Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Nh'bdy]

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=The room is still, as is the resident. A figure clad in thickly stitched black and tan clothing sits anon a pillow, his eyes are closed, a tan porcelain mask sitting in his lap, one could infer from the resonating sound that it is late evening, an alien glow is cast by the moon, through an open threshold, a few inches in front of the figure=

A stir, a small movement from deep within the body of this man is quickly followed by the appearance of his eyes. Hazel, they seem to pierce the directly to the glow, after another small stir, the figure rises slowly. A dark cloak seems to wrap around the man as he takes a step towards the night air, the step seeming dull, the strain of the wooden floor light.

Pulling the cloak around him tighter, the face of the figure is visible as he steps onto the veranda. The moon bathes a ghost face in a haunting glow. He appears tired, he appears entranced, as if some grace event is taking place within the halls of this being. Slowly a gloved hand extends from beneath the cloak, caressing the six neatly folded uniforms, each one with a mask, a mirror of the previous, or perhaps the next.

Silently, the hand caresses each mask, lifting it slightly, after a burst of movement a Song-bird manages to escape the porcelain prison, making for the, a single word escaping with every song bird, appearing a strange bright purple in the light of the night. He walks down the line, speaking "Comrade..Syrinx..Poppet..Pandora... The figure pauses, drumming his fingers on the mask, before nodding slowly, releasing the bird with a slight nod, as if conceding.

Finally, his voice is cast into the night, his tone low and raspy, yet carrying some semblance of grave importance..


Go my song birds..with your pilfered sonata, whisper my bitter sweet nothingness into the ears of those whom I have tainted..let your caress be the force that brings them to me. Beckon them with the song that only they know..the song I hummed as I poisoned them, or the cadence I tapped as I tore them to the core.. As he speaks, he lifts the last mask in the line, before the bird can be freed into the night, he takes it, snapping it's neck effortlessly in his hand. Tug the dangling thread of Sossoria..and begin the waltz to our graves.

The figure slowly moves back into the room, cloak completely hiding him save for his face, which by appearance, has not seen sunlight for months.
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Work in Progress.
"What do you call a fish with four legs? A stool pidgeon! Bwuagh bwuagh bwuagh bwguagh!"
~Malorn