sahteekahard

[sahteekahard]

The gorge of rocks was silent.

The sun stood at its zenith, casting a soft golden light across the clear sky. The wind gently brushed the treetops, stirring them faintly, but the sound was barely audible. No bird cried out; only the sweet, suffocating scent of decay lingered in the air.

The village in the hollow, surrounded by forest and cliffs, appeared quiet and serene. However, upon closer inspection, one could notice the villagers bending under the weight of baskets, harvesting crops from barren fields. Some repaired the leaning fences, forgetting their hammers. Others sat by their houses, their vacant gazes fixed on the distant horizon.

On a rocky outcrop, hidden in the shadows of the forest, stood two figures.

"Amusing," the Crimson Phoenix said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. "They continue living as if nothing had changed."

He gazed at the village's empty streets and decaying homes, where faint silhouettes moved. Their movements were slow and lacking energy, yet strangely mesmerizing in their repetition. 

"They don't know they're dead," he continued, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And the living don't always realize they're rotting from the inside," replied the White Tiger, looking at the village with calm, almost tender eyes.

"Enough!" the Phoenix snapped irritably. "Their bodies have long since decayed. Your talk about the soul’s integrity is pointless here."

The White Tiger merely squinted slightly, observing his young companion. 

"It's a plague," the Phoenix concluded, looking coldly at the village. "But why weren’t we warned about the plague along the way?"

The Tiger took a deep breath. Something fleeting flickered in his eyes, something the prince hadn’t yet noticed. "They don’t leave marks like the diseases of mortal beings," he began. "There are those who feed on sin—on malice, indifference, and cruelty toward others. Their work is... different."

The Phoenix turned, frowning. "You're talking about demons? The restless spirits you’ve described to me?"

The Tiger shook his head. "No. Not demons. They are like me. They came from the sky."

The prince furrowed his brow. "Sky dwellers?" he said, his voice filled with skepticism. "I thought you all were meant to help mortals?"

"We do," the White Tiger confirmed. "But the Farewellers don’t touch those who live. Only those who have long since stopped."

"They were alive before the infection," the Phoenix said, almost as if arguing with himself.

"For mortals, the life of the body is what matters. For us, it’s irrelevant. We don’t die physically, but..."

The Phoenix abruptly turned, his crimson cloak flashing in the sunlight. "There’s no point in staying here. We won’t get answers from the dead," he said, striding away from the cliff’s edge.

The White Tiger smiled quietly, watching him leave. He saw what the young prince so desperately tried to hide: the ancient fire burning in his eyes, a fire he stubbornly refused to acknowledge.

The Tiger brought a long pipe to his lips and took a deep inhale. Thick, white smoke flowed from his mouth, wrapping the cliffs and the village below in a hazy shroud. 

And as the wind scattered the mist across the plains, only the emerald grass and the gentle rustle of tree crowns remained.

[sahteekahard]

the mood is just to look at the sea and listen 'seeking the keepers'

[sahteekahard]

Day 2 - otp

Oh, I truly believe that Myrtle and Tom could have crossed paths. I could talk about it all evening.

[sahteekahard]

Day 1 - just small boy in slytherin

[sahteekahard]

Inktober never really inspires me, but I do love the concept of drawing prompt lists- so I made my own! #Fantober2024

I need an excuse to draw some fun, self-indulgent art!! It's literally been years. I hope some of you will join me~