//No more people please. ;3\\
Soft clinking and scraping reverberated off the stony walls of the caverns announcing the presence of a baskerville. A male bludgeon with a small bag to be exact that frequented the caverns, though not usually of his own will. The reason for this visit could be seen next to him in the form of a quiet slaughter dalma who gave of the impression of being very...withdrawn. Rarely did Rio talk and when he did it was usually in harsh whispers to himself, accusations and verbal beat downs the topic norm. A little crazy? Perhaps. Dangerous? Not particularly. Although his few but grim words on his past suggest otherwise.
With an exasperated sigh the baskerville, Coryn, trotted over to a nearby large rock and leap onto it, curling to lay down almost as soon as he landed. The movements, two that blended to form one, were down with grace and delicacy and produced only a slight chinking noise from the bag he carried in his jaws. The large hound set the bag down carefully and flicked it open with one vicious claw. Another claw joined this one to take out a wine glass and then a light bottle, presumably filled with wine. "Chardonnay, flavoured with a hint of peaches...nicely aged...but all the same I wish I'd brought straight whiskey. Help me cope better with my apparent insanity. 'Should have just pressured Flynn into going...but he snagged that job leading the resistance. Lucky dodger...Would you like to share a glass? No? Ah well, more for me then." Coryn filled the single glass and drank from it, holding the stem delicately between large claws.
The hound licked his chops, relishing he still present flavours of the wine. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a glass? It's the worst thing, drinking wine by one's self. It feels empty."
"You say empty...But you do not know true emptiness. The emptiness of the flickering candlelight, fighting to keep back the endless pressure of the dark only to accept the futility of its resistance and fall into conformity, allowing the hollowness of surrender to blanket its form, twisting it, eating away until it has nothing but dreams of what once was to comfort it in its despair."
The baskerville snorted. "Well know, don't we feel like a bloody kill-joy today? Awful attitude to have when you're seeking redemption."
"I have exactly the right level of pessimism for one who has been rejected by the gods above. Where they see hopelessness, who is to say their cousins will not see the same?
"Huh. Gods. Always thought life'd be better without them meddling."
"...No...We are all ants before their might. And just as ants must cower before the bird, so must we before the gods. We must accept their Will."
"You say we must accept their Will...and yet here you are. Not accepting the Will of those who dwell in out own skies in favour of bowing before those who dwell in these." Coryn placed the wine and glass back into his bag and stretched before jumping down to Rio. "And how exactly do you propose to do this?"
"By seeking out those who may best guide me."
"The Akail?"
"Of course."
"Will you try to persuade one to come back with us to teach you the ways of their gods?"
"If that is what I must do."
"Well then. I suppose what must be shall be, as is said."
Soft clinking and scraping reverberated off the stony walls of the caverns announcing the presence of a baskerville. A male bludgeon with a small bag to be exact that frequented the caverns, though not usually of his own will. The reason for this visit could be seen next to him in the form of a quiet slaughter dalma who gave of the impression of being very...withdrawn. Rarely did Rio talk and when he did it was usually in harsh whispers to himself, accusations and verbal beat downs the topic norm. A little crazy? Perhaps. Dangerous? Not particularly. Although his few but grim words on his past suggest otherwise.
With an exasperated sigh the baskerville, Coryn, trotted over to a nearby large rock and leap onto it, curling to lay down almost as soon as he landed. The movements, two that blended to form one, were down with grace and delicacy and produced only a slight chinking noise from the bag he carried in his jaws. The large hound set the bag down carefully and flicked it open with one vicious claw. Another claw joined this one to take out a wine glass and then a light bottle, presumably filled with wine. "Chardonnay, flavoured with a hint of peaches...nicely aged...but all the same I wish I'd brought straight whiskey. Help me cope better with my apparent insanity. 'Should have just pressured Flynn into going...but he snagged that job leading the resistance. Lucky dodger...Would you like to share a glass? No? Ah well, more for me then." Coryn filled the single glass and drank from it, holding the stem delicately between large claws.
The hound licked his chops, relishing he still present flavours of the wine. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a glass? It's the worst thing, drinking wine by one's self. It feels empty."
"You say empty...But you do not know true emptiness. The emptiness of the flickering candlelight, fighting to keep back the endless pressure of the dark only to accept the futility of its resistance and fall into conformity, allowing the hollowness of surrender to blanket its form, twisting it, eating away until it has nothing but dreams of what once was to comfort it in its despair."
The baskerville snorted. "Well know, don't we feel like a bloody kill-joy today? Awful attitude to have when you're seeking redemption."
"I have exactly the right level of pessimism for one who has been rejected by the gods above. Where they see hopelessness, who is to say their cousins will not see the same?
"Huh. Gods. Always thought life'd be better without them meddling."
"...No...We are all ants before their might. And just as ants must cower before the bird, so must we before the gods. We must accept their Will."
"You say we must accept their Will...and yet here you are. Not accepting the Will of those who dwell in out own skies in favour of bowing before those who dwell in these." Coryn placed the wine and glass back into his bag and stretched before jumping down to Rio. "And how exactly do you propose to do this?"
"By seeking out those who may best guide me."
"The Akail?"
"Of course."
"Will you try to persuade one to come back with us to teach you the ways of their gods?"
"If that is what I must do."
"Well then. I suppose what must be shall be, as is said."
