Déjà vu of the Gods

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Oña, Jan 16, 2013.

  1. The god that once ruled out of glory and vengeance, shall return again but only for the love of his people.<o:p></o:p>


    [​IMG]
    The wide claustrophobic atmosphere that engulfed his senses actually made him feel soothed…..calm. Being stretched out to the further reaches of the world beyond this plain was a little tiresome and quite tauten. After several millennia he was genuinely happy his uncle had started this little war. Newly human bare feet dug their toes in the dampened earth and sand as a gratifying sigh came from deep within his lungs. The limitedness of a vessel plagued the minds of the other gods and goddesses. But to Horus it was a complex feeling in itself. He felt nestled even though bare in this human skin. Almost as comforting as what humans would call ‘the womb’. Humans derived this feeling not only by being surrounded in safety and comfort but also the strong connection of a loving mother. He of course had a loving mother but she was not to inclined to show it at this time. <st1:place>Isis</st1:place> was beyond the point of irritation at the thought of her son going to the earthly void. The reasoning behind his mothers worry was not unreasonable. <o:p></o:p>
    Since the beginning when he had rose up against his uncle Seth, Horus had enjoyed the evolution of humanity in all its splendid and humorous ways. His feelings for the mortals had undoubtedly come from his father Osiris when he had reined supreme and just among the people of the Nun. Horus’s callused hands pushed away the reeds of papyrus that surrounded the banks of the <st1:place>Nile</st1:place>, his hawk gold eyes looking upon soft melodious ripples in the clean water as he remembered the events that sparked hatred for his uncle….<o:p></o:p>
    <o:p></o:p>
    Mother Isis sat coiled and shaken at the throne of her husband, crying in gasps of hysteria and loss. The servants around her lay on their knees and bowed low to the floor out of respect and mourning. The grand curtains of the entrance opened and a tall toned man with feather like red hair and dressed in regal attire of gold plates and toughened blue silk walked slowly in the throne room. His chest was heaving and his hands protruded ivory like claws. His dark tan skin bruised and scratched from an unnatural combat. The man's face was twisted and distorted in rage and anger until the golden eyes looked at the broken woman before him and a surge of gentleness overtook him.<o:p></o:p>
    <o:p></o:p>
    The woman looked up and slowly stopped her crying. “Horus...,” she breathed making slight hiccups.<o:p></o:p>
    <o:p></o:p>
    He came to her with a sorrowful expression as his brows creased, tenderly moving the hair from her soaked face. “He is gone now mother. I banished him to the black.”<o:p></o:p>
    <o:p></o:p>
    “And..” His mother looked at him with paralyzed fear.<o:p></o:p>
    <o:p></o:p>
    He pressed his lips together then took a deep breath, “He’s scattered father.”<o:p></o:p>
    <o:p></o:p>
    The once grand queen covered her mouth with her hands and cried harder as if she were but a child as Horus held her shaking form, unable to let go as he could feel the hatred inside him growing into an immensely stagnate taste in his mouth. “Do not worry. You can find him. You are strong. Father is emanating his love for you. He will not stay hidden for long…….You will find him….”<o:p></o:p>
    <o:p></o:p>
    The day Seth had done that ghastly deed. Killing his beloved father and torturing his delicate mother in a state of grieving anguish only from the stupidity of greed. The need to be in control. Ruling where he had no place and didn’t deserve. A thirst for power and the immoral wanting to plunge a the world into a chaotic pool of blood and terror for the whims of his sadistic heart.<o:p></o:p>
    <o:p></o:p>
    “If he had one….” He stated, walking into the <st1:place>Nile</st1:place> bowing his head as heard whispers from the water. After a moment he smiled slightly and caressed the waters with his hands in thanks, walking through to the other side emerging from the waters now in rough, white linen from waist to knee held up by a decorative dark leather belt and matching arm straps. He shook his head slightly as a black color came from his scalp turning the rest of his hair a deep dark brown. He had to find Seth. He had to blend with his people. The god of chaos had broken out of the prison he was trapped in and now the word was all over the spirit realm what he was after. Horus was ready.<o:p></o:p>
     

    Attached Files:

  2. [​IMG]
    It smelled like flowers; a fragrance that was hard to explain until one had experienced it for themselves. The fragrance of a lotus.



    ..I love a girl, but she lives over there
    On the too far side of the River..
    A whole Nile of floodstage rages between,
    and a crocodile hunched on the sand
    Keeps motionless at the crossing..

    “What’s that, Amisi?”

    A shadow crept over the girl softly kicking her feet through the water. She wore an unadorned tunic, gathered just below her chest and an intricate bead collar resting upon her neck. Bracelets of a similar pattern clung snugly to her wrists and upper arm. A fragment of a clay pot was in her lap, scribbles upon crossed out scribbles hastily scrawled all over the thick scrap. A bitten piece of bread lay in her hand while the other supported her as she leaned back on it.

    “This?” Amisi repeated, looking to the person above her. Sitting up immediately, she pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and finished the remnants of her bread. “It’s um.. the.. inventory count for the.. Doctor at the market.”

    The man shot her an unimpressed expression, then took a seat next to her. “If I had believed you for one minute, I would not have asked, little one.” he chuckled.

    The scribe shoved the man in the shoulder, earning a pinch in the arm and the two laughed heartily. Slowly, the two regained their previous manner and Amisi continued excitedly. “I read your poem so far,” she began, handing the man the piece of pottery. “It’s not an emotion I can relate to, but it sounds interesting.” The man looked down at the draft in her hand, a contemplative look playing his features as he took it back. “I think you should finish and give it to your little crush...” She said with a playful smirk. “Perhaps that will rid you of this crocodile at the crossing.” The man glowed red at the ears before he shook his head and stood up.

    “We’ll see,” he said as he handed Amisi a small jug, “but for now, we wait and write.”

    “What is this?”

    “Wine. For your services. ’The doctor at the market’ sends his thanks. He prays the gods will give you patience with your next task.” They both exchanged knowing smiles before the man waved and the duo said their goodbyes. They were friends through literature, brought together by the sharing of pieces and messages. Regardless, their bond was like that of a brother and sister, and the two were often seen together when the woman took her breaks at the river. Not for long, however, since the woman needed to hurry back to the palace and take down the inventory.

    She wrapped her half-eaten food then got up, dusting off her white robes and following the Nile to and occasionally admiring the fish. She couldn't help but think how easily it seemed one may be able to reach down and touch a glistening scale.. She unconsciously walked up to the river bank and leaned over the Nile.

    Stopped by a sound in the distance, however, she gently pulled back and observed a person in the water whom she had failed to notice before. He dressed like a scribe, yet something about him that drew one to him. She could not see his face, yet he radiated elegance and beauty. Perhaps like the Pharaoh? Or, something else.. She couldn't put a finger on it. Still plagued by thought, Amisi inched closer, clearing her throat. “Excuse me!” She began, but stopped short, not sure if he seemed he (or she herself) needed anything at all. Yet she pushed forward. “Do you happen to be a part of the scribe school in the city?” She looked to the sky for an estimate of time. “Because if you are, you may be late to class.. Unless you can fly, I mean.”
     

    Attached Files: