MOKO Round 2 part 1Renata was tired. It was a deep, aching weariness that pushed into her all the way to her marrow, like what one felt before the onset of a great illness—and yet, she didn’t sleep.
For peace of mind, she had told herself more than once that it was Hades that was the cause of her insomnia. If in death life’s necessities were absent, it only made sense for its comforts to be gone as well. It was only a matter of time before that theory was disproven, however, as in the back of her mind she began to feel the anxious niggling of fatigue.
With her body lying prone in the tall, pale brush of the Asphodel Fields, head resting on the field's beaten down path and hair spun beneath her so that her arms didn’t touch the ground, the succubus tried to sleep. She tried to close her eyes for more than a moment at a time. She tried to get some rest. The succubus squeezed her eyelids shut, and pushed her head into the make-shift pillow of her arms, trying to force herself into u
PHOCT Round 1 p2"Sorry."
Someone uttered it to Renata as they shoved past her, almost knocking her to the ground. She would have liked to make them say it to her face, but in this madness, no one looked at her long enough to be affected by her glamor, and no one gave her the time of day. Not that she gave anyone else the same courtesy.
A few times, people who referred to themselves as members of the 'fleet' or something to that effect tried to order the masses into lines and groups and hair colours or whatever else they could think of, but it hadn't yet worked. Renata suspected it never would, either.
She remembered the boat she had taken to America decades ago had been this way. Dirty. Tight. Filled with the suffering, the dying, and the dead. Of course, everyone here was dead, but that was merely a technicality. At least then, she could take comfort in the strength of her own body, unburdened by the diseases that plagued the humans at her side. Now she didn't have that luxury. Not when she was carry
PHOCT Round 1 pt 1Renata did not know how long she had been waiting. None of the masses of beings that moved passed her, neither human and devil and beast, knew either, and she had asked a few. There was no sun in this place. There was light, yes--she did not know where it come from, but it was a dead sort of light, like the silver sheen shed by the moonbut no sky. And though she had awoken on a shore that edged cool, dark waters, there was no hint that the place had ever seen a tide, and so there was no way to measure the passing of the days. Only the fact that with every hour, the cavern in which they stood took on more people, and more chaos.
When she had first come to in the darkness, still hacking away on the smoke that had killed her in the end, she hadn't even been sure that she was dead. The place was wrong, after all. Not like the hell that had been so long described to her by the people who eventually became her murderers. Maybe she should have known that from the start. What did humans
Phosphorus/Stark E6 p2Sometime in the night, the ground began to shake.
Ganymede hadn't gone to sleep, so he was already wide awake when he raised his head off the loamy earth he had been resting on, lying with Havelock while waiting for flowers to bloom. They had stayed in roughly the same place the last few nights, in part because the Stantler had unknowingly exhausted himself while hauling away the trees that had originally dotted the horizon, and was just trying to sleep it out. It wasn't working.
The Stantler's ears swiveled, searching for the source of the rumbling, and he found it was coming from beneath him. A burrowing ground type, he thought, and glanced at Havelock for confirmation.
The child seemed in the process of conferring with the weeds when he slowly teetered onto his little feet, and stepped out from Ganymede's folded front legs without explanation. Ganymede realized almost immediately that that was reason enough to follow suit, and did so promptly. To Havelock's credit, the rumbling in t
Renata's StoryRenata had always believed herself to be born of fire and brimstone. Though she had been relentlessly accused of it by man, she had never known hell, never been there, and didn't even know if she would ever go there. But after so long of being called an artifact of the devil, she started to believe it, and had worked tirelessly for all her centuries to rain damnation on the mortal realm, even if that only meant tempting them over to her side and into her bed.
She had still never known hell.
Now she did.
She ran through the broken cobbled streets of the little backwards town she had been preying for the last half decadeit was so small, she had known every inch of it. Though she could never feel safe around people who called her slut and whore and harlot, not even knowing what she was, what she really was, she had been comfortable there in its nooks and crannies, hiding amongst the things that hid in the dark. There was no darkness now and nowhere to go. There was only flame and sm