Weep Not for Roads Untraveled

[spiriteyes]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: transparent; width: 360px; padding-top: 30; padding-bottom: 30;] ejr SAGA SKULD cause i'm only a crack in this castle of glass } The white-tailed eagle let out a very soft chirp as she hastily glanced around, her head swiveling from one side to the other every other moment or so. She'd been here for 537 days now, and yes, she had been counting. There wasn't much else or her to do other that that. Whenever she tried to bring up her past, she couldn't stop the pain from clouding her vision. She couldn't stop the sheer terror that flooded her now dead veins with non-existent adrenaline. She couldn't stop the mind-numbing sense that she was going to die, again, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that she could do about it. Thinking about the panic attacks, she knew, lead to them, so she abruptly shunted out that train of thought and focused on something else. Such as where she was now. Some sort of misted lands with a dampness in the air that mixed up her already confused sense of direction. It was been like that ever since she had arrived here. There was no north. No south, east or west. No direction to this place at all and those first few weeks were torture. There was very little food to come by, though she found that she didn't need to eat as much as she had in whatever previous life that she had. She still needed to eat regardless and whenever there was a time that she was hungry or starving and there was no food in sight, her mind quickly found the more painful trains of thought more appealing. They may make her mind numb with terror. They may make her shiver until she was no more than a quivering mass of feathers. But it was better than having no food at all and feeling like she was going to die yet again from starvation this time instead of pain. Saga Skuld, the name and only thing besides the terror and pain from her death that she could remember from her previous life, forced back a screech of surprise as she nearly fell off the branch she was sitting on. The thoughts had been getting to her again. Thoughts that made her unaware of her surroundings and unprepared if someone, anyone, no matter who they were, came around and spotted her up in the tree she was perched on. ejr ooc; text here regarding ooc ~

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[s a g e «]

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[atrb=background,http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee500/lukari/02-1.png] Strong wings beat the air, carrying the owl higher and higher. No matter how high he elevated, though, he would never find himself out of the fog. Never out of the mists. Never out of the thick, humid air. God, he missed fresh air. Here, it was always moist, always burdening him. Water droplets often clung to his wings, making his flawless aero a little flawed. Purgatory just had that dreadful way, however, of making you wish you never had been born here. What would life be like, were he born in heaven? He could imagine the clean air; No more mists. What a beautiful thought, that was. Maybe even hell would be better. Though he imagined the air crisp, it still wouldn't pull him down like this. It wouldn't effect his flight. His flight, that was all Lukas possesed. All he was, was how high he could soar. Lukas let himself gain height, higher; higher. Then, he shook his head to himself and mumbled. He folded his wings to his side, and tucked his tail feathers together tight. He dipped his head down, and began a spiral downward. During his flight down, he spread his wings out a little and spun fasted going down. Right before he hit the ground, he lifted his talons higher, and spread his wingspan wide, lifting himself up only inches from the earth. He flew high, and landed on a viney branch, his talons reaching for it before grasping it firmly. Proud eyes shone through the foggy haze, when his ear tuffs twitched. He was not alone. No matter- The wastelands were well known for it's company, he guessed.

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[RainxDog]

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[atrb=background, i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/bluewinter.png] Damp, mossy muck squelched mutedly under Mykola’s paws with each cautious step he took, taking care not to wander into any sinkholes as he navigated. Traveling the Madidas Wastelands often tended to be a treacherous endeavor, even to those like himself who had become well enough acquainted with the terrain. Purgatory had a way of shifting, and nothing was ever quite the same twice. A path that had been safe only days before might suddenly become riddled with clutching sinkholes waiting to drag an unwitting traveler down into smothering black mud. All it took was to catch a single limb and one was as good as done for, any attempts to free oneself would only quicken their descent. As it was Mykola could feel a certain suction clutching at his paws each time he lifted one from the ground, and every so often he would have to all but pry a paw free, resulting in his usually flawless silver-gray coat becoming splattered with dark lumps of filth. His underbelly was almost brown by now, and Mykola’s temper beginning to grow a bit ill as he wondered just what exactly had driven him to journey through the wastelands in the first place. He was drawn sharply from his thoughts by a high pitched squawk and the sound of powerful wings beating rather frantically. Pausing, Mykola’s gaze turned upwards with curiosity. He was unable to see anything through the thick fog, but he could hear another creature in the trees, and presently became aware of a second set of wings beating the air shortly before hearing branches rustle. Another large bird must have alighted nearby, he reckoned, “Who’s there?” he called up.

[spiriteyes]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: transparent; width: 360px; padding-top: 30; padding-bottom: 30;] ejr SAGA SKULD cause i'm only a crack in this castle of glass } Saga let out a breath of relief as she righted herself. The damp air clung to her wings like a blanket, making flying, or any use of her wings, a chore. Had she been one to talk to herself out loud, she would've been using some replacement words right about then for some fowl language she'd picked up, unfortunately, by those who came to the Purgatory, only to leave days later. Of course, they never mentioned these words to others, only, perhaps, to themselves when they thought no one was looking. Hearing the beating of wings as a branch rustled, belonging to a tree near by, the eagle ruffled her feathers, irritated that another was around. Sure, she was glad to know she was not the only one here, but others usually meant talking and she was not the kind of bird to talk much. "Who's there?" A low, growling sort of meow reached up to the branch she was perched on. Oh great, more animals. She all but huffed. Great, now there was no hope of not talking to someone. With the fellow bird who had landed just moments before, she could have handled it. They might not have wanted to talk to her, and she wouldn't have talked to them either. But now she was stuck fly a fly in a spider's web. "Yes?" She chirped, flying down to a slightly lower branch to get a better look at what feline was down there, but not so low that they could reach up on their hind limbs and grab her. She would not put up with someone wanting to let out their pent up frustration and anger at her. It almost happened before with a stray dog of sorts, one that roamed around and talked as if it had no sanity left. "I am Saga. Who might you be?" The cat in question was a snow leopard, one that was staring up in her general direction, at the spot where she had been only a heartbeat before. The White-tailed eagle only paid so much attention to the other animal there, seeing as the bird had made no move as of yet to indicate that he (as she had some sense to know whom was a male and whom was a female) wished for a conversation. He had certainly made no movement of aggression, which said to her enough to let her know that he meant to ill will toward her. Then again they hadn't spoken ever before, so perhaps the judgement had not yet been passed. ejr ooc; text here regarding ooc ~

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[atrb=background,http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee500/lukari/02-1.png] Lukas suddenly realized his sense of adreneline had completely blocked his natural sense; He was not alone, and he was painfully aware of that. Just great, he thought to himself. If there was one thing Lukas hated, it was company. He should have had the sense to spread his large, powerful wings and fly away. However, he did not. He was rather fond of this branch- That's what he told himself. However, somewhere deep down, he knew he enjoyed a little company now and than... But that was all he dared admit. It could get lonely, but even when his breath was real, he had grown accustomed and fond of the loneliness. Maybe it was loneliness- That implied a negative mind set... It was the quiet, and fretless mind he enjoyed. There was another bird in the area, actually not far from him at all. Perhaps a tree away- He made no effort, however, to say a word. He was terrible at introductions, he really was. The sound of his own voice was foreign to him; He often wondered if it even exsisted. It was a concept he was not quite ready to explore, though. His tail feathers twitched a little at the idea of speaking, but he held back. He had the whole 'mysterious' reputation to uphold, he told himself. That was when he heard a voice; Not his, not the other birds, but a much more... Loud voice, perhaps? A more... Non-bird one. Lukas narrowed his eyes through the fog and saw a small outline, and spots. It was requesting a name, or prescence maybe. However, Lukas did no feel obliged, nor obligated to do so. However, the other bird felt so. She swooped down to introduce herself. Lukas held his place, shaking his head. "Last cat I met 'vas an ungrateful leetle' bugga', she vas." Lukas mumbled to himself, his accent heavy. He shook his body a little, cleaning it off of any water.

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[RainxDog]

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[atrb=background, i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/bluewinter.png] Silence lapsed in wake of his question, and after several moments Mykola was beginning to wonder if perhaps whatever creatures he had heard were among the numbers of those who’d lost their wits to the ravages of purgatory. Or maybe he was simply hearing things, which Mykola figured was an equal possibility given that illusions of both sight and sound were not even remotely unusual occurrences here. However, just when he was about to give up and move along when a feminine voice softly answered, “Yes,” from roughly the same direction of the earlier squawk, and only seconds later a brief thinning of the heavy fog allowed the snow leopard a glimps of a dark, owlish shaped perched on another of the skeletal trees nearby. Mykola squinted up at the large bird, unsure what species it might have been because as keen as his eyes were, he simply couldn’t peer through such a thick mist and could discern little more than an outline. There was a rustling of wings and suddenly the second avian appeared through the mist, this one close enough for Mykola to tell she was a large eagle with dark plumage save for that of her elegantly feathered tail. He watched her settle comfortably on one of the lower branches, and his ears pricked forward as she introduced herself though Mykola did not immediately answer. He wasn’t terribly fond of birds in general. The little ones were often vapid, chatty and altogether annoying while the larger ones always seemed to fall somewhere on the spectrum between arrogant and unpleasant; but the snow leopard had encountered a few exceptions in his time, so perhaps at least one of these two would count among those numbers. “I’m Mykola,” the snow leopard finally answered, flicking the tip of his thick, bushy tail while gazing up at the eagle, “is the grump a friend of yours?” he asked, nodding his head vaguely towards the owl that had just mumbled something that, while Mykola hadn’t heard clearly, seemed derogatory towards felines.