Private Roleplay Flood the Veins (Zaniah)

It was a lonely and stormy night when Zenith took shelter beneath a coniferous overhang. The rain pattered relentlessly for days and gave no warning of let up, but the place he'd chosen was dry and the still thick winter coat kept him warm enough. Blue eyes glittering in the dark gloom, he glanced towards the sky and thought that at least finding water wasn't going to be a problem for a while.

The forest was quiet, aside from the rain. It was still too cold for frogs to sing, and nothing else had business moseying around in a downpour. With a sigh, Zenith tucked his nose under his belly and, feeling quite clever concealed and safe from elements just outside, he let himself sleep.

--

Ah, here was a familiar dream. The sun streaming down from the fading surface. The bubbles climbing higher, leaving him behind as he sinks. The acoustics of the sea, of distant whalesong and salt against fins. The darkness and the twinkling lights of stars in the deep.

But there, a difference. A voice echoing from the belly of the world, where it's owner lay smooth in sand and quiet. It made him sad.

"Hey," it said, quietly at first. Then it rose up to whisper into his ear. He tilted his head, to hear better.

"Kid, you picked a real bad place for a nap."

--

His eyes snapped open and all about him was a terrible roaring. The canopy that had sheltered him was hanging so low it touched the dirt, and just beyond the needle leaves rushed water. A lot of water. Zen scrambled to his feet and pushed passed the veil only for a torrent to drench him immediately. The ground shook, and he sank, paw for paw, in soupy mud.

"Oh," he muttered under his breath, watching his ankles disappear into the bank—the BANK? What bank?!

Before him was a river, fresh and new and widening every new moment of its life, and it was hungry. No sooner had he registered his surprised that it was lapping at his legs, and then, as he tried to turn and flee to higher ground he cursed himself for not finding in the first place (so much for that smug attitude!), it had taken hold of him. He tumbled head over heels and bounced against the bottom, still grassy, still full of budding trees and undergrowth, and was swept away.

A E S T H E T I C A R T

He had followed the Nardirians out of their homeland, dragged away from comfort and stability by a seeping poison that would likely linger over the vibrant green fields for weeks, maybe months. Maybe even longer, he had thought with a pang of sorrow. He would not see his beloved home ever again; the dark, twisting caves that he slept in or the mountain bases that he would roam during the night. And yet there was that voice in the back of his mind, reminding him, taunting him: he had wanted this. The sweet taste of freedom; to be nothing, no one. Up ahead, he saw his parents, saw his older siblings, and he let out a sigh. He did not know where the rest of his litter had gone, whether they were still alive--

Do you remember their names, Zaniah?

No. Would anyone remember mine?

With one last look at what was left of his family, he turned and ran from the pack, ignoring any outbursts or questions from anyone who noticed. He ran towards the only thing that was constant in his life; an everlasting, looming presence that his people had worshiped.

He ran towards the moon.

Let us see where you guide your fallen child, Goddess.

If Nardir's Goddess existed, she was a cruel and merciless harpy.

The rain was relentless, and shelter was becoming increasingly hard to find. Whereas his family were likely enjoying the peace and quiet of Inaria's lilac blossoms, he was drenched to the bone, cold and shivering, mud dirtying his golden coat. His breath was heavy, and his limbs were tiring; an unfamiliar ache in his bones that he wasn't sure he could keep fighting away. Beneath him, a river raged with an almost deafening sound compared to the usual silence of the night. He tried once again to scramble upwards, but his paws slipped uselessly against the mud that barred him from his own survival. He threw his head upwards to the sky and let out a cry; one that was nothing but frustration and an anger that had been bubbling inside him since adolescence.

"IS THIS ALL I AM TO YOU?" He could see his way out of this mess escaping him; his body slowly descending towards the surging water below. But there was nothing he could do, there was nothing left inside him to try to pull himself up again. He was exhausted, and now he was going to die alone. "WAS THIS MY DESTINY?" Nardir had revered the Night Mother and based their life around her, but now he looked up to her as she condemned him to die. "What did I do? What did any of my brothers or sisters do?" His voice wavered for a moment, as he pleaded for a sign from the deity he was meant to dedicate his existence to. "Are we just some sort of mistake?"

Around the full moon, there were five stars that began to twinkle and shine. His eyes widened before his brow furrowed, body shaking as he tried to move.

"You evil bit--"

The river took him, engulfing him as it wiped the Lunar Goddess' stardust away.