a slow parade

DORIAN

The tundra sprawled out before them like a vast, desolate canvas, blindingly white beneath the flat light of the Deepfrost sky. The cold was absolute, a force that pressed against the edges of his fur-lined coat and clawed through the gaps in his gloves. The skyship that had delivered them from Stormbreak loomed behind them, its dark hull already frosting over as it waited for its next orders. Dorian didn’t spare it a glance. His focus was on the world ahead, barren and untouched, waiting to be rewritten.

Halo’s frozen skin would crack beneath their will. He could already imagine it: the infection spreading like veins through ice, carving rivers of purple where white once dominated. The tundra, stripped of its defiance, would kneel, its vast horizons darkened with creeping void and the promises of power. A small smile tugged at his lips, faint as the sun’s reluctant glow. His breath fogged before him, curling and dissipating into the empty air like the last resistance of a world that didn’t yet know it had lost. The wind’s howl seemed less like a threat now and more like a dirge, an anthem for a land that had been resilient for too long.

His gloved hand reached out, fingers flexing slowly as though testing the weight of the very air. "This will become something far greater," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, lost almost immediately to the roar of the tundra. Then, as though compelled by a private thought, he turned to Dahlia, his blue eyes gleaming with something rare—an edge of warmth beneath the cold calculation. "I’m glad you’re here for this," he said, the faintest smile curling at his lips.

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

They stand like drops of ink upon white and untouched paper, the air impossibly frigid, the world a stretching expanse of certain death. Dahlia already likes it, the Reaper uncharacteristically still beside Dorian as they take in the Tundra and all it has to offer. Precious few can linger in this raw and rugged landscape, but their Family stand among them, and she glances towards him and pushes back the dark, furlined hood of her coat to offer him a catlike smile in response.

"We have not spent time together like this since we first landed in this world," she recalls, a sigh of almost longing escaping her lips and painting a cloud before her face that is soon snatched by the ruthless breeze. "Imagine if we had arrived here instead. The Tundra is starving for a touch like ours." Slowly removing her gloves, peeling the leather away to reveal her soft, pale hands, she tilts her head towards Dorian. "Shall we?"

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

DORIAN

The tundra’s silence hung heavy between them, broken only by the distant keening of the wind. Dorian turned to face Dahlia fully, his blue eyes gleaming with a rare flicker of warmth against the cold bite of the air. He watched as she peeled the gloves from her hands, pale fingers emerging like marble against the unrelenting grayness of the Deepfrost sky. When her invitation came his own gloved fingers moved with deliberate precision to match her gesture. He removed his gloves one by one, the motion almost ceremonial, and tucked them neatly into his coat. The chill was immediate, but he welcomed it. The cold was a familiar companion, a whisper of the void’s embrace compared to the vacuum of space they had once called home.

"We shall," he murmured, his voice low, nearly lost to the wind. From the inner lining of his coat, he withdrew a small velvet pouch, its black fabric catching faint traces of light. Undoing the drawstring with a deft pull, he tipped its contents into his palm: three void crystals, shards of impossibly dark material that seemed to drink in the meagre light around them. Their jagged edges glimmered faintly, as if alive with a hunger barely contained by their fractured forms.

Holding one between his thumb and forefinger, Dorian studied it with quiet reverence, tilting it so the abyssal gleam caught in Dahlia’s gaze. "Halo is already scarred by ice," he said, his tone thoughtful, almost clinical. "It will hardly resist a deeper wound." Would resist seeds, as well. Without waiting for a reply, he crouched, the fur of his coat brushing the frozen ground, and pressed the crystal against the snow-packed surface.

The reaction was immediate. Where the crystal touched, the ice began to darken, jagged veins of black and purple spreading outward like spiderwebs beneath the snow. Dorian straightened, the sharp air catching the faint curl of satisfaction on his lips as he watched the void take hold. "A transformation so subtle, it will spread beneath the surface before they even realize what’s happened."

The second crystal he handed to her, his fingers brushing lightly against hers. "Your turn," he said, the challenge in his voice masked beneath a smooth veneer. The third crystal remained in his palm, its edges biting faintly into his skin. He stepped back, giving Dahlia room to work, but his gaze stayed fixed on the corruption creeping beneath the ice. It was mesmerizing, the way the void spread in veins that mirrored the very cracks in the permafrost. It didn’t replace the land—it consumed it, rewrote it, made it more.

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

She waits and watches with equal reverance as he withdraws the velvet pouch; a supplicant awaiting instruction from a priest, and as the void crystals appear, seeming to steal away the light from this already bleak land, her smile grows more predatory. "They have left it unprotected," she says of the region, gesturing to the distant - so distant but oh so close - slope and shape of the Citadel across the snowscape. "I almost feel as though they have been waiting for us." Inviting us.

Cerulean eyes flash down to the void crystal that Dorian presses into the ice, expression growing wild with feverish delight to see the fingers of darkness creeping and fracturing outwards. "So quickly it grows," she whispers. "I am forever amazed by our work." Reaching out to accept her own crystal, her cold fingers curl about his own for perhaps a second or two, before Dahlia, too, is dropping gracefully towards the ice.

With her hands suddenly tipped with wicked claws, it's a brutal and chaotic movement to say the least, as the Reaper plunges her talons down into the frozen land, mere inches from Dorian's own crystal. Releasing her gift to Halo deep beneath the earth, already the ice blackens and crackles further; a deep wound spiralling out and intercepting the veins of darkness already racing through the region, orbiting them.

Wrenching her hand free and straightening, Dahlia releases a sigh that dares to seem peaceful. "And the last?"

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Swirls of ominous purple haze drift across the Tundra, tinting the once-pristine snow in unnerving hues. A pack of Void Foxes prowls in the distance, their deep violet fur crackling with a cold, otherworldly energy. As you continue forward, patches of Memory Snow warp into Void Echoes, replaying distorted images of grisly events which have transpired here through the years. The biting wind carries distant, ghostly calls that chill your blood—echoes of the void itself, warning you that the Tundra has become a place where violence has become the norm.

As the Tundra has been taken over by the Family, remaining in this area will be dangerous as the flora/fauna will continue to grow increasingly hostile toward you.

---

You've encountered Void Foxes and Void Echoes. This counts as a common/uncommon creature encounter for the purposes of levelling, but does not count as a Random Event for levelling or MP. There will be no further admin/re intervention. If you choose to follow this creature, you do so at your own risk, however, just having it in this thread is enough to satisfy your levelling requirements.

Void Foxes (Uncommon): Corrupted Frost Foxes, Their forms are now purple, and their frost-laden fur glows with an otherworldly cold. Instead of yipping, their calls resonate with ghostly whispers, capable of freezing the hearts of those who hear it.

Void Echo (Common): The Memory Snow, tainted by the void, now retains memories darker than winter's chill. When disturbed, the snow reforms not into innocent shapes but into haunting echoes of past void-touched events. These echoes carry a sense of foreboding, glimpses of void-tainted occurrences that whisper cryptic messages to those who witness the unsettling reformation.

DORIAN

Dorian tilted his head slightly, watching Dahlia with quiet satisfaction as she received the crystal, her fingers brushing his with a deliberate slowness that felt less like hesitation and more like control. His gaze never left her as she knelt to the ice, the fluid grace of her movements a counterpoint to the brutality of her claws raking through the permafrost. The way the ice fractured beneath her power was exquisite—a chaotic bloom of void-tainted veins spreading like ink spilled on paper. He took a measured step back, his boots crunching against the snow, allowing himself a full view of the way her work met his, their shadows intertwining beneath the frozen surface. The convergence was perfect, a twisted harmony that carved deep into the land.

Her sigh, peaceful in a way that seemed almost profane in the bitter air, drew a faint smirk from him. "And the last," he echoed softly, lifting the final crystal and holding it aloft for a moment. The dark shard caught the dim light and twisted it, the fractured edges shimmering with a violet gleam as though alive. Dorian crouched, pressing the crystal into the ice between where their contributions had spread, completing the triangle. His fingers lingered for just a moment, the cold biting through his skin as the void surged outward, a rush of darkness that spiralled into the air above. The veins pulsed with an almost hypnotic rhythm, and he rose, brushing the frost from his knees with precise, unhurried movements.

The transformation unfolded before them. A swirl of ominous purple haze drifted across the tundra, casting the snow in an eerie, shimmering glow. In the distance, shadows moved—Void Foxes, their fur crackling with ethereal energy, prowled at the edge of sight. Dorian’s sharp gaze followed them, his smirk deepening as the creatures padded closer, their presence an unmistakable sign that their work was taking hold.

"Look at them," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. The foxes’ violet fur seemed to ripple with the void itself, their movements deliberate, predatory. He turned his attention briefly to the patches of Memory Snow nearby, watching as they warped into Void Echoes, replaying distorted scenes of blood and struggle. The calls of the void carried on the wind, ghostly and sharp, slicing through the tundra like a warning to anyone foolish enough to linger here. To Dorian, it was music.

"Isn’t it beautiful?" he asked Dahlia, his tone laced with satisfaction. "The tundra already knows who it belongs to." He turned slightly, the haze swirling around him as if drawn by his movements. He fell silent, his sharp blue eyes fixed on the distant Citadel. The once-imposing structure now seemed insignificant beneath the growing shadow of their work. The void whispered beneath the snow, a promise that the tundra’s transformation was only the beginning.

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Like music; Dahlia can only agree, the Reaper carefully slipping her gloves back on as she watches the third and final crystal join its brethren in the solemn depths of the Tundra. The grip of the void on the region pulses and ripples like a heartbeat, one inexorably connected to them and to Starfall far, far south. It has her longing for movement, for the hot flush of sex and violence, for the biting wind in her face and through her hair.

Catching the flicker of something out of the corner of her eye, it's with an obscene sort of joy that she watches the Void Foxes prowl closer, the Void Echoes dancing savagely through the air. "How lovely," she purrs, dropping into a graceful crouch and reaching out to beckon one of the foxes closer, her fingers plunging through the violet fur in a slow and decadent scritch. "Be well, and go far," she whispers to the creatures, rising once more as they race away across the land.

"I daresay the same ought to go for us." Drawing her hood back over her head, Dahlia falls into step with Dorian as they return to the skyship. Whether it is entirely frozen over is without consequence. Should it prove too difficult to navigate, they will simply disappear, leaving the crew to their fates.

~FIN

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!