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Post by Kyurem "Vanadis Grímsson" on Mar 12, 2014 2:15:21 GMT -5
Spring was here! Fangs gnashed angrily at the first signs. Yellow eyes narrowed when grass, which had wilted a bit in the cooler weather, began to grow again. The first signs of allergies, from a client with watery eyes and a dripping nose, had drawn heels, which screeched, up a metal table leg.
This damned region was too hot! Arceus wished to bring her pain! It did not need a spring or supposed summer. Its winter was merely a lukewarm imitation of the true thing. Snow was fake. The cold was not cold. Kyurem, whose legends did not speak of her unlimited patience and generosity (as neither existed in that quantity), became far more miserable in these warmer months. Summer drew her irritability through every grey scale like sweat. Spring was a mild annoyance that motivated sarcasm, angry snapping, and the telltale cold aura that surrounded her when the weather was above freezing.
The lake was not her standard choice of locale. It was part of work. A catalog wanted pictures of a woman, in their swimsuit, and Vanadis had chosen to take the job. Her silver hair had been tugged by the annoying breeze. Eyelashes had scraped her eyes with each blink. Luckily, unlike some of the other girls who had been hired, she did not shiver or show discomfort. The model, face feral at the chirping photographer as he asked her to turn around, waded into the lake. Two hours later, dry and not overly bothered by changing her clothes, the woman had emerged in little more than the bikini. Muscles, which were laced with a few scars from something akin to a giant cat, moved her toward the lake again.
Something had caught her keen and hungered gaze. The dragon did not hate water. Ice was water. Snow was water. The liquid could offer sanctuary from heat in summer. It was the type of water: surrounded by loud children, placid, and dotted with green slime. The wild waters outside, without human waste bobbing on their surface in little daisy chains, had better prey and were far more primal.
Oddly enough, as most would not suspect it from the dragon, there was one aspect of spring she enjoyed: flowers. While such delicate things seemed at odds with the winter goddess, especially as they heralded the coming of warmer weather, she admired them. The animalistic her, known for its lack of culture and its living of life with its stomach, had just ground the little splashes of color into dirt. The centuries, including meeting one particular tiny human, had shown her that they had their own beauties. While she did not care to know their full names, a flower was still a flower if you called it with Latin, Vanadis was aware of this one.
The woman moved up behind Shaymin. Like the hunter, silent on the grass and wet sand, she stalked. Frost, the tiniest rivulets of it, flowed out from her sandals. Her skin , tanned by some silly human powder, rippled in her growing reflection. The expression, like the grip of an eternal winter, was cold and hungry. Something akin to emptiness was reflected within the eyes colored like sulfur smoke. Her lips lifted briefly as she sniffed at the human beside the lake. Clawed Fignertips closed around one of the tiny flowers beside the lake. While she controlled her temperature, attempting to save the fragile blossom, it quickly froze. Little bits of glitter, ice from the crushed flower, dropped to the ground.
The second petal she pulled at, tiny in her hands, suffered the same fate. The wind twisted it into dust. “I have forgotten its name.” While her voice was detached, her eyes still cold and unsympathetic, the woman was making an attempt at humor.
The water shook. Her Mamoswine, who seemed uncomfortable in this heat, leaned over to snff at the disguised grass-type. “What are you doing out here?” The question could have been directed at either goddess. The sand crumbled beneath his feet.
“Looking at stupid flowers.” One reason few knew of her love of flowers, aside from simple assumptions, was Vanadis herself. It was not a weaknesses she would easily admit to. The woman rolled back to her feet in one smooth motion. Many found her lack of blinking disconcerting. Sulfur eyes, which had a hidden second eyelid, drifted closed. The monkeys did the oddest things.
Why did this girl smell familiar? Shaymin smelled like allergies. Disgusting.
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Post by Kyurem "Vanadis Grímsson" on Mar 19, 2014 12:18:45 GMT -5
Sulfuric eyes watched the odd behavior. Muscles remained tense as she approached the smaller god; her powerful legs, which were corded with thick muscles, were ready to lash out at a second’s notice. The mostly human nails, which tipped each finger, were now ice cold daggers. Just because the thing was tiny, and could be put between her toes and squished, did not mean she should turn her back. Humans were barely bigger. They caused trouble. The arc of the flower, as it drifted to the surface f the lake, drew bewilderment from the yellow eyes. Her head shook for a moment—frost plumed outward. Why throw the flower into the lake? It was pointless. Stupid little god had stupid little brain.
Lips lifted slightly, exposing human teeth, when the Espeon stared. The gesture, on human features, seemed strange and out of place. Vanadis was asserting her authority—the weaker female must back down. The dog was not allowed to gaze at her like a curiosity on a shelf. Kyurem had eaten peole for less—if rumors were to be believed.
Cold. With each silent breath, the frigidity spread.
A body that shivered. It did not seem to be a produt of the cold. Was that fear? The sweet scent drew hunger from the pits of her stomach. She had eaten; her stomach calmed.
Human nostrils flared in a pale face; it was hidden by silvery stands.. The woma smelled like a tiny flowershop—if you mixed it with spring and allergies. It was nearly enough to make the other goddess sneeze. The dull and empty eyes continued to peer down at the hedgehog.
Weakness. She saw little more than weakness in Shaymin—it was unlikely she needed to be cautious.. The squeaky voice trembled when the grass-type spoke. It was annoying. Humans likely laughed at puny gods like this.
When the walking plant spoke again, half-shouting a forbidden word, a threatening growl rumbled deep in the ice-type’s chest. “No.” Claws flashed a brilliant white. Sulfuric eyes turned to view the crowds around the pond. She would have to eat anyone that heard her name. “Vanadis, not that, hedgehog.” This thing was too prickly to kill or devour. The goddess was not in this land by choice; her master required it and now it was impossible to leave. Humans had destroyed and deviled her cavern. The sulfuric eyes, who were present at the outskirts of all the legendary meetings, knew the scents of her brethren. She could scent them from a distance—her stomach could track them.
She had recognized it as joking. Maybe the tiny goddess had a large brain. Good. The ice-type watched as the flowers turned to powdery snow. The third time she drew forth a plant, into her cool palms, it did not crumble. “It is senseless name—not easy to forget.” Humans rarely made sense when they chose monikers. Some were in Latin. Some, like black grapes, inaccurate. Some things had four or five names for different circumstances—water, ice, rain. “Humans do not surprise me—all just stupid.” Her claws flexed in the wet sand. Flowers did not predict love. She just wished to hold them—controlling her temperature was difficult.
Movement caught her eye. She would give chase if Shaymin tried to flee. An expression of bemusement briefly flittered across feral features. “You have no shoes.” Sandals had appeared on pale and cold feet. The woman stared at her own feet. The other had tiny things. She would admit, she felt a little pressured under the sight of the other. Dark eyes did not blink; they continuously focused on the gaze of the other goddess. “Why?”
The Mamoswine snorted at the question. He sank into the moist sand beneath his weight. “ You can’t eat them, she don’t like them.” His old ears, which barely heard anything, took a moment to decipher his words. Vanadis held up a hand in silent warning to the pachyderm. Her long teeth showed in a attempt to establish dominance. Blue eyes averted in brown hair. Good.
A fourth flower lifted into her hand. “I called them stupid. Why do you think I like? Stupid is not a compliment.” This time the roots dangled between her fingers. Stroking the silky petals, between her fingertips, she turned back toward the goddess.”Why are you here? Did you follow me?” Twice, air making a noise as it erupted from her lungs, Vanadis sniffed at Shaymin. “Flowers are sometimes pretty—rare where I come form.” It was gruff, and cold, but it was an admission.
Flowers were still stupid.
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Post by Grace "Shaymin" Floret on Apr 7, 2014 0:45:20 GMT -5
Sel
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Feather
EXECUTIVE
Posts: 2,835
OOC Name:: Feather
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Post by Feather on Apr 9, 2014 1:23:02 GMT -5
The embrace of winter was cold, harsh, and long. Vanadis knew that humanity hated winter. She had heard the prayers. The mortals wished that the frigid times would quickly end. They jabbed her with spears. They screamed at her. Fists shook at the darkened grey skies. Kyurem herself found beauty in winter—which had little to do with herself. It was quiet. It did not boast with bursts of color or constant catering to the monkeys. It did not care who listened. The ice-type was the same. She truly wished for winter again—as the humans truly desired springtime.
The claws were reminiscent of icicles. The cuticles were a dappled mixure of white and blue. The sunlight, piercing and violent, showed brightly through the edges. The female had little intention of tearing Shaymin apart. The little hedgehog would barely put a dent in her appetite. The repercussions of it, such as anger from the old goat, were not worth it. The spike in fear, a familiar scnt to the dragoness, reminded her of the finest of perfumes. This runt knew what it needed to fear. It was tiny. It was weak. Vanadis Grimson was not threatened by the tiny figure with peridot eyes and green hair. Winter devoured the other seasons. It was silent and deadly, all I nthe same breath.
The blossom sank to the muck at the bottom of the lake. It slow drowned and found itself pulled into the embrace of the pond. The fish, which left ripples behind their movements nosed the petals. It was not food. People were not throwing bread or unhealthy fried berries—they didn’t care. “….why? Do you know?” Nostrils, which had stretched into something more reptilian, flared at their edges. She had been alive a long time—once part of her brethren—and still found the world bewildering. The sulfuric eyes saw the weakness. This shrub was uncertain of itself. It seemed afraid of the entire world. Spring was spineless. Toe joints rippled. Claws flashed. Moist sand was torn asunder by claws.
Kyurem paid no mind to the cat-thing. It would be even easier to destroy than its mistress. It was farther beneath her notice than any Durant. The Mamoswine on the other hand, feeling strange in the talks of immortals, stared down the Espeon. “……you look comfortable.” His bulky weight was slowly sinking into the embrace of the sand. Thump! His tree-trunk sized leg lifted and resettled itself. The area vibrated.
Vanadis saw little weakness in accepting others for who they were. People were stubborn. People, like repeating stupidity, never changed. Shaymin would likely never succeed at hiding her emotions behind a wall of indifference. The dragoness, outside of a handful of individuals, would likely never conquer her emotions. Idiots had value. Strange springtime entities had their uses—even if it was laughing at them. The word ‘sorry’ would make ltitle difference. The same mistake would like emerge again. Apologies were just empty words. “Do not apologize. It makes you seem weak. Easy to take advantage of.” Could she intimidate this bush into kissing her toes? Amusement, or the prospect of it, nearly tempted her to find out. Lips lifted in a silent snarl. Deciding she had oter things to do, such as courting allies for her master, the dragoness gave a single nod. “Lydia then.” It did not fit.
Temperature fluctuated wildly within this body of icy extremes. It was difficult for her hands, especially her nails, to determine temperature. Only her surroundings, sprouting frost like mold sometimes, informed her that the grip was too frigid. The word ‘humans’ drew wrinkles upon the jagged nose. Her dislike for many of the annoying animals was apparent. “They are stupid. They do the same thng—they wait for something different.” Sulfuric eyes lifted for a moment. “I hate human clothes. Too stuffy—and pointless.” She did not understand the cold.
Suspicion began to cloud the mind of the ancient dragon. What had prompted Shaymin to be here? Was she following the dragoness? Was she against the master? The voice, when it finally emerged, was nearly nothing but a growl. “Why are you here?”
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Post by Kyurem "Vanadis Grímsson" on May 7, 2014 3:23:20 GMT -5
In truth, as the hedgehog was scarcely a foot tall in its natural form, Kyurem would likely crush it before noticing it. The eyes of a predatory, which were set to allow great focus, tended to look forward. Bowing its head, the great head of something like a tiger, was mostly done to tear apart flesh. Bowing to speak to this prey animal was beneath her. Being exiled from the legendary community, or feeling unwanted as her master indicated, resulted in the wintry goddess living on the outskirts. “I have not seen you. I have not looked.” The ivory-haired woman seemed a bit apathetic to the entire situation of age. “Arceus has too. It does make him better.” Lips peeled back in a snarl as her eyes narrowed slightly. The aggression was directed at the god. Hooved-god or not, supposed creator of the universe, the beast had left her to die in the wilderness. “Regardless, it does not matter.” Age would not stop her from destroying her creators. Her siblings were on the list of enemies. “Tch.”
Staring out into the ocean, thoughts moving to various things, Kyurem remained relatively impassive. The sand became icy. In fact, as the conversation continued, the frigidity spread further. It was a sign that she was queen. Dirt would not control her; the Earth would bend to the desires of her will—whether it was the cold or a beach. Feeling eyes on her, dark ones, sulfuric gaze shifted briefly. Dissecting the other goddess, asking what she was after or thinking, the female finally just snorted. It amused her. The gentleness of spring could not understand winter. She likely knew nothing of cruelty and survival. Nostrils expanded. Was that fear in the air? It was delicious—Vanadis could understand its appeal to Darkrai. “You are sinking, Alf. Move.” The Mamoswine, with a snort, took a slow step back.
Peering down at the Espeon, eyes icy blue, the old man snorted. “I am not. Sand is unkind to the muscular ones among us.” Little was to be feared from such a cat; it would be lilac colored jam if he wished it. Staring out at the horizon, with what seemed to be a nostalgic smile, the cantankerous creature took a few moments to respond. Did he agree with the want-to-be-meteorogist’s assessment? “It’s too damned warm outside. I’m too old for this shit.” Beneath his shaggy coat, brown and dotted with scars, wet spots began to emerge. The wintry beast, born for an ice age, did not appreciate the hellish temperature of the new world—well, newer. Feelign the questioning eyes of the feline upon her, probing and annoying, Vanadis spoke. “It is fine. Spring is better than summer.” Both could burn in hell.
The rodent licked her feet. It mindlessly agreed. Weakling. It would be eaten in a proper world. “I am rarely otherwise. If I am, I do not speak.” Words were fewer than most for this dragon. People insisted on prattling—even stupid people. Idiots.
Humans were a mixed bag of spineless, needlessly hardheaded, cruel, overly kind, and moderately tolerable. Regardless, as the latter was a minority for the daughter of ice, the snout wrinkled as if sucking upon something horrifically sour. “It is not kindness that I care for. It is strength and an absence of annoyance. Cruelty is a” The animals pestered her. The child of her agent, a bright-eyed little thing, was full of questions. The humans that did not stab her with sharp-objects, or call into question her master’s worth, were allowed to live. “Yes.” In truth, if Shaymin kept bowing to the dragon, a larger head may soon develop. “Some humans are not worthless.” A flash of pink hair came to her mind.
The heart of the goddess had not thawed. Her master had repeatedly told her to distrust the servants of the goat—he led them astray into stupidity. “It is not winter. It will thaw. Why does it matter?” Sulfuric eyes peered down at her. “I would not follow me.” She would crush the goddess beneath a tiny ivory claw. “ Do not do it.” Peering into the water, deciding to question the spring goddess, the legendary spoke. “Do you know the whereabouts of other family members? The cats.” White-furred miscreants, keeping her master in chains, would die.
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