moonrot fables -- Rowan

[karmatose]

moon madness, the crow called! watch, for ye shall lick black cat wounds and eat away your tongue. hark! you can hear the ghosts...


"You will not take him from me, Isylla. You cannot part what was meant to be. It is not in your blood, your will. You can't control such a fate."

Red, red, red. A gorgon mouth twisted into a lepers recall of something diseased, even savage with it's bare of shine white teeth dressed in saliva. Rowan was a phoenix of coloration that grappled with the shadows and snapped at the tree branches as they tried to touch. A firefly of mystic proportions, she enthralled a gasp from Isylla.

A stumble back, hands up to caper a white flag display of a forfeit.

"Rowan, please, forgive me. I only bring the message the wind told me. Please, please. Do not bare fangs or claws."

Bristled. The feline stroked herself within the mummified wrappings of silks and the discarded night folklore, shuddering when the wind breathed it's truth up her spine and released Isylla from falling beneath the wrath of the witch.

"I apologise." Yet it was insincere at the moment. "Why does the wind speak of such things? There are no demons to haunt me. I have seen nothing. I search only for --" Isylla screamed.

Rowan twisted, sharply, to turn a rabid gypsy eye on what made blood run cold. Made the moon seem to cry.

There was another scream.

It was Rowan's scream.

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[killjoyed]

the gypsy king stalked his own shadows through the alleyways of the trickster's night, waving along them with a hand as glazed-over eyes kept careful vigilance. grips of deft fingers around fire escapes and crackling rust brought himself up to the cat's walk of a rooftop, slinking among the loud living and their roundpipe chimney stacks.

from the monochrome hollows of cloud a sound split through the night, shocking molecules into stagnant waste, drilling into the back of his brain. he fell to his knees upon gravel and silt, palms pressing over each ear to suction away the torturous scream.

he howled up at the moon with whirling masses of angry blue in each eye, staring with outstretched arms, fingers curling into claws.

"let me have her," he begged wildly, hair lashing in front of his forehead. "please, please, let me have her again."

and while the shadows licked his tears away, the moon groaned her apology, feeling the shove of the sun's arms underneath her to move, to get away, it was his time to rule now.

dolan would have no answers tonight.

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ September 24, 2006 07:05 PM: Message edited by: killjoyed ]</font>

[karmatose]

"Where is he!? I know I put him here! He was here, he was here, he was here! Where has he gone?," howled a moonrot throat to the shadows. Stretching ribbon boned fingers to claw into the darkness, blood dripping from the tips with dug in splinters and crash landed knuckles. Uncontrolled. An autumnal beast whose ichor was as bright as her hair.

Isylla was frightened. Strong for Rowan, yet scared of the phoenix and her wrath. Her delusion caused by the demons. The haunting of wraiths that would not offer any mercy between the gypsy king and his summer creature.

"Rowan, please. He is not here. He is not anywhere." Sacred whisperings saved for rituals. The bells Rowan was tied in, wrapped in, stopped chiming. Their eerie sourness turned stale on the air. A clutch of her hands to her chest with a rock, back and forth, body balling up.

"He was here, he was here, he was here. I felt him, Isylla, my little one. I felt him. Right here... right here... I cannot see, though! I cannot see him! Why, Isylla, why!?" The cryptic incantation of her lunacy tripped over her tongue until it grew into a scream. A flurry of white flesh and red hands, blood hands, and she was carving into the shadows again. Tendrils of black to rip away from the body of dark.

Isylla whimpered, helpless and doe eyed. A surge of tears, for that of her Rowan, for that of the gypsy king. "Please, Rowan, you must not do this. He is not here! I have told you, he is not here! The demon -- He. Them. Have taken away your sight." Cooling tones that tried to bring the phoenix woman back from the land of the dead, back from being glassy eyed and tormented.

Rowan pulled at crimson strands, crying with sobbing breaths and the instincts of a wild animal. Turning sharply, glancing over a shoulder. The image was horrific: vulpine eyes in limelight green, pale and almost white, wide over the cliff of a razor lined sculpt to stare at Isylla.

"Find him, Isylla. Find him for me, Isylla. I want him -- no, no, no -- NEED him. He is mine and I am his. Please, please, Isylla." Hissed from serpentine tongues, reaching to pull the girl close.

Isylla fell to hold onto the shaking body that was Rowan. Sipping on her spirit, trying to drink her soul. An aura that was there, fading in and out, Isylla clutched to what she could and nodded.

"I will find him, Rowan. I will find him for you."