The Pure
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Ruriska
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Scaramouche Fandango
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Blessed Blood...
[imgleft]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgleft] The question of nature and nurture had recently seized Reaper's mind, captivating her idle moments. She and her siblings were blessed, yes- but blessed by chance or blessed by birth? Was she strong because she was destined to be strong, or was she strong because she pushed herself to the absolute limit, pushing through pain and sadness and all those other cheap excuses? The problem, as she saw it, was that all of the best kin she knew- the only ones who'd proven worth saving- were her father's children. Not metaphorically, but his actual get. Of course they would be strong. No, she needed to know more, to put the question to an actual test. That's how you grew- you tested things and eliminated whatever was wrong. It was certainly a fun question to mull over, turning this way and that in her mind. She thought of herself and of her siblings, but knew that they weren't good examples. To wit: Chosen One was their father. Despite being raised by their mother, they had all turned out acceptable. How could they not?
She needed other examples. She wasn't going to find them at home; she had to get creative. When she had free time, for no mere question could get in the way of her duties to the family, she spiraled outward, quietly observing kin. She spoke to no one, approached no one. She was merely a watcher. The wave of cleansing was coming; while violence for violence's sake was appealing in its simplicity, the brutal inelegance of it was not. She and her family were not mindless; they were guides to worthiness. Their keen discernment was the scythe that would separate the grain from the chaff; she was the instrument of reaping. It was not time to begin the harvest.
During these expeditions, she paid little attention to the land- for her forays weren't about the swamp. Rather, they were about the Swamp. She watched kin from afar, pondering her question. What drove a kin's destiny? She knew how you became strong, that was a question easily answered. But could all kin attain that strength? This she did not know. So she watched. She saw kin fighting, feeding, foraging, failing. She observed families together, families apart. She saw nothing particularly impressive; she couldn't identify some mysterious potential for strength just through observation. Try as she might, their iniquities had no obvious explanation she could determine.
It was by chance she spotted him, although his orange pelt made him stand out from the reeds. She knew that orange; she saw it every day on her mother. She knew that smile; it was kin to the marks that stretched onto her own cheeks. Curious, she watched him move, taking in the buck as a complete creature. She knew Witch Hunt was dead, but what of her lost children? This was one of them- she knew it just as surely as she knew her own name- but which one was it? She didn't know their names. She'd have to ask. She knew her mother; she knew Badlands, she knew of Bloodhound. But those outside her father's sway- those she didn't know.
She watched closely as the buck flirted and preened for another, a doe practically beneath notice. Her lip curled involuntarily, but she tried hard to quiet her emotions and keep a calm, open mind. She hadn't yet learned who he really was from just a simple glance. He'd be an interesting candidate for observation, and perhaps discussion. Silently, she retreated. She'd seen enough for now. The buck didn't need to know of her- not yet. He might be worth introducing to the family; or he might be worth eliminating. However, this was not a decision for her to make- not yet, not now. No, this required a more delicate touch. She would need to seek an audience with her father.
After ruminating for a few days, mulling her observations over and over, she knew it was time to ask. Reaper approached Chosen One, her question in mind. Perhaps he had noticed what she was doing in her spare time, perhaps he hadn't- she was just his child, after all, nowhere near as important as he was- but she thought he might find the question interesting. The Swamp had chosen him, after all, to be the executor of its will. Surely his discernment would be wise in regards to this plan.
"I would speak with you, Father," she said, smiling softly at him. She really did think it was a good question, and perhaps he would humor her. "I've a question about our family, our fortunate bloodline."
[imgright]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgright] He had noticed - of course he had noticed. The Pure was still small, a growing shoot that he was coaxing to greater heights. Eventually it would become a tree, boughs stretched across the Swamp and the fruit it bore would cleanse the world. They would be the tide that washed away the unworthy, the violent and pathetic rabble that didn’t have the right to exist and continued on as if they belonged.
This Chosen One kept a careful eye on everything his small family did - his children especially. They were the future, those who carried his bloodline. He’d cultivated them all carefully, to make sure they truly understood their place in the world, their duty. He was proud of the results, proud of his own efforts and theirs, and when Reaper came to him, he smiled indulgently.
“Ask your question,” he ordered gently. “I will answer.”
She’d been roaming in her spare time, and he was curious to learn the results of her travels. It could be dangerous, to let the young and impressionable walk freely. They could be blindsided by a pretty face or a winsome smile, led to believe that The Pure’s ideals were not absolute. But Reaper he trusted, at least for now.
"I have been observing the outside world," she said, "and I have found it... lacking. I've seen many kin, but none have seemed particularly special. I've been pondering the question of worthiness and from where it comes. The Swamp chose you, that's perfectly clear- but what's less clear is how others are chosen, and why. Are kin chosen at birth- when we sleep, when we dream, when we're entrusted with our names- or are we raised to glory? And can one from unworthy heritage escape the bonds of blood and claw their way to worthiness?" It was a difficult question for her, but perhaps he could answer it.
“Many of those who walk the Swamp are sleepwalkers,” Chosen One explained. “They wander aimlessly - breeding, eating, laughing, talking. They march from life and into death while never really living, never realising how corrupt the world has become. They ignore the injustice around them, the lives taken pointlessly, the pain and suffering that waits to ensnare the weak.” He sighed, a sound full of sorrow. “There are many that can never be redeemed, but others can be woken up, shown the truth. Those who choose to shed their heritage and join our family, cast aside the lies, can become pure. That is why I send out my Followers. To spread the word and give others a chance to repent.”
Reaper nodded slowly. "There's one in particular I have observed. I don't know his name, but he's... clearly one of Mother's brothers. One of the ones she never knew. His pelt is orange, and his eyes are like mine. And his face- Father, if you had seen it, you would have known. Our faces are the same, the same markings. The same smile. But he's..." She paused. "He wastes his time. From a distance, he seems like he doesn't notice anything around him, doesn't see- but he is of Mother's blood, I know this. And if he's of Mother's blood, then perhaps there's a kernel of worth in him." She swallowed, thinking. "I know I'm not one of your Followers; I am a guardian, and I would lay down my life for this family. But my I think he could answer my question. With your permission, I would like to approach him, speak to him. You've told me that only the worthy will survive, but much of my life has been spent talking to those you have already deemed worthy. I would like to talk to someone untested, unproved. I would not lead him back here, and I believe I'm strong enough to resist any taint from the outside world. I simply wish to see for myself what Mother's bloodline is without your influence. Please."
Chosen One kept the surprise from his face as Reaper told him of the buck. He had known there were others, more of Witch Hunt’s blood that he had yet to bring into line. It hadn’t mattered, he had doubted they would cross paths. Yet here was proof of the MotherFather’s guidance. All those Witch Hunt had born into world would repent, one way or the other. The darkness of her lineage would be broken. He would make sure.
He was elated, his body thrummed with excitement, but his smile was calm as he said, “you have my permission.” Reaper had done so very well and she would be free to continue her quest until he felt it was time to step in.
She needed other examples. She wasn't going to find them at home; she had to get creative. When she had free time, for no mere question could get in the way of her duties to the family, she spiraled outward, quietly observing kin. She spoke to no one, approached no one. She was merely a watcher. The wave of cleansing was coming; while violence for violence's sake was appealing in its simplicity, the brutal inelegance of it was not. She and her family were not mindless; they were guides to worthiness. Their keen discernment was the scythe that would separate the grain from the chaff; she was the instrument of reaping. It was not time to begin the harvest.
During these expeditions, she paid little attention to the land- for her forays weren't about the swamp. Rather, they were about the Swamp. She watched kin from afar, pondering her question. What drove a kin's destiny? She knew how you became strong, that was a question easily answered. But could all kin attain that strength? This she did not know. So she watched. She saw kin fighting, feeding, foraging, failing. She observed families together, families apart. She saw nothing particularly impressive; she couldn't identify some mysterious potential for strength just through observation. Try as she might, their iniquities had no obvious explanation she could determine.
It was by chance she spotted him, although his orange pelt made him stand out from the reeds. She knew that orange; she saw it every day on her mother. She knew that smile; it was kin to the marks that stretched onto her own cheeks. Curious, she watched him move, taking in the buck as a complete creature. She knew Witch Hunt was dead, but what of her lost children? This was one of them- she knew it just as surely as she knew her own name- but which one was it? She didn't know their names. She'd have to ask. She knew her mother; she knew Badlands, she knew of Bloodhound. But those outside her father's sway- those she didn't know.
She watched closely as the buck flirted and preened for another, a doe practically beneath notice. Her lip curled involuntarily, but she tried hard to quiet her emotions and keep a calm, open mind. She hadn't yet learned who he really was from just a simple glance. He'd be an interesting candidate for observation, and perhaps discussion. Silently, she retreated. She'd seen enough for now. The buck didn't need to know of her- not yet. He might be worth introducing to the family; or he might be worth eliminating. However, this was not a decision for her to make- not yet, not now. No, this required a more delicate touch. She would need to seek an audience with her father.
After ruminating for a few days, mulling her observations over and over, she knew it was time to ask. Reaper approached Chosen One, her question in mind. Perhaps he had noticed what she was doing in her spare time, perhaps he hadn't- she was just his child, after all, nowhere near as important as he was- but she thought he might find the question interesting. The Swamp had chosen him, after all, to be the executor of its will. Surely his discernment would be wise in regards to this plan.
"I would speak with you, Father," she said, smiling softly at him. She really did think it was a good question, and perhaps he would humor her. "I've a question about our family, our fortunate bloodline."
[imgright]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgright] He had noticed - of course he had noticed. The Pure was still small, a growing shoot that he was coaxing to greater heights. Eventually it would become a tree, boughs stretched across the Swamp and the fruit it bore would cleanse the world. They would be the tide that washed away the unworthy, the violent and pathetic rabble that didn’t have the right to exist and continued on as if they belonged.
This Chosen One kept a careful eye on everything his small family did - his children especially. They were the future, those who carried his bloodline. He’d cultivated them all carefully, to make sure they truly understood their place in the world, their duty. He was proud of the results, proud of his own efforts and theirs, and when Reaper came to him, he smiled indulgently.
“Ask your question,” he ordered gently. “I will answer.”
She’d been roaming in her spare time, and he was curious to learn the results of her travels. It could be dangerous, to let the young and impressionable walk freely. They could be blindsided by a pretty face or a winsome smile, led to believe that The Pure’s ideals were not absolute. But Reaper he trusted, at least for now.
"I have been observing the outside world," she said, "and I have found it... lacking. I've seen many kin, but none have seemed particularly special. I've been pondering the question of worthiness and from where it comes. The Swamp chose you, that's perfectly clear- but what's less clear is how others are chosen, and why. Are kin chosen at birth- when we sleep, when we dream, when we're entrusted with our names- or are we raised to glory? And can one from unworthy heritage escape the bonds of blood and claw their way to worthiness?" It was a difficult question for her, but perhaps he could answer it.
“Many of those who walk the Swamp are sleepwalkers,” Chosen One explained. “They wander aimlessly - breeding, eating, laughing, talking. They march from life and into death while never really living, never realising how corrupt the world has become. They ignore the injustice around them, the lives taken pointlessly, the pain and suffering that waits to ensnare the weak.” He sighed, a sound full of sorrow. “There are many that can never be redeemed, but others can be woken up, shown the truth. Those who choose to shed their heritage and join our family, cast aside the lies, can become pure. That is why I send out my Followers. To spread the word and give others a chance to repent.”
Reaper nodded slowly. "There's one in particular I have observed. I don't know his name, but he's... clearly one of Mother's brothers. One of the ones she never knew. His pelt is orange, and his eyes are like mine. And his face- Father, if you had seen it, you would have known. Our faces are the same, the same markings. The same smile. But he's..." She paused. "He wastes his time. From a distance, he seems like he doesn't notice anything around him, doesn't see- but he is of Mother's blood, I know this. And if he's of Mother's blood, then perhaps there's a kernel of worth in him." She swallowed, thinking. "I know I'm not one of your Followers; I am a guardian, and I would lay down my life for this family. But my I think he could answer my question. With your permission, I would like to approach him, speak to him. You've told me that only the worthy will survive, but much of my life has been spent talking to those you have already deemed worthy. I would like to talk to someone untested, unproved. I would not lead him back here, and I believe I'm strong enough to resist any taint from the outside world. I simply wish to see for myself what Mother's bloodline is without your influence. Please."
Chosen One kept the surprise from his face as Reaper told him of the buck. He had known there were others, more of Witch Hunt’s blood that he had yet to bring into line. It hadn’t mattered, he had doubted they would cross paths. Yet here was proof of the MotherFather’s guidance. All those Witch Hunt had born into world would repent, one way or the other. The darkness of her lineage would be broken. He would make sure.
He was elated, his body thrummed with excitement, but his smile was calm as he said, “you have my permission.” Reaper had done so very well and she would be free to continue her quest until he felt it was time to step in.
word count: 1623
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Scaramouche Fandango
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...Blessed Brood
She watched. She talked. She found him utterly lacking- but there was something he produced, at least, that might be worthwhile...
word count: 21
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Kinu
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Re: The Pure - open!
I'm ready to follow!
Your Kin: Bleed For Me
Their reason for joining The Pure: Bleed heard whispers, then rumors, then a story. A story about a kin with a vision to purify the swamp, to bring it down a glorious path to a bright future. In general she finds herself disgusted by others and detests them, she always has. She possesses a formidable temper and a wicked cruel streak. It shines there, that slightly unhinged light, from behind her cold, calculating eyes. Especially when she hears the crack of bone and the first drops of life matting pelt.
Her hatred of others, there is no recollection where it comes from other than it always has been. But perhaps, perhaps it was because she was missing something, maybe the swamp wasn't as it should be. Maybe she belonged in a better, stronger world. She'd always felt that if you truly believed something, if you deeply wanted it, it would eventually require sacrifice. Hard sacrifice. Even blood. She was no stranger to blood. She decided to find this visionary, to see for herself if he truly believed in himself and his vision.
Your Kin: Bleed For Me
Their reason for joining The Pure: Bleed heard whispers, then rumors, then a story. A story about a kin with a vision to purify the swamp, to bring it down a glorious path to a bright future. In general she finds herself disgusted by others and detests them, she always has. She possesses a formidable temper and a wicked cruel streak. It shines there, that slightly unhinged light, from behind her cold, calculating eyes. Especially when she hears the crack of bone and the first drops of life matting pelt.
Her hatred of others, there is no recollection where it comes from other than it always has been. But perhaps, perhaps it was because she was missing something, maybe the swamp wasn't as it should be. Maybe she belonged in a better, stronger world. She'd always felt that if you truly believed something, if you deeply wanted it, it would eventually require sacrifice. Hard sacrifice. Even blood. She was no stranger to blood. She decided to find this visionary, to see for herself if he truly believed in himself and his vision.
Last edited by Kinu on Sat Oct 12, 2019 3:50 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 194
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Scaramouche Fandango
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CONTEST TIME
Reaper got some children.
Not had children, got children. Their biological parents aren’t important. Well, their father is, maybe, because of who he’s related to- but no, those kin really aren’t important. They’re not worth thinking about. What’s important is that they’re here, now, and that they’ve been saved from what’s eventually coming.
And, best of all, they serve as a test. Nature versus nurture. These children are not scions of Chosen One, but they’ll be raised within the family, watched and tended with the utmost care. Any curiosity about their place in the world will be met with reassurances of love and devotion from their family- and this is their family, after all. There will be no talk of their parents; any questions about them will be met with the truth (or at least, the truth as the family sees it): their parents didn’t love or want them enough to fight for them, or even stay with them as they were cradled in their sacs. Their parents don’t even care they’re alive. Their parents simply aren’t worthy and wouldn’t be able to protect them. Why bother learning their names? Chosen One’s the only father they really need. He’ll keep them safe.
Three of them have already heard their names and had their dreams. The twins, Zealot and Sing Your Praises. The bright brother, Rival. But two of the children stand separate.
Won't you help them figure out who they are?
You can put forth one or two entries; you are welcome to write one response for both kin (use whatever pronouns you like) and specify whether or not you want different names in the entry. You can write two entries, one for each kin. Or you can of course just enter for one if one’s the one you’re interested in. If you enter for both, please put your preferences at the bottom of your first entry.
These kids need to stay in the tribe for a while- that’s the whole point! However, in the future, if you’ve got a really good plot for leaving… well, that’ll be very interesting, won’t it? They have an interesting future ahead of them, no matter what choices they make.
These kids will start as followers in the tribe- don't worry about specifying a role now.
Kin Entering For:
Kin Name:
Are you happy here?
Not had children, got children. Their biological parents aren’t important. Well, their father is, maybe, because of who he’s related to- but no, those kin really aren’t important. They’re not worth thinking about. What’s important is that they’re here, now, and that they’ve been saved from what’s eventually coming.
And, best of all, they serve as a test. Nature versus nurture. These children are not scions of Chosen One, but they’ll be raised within the family, watched and tended with the utmost care. Any curiosity about their place in the world will be met with reassurances of love and devotion from their family- and this is their family, after all. There will be no talk of their parents; any questions about them will be met with the truth (or at least, the truth as the family sees it): their parents didn’t love or want them enough to fight for them, or even stay with them as they were cradled in their sacs. Their parents don’t even care they’re alive. Their parents simply aren’t worthy and wouldn’t be able to protect them. Why bother learning their names? Chosen One’s the only father they really need. He’ll keep them safe.
Three of them have already heard their names and had their dreams. The twins, Zealot and Sing Your Praises. The bright brother, Rival. But two of the children stand separate.
How To Enter
This is a little RP contest. You'll need to give a name, of course, and but you also have an important question to answer. Are you happy here? It's a simple question with myriad answers. You need to offer at least a few sentences, and there's no limit to length. The contest will end in one week, at midnight on 20 June 2019.You can put forth one or two entries; you are welcome to write one response for both kin (use whatever pronouns you like) and specify whether or not you want different names in the entry. You can write two entries, one for each kin. Or you can of course just enter for one if one’s the one you’re interested in. If you enter for both, please put your preferences at the bottom of your first entry.
These kids need to stay in the tribe for a while- that’s the whole point! However, in the future, if you’ve got a really good plot for leaving… well, that’ll be very interesting, won’t it? They have an interesting future ahead of them, no matter what choices they make.
These kids will start as followers in the tribe- don't worry about specifying a role now.
To enter, please use this form.
Username:Kin Entering For:
Kin Name:
Are you happy here?
word count: 491
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Dawns_Stars145
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Re: The Pure - open!
Username: Dawns_Stars145
Kin Entering For:
Kin Name: Inner Fire
Are you happy here? Yes, I am happy here. How dare you question my happiness? I'm with my family, after all. My dear father has raised me well, and I admire him for his strength and wisdom. I would follow him to the ends of the swamp, all for the good of the swamp.
Preference order: Dark Kimeti, Orange Acha
Username: Dawns_Stars145
Kin Entering For:
Kin Name: Serious Questions
Are you happy here? I can't say whether I'm happy here or not. It's not anyone's concern. All that matters is what our father wants for us. If he says I'm happy here, then I am. After all, his word is final.
Kin Entering For:
Kin Name: Inner Fire
Are you happy here? Yes, I am happy here. How dare you question my happiness? I'm with my family, after all. My dear father has raised me well, and I admire him for his strength and wisdom. I would follow him to the ends of the swamp, all for the good of the swamp.
Preference order: Dark Kimeti, Orange Acha
Username: Dawns_Stars145
Kin Entering For:
Kin Name: Serious Questions
Are you happy here? I can't say whether I'm happy here or not. It's not anyone's concern. All that matters is what our father wants for us. If he says I'm happy here, then I am. After all, his word is final.
Last edited by Dawns_Stars145 on Thu Jun 20, 2019 5:17 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 128
Hope you have a good day 
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Lirilei
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Re: The Pure - contest page 2!
Username: Lirilei
Kin Entering For: Both. Buck; Doe in order of preference
Kin Name: Backlash
Are you happy here?
There's a tip of a head at the question, a small knowing smile crossing lips and an affirmative given. It wasn't safe to answer that question in the wanted way. No instead the expected answer, a bold faced lie was given. Sharp eyes watched the one that had asked wander back off, seemingly satisfied with their given answer. Good. That had been the point. Not to raise suspicions. The question stuck though. Are you happy here? The answer was supposed to be yes, because obviously Chosen One was right, the others needed punished, and cleansed and yet...
The thought was tossed away. It was forbidden fruit that that that had been slowly niggling away in the back of their mind. The slowly growing distaste at the violence. At even witnessing it, hearing it, let alone participating actively. The thought made stomach churn, and bile raise. No, happiness was not the right emotion being felt here. Farthest from in fact.
Walking away from the larger portion of the group to look for solitude, away from any revelry at any latest conversions, or purification was a tedious task, most here were in joyous, fanatical moods. But not them. No, not them. Looking now with clearer eyes, they swore others looked just as uneasy but were trying to hide it. Maybe it was just wishful thinking but no... if they thought this way, surely others did too, right?
Backlash was far from happy within the family, but to admit that was as good as asking to be killed on the spot and that wasn't what was wanted either. Maybe... just maybe.. others could be found. Like minded within the tribe...and they could somehow break free. Break away. Claim they were going to sing Chosen One's praises to all, and send the new followers back and then simply try to hide. A life on the run might not be much of a life, but it was better than this. Right? Maybe. It was hard to think, the noise pounding in their head and ears, the cries of triumph all around, swirling in a chaotic mass of sounds making their head spin round and round.
Uneasy sleep was found. Full of nightmareish scenes... and glimmers of far flung hope. That elusive happiness that would be amazing to find, but seemed to be out of reach. But maybe.... with some determination and strength... some how... some day... they could be free. Or as free as they could ever be... and put as much distance between them and The Pure as possible because this, this was not happiness. Not for Backlash.
Kin Entering For: Both. Buck; Doe in order of preference
Kin Name: Backlash
Are you happy here?
There's a tip of a head at the question, a small knowing smile crossing lips and an affirmative given. It wasn't safe to answer that question in the wanted way. No instead the expected answer, a bold faced lie was given. Sharp eyes watched the one that had asked wander back off, seemingly satisfied with their given answer. Good. That had been the point. Not to raise suspicions. The question stuck though. Are you happy here? The answer was supposed to be yes, because obviously Chosen One was right, the others needed punished, and cleansed and yet...
The thought was tossed away. It was forbidden fruit that that that had been slowly niggling away in the back of their mind. The slowly growing distaste at the violence. At even witnessing it, hearing it, let alone participating actively. The thought made stomach churn, and bile raise. No, happiness was not the right emotion being felt here. Farthest from in fact.
Walking away from the larger portion of the group to look for solitude, away from any revelry at any latest conversions, or purification was a tedious task, most here were in joyous, fanatical moods. But not them. No, not them. Looking now with clearer eyes, they swore others looked just as uneasy but were trying to hide it. Maybe it was just wishful thinking but no... if they thought this way, surely others did too, right?
Backlash was far from happy within the family, but to admit that was as good as asking to be killed on the spot and that wasn't what was wanted either. Maybe... just maybe.. others could be found. Like minded within the tribe...and they could somehow break free. Break away. Claim they were going to sing Chosen One's praises to all, and send the new followers back and then simply try to hide. A life on the run might not be much of a life, but it was better than this. Right? Maybe. It was hard to think, the noise pounding in their head and ears, the cries of triumph all around, swirling in a chaotic mass of sounds making their head spin round and round.
Uneasy sleep was found. Full of nightmareish scenes... and glimmers of far flung hope. That elusive happiness that would be amazing to find, but seemed to be out of reach. But maybe.... with some determination and strength... some how... some day... they could be free. Or as free as they could ever be... and put as much distance between them and The Pure as possible because this, this was not happiness. Not for Backlash.
word count: 458
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Astoria
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Re: The Pure - contest page 2!
Username: AstoriaFallen
Kin Entering For: Buck
Kin Name: Taste of Darkness
Are you happy here?
Yes? He believed that he was genuinely happy in these lands that he called home. He'd never known anything else so why wouldn't he be happy? Healthy, thriving and full of life, Taste of Darkness had no reason to doubt the life that had been laid out before him.
But.
There was more to the world around them, like his parents, but they had abandoned them. Hadn't they? The tales they'd been told had been so calmly stated and the reassurance that their lives was meant to serve Chosen One and follow- no obey his will.
Twisting his head slightly he acted as if the question didn't phase him and that he had no questions about anything at all. While the thoughts turned in his head, his facial expression remained untouched by emotion.
"Have I given you reason to believe I am not?" Standing tall and proud he looked them in the eyes, unblinking. Never had he done anything to give a shred of doubt to how he felt about their beliefs. Taste of Darkness knew that they all walked on thin ice and appearance was everything. Any sign of doubt would be seen as weakness and purification would follow, for doubting would classify itself as a sin would it not?
Waiting a moment more he turned and walked away, he'd not give them the satisfaction of answering any further.
(I KNOW NOTHING about this little group but would love to learn more about the pure! - just wanting to get an entry in before time closes ;u;)
Kin Entering For: Buck
Kin Name: Taste of Darkness
Are you happy here?
Yes? He believed that he was genuinely happy in these lands that he called home. He'd never known anything else so why wouldn't he be happy? Healthy, thriving and full of life, Taste of Darkness had no reason to doubt the life that had been laid out before him.
But.
There was more to the world around them, like his parents, but they had abandoned them. Hadn't they? The tales they'd been told had been so calmly stated and the reassurance that their lives was meant to serve Chosen One and follow- no obey his will.
Twisting his head slightly he acted as if the question didn't phase him and that he had no questions about anything at all. While the thoughts turned in his head, his facial expression remained untouched by emotion.
"Have I given you reason to believe I am not?" Standing tall and proud he looked them in the eyes, unblinking. Never had he done anything to give a shred of doubt to how he felt about their beliefs. Taste of Darkness knew that they all walked on thin ice and appearance was everything. Any sign of doubt would be seen as weakness and purification would follow, for doubting would classify itself as a sin would it not?
Waiting a moment more he turned and walked away, he'd not give them the satisfaction of answering any further.
(I KNOW NOTHING about this little group but would love to learn more about the pure! - just wanting to get an entry in before time closes ;u;)
word count: 278
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Scaramouche Fandango
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Scaramouche Fandango
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Winners!
The dreams have been dreamt; the names have been chosen. Come forth Taste of Darkness and Backlash. Come forth and join your family.
AstoriaFallen wrote:
Lirilei wrote:
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Astoria
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