02-16-2019, 03:22 PM
Their spirits opened. Valeriya swayed to the chanting songs. Smoke wormed around them like a cherufe seeking a warm body. It tickled Valeriya’s bare back, and the cotton in her head stuffed out her ears. They were close. The Eye roamed.
Illarion joined his voice in song, but the knife in his eyes cut through the room with wary introspection. This woman that his sister brought was different than the oblivious Abovians, but Regus dismissed her and sequestered himself apart from the ceremony. He claimed rights as Khylsty, but abandoned them during their most sacred ritual. They all Awoke, Regus included. Why depart now? What could be more important?
Matvei choked on his own voice. The whole ritual was laughable. The waif of the girl, Valeriya, was already a reflection of the Above and less of their Khylsts. She claimed they all needed to adapt, but Matvei refused to forget their sacred identity. If she wanted to be Above more than Below, then she could keep the surface for herself. Now she brought lost ones to their home, attempting to convert Surface Dwellers. It was despicable. As soon as the Dweller failed, they would kill her and Valeriya would be humiliated before them all, at last.
They were one in that moment. The spirits moved. The Eye could almost see them. All of their glowing, bright souls beckoning the dead one at their center to rise from its grave. Come on, Rowan. You can do it.
Rowan moved, tracing shapes with one hand. The Eye roamed near, fixated as though maybe it saw something Valeriya did not comprehend. Vale’s true eyes pierced through the haze fogging her world and glimpsed Rowan’s shadowy rims one last time.
Then a scream.
Valeriya gasped and backed away in reflex. Blood spewed forth like the slit throat of an oni. Entrails dangled wet from Rowan’s palm. Water and blood mixed sickening rivers down her face, dripping from her jaw. The slimey orb offered.
She reached out to accept the gift of her newly awoken sister. Love radiated like blankets to envelop her brave, brave sister. The moment their hands touched, and Valeriya’s palm grasped the warm, wet eyeball, and pulled it to her chest lovingly.
True blankets were laid across Rowan’s shoulders. The woman was going into shock. They poured drink and smoke into her system to calm the disturbance of a body freshly Awoke. The risen spirit took a toll on the body, but they were prepared. Some of Regus’ medicines of the above were applied and offered. Valeriya herself gave the eye to the Elder Khylsty, who himself went about the task of its preservation. The Khylsty kept the bulging phallus of Rapsutin in a jar for 150 years. He would tend to the eternal keeping of Rowan’s eye. Their Eye.
Soon, Rowan would be comfortable. Valeriya herself tended to her wound and cleansing her face and chest while she rested. Her hands brushed the sweaty hair from her forehead before offering a gentle kiss to chase away the fears that plagued her infantile spirit.
Illarion joined his voice in song, but the knife in his eyes cut through the room with wary introspection. This woman that his sister brought was different than the oblivious Abovians, but Regus dismissed her and sequestered himself apart from the ceremony. He claimed rights as Khylsty, but abandoned them during their most sacred ritual. They all Awoke, Regus included. Why depart now? What could be more important?
Matvei choked on his own voice. The whole ritual was laughable. The waif of the girl, Valeriya, was already a reflection of the Above and less of their Khylsts. She claimed they all needed to adapt, but Matvei refused to forget their sacred identity. If she wanted to be Above more than Below, then she could keep the surface for herself. Now she brought lost ones to their home, attempting to convert Surface Dwellers. It was despicable. As soon as the Dweller failed, they would kill her and Valeriya would be humiliated before them all, at last.
They were one in that moment. The spirits moved. The Eye could almost see them. All of their glowing, bright souls beckoning the dead one at their center to rise from its grave. Come on, Rowan. You can do it.
Rowan moved, tracing shapes with one hand. The Eye roamed near, fixated as though maybe it saw something Valeriya did not comprehend. Vale’s true eyes pierced through the haze fogging her world and glimpsed Rowan’s shadowy rims one last time.
Then a scream.
Valeriya gasped and backed away in reflex. Blood spewed forth like the slit throat of an oni. Entrails dangled wet from Rowan’s palm. Water and blood mixed sickening rivers down her face, dripping from her jaw. The slimey orb offered.
She reached out to accept the gift of her newly awoken sister. Love radiated like blankets to envelop her brave, brave sister. The moment their hands touched, and Valeriya’s palm grasped the warm, wet eyeball, and pulled it to her chest lovingly.
True blankets were laid across Rowan’s shoulders. The woman was going into shock. They poured drink and smoke into her system to calm the disturbance of a body freshly Awoke. The risen spirit took a toll on the body, but they were prepared. Some of Regus’ medicines of the above were applied and offered. Valeriya herself gave the eye to the Elder Khylsty, who himself went about the task of its preservation. The Khylsty kept the bulging phallus of Rapsutin in a jar for 150 years. He would tend to the eternal keeping of Rowan’s eye. Their Eye.
Soon, Rowan would be comfortable. Valeriya herself tended to her wound and cleansing her face and chest while she rested. Her hands brushed the sweaty hair from her forehead before offering a gentle kiss to chase away the fears that plagued her infantile spirit.
The Eye of the Khylsty