#anir second lord of blood

[jugemusequencer]

i woke up on a random tuesday evening and went ... "how could i make pcr more annoying and how can i make it nearly impossible" then decided to put my oc/canons into it with ridiculous ideas spawned from pure spite

[elizzawrites]

The Myth of Kilan Pt.1

The old world was not like the world we live in today. Our temples our lavish and our city grand, yet none of us can remember the time when the gods visited man. The most decrepit of buildings radiated with life as the immortals mingled among their mortal counterparts in secret. Even the great elders of the city have only heard the tales from the elders before them, who heard it from the elders before them, going back generation after generation. And the stories those elders told, they were not about the original queen of the gods, Nepheti, or the first man and lord of the dead, Aznades. They were always, and still are, about fate; though, she usually bears the name Kilan.

   When Kilan was born, Diaphon was nothing but a settlement. Some have said she was the first baby ever born at there, the second place where man had decided to start a home after Zyra flooded the first with her tears, but there is no proof of that. I suppose it also doesn’t matter to the story we are trying to tell.

  Kilan was raised tilling the land to grow wheat, but a girl that strong and fierce needed more. So, at the young age of ten, Kilan picked up her father’s bow and hunted her first wild boar. The village feasted that night and so would they for every night that she went hunting. Now we associate her various triumphs with the ferocity of the boars she hunted, but still we think of our goddess more in association with one of the desert’s rarer beasts

  Nepheti, Queen of the Gods and creator of our world, has but one sacred animal, the Hayamuin ibex. It was the first creature to ever roam the desert sands, and had thus walked by the goddess’s side for longer than anyone can imagine. Seeing one of these creatures is incredibly rare, and if you do manage to catch a glimpse of one, it is best to just turn back. Nepheti protects her sacred animal with a fury and even getting too close to one could be construed as a grave insult.

      Kilan, however, was naive at that point in her life, so when she was only nineteen years old and newly married to the beautiful and wise seer Yirna, she went out hunting as she always did. A famine had ravished the village, and most of the crops had failed. The sea Diaphon had been built next to had long since turned into a lake and that lake was shallow and murky at best as Anir and Havurani, the two suns, beat down from above. Game was almost as scarce as crops, and the people would eat just about anything.

So, all alone and deep within the sand dunes, Kilan came across one of these rare ibexes. It was a massive stag that looked like it could get the small village by for a few more days, which was more than they could have hoped for at that point.

She knew better than to kill a sacred animal, especially one of Nepheti’s sacred animal, but desperation makes us forget these things. An ibex is a pile of meat, not something to be worshiped, when you can count your ribs through your skin.

With the almost inaudible twang of the bowstring, she shot the ibex before she could even think about the choice. No prayers were said before and there was no time for prayers after.

The ibex reared up and charged down a sand dune towards the solo hunter. She did her best to roll out of the way, but she was caught of guard and it was too late. One of the horns ripped through her stomach as she was impaled on it by the force of the creature and ripped off it by her own momentum.

That kind of strength should not have been possible from a wild beast, but the gods can make anything possible. And now the ibex had a red horn to match the red spot on his chest where the arrow still protruded from; though, it walked off back across the dunes as if it had received no more that a scratch,

Kilan tried to hold the blood in, but it took only a second that she should be trying to keep her organs in as well. Blood dribbled through the corners of her mouth and gushed through her fingers. Still, she wouldn’t die yet. Not until she made it home.

Someone was waiting for her and she needed a promise that they’d see each other again. She needed to say goodbye to her wife.

Blood and entrails following behind her, she dragged herself through the sand and left a trail any predator could sniff out from miles away. She had so far to go and so little life left to go on.

After an hour vultures began to circle above her. Another hour passed and the first one took a dive at what had begun to resemble a corpse more and more by the second. Body unmoving in the desert Flesh rotting in the sun. Blood staining the sand.

“At least wait until I die, bastards,” she wheezed around a mouthful of dry blood.

Over the next dune she saw a figure walking towards her. It wasn’t a mirage or a person, she knew that. It was Death himself, so she collapsed into the sand and waited for him to come.

Tag List: @scripturient-manipulator @pallasclassics @desperatlytryingtowriteabook @letterstomidnightkids

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[jugemusequencer]

inheritor of blood