Updates on Mondays and Fridays [GMT+11]. ~Welcome to the Sanctuary~ In this age of death, a gilded fortress erects itself on broken land. A fortress that is destined to be god's Ark, if humankind is god and the Ark the fruit of its tireless labor, to lift all spirits worthy of salvation to the arms of the blackened space above fair skies; to feed its children that hunger for love and thirst for its light; to hold its ground on sturdy soil as the earth erupts with corruption and dies with it. Its holy gates will welcome you with open arms so long as you, too, open yourself to the virtues of god's True Paradise. Please expose and surrender belongings to officials posted at the entrance. Failure to follow orders will result in the renunciation of your application. Insubordination will cause you to be subjected to immediate elimination. ~Welcome to the Sanctuary~ -- a senpai & glaizedonut roleplay -- The dry, harsh winds sent grains of dirt shooting at her bandaged face. She shielded her eyes with a large clawed hand and when the winds calmed their stirring for a short while, she looked at the worn out yellow paper that danced in the desert breeze. The words printed on it were fading, not from its age, but from the unforgiving world she crossed in years to get here. She wished she could give meaning to these characters. Her eyes glossed with a satisfaction, however, and her fangs grazed her thin white lips as they stretched into a grin as she peered past her hood at the tall blocks in the distance. Salvation never looked as promising as two sturdy, thick, hulking gates only a few hundred strides away from her. Her knees buckled with weakness as she scanned the height of the entrance. Longer than any pair of wings she had ever seen! Her own wings ached under her thin cloak and bandages, long dark feathers rustling under the torn fabric. She grimaced at the thought of these gates leading her into another wasteland of corpses, barely anything to scavenge, and once again the lack of striving civilization. She marched on. She had resigned herself to this search since her discovery of the place - a few rumors in a dying city from human families who were in the business of dragging only the barest of their belongings with them out of their homeless ruts, exerting their efforts to a quest in reaching the Sanctuary before the world tore itself apart. She had been hiding herself in the shadows of fallen trees and rotting bodies - she had been in the middle of a quickly scavenged meal - when she had heard the little creatures whisper with tones she had only heard once, or twice, in her lifetime: voices full of hope, of an excitement, yet also of an urgency and desperation. When they had left in the dangerous evening, as the hungry, untamed monsters prowled about in the dead forests, she shot herself to the sky with her powerful wings, her growing wings, and flew with delicacy far above them so the human family would not think twice of shooting her, or running towards the wrong direction. She watched them as she flew, several heights above them, and would level herself slowly down to swoop in at any possible threat before they came to harm the family. As strong as she was, she had only taught herself to be a vicious killer and stop her hunger, but she was no good in direction, no good at searching for any place that sounded important. She flinched and doubled over, trudging her bent knees deeper into the sands, and she pressed a claw lightly to her side. The family of little humans were surrounding a fire one night, a fire that attracted these colossal feral beasts with thick manes and eight piercing eyes, and were killed before she had a chance to swoop down and plunge the monsters heads into the ground. The beasts let out a shriek and by instinct she leaned over their dying forms and sank her teeth into their necks to silence these unpleasant sounds. The sounds disappeared, along with the voices of the family. She gathered what she could from their remains - organs that would stay fresh in her bag for a few days - but she devoured the corpses of the eight-eyed monsters, all the way to the bone. A strong, bubbling sensation formed in her whenever she glanced at the faces of the little humans, stuck for eternity into voiceless screams. The sensation had driven her to slaughter the monsters with a ferocity she had only experienced in her starvation. When she finished her meals, her murder, in silent prayer, she flew again through the chilly night and dropped by a group of broken houses where faint lights flashed. There she found this paper, and along her long trek and flight she found a couple pages more, with the same drawings and same strokes of lines, and where more of these papers appeared she followed like a moth to a flame that died and lit itself again. Now she stood with an awkward, sloppy stance, clothed in a tattered gray robe in the desert afternoon, trudging towards one of the largest chunks of rock she had ever seen in her short life. Figures cloaked in black robes - cleaner than hers, and with sharper shapes, fitting their strong, brusque movements - approached her with weapons drawn. She felt blood on her tongue and her eyes drooped low. Instead of alarm and panic, the muscles in her arms remained tight only in weariness, and the strength she built through her long journey dissipated in every weakening step. The figures, creatures with different faces, she could see from afar, scaled faces, smooth faces, incomplete faces, soon surrounded her in a circle of hazy shapes. She recognized one of them as being small and human, and she forced her eyes that threatened to close to focus themselves on the human's face, before spreading her teeth wide across her mouth. Before her vision went dark and the aching in her whole body numbed, she hoped the little man saw her practiced yet vicious-looking smile.