#idkmanithinkthisisprettychillbutidksweats

[alun-ura]

Prompt #8: Clamor Warning; This one is a bit more graphic/gore-y, so read at your own risk. ♪

It came in dreams since she was a child, dreams of annihilation; of a song and flowers, of her long-gone people, and a hunger. It was in their blood, forgotten somehow, and still, she could feel it vividly in her dreams.

Skadi could see a pile of their old god, and she could feel it as if that skin, that gibbering mass was her own. She watched every starving face of the Ashen Tree, their desperation — their cries. The agitation in their cries, in their voices as their countless sacrifices were finally being rewarded and she felt their hope when they looked upon her, upon this flesh.

He, and her, welcomed all of them. It was an honor and a sacred act, there was no fear or remorse as she could feel their nails digging in her flesh, and hungry teeth pulling her apart — limb by limb. Writhing with desperate sharpness, she could see the first droplets and then the overflowing pomegranate red. Flowing from her, along with the chunks of her body missing with each voracious bite.

Taking a piece for their own, to consume, to pray for. She would hear her bones snapping and breaking, tore apart, she could no longer see after her eyeballs were plucked right away, and in time she could no longer hear as her body crumbled into nothingness.

Until she woke up, in a gasp and cold sweat, and immediately patting her own body as if to be sure all of her was still hers. It was always a familiar dream, always easy to recognize. Her home, the old woods, they shared it with her. It was a message, one that she would never dare to tell the old or young seers.

The Ashen Tree, a tribe of conjurers, a tribe of guilt. And a tribe that thrived in their atonement; their fear of history was carved in their bodies. It was a heresy, their ancients’ desire to be loved by the gods is what brought demise upon themselves and the woods, when the leaves dried and the animals died — an ever-consuming beast.

And no longer they'd feed it, after breaking it apart, after bringing 'god' upon themselves, after eating it whole. The land was far too damaged, and they would atone generations after, now, when she was alive.

Skadi would not share it with a single soul, not even with her beloved sisters. She knew that they could join her in it, one day. That task, that holy mission that was whispered to her by the breath of eld, only to her young mind, in visions of massacres. It was a curse and also sight only for herself. And that meant that somewhere in the woods, it still lived.

It was still out there.

And she would find a way to it, or make one.

#))) #man imagine if the visions she got was actually a #hey dude theres shit going on and you need to work on it #as a conjurer #and skadi was like #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #writing #a bit gorey so read at your own risk!! #idkmanithinkthisisprettychillbutidksweats #ANYWay #visions of past :wait what you mean find and bring back the old god???? #haha anyway