The Cycle of Two [Freya]

[ReDead]

[atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i1211.photobucket.com/albums/cc425/SoSGal/Graphs/ValdisBack.jpg); height: 500px; width: 300px; ] ''Tales of Life and Death'' Trees, and trees. The verdant green forest slowly morphed into a sort of rotten marsh : the water and mud thick and sloshy, life slowly choked into nothingness. This is where Valdis liked it : the dank smell of the marsh, the other monsters that prowled it : the very essence of rot and death seemed to enjoy it here. But as always, death was fringed with life : in a meadow not far away, stood a gnarled, dead tree. A twisted Kokiri lived there : Valdis had learned that. Which was fascinating in it's own right : but that's another story of course, one that it evolves on it's own. Minus that meadow that fascinated, repulsed and was dear to Valdis, there was another. Yes strange that a forest or rather woods, have meadows! But Goddess forbid that there is no sort of arbitrary placement in such a place. Anyways, that meadow is where our dearest Redead is located right now, her crimson eyes looking around almost uncomfortably. Why was she here? Because she had heard a voice? Naw, it was just a scent : a scent that made something in her perturbed. So of course, she had to go seek that source out, as the undead found herself in this life brought clearing, the most out of place thing there. To the point, that she had knelt and stared at a flower, her red eyes big and round. ''What is that...?'' she wondered out loud, almost as if she hadn't seen a flower. But silly, of course she had, and she knew that : but this flower was just.. so vibrant, so odd, that the long claws of the Redead stayed on her knees, afraid of touching it. But after a few moments, she dared bring her hand out, the point of a sharp claw petting the petal. And then what she feared happened. The pretty loud squawk of a bird startled the undead, and with a push, she ripped the petal. The undead, startled beyond all sorts of things, just plopped on her butt, and with a heaving sob, began to bawl loudly, tears streaming down her face. The back of her hands lifted and pressed against her eyelids, shutting out all light : her bawls were loud in her own ears, making noise muted. The undead, the one thing that seemed to not fit at all in this clearing, was definitely just sitting on her butt, her knees together, as she bawled over a single rip in a small petal. Definitely something odd in this place, a part of Valdis' mind noted. [433] -- B'aww poor Valdis :C

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[Freya]

This was wrong. All wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. Wrong. There was something here, in one of her beloved groves, and it was rank with death. So much death. Decay. It gnawed at her. Like the canker of corruption that wracked trees afflicted with rot. It made her tremble. Partially with fear. Partially in outrage. How dare it. How very dare it. Whatever it was. She ran, flickering from tree to tree, hunting down the abominable stench of affliction. Flurries of petals burst from her movements, her steps swift and long, her dread and near-fury building as she reached the clearing. This was where it was. And she arrived just in time to see the most peculiar, if somewhat disturbing sights she had seen in a long while.

A ReDead, getting scared by a bird. No less, a sparrow. It actually made her giggle, until she fell down on her rump, and began to cry. As weak as the word was. The sobs were shrill, painful to the ears, her hands flying up to cover them, falling out of the tree she had covertly positioned herself in, into the earth with loud 'whoomph' noise, before relaxing. So much better, being six feet under the wailing. Eventually, it subsided to much more managable, if still tearful whimpers. Well, that was certainly something you didn't see or hear every day. She rose back to ground level, hair tempestuous, despite her pain wracked self. Her eyes were narrowed at the abomination. Even if she was kinda cute.

What exactly are you doing here? This is not your domain. Serious words, unusual for Freya. But this... Thing was dead (Ironic choice of words) against her very being. Unlife, opposed to ever-life. Decay and rot opposed to rejuvenation and regrowth. The healthy glow of Freya's skin, versus the pallid, colour leeched skin of the ReDead. She both wanted to flee from the horror she embodied, and to cast it from the clearing. So she stood, hands on her hips, chest stuck out in a manner she thought was intimidating. Despite the only intimidating thing about her being the skull. And what looked like war paint.

[ReDead]

[atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i1211.photobucket.com/albums/cc425/SoSGal/Graphs/ValdisBack.jpg); height: 500px; width: 300px; ] ''Tales of Life and Death'' The Redead must have been deaf to not hear the whomph sound : but somehow, Valdis managed to miss it. Maybe because bawling was loud in her ear. Finally she began to slow down, and there was a voice, as the girl just tilted her head upside down, bending her body perfectly. So the tears would flow in reverse : slipping down her forehead onto the ground, as she whimpered. ''Petal. Broke.'' she simply said, before with surprising speed, she was on her feet, and threw herself at the nymph's legs, burying her face in the girl's knees. ''I'm sorry, sorry, sorry! I broke the pretty petal!'' Of course, Valdis should have noticed that this entity was life itself : but the Redead was so consummated in her grief over the petal that she didn't even notice. Nor did the undead notice her unnatural attraction : who ever said that undead were immune to feelings and charms? Apparently not this one : she was as close to sentient as possible it seemed. But the blonde haired undead was actually sincere : she was torn up in grief at the fact that her undead claws had tore the petal. Even now, in her grief, the girl kept her claws away from the girl, not wishing to harm her either, as she was sure her tears were wet. Life decidedly did not suit around the undead, even though she was just alive, in her own way, as the rest of the clearing. Her shoulders were shaking, almost like a child that was afraid of being scolded by a parent. Meek and innocent : how does a flesh eating monster accomplish that is left to the imagination of.. well. The onlookers. [286] -- Derp short. sowwies. :C

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