and Zaccio was in his father's arms. He grasped one talon with all four of his hands, letting out little grunts and squeaks as his father whispered stories of creation in his ear. Whisper. That word did not apply to Father because Father did not speak. Father commanded and that was all.

Zaccio stood, silhouetted against a particularly bright star, and gazed into the nothing that was his mother. After a few moments he heard cries of ecstasy and wonder below him, far below him. Suddenly, Zaccio was aware of his nakedness and picked up his fathers scale and wrapped tight about himself like a kilt. Kilt. Another new word, but this one fit. Zaccio turned and walked to the opposite edge of this... cliff. He then turned back to where heard his brother's yelling. He started jogging towards the edge, then running, then sprinting, and finally he leapt through the air, his four arms and his legs spread wide.

"DALADI!" Zaccio roared and hit the ground running passed his cloven hoofed brother and leapt again. "DALADI!"

He did not bother to check his fall, or he would have noticed the brittle edge before him. CRACK! The ledge snapped and Zaccio fell, bumping his head and skinning his hands,

"ARGH!" Zaccio began pounding the stone, creating ever changing and rippling effects all around him in his anger. One fist at a time he beat the ground in his pain and anger. "GO AWAY!"

And the pain was gone. Zaccio looked at his hands, unmarred. He felt his head and found no blemish. He laughed in awe.

With a dash and leap he stood once again with one of his brothers, smiling broadly. "I am Zaccio."

Music · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Music** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 5:42 pm

Darkness.

When Khilia awoke, it was with terror in her heart. She could feel the compressing lack of light around her in the night chill, in the feathers and scales that lifted on her skin to protect her from the cold. Darkness, she hated. Darkness and silence.

So she didn't open her green eyes. Not yet.

Khilia. That was her name. And this place was...

"Daladi!" a cry in the distance. The silence was shattered, and Khalia could hear with her adept ears that many were stirring in the air. Others, like her. But what exactly did that mean?

So she opened her eyes.

It was not as dark as she formerly had presumed. Mother was above, as always, guarding her children. And Father... well, she didn't see Father. In the deep shadow of the mountain that towered over her childish form, there was only earth and sky and self.

Self. What an odd word to describe the fairy figure that lay alongside boulders and rock. She was much larger than she had presumed, however; staring at the sky, Khilia had thought of herself as a single eye, perhaps two or three. She hadn't realized her own ability to move.

And move she did. First sitting, then standing, she came into herself and individually let each limb and vein fill with the life-bringing warmth. Temporarily, the young goddess flexed her new body, feeling the potential strength that was there.

But there was something terribly wrong with this place called Daladi. There was no light. Or, at least, the only light to be seen was that of Father's scales. And the stone hills and valleys were so quiet. No sounds to grace them.

Abruptly, as if in anger, Khilia sat down again, a graceful pout planting itself firmly upon her lips. There was nothing for it. She would have to find a light and a beautiful sound to dwell in.

Gabriel_Whist · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Gabriel_Whist** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 6:35 pm

Coyotl was curious. From the second he opened his large gleaming eyes, and stared upon the desolate rock, and glittering skies, he wanted to know everything. Awakening, taking the world in, in wonder at it, empty as it was, he started walking. Off in the distance he heard the call Daladi, and shaped it in his mouth a few times.

"Daladi. Daladi. Daladi..." Coyotl murmured as he walked. The land was all rock, covered in higher hills, lower mounds, cracks and crevasses, yet still so simple and unchanging. Coyotl yearned for more, more interest, more stimuli. Climbing a rocky protusion to its height, he looked out over the sloping rock plains below. Down there, on the ground, he could see small rocks, and pebbles, and he wished for them to move. Inhaling sharply, he breathed out massively, and sent the rocks below skittering across the ground in his self created wind. Laughing in childish joy, he clapped his large hands in delight, the sound echoing out in peals. Yet his laughter and wild enthusiasm faded swiftly as he lost his footing, and with no grip on the rock, fell to the land below, landing with a thud and shaking the earth.

Coyotl, still so young, started wailing, crying out at the pain, his tears overflowing and dampening the ground around him to mud. Eventually, curiousity overcame him again as he felt new sensations, and Coyotl opened his eyes, tears ceasing to flow, and chuckling again as he splashed about in the massive mud puddle he had created.

Laughing, he smashed his hands flat against the mud over and over again, giggling as it splashed up into the air, and landed on the rock all around him. "Soft." Coyotl said. "SOFT!" He yelled loudly, laughing again and again. He loved this soft, funny mud stuff, much nicer and forgiving the hard land all around him. Frolicking through his mud puddle, even digging himself deep down within it, he never noticed as the mud coated his thick pelt, and some of his fur got left behind, littering the mud with its short bristles. Suddenly, Coyotl stopped as he heard another voice crying out in the distance.

Scooping up massive mudballs, he tossed them up high into the air, so high they dissappeared from sight and splattered down all around the massive rocky wasteland. As he played with his mud, throwing it willy nilly through the air, he bellowed loudly, his voice echoing like his claps, moving things like his breath had the rocks before, "COME PLAY WITH ME!" Again and again he called out to his brothers and sisters, though he did not yet know them, he called for them to come play with him, curious as to what they would look like, and what new interest and amusement they could bring.

OriginalSix · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **OriginalSix** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 6:42 pm

All encompassing whiteness. A superluminary force that seemed to penetrate every single atom of Alea's body, driving deep into the core of his being, illuminating the edges of a consciousness at the same time all encompassing and so very singular. He blinked, then, bewildered, closed both eyes. It did nothing to quell the light. If anything, it only increased in brightness. With a speed so great it caused the newborn to cry out for the first time, his body jerked, wracked with spasms as an unknown force seized it in a vice grip.

Screwing his eyes shut, Alea's hands rose to his face, a strangled scream tearing itself from his throat. The pain grew, Alea's screams growing higher in kind as his nerves seemed to set themselves ablaze, white knuckled fingers curling in on themselves. At the very moment the boy wished for the end of his brief existence, an end to the pain of being, it stopped, as suddenly as it had come, and then there was only darkness.

Once again opening his eyes, Alea stared with wonder at the sight laid before him. A velvet blanket, studded with jewels of silver. The night sky, seen for the first time by virgin eyes The scene took away breath the boy was unused to taking, a deep and primal longing rising in his chest. No, it was far deeper, far worse than that. A sense of seperation. Of eternal and unexplained loss; the destruction of a connection that could never be undone.

Without a thought, the boy's right hand raised itself to the stars, the constellations above reflected in his silver eyes, a single tear rolling from them. Cold against his skin, it fell forgotten to the floor as the boy gazed up at his own hand, suddenly intent on his own slim fingers and golden brown skin. Reaching up with his left hand, pushing the thumb into the soft skin of his palm, Alea's mouth split into a smile of wonderment.

Climbing to his feet, the boy looked down, taking in his own nakedness completely without shame. Searching hands moved over his body, prodding at firm flesh, then running up and through the crop of white blond hair atop his head. Eyes shutting, absorbed completely in the sensation of touch, Alea took a step back, his foot finding a different sensation to the dirt around him. Turning, he peered down at the bolt of crimson cloth laid on the ground before him, a slim, glossy black bracelet laid in the centre of it. Placing the bracelet to one side, Alea reached for the cloth, flourishing it in the air like a bullfighter before wrapping it around himself, the movements coming from some deep, instinctual place.

Clad now in a scarlet robe, he bent down for the bracelet, a voice breaking the silence around him, faint from distance, but strident and true.

"Daladi!"

Without looking round, he slid the bracelet over his left wrist, the jewellery feeling at once intensely familiar and incredibly alien, then turned to face the direction the voice had come from, taking in the world around him for the first time. Nothing but barren rock greeted him, the only break in the near featurelessness a spire in the distance, perhaps a mile away. Squinting, Alea could just make out several figures near the summit.

Intense curiosity overtook him, a burning desire to get closer to these other beings. To understand. Without thinking, Alea shut his eyes, the awareness of his mind crossing the distance in a fraction of a second. A sudden feeling ran through him, of every atom in his body giving a single violent tremor, the breath leaving his lungs, and then peace.

Opening his eyes, Alea's boyish smile widened as he reached out, fingers running along the glassy sides of the formation, gazing up at the people who had, until a fraction of a second ago, been several minutes walk away. This was good. This was right. With incredible care, the boy stepped up to the spire and began to climb.

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 7:18 pm

Cern had been staring downwards after his shout of remembrance, letting his eyes soak up every detail of this place. He already knew, before reaching the top, that something was wrong. Something about this place looked wrong. He didn't know what would look right but he was sure that it looked wrong now. However, this line of thought did not last long. Soon after his own shout, coming so quickly that it almost mingled with his, a second shout echoed over the stone, proclaiming the name of this place.

The young godling looked quickly around, searching for whatever had made the noise but found nothing. The for some reason, he looked upwards and and saw a glowing form in the sky. It was shaped like him mostly with arms, a head, a body and legs. Its feet looked different but the figure was too far away to be sure. It also had a number of things sticking out of it's sides. However that most shocking thing about the figure was that it was made of light! Different kinds of light at that! Most of it's body was a silver-white color, like the little lights in the sky but the things sticking off it were ....golden. he had no idea why he thought it the things were golden but it seemed to right to describe the color in that way.

Then there was a third shout, followed by a forth in the same voice. Cern spun around to seeing the back of a much larger figure leaping away from him, with too many arms! Before he could much more then blink, the figure had fallen and then there was yelling. The stone spire shook, as it was being pounded. Then it stopped, as did the yelling. For a moment the silence returned and then was broken by laughter. As he took a few steps towards the ledge where the third figure had disappeared over, it came back, landing on the stone before him and announcing that it was called Zaccio.

"I..." said Cern and then he hesitated, unsure of how to complete his sentence and then he knew the problem. He didn't know his name or at the very least he couldn't remember it. For a moment, his face scrunched up, as he concentrated on everything he remembered. The figure of light, the name of this place, the climb up the spire, waking up, father's roar, mother whispering to him as she set him upon the rocky self. What had she told him? it was his name, he was sure of it but what had she said?

"I am Cern" the young godling said suddenly and triumphantly, a broad smile crossing his face.

The swaddling cloth was still tucked under his arm, as he had no shame in his naked form, for he did not know what shame was. As far as he was concerned, the cloth was something to sleep in, not wear about on his body. Now that he had gotten pasted the extra pair of arms that the figure...no, that Zaccio had, he stared curiosity at the glittering scale that was wrapped around his brother's waist.

Skallagrim · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Skallagrim** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 9:50 pm

Absence, abandonment, anger. Deep in a fitful slumber the coiled form shuddered and lashed out, sharp talons grasping, straining, struggling to hold fast on a diminishing dream. A moment of happiness, a moment of absolute peace suddenly ripped from the child that lay huddled along the base of a mountain. Slate skin blending with the shale, wicked, agonizing screeching as talons raked the rough surface, digging, tearing deep crevasses in the stone. A lingering caresses, a fleeting touch of the mother figure now gone. A snarling, followed by a growl, deep and throaty, then a scream as Zotikos surged from the moment.

Ocher eyes flared as the faint twinkle of the distant dream fluttered over head, a million points, a million haunting reminders of a mother now gone. Rolling over into a crouch the lanky child brooded a moment as the yellow eyes drank in the world. A flicker of a red tongue over the small teeth as the child peered closely at the rough surface around him. Standing on wobbly legs, muscles unused protested the movements, struggled to remain coiled, causing the boy to topple backward and down the slope into a cloud of dust. Coughing, and swatting at the debris, Zotikos roared in anger and humiliation as he cast a baleful gaze upon his legs. A snarl escaped his lips as he pounded one then the other until he could feel his fists hammering at his legs. With another howl he struggled to his feet. Crouching low, the silver-blue hair fluttered in the slight breeze. Casting about, the boy peered up again at the vast expanse above him. Slowing rising to his feet, the boy gazed about him, his tongue flickered again, darting between his teeth as he rubbed his nose.

Peering about he found that he was in a deep bowl, the yellow eyes bright against the gray skin as Zotikos touched the wall before him. Tracing his hand along the rough surface he walked the entire perimeter until he came upon a slight incline leading up in a winding trail out. Slowly, every so slowly he climbed, every step gave him confidence as he moved from the place of his awakening. Rising out he looked over the rest of the dark and dreary world he was placed upon, Daladi. A smile crossed his lips as Zotikos inhaled deeply the air and shuddered, even now he could feel the warmth that had left him here. Crouching low, the boy wept for a long moment as he saw in his mind's eye the face of his mother. Finally as the last tear fell, Zotikos looked skyward, his eyes encompassing the majesty above him, raising up he stared and then spat on the rough ground around him. “Never again shall I weep...”

Kohananinja · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Kohananinja** on Tue Jul 13, 2010 10:42 pm

To her chagrin, Aislinn found most of the world to be the same; dark, hard, and dreary in limited shades of brown, black and grey. There had been no more wonders like her red clay, and she began to grow lonely as there was no one to talk to or share her discovery. She missed mother, and wondered for a moment why she would leave them in such a place, so devoid of light and so utterly…lacking. For a moment she wondered if her mother would return, but in her heart Aislinn knew she would not. Stinging moisture welled in her eyes at the thought of never seeing mother again, but she quickly wiped them away with furious hands, as she stubbornly refused to cry. If mother would leave her here, there was a reason, so Aislinn was determined to find more of these world’s treasure, no matter how well hidden they may be.

Aislinn did not know how long she walked, as such consciousness for the passing of time was still yet beyond her, but she soon came to the bottom of a mountain, and a bowl shaped crevasse. At the edge, there was a boy with silver blue hair and yellow eyes somewhat similar to her own, and he was…crying. The word came to her before the understand of what it meant. Was he left by mother too, was he sad like she had been? But he also seemed…angry, as he spit at the ground and glared at the sky.

Despite this, curiosity demanded she learn more of this boy, and Aislinn was starved for company. So she approached him, her glowing light form exuding warmth from her smile. I…I am Aislinn. Would you like to play with me and my clay?” She asked, hesitating only a moment as she remembered the name mother had given her, and holding out her red mouldable rock that was at the moment twisted into an intricate knotted shape.

ValaunDae'Voth · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **ValaunDae'Voth** on Wed Jul 14, 2010 12:29 am

Cycnus opened his black,void-like eyes in a flash,pain tore through his body,from his head too his feet. It was all he knew at the moment,and in truth it was everything he had ever known. With a groan escaping his pale lips,he rolled onto his back and took a few large,deep breaths and sat up.
After a few brief smile broke out across his gaunt,pale face as the pain he had been feeling went away,but for some reason he felt wrong without it,since it was everything he knew at this point.

He looked around,seeing only the entrapping,nigh impenetrable darkness that surrounded him. He smiled broader for he found the darkness comforting,almost holy.

And the silence!

Though he did not know the word,the peace,and silence all around him made him almost drunk with joy. He swooned slightly as he stood,and took his first,wavering steps.
Rock and debris fall from his body as he shook his large wings and looked around.

With his deific senses he noted that he was in a hole,a crater to be more precise,and the were blood pool around him that softened the ground around he,the ground itself devouring it's prize thirstily.

After standing,he stretched,joints popping and cracking back into place,as he let out a loud yawn,and moved his hands before him,noting the large claws on his hands and bare feet. He smiled at the sight of his large,metallic brown wings,which he gave another flap before looking around once more.

"Daladi"

The name came too him like a whisper traveling through the winds,as though something wanted him to know the name,for now that he heard it's whisper in his mind thought himself foolish for having forgotten what his scarcely remembered father had said.

Smiling again as his godly senses picked up distant voice,he stood,planting his foot where had lain only a moment before and was surprised when his foot began to sink.

"How curious...",he mumbled too himself in a harsh whisper,"Why...?"

He heaved once and pulled his foot free and a curious expression crossed his frightfully gaunt face,after a moment he shrugged too himself and dug the front of his four rows of teeth into his surprising strong and sturdy hand. The experience sent a jolt of pain and pleasure up his spine as he poured more of his divine,blackish blood into the crater,slowly allowing the hungry dirt eat it up.

Soon after he was satisfied with his little experiment,well more bored than satisfied,he wanted to do it to something else and see if the same result would happen.

After crawling out of the crater,Cycnus began a brisk jog towards the sounds of voices. After a few minutes he began flapping his wings,propelling himself faster forward before a crazy idea struck him. He leaped into the air as he ran,catching the wind rush around his large wings. A large grin came too his face as he flapped them more and found he was moving much faster and easier than when walking. This sent a shock of exhilaration up his spine and a small,cold laugh escaped his mouth as he streaked forward.

Had there been light,it would have shown that the darkness clung to fledgling god like a great shroud,which would have made him almost appear as a giant black cloud,streaking across the barren landscape. As he flew he noted a large,rocky spur and heard voices coming from that direction,and with another powerful thrust of his enormous wings he was hurtling up the side,and towards the voices,eventually coming to hover some twenty feet away from the strange pair of beings now conversing with one another.

At the sight of one's cloven feet his withered face contorted into a looked of profound curiosity as he regarded that one's feet and then his own,wondering why they were so different.

"G...greetings",he said,his harsh voice still coming out as a raspy whisper,"Cycnus is the name I remember,and you seem familiar too me."

Skallagrim · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Skallagrim** on Wed Jul 14, 2010 6:42 am

A strange stirring on the edge of his senses, a niggling in the back of his mind as he felt...someone? Whipping around quickly, his body taut and his taloned hands low, fingers extended, his eyes flaring slightly as he sought the presence. Around his form a swirl of dust and shadow, obfuscating his body slightly in the gloom.

“I…I am Aislinn. Would you like to play with me and my clay?” said the form,a glowing figure. Zotikos' tongue flickered between his teeth as he felt a lingering of mother upon the form. The form held out a hand and within was a reddish material that roiled and coiled about itself in an intricate form. Aislinn? Lowering his head a moment, his eyes blazing, never leaving Aislinn, there was kinship, a familiarity with this creature. What was the word whispered to him before the warmth left him? In a raspy, guttural voice he spoke, “I am...Zotikos." Looking at his hand he stammered, "I... I have no clay.”

Looking around him he saw the shadows drawn close to his form, reaching down he touched the shades of gray and black that embraced him, the solidity of it all seemed familiar, seemed a part of him. A toothy smile spread across his face as he excitedly looked up at Aislinn, “I have this...” As he spoke he lifted the shadowy stuff up as if it were a solid object and held it out towards the girl. “I do not know what to call it yet, these motes of darkness.” Even as he spoke the dark mass writhed and pulsed, swirling around his hand and slide along his forearm, roiling up along his body merging with the other shadows and gloom that swirled around his legs. The silver scales that girded parts of his body scintillated and flickered as the shadows pulsed and around him. His ears flicked a moment as his grin expanded “I would like to play.”

Bounding towards the girl, trailing the shadowy stuff behind him, Zotikos landed before her, his ocher eyes bright, as he examined the girl? Why did he call her a girl? Straightening, he cocked his head to the side, his ears flickering again as he peered closely at Aislinn. She was different, her scent different from his. “Let us play.”

Gabriel_Whist · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Gabriel_Whist** on Wed Jul 14, 2010 7:08 am

Despite his cries, no one came. Coyotl grew tired of playing alone, in the mud, the wonder gone, leaving him feeling older, and colder. Inside and out. None had come to find him when he called, he felt as abondoned by his unknown siblings as he did by his mother, stretching across the skies above them. Coyotl tired of being alone. So he reached into the mud all around him, and he made a figurine out of it, drying it with his breath, so that it was made up of the stone of this world, and the breath and tears of Coyotl. The figurine was similar to him, with big hands and fur, yet changes that seemed interesting to Coyotl's young mind, such as large hands for feet as well, and a tail. This first one he set upon his shoulder, to keep safe, and then continued building more. He created all manner of figurines in the mud, in different shapes, and different sizes, and when he was done, he blew them dry, and bored once more, walked away.

He walked for miles and miles, always aimed at the starry night sky, yet never reaching it, finding only more barren rock between him and his mother's bosom. Frustrated, Coyotl decided he must build a bridge from the ground to the heavens, yet did not know how. In his head he envisioned ways, things that did not exist before him, and as they took root in his mind, he felt them to be as real as the world around him. Curling up on the cold, unforgiving stone ground, he let himself drift into his own mind, into the imagining thing, and for the first time in history, he dreamed. He dreamed of soft things covering the earth, making it comfortable to lay upon, he dreamed of tall beautiful things reaching towards the heavens, that he might one day see his mother again. He dreamed of all his clay creations, keeping him company. He even dared to dream of brothers and sisters, fellow beings to share this rock with. And while Coyotl lay dreaming, the world began to change.

Duchessa · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Duchessa** on Wed Jul 14, 2010 9:51 am

Jhera watched, purple eyes bright with curiosity, as more and more of his brothers – yes, that was a good word for what they were - like him but not-him - better than thing, certainly – congregated below on that glass summit.

He began to feel somewhat left out – not that flight was a bad thing, and nor was the vastness of the cosmos overhead – and so he soared down, the light bringing them into better, clearer focus as he descended.

They looked so odd, so different from the image of himself Jhera held in his head. One of them looked mostly similar, but he had odd feet – they looked more slender and angled, harder and glossier than his own – and some sort of fuzziness around his ankles. His forehead bulged a bit, too, as if there were things underneath his skin straining to get out – Jhera ran a quick hand over his own head, but there was nothing like that on him, just his hair and the tiny pair of wings sprouting from amid the blonde tresses.

The second one, now he looked truly strange – how could he see, Jhera wondered – the place where his eyes should have been was just blank and dark and empty, and he was so tall, too. He looked like he could blend in with the rocks around him, a total contrast to the luminescence of Jhera himself and the slightly darker shades of the cloven-footed one next to him.

The third and last was a mix of comfortingly almost-familiar and jarringly new. He had wings, and shed light – but they were brown and looked like they’d been bound up and he only had two of them, and all his light seemed to come from a single bright mass around his head.

His hands were long, and they finished in much sharper points; Jhera looked at his own chubby and rounded digits with their silvery nails and wondered if they might look better all pointy. He decided against it in the end.

While grace on the wing might have been imparted to him as one of the basest instincts, the art of landing was something altogether different; his wings awkwardly mashed the air, setting him tumbling for a moment before bringing him to a mildly ungainly halt a few inches above the plateau a little way from his brothers.

He gave them a slightly unfocused smile, a friendly though mildly confused beam from between cherry-red lips. His violet eyes whirled dizzyingly, a maelstrom of shade and hue.

“Hello there,” he began, and then stopped, again mildly surprised at his own bell-like voice, full of silvery echoes. He’d thought that might have been the awakening cave turning everything back on him, but no.

“I am Jhera.” His name had been ringing in the vaults of his mind since he awoke, a gentle but insistent reminder. Names were important, he felt instinctively – and his had been Mother’s gift. He felt proud for having remembered it. “Who are you? Do you know who’s climbing up the side?”

Kohananinja · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Kohananinja** on Wed Jul 14, 2010 11:37 am

Zotikos, Aislinn repeated in her mind with a friendly smile. He was so different from her, with his cloven feet and silver scales, yet she felt an odd sense of rightness about him, like they were supposed to meet and they had nothing to fear from one another. Kinship, she supposed was the word. And he was her brother, she knew in that instant, for if nothing else the silver scales just like father’s proclaimed their link.

“I… I have no clay.” Zotikos stammered to her, and for a moment she was afraid he might not play with her because of it. Surely they could…share? Yes, share, that was the word. She would not mind to share her clay. Or perhaps she could find another brown rock, and if she squeezed it again it might make more clay. But Zotikos rectified the problem himself, for he himself had his own wonder. Aislinn stared in amazement as he held the darkness, and it slithered and pulsed around him. Never had the dark motes so much as flinched in her presence, but then her skin seemed to exude starlight, so how could the darkness ever hope to touch her by itself?

Still, it was no less stunning a marvel, and Aislinn smiled enthusiastically as Zotikos bounded over with his moving solid darkness. When he stood before her, she noticed as he examined her, and Aislinn did the same. He was taller than her, though not by a great deal much, and his skin was grey with those lovely silver scales. She also noticed at the top of his head two little bumps, and she reached up to gently touch them. They felt nice, and she briefly wondered why she had no bumps. Perhaps it was something only boys had.

“What shall we play Zotikos?” Aislinn asked with excitement, as she tried to think of a game to play with her clay and his darkness.

klikxx · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **klikxx** on Wed Jul 14, 2010 12:29 pm

Segment by segment the yellowish white tubular godling unfurled upon the tattered pile of loose scales. The stale aroma cast by the discarded objects beneath was unmistakable yet oddly faint as it stretched its tiny leg pairings and opened its maw wide in anticipation of the next feeding. Yet, for some unknown reason the nourishing life liquid was withheld. Reluctantly, Gorta mustered the effort to focus its sight in the dim light produced by his mother’s sparkling body.

“Squawreeeak” came the piercing cry from the neglected youngster. “Squawreeaek!” A more intensified wail followed the first, and another in a ceaseless chorus of pleas for attention. But the insistent cries of the deserted lifeform carried on unanswered eventually dwindling to a sniveling whimper behind shed tears of hunger and abandonment. Once again the tiny legs retracted close to the soft skin as Gorta curled up into a tight secure ball and cried itself into a deep sleep.

Sharp intense pains dug at its sides pulled the undefined being rudely back to awakened thought. There was no denying it was hungry. The magnitude and building severity of the unpleasant contractions rippling through its stomach built up the urgency to have the issue addressed. It always had a voracious appetite; Mother knew that. “Why does she not feed me?

Gorta interrupted its pursuit of self pity long enough to turn over from its back and begin scrounging through the littered remains of Alelio’s provisional nest with its beak-like mandibles. Desperately it searched for some edible crumb that may have been left behind. The offerings were scarce eventually picking up a piece of broken claw it had found. Throwing back its head it quickly ingested the tiny morsel. The diminutive organic scrap did little to satisfy the hollow hunger deep within its belly. With the meagre rations within the nest consumed the search soon turned towards alternate sources.

NorthernSoul · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **NorthernSoul** on Wed Jul 14, 2010 1:09 pm

In the darkness, the stars that had once been scales cast their muggy light over the embryonic land beneath them, illuminating only the suggestion of shape and texture. This virgin air had never known hot blazing light, never seen itself cast in crystalline colour, exacting in its line and form. All it knew were impressions of itself, painted by this strange indistinct light. What might look like a cliff to one, overhanging in shaggy mosses and dripping with moisture, might be the gleam of a pebbled beach to another.

But in the midst of this ambiguity, there was another kind of light. It arose from just a few stars clustered together, or perhaps it came from something else entirely. Either way, this light was stronger, clearer, more focused, but just as fragile as its hazy counterpart. Its rays were as thin as hairs and bent and refracted together to form silky threads that shivered silver. Like rope, this threads wound together, each part coming together to form a greater whole until... There, a cocoon hung like a heat mirage in the darkness.

The cocoon was still for a time until, with the panicked jolt of a person waking from sleep, a pair of slender hands tore at the coalesced threads and Nuha emerged, falling backwards to the ground with a dull thud.

Pain was an unpleasant sensation, she realised. As she lay on the ground, looking up at the stars. But she did not wish it away. Wishing away a sensation just because it was momentarily unpleasant would not enrich her; she was newborn, a blank canvas to be splashed with paint. Taking away a particular colour from an artist would not make for a better picture; the darker paints were required to create relief.

Pale, light... Nuha looked up at that from which she had come. The empty cocoon hung there, motionless, like a deflated balloon with a light inside all of its own.

She pursed her lips together and blew. The cocoon wavered for a moment, then caught the zephyr of her breath, flying with astonishing rapidity up into the night. Through some trick of perception, it did not grow smaller with distance, but instead loomed bigger until, its destination reached, it stopped. There it shone with a stark, bone-white glow. The moon had been created.

Daladi.

The thought carried, from somewhere beyond where Nuha had fallen to the earth. Instinctively, she knew it was the name of this place she found herself in and was filled with curiosity, not about Daladi, but about who had given it a name. Why did a thing have to have a name? Shouldn't a name arise from the experiences unique to an individual, or else risk chaining it to a pre-given role or image? Or perhaps the latter would be useful?

Picking up the confusion of thought and sentience like a scent, Nuha followed it. She did not need to walk; she knew this instinctively too. But she wanted to see what it felt like. Soon, she neared the clamour and looked down upon its sources. Rather than approach them or talk to them, she sat down, curling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on her knees and watched the beings she knew to be like her.

Litria Death · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Litria Death** on Wed Jul 14, 2010 1:10 pm

After the barrage of voices, Milekia grew frantic in escaping the dark, slick hole she had let herself fall into. Her fingers moved like hungry spiders as she clung to the rocky wall, finding it rather difficult to gain purchase as she hurriedly pulled herself up. She felt angry at how heavy she felt; moving her arms weren't as difficult as moving all of her. She shouldn't be having such a hard time, yet, soon after, she realized how ridiculous it was to become this frustrated; she needed logic and reasoning, common sense and strategy. These strange words buzzed in her mind, causing a set determination to sizzle within her, pumping thick like blood through her elongated limbs. Slowly, easily, she grouped the wall for a handhold, finding a stable one not too long after, then, with great ease, pulled her body up with all her might.

She repeated this method more times than she could recall without an issue before she had reached a shelf within the rock. She wasn't certain if it was the top, nor if it was the place she had awoken at, but, at least for now, she could stop and rest. She should've marked the area with something, or left something of hers behind. Yet, what did she have that she could've left? The cloth around her body was too warm and comforting to remove, and, only then, did she notice the shining, white-blue object that encircled her dark haired head. With an amazing amount of wonder, she gently uncrowned the thing from her brow, holding it delicately in her lovely hands, studying the beautiful item with the care of an artist with his mentor's masterpiece.

In this moment, she had a vision from the past; a gorgeously crafted beam of white light, a sudden smile that sent a painful longing of love prickle her heart, then, stopping on this image, a tiny, precious infant with ink-black curls, suckling on a narrow finger. The finger withdrew from the child's mouth, the baby softly wailing, then, the finger returned, attached to a hand yet accompanied by another, held the same glittering, magnificent head wreath, gingerly bestowing it on the baby's head.

"For my darling, baby girl, Milekia..."

Milekia shot back to the present like an arrow, gasping at the deep pockets of her own mind, and how she couldn‘t journey consciously back to these past times. She drew her knees close, hugging them with a taut fear. Fear… She didn‘t like this word; it made her feel weak and unable to act, and she wasn‘t happy with not being about to operate upon something. She hid her slender, white face into her lap, letting her dark locks fall around her like a curtain. She wanted the fear to go away, to just dissolve from her, and strangely enough it did. She soon witnessed a most intriguing shape-no, more than one-rising through the rocky terrain, along with an odd, much shorter form following it. Once it grew below her, she soon cried out, surprised and utterly shocked; the hard, cold stone was gone, replaced with soft, delicate gentleness. She pressed her ginger hands upon it, trying to take it all in, feel its pure, fragile configuration. She was simply astonished, wholly amazed at what had, at her random, appeared from the rock. She had to find its source! With an incredible leap, Milekia balanced herself atop a needle of rock, glancing around for the crafter of such fine, refined subtleness. Soon, her eyes met a figure molded onto the ground, furled up like a sphere. She watched it, studied it with curious, appealing eyes of shimmering hues of purple. She debated going down to him, or staying up here and... and speaking to him. She thought hard, creasing her lovely face, but then instantly had an answer.

"H-hello?" Her voice was a soft, gentle shower of petals from a tree, a calm, silent rain hitting damp grass, and it rang out through the land despite how quietly she spoke this. She hadn't noticed before, but the forms she saw before grew thickest here, and it made her heart sing as she scanned the them. "How magnificent..."

Music · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Music** on Wed Jul 14, 2010 1:28 pm

Khilia quickly grew bored of sitting in darkness, amidst silence. So, instead of pouting any longer, she stood, then realized what it was that caused her head to be so heavy - the long, strange hair, golden in color, had caught on several pieces of gravel. Frightened, the girl mussed up her hair, trying to rid it of the substance. Frenzied, she began running, away from that awful place.

Running also lost its appeal after Khilia was halfway around the mountain, so she simply walked. She stared at her skin and at the strange cloth she had been wearing since the beginning, grateful for the substance that seemed to reflect the scales in the sky. She could stand to be in darkness if she also had light on her own flesh.

Suddenly, she stumbled. At her feet were hundreds of tiny figurines, small enough to fit into her hand.

And they were alive.

Leaning down, she saw that they were half made of mud - they had been created by something else - but slowly, slowly, they were twisting and churning on the solid ground.

But the ground was not solid, and as Khilia looked around, she realized that an expanse of soft surface spread, slowly, throughout the land.

Curious, she knelt to the ground where the figurines were. She wanted to figure out what they were. Picking up one, she watched, fascinated, as it slowly came to life. However, as mud turned to flesh at its throat and mouth, it let out a long, piercing scream, clearly in pain. Panicking, Khilia picked up the thing and threw it, as far as she possibly could.

The scream stopped. Khilia smiled, satisfied.

The next thing that she examined did not scream in pain, much to her relief. However, it struggled in her grip to stand. Its creator had given it five legs, one of which hung uselessly from its rear end, weighing it down and pulling it over. Picking up more mud, she decided to help it out. She formed wings with the mud, and when she was done, the wings became flesh and the creature flew away (presumably toward its creator) and Khilia muttered, "Dragos," naming it. It was very similar to Father, so it had a very similar title.

Then, bored once more, Khilia began running, this time with the intention of reaching the edge of the world. She wanted to know everything about this place - how far it reached, what its features were, and how one could leave it.

In the Youth of the Gods

a topic in Fantasy Roleplay, a part of the RPG forum.

In the Youth of the Gods

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