(Emybear, Peter Crimsonblood) A Sick and Twisted Fate

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TwystydWhyspyr88

TwystydWhyspyr88

The Broken Dreamer
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. One post per day
  2. 1-3 posts per week
Online Availability
During the week for the most part, weekends I am unavailable to make replies but I'm still around for random chatting!
Writing Levels
  1. Elementary
  2. Intermediate
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Female
Genres
I play mostly modern, fantasy, medieval genres. Maybe sometimes modern with a splash of supernatural elements (vampires and warlocks, witches and werewolves, oh my!)
The sun made it's slow descent into the far off horizon, dipping behind the mountains. Though the warmth of the day still lingered, the cold of the night would soon be here. Feet thudded heavily against the ground, twigs snapped under foot, leaves rustled along the ground by the movement. Heavy breathing echoed in the quiet empty forest.
If one were nearby to see, they may not even believe it. But, as the last rays of the sun disappeared from the sky, the woman running came to a stand still, a pained look on her face. A strange, dark glow covered her skin, following by a low hissing sound, like the sound of cold water dripping onto a hot metal surface. After a few seconds, a bright light filled the surrounding area briefly, and where the woman once stood now lay an animal. Upon closer inspection, the animal would be a swan.
Though large like most, it wasn't white. It didn't look strong. And instead of the beautiful call of a swan, all that came from it was a crying like sound, raspy and rough. And it seemed to be crying as it folded its wings around its body, curled up against a fallen tree.
 
As the night spread its cloak over the earth, the man rode his horse outside hoping he would get some fresh air. He looked at the starry sky, and just froze in his place, amazed by how beautiful the sky looked that night. It had been so long since it looked this beautiful. He didn't mind the cold of the night since it reminded him of his childhood, back when he used to skip around puddles in rainy nights.
 
She could hear something moving not too far from her. Lifting its head, the swan got up, spread its wings and with a thrust it was up, flying. She saw the man and horse. With a weak cry, it landed about fifteen feet away.
The swan looked at the man, an eerily human look in its eyes, almost pleading for help. It had no way to communicate with him. It only hoped he didn't like swan for dinner.
 
Even though he was a twenty year old young man, he still had bits of his childhood carved into his soul and had compassion for the creatures of this earth, whether they were humans, animals, or even plants. He looked at the swan and could see the sadness in its eyes. It was almost as if he were able to read its thoughts, but not entirely. All he knew, or rather felt, was the aura of weakness and sadness that emitted from this innocent creature.
 
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Seeing that this young man had a spark of compassion in his eyes, it once again flew up, covered the short distance to him, and landed in his lap, ruffling her feathers a little in a show of thanks.
Bending her head down, she nudged at his hand and dropped a small scroll, barely an inch wide, tied closed with a small ribbon. Upon opening it and reading, the barely legible words read-
"My name is Raksha. I am cursed to live my night life as this ugly creature. Keep me safe until morning, and I will repay you in any way I can."
It was a note she had to write and gave to those who brought no harm to her.
 
He giggled and held the swan gently in his arms. He took the scroll that dropped from its beak and opened it. His eyes widened as he read what was written inside and looked back at the swan. "Can you understand what I'm saying? If you do flap your wings" he said as he held the swan up in the air, waiting for its reply.
 
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With a weak honk, she did as he asked her to do, a few feathers falling around them. She then tilted her head just a little, looking down at the young man. It was subtle, but the swan looked grateful, relieved almost. Honking again, the swan squirmed out of his hands and back into his lap, curling up there. She took a few strands of the horses mane and shook her head, a sign she was trying to tell him it was time to get moving.
 
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