She is small.
Flossy, fleecy and lavender scented. The epitome of an insomniac's deepest sleep. The bags under her eyes of mirror shard betray her own lack of rest. And yet she seems so steady in her movements. No, rest will not claim this one. She isn't stupid though. She knows what she's looking for. She knows what she wants. Greedy spoiled little prince-lamb.
slanke en~ slanke en~
she doesn't say it but she thinks it as she moves about the trees. Amongst the thickest trunks. With the widest sprawling branches. Perfect hiding spots. Dangerous horrible places where little lavender lambs should not play.
She is little red riding hood.
And she's looking for the wolf.
It has been following her, darting from tree to tree. Vanishing without a single trace as she turns her head into his direction.
It's 'antlers' pulsate, points outward.
For the most part, its pelt blends in perfectly with the surrounding foliage of shadows. Following her side, it almost glides to and from the brambles, its hooves silent against padded moss.
Save for the slight bridge of what should be a nose, its face is smooth, completely unfeeling.
Needless to say, this little deer catches its curiosity. Why does she run so? She cannot see it. It knows that she can't.
It's almost a trick of the light, but it makes itself known to her. Letting her see its face peeking from behind a tree, almost childishly, before vanishing once more to observe from the tip-tops of trees.
The small sheep sees. When he lets her. For the sake of not seeing him. For the sake of the game. She is not blind though. She can see without even holding her eyes open. Oh no, her eyes are only open so that the world can see itself in her mirrors.
She moves closer, then bounds away again. A little scented cloud in the shadows. A little star, snared in the shadowy brambles of trees. She doesn't belong here.
Then again she would look too dark for the sunlight fields of the rest of this never ending wood too. She simply does not belong anywhere. And so she chooses to force herself where she wants to be. Like water forces itself where it wants to be.
The sky has no limits
and she, she is the sky incarnate.
Or so someone once said.
She isn't sure she believes them all the time. But sometimes she lets herself hope that maybe she is.
"Slanke en?" her voice, it's like starlight. ColdHotBrightBurningChilling all at the same time.
"Faceless man amongst the brambles. Don't you want to play?" she asks.
Asks. Doesn't shout. Her voice is hardly even speaking in tone. Hardly louder than a whisper. And yet in this way it forces one to truly listen if they want to hear.
"spinkle mannen gjemmer seg i trærne, vil du ikke komme og leke med meg?
Grener skrape på himmelen. skrotter og mark fluer. Jeg kan se døden på deg.
Kom la oss spille" she sings. And it is a grim grim song indeed. But she does not bother changing the words to something more understandable.
Does he even care for the words?
In the end she recites again. A more-and-less familiar tongue.
"slender man hiding in the trees won't you come and play with me?
Branches scratching at the skies. carcasses and maggot flies. I can see the death on you.
come on let's play"
She prances nearer. Entranced, if not by this being than by herself. Herself and her own curiosity and horrible want-need to have what she could not. Should not. Ever have
Her tail wriggles behind her as she approaches. and he is reflected in her eyes. those perfect mirrors they are.
Laying in the pit of the Ruins, an odd creature that was by no means as odd as what would be watching, and it was quite clearly weak and lethargic. Dulled plumage, half-shut eyes, she lay motionless on the stone floor, trying to stay away from others.
An ear rises, a head follows. She can feel eyes on her. She doesn't know from where. A rising of hackles and a birdy hiss as she scans around for whatever may be after her, but can see nothing.
Just before she settled, a face appeared. Not a face. A cold clay form, smooth and lifeless. A feathered ear turned to the coughing doe, but her grey eyes didn't leave the creature. She said nothing and simply stared back at him, plumage bristling.
Those antlers. She couldn't help but watch them briefly, watch them sway and pulsate. She clicked her beak, curious despite her illness and general grumpiness.
In a moment, she began to experience a headache, as she had all day, but it was worse now. Ringing in her ears. Her temples were throbbing, and she did not know that this creature could have been the cause of it.
A wince, but she does not take her eyes off of it. A staring contest that drained her strength more and more by the moment.
Too weak to fight now. She wouldn't try to push it away. Besides, she was curious of this thing as well.
Eyes become wild and rolling as an antler reaches toward her. She pulled her head back and hissed faintly.
Then the headache became worse. Her ears lay back, she shut her eyes, and shook her head to try and shake it away. That only made it worse, and she growled.
"Who yew...?" She asked, her voice hoarse and little above a mumble. Still weak.
She would not shoo it away, yet. It didn't seem too dangerous.
She follows. And she sings under her breath. Nonsense things in a mixture of soft Norwegian, rich French, and delicate Lithuanian. And as that tendril reaches down her head hardly shifts from its position.
She moves. Silent soft little steps over the dark mossy earth. And her hooves bring up the rich scent of fertile soil, dark and deep under her feet. And it is a pleasant addition to the lavender. it smells grounded. It smells right
She looks up, turns the mirror-eyes on him. And smiles ever so slightly.
With the headache distracting her and making her look away from him, turning her head downwards and clenching her eyes shut, she didn't see the false antlers coming. Her heart skipped when they coiled around her.
Immediately her eyes snapped open and she stared at it angrily, trying to mask the utter horror she had welling up in the pit of her stomach.
Now it was going to kill her. Fabulous.
She couldn't hear it chuckling over the whining in her ears and the cat-like growl she was producing. But she could almost tell it was smiling, because she hadn't done anything to provoke this, really, so it must've been a sadistic creature looking to cause some more suffering to an already weakened creature.
Even as she felt it becoming more and more difficult to breathe, she stared at it, trying to take a deep breath and relax the grip of the tentacle-antlers.
The ewe is not much of a speaker. Not around crowds.
But it is empty here. So very empty. He could be gone if he pleased, is he even there?
"My name is Un" she doesn't expect a reply, rightfully so, merely stands while he moves. Some well trained show dog.
"Storebror Slender man, ja?" she keeps her voice light and airy. A song within the speech. "Big brother slender man ja?" she repeats. Taking a few small bouncing steps away, humming.
Its seen people like this before. People that were so entranced with it, dogging its heels and crying with delight. They were strange people. Detestable people.
This doe seemed different, though. Unlike the others, she knew what it was capable of doing to her. Knew that it could strangle and paralyze and infect and kill and torture her.
And yet she didn't seem to care.
It watched as she walked away, unmoving. She wanted it to follow her.
And so it does.
It vanished in thin air, then reappeared at her side.
It's 'face' tilted downwards to face her, unspeaking.
She blinks. Does not jump. Does not startle. Though for half a moment her cheeks puff like a spoilt child not getting the toy it wants.
"Now now" she chides. And she is chiding the devil. Swatting a bear. And yet she doesn't seem to care.
Oh she knows, she knows all right. One wrong move and she could be dead.
She does not see herself above him.
But she does not see herself below him.
She sees them on even ground.
"if you go poofing around like that how can I watch you move?" and she adores how she moves. how unnatural it is. too smooth. or too twitchy.
"I wish I could move like that." but her legs were short like this. An awkward babyish thing.
"Big brother's legs are so much longer than mine" she continues, walking slowly. Speaking for the sake of speaking. Because he won't speak and usually she would not either but she feels it's o-kay to talk to him.
At her scolding, it lowers its head, face looking downwards as if it felt remorse.
Tail swishing, it walked ahead of her, trotting along on far-too-small hooves. It's long stride overtook her's over and over again as they strolled together.
Almost as if annoyed, it reached out with it's antlers and wrapped them around her. Gently. There was no intention for it to harm her.
It lifted her up, neatly placing her on its back.
It craned it's neck to look at her, unnaturally rotating around to see its face reflect in her eyes.
It walked on, keeping its curious blank gaze on her.
She seemed comfortable here, bringing her legs up as she was lifted and curling them daintily once she was nestled upon the creature's back. eyes opening fully as he looked at her. Fully reflecting the blank white of the other's face.
She looks like a little prince.
If the throne were writhing and 'alive' that is. Maybe that's more suiting.
"Patience is a virtue" but she smiles. Clearly she's merely playing.
"Careful or I'll expect to be allowed up here every time we meet" her voice is laughing, but smooth. It's hard to tell if she's kidding.
her ears rotated upwards. In a way that was partly funny and partly unnerving for they were unnatural and jerky in their movement.
Her lip curls a bit at the sound. It's not entirely a fun-happy-friendly expression. But it isn't aggressive either.
She hardly has to adjust herself to stay on. The movements are much smoother than a horse's or even a car's. Much more comfortable.
The world moves by quickly. She wonders if she could smear the colour if she reached out with a hoof.
How silly.
She neither knows nor cares where they are going. Or what he is planning. The thought doesn't even cross her mind.
She sings under her breath in a mix of French and Lithuanian. She likes how they sound together.
She recognizes these marks of course. Oh yes, she knows them.
She's unharmed of course, moves daintily over the rocks now.
She wants something from him. And if she wants something, she'll find it, and have it.
She finds it eventually. Flatter stones. small ones. Picks one up in her mouth and drops it before his hooves like a dog that's just fetched a stick. It's no bigger than a marble. Thin and circular. "If you mark this one. I'll tie a thread of wool around it and wear it" She taps a hoof down.
It's not really an offer, and it shows in her voice. She likes taking little pieces of people around with her. The heart necklace. The scarf. The jay's feather. The skull which is hidden in her den.
He watched her, unmoving as she demands something so trivial from him.
His left antler glides downward, wrapping about the tiny pebble to lift it at eyelevel, curiously rotating about as if he had no idea what to do with it.
He looked back down at her, neck lengthening to face her, the stone still held high in the air.
He wanted something in return, it seemed. By no means was he threatening her. Rather, he was simply offering a trade negotiation.
The Slender Man never really did anything for free for the benefit of others.
He would not let this doe get too cocky and sure of herself.
But what to give, the scarf is not truly her own. a shred would not be from her.
She flops down on her haunches, looks like she's grooming herself. She's not though, not really.
She's gathering together fine long strands of wool. A trade is a trade.
It weaves itself together. Clings to itself. it's not unlike felt. Softer maybe. It smells like lavender still.
It takes a little while, but it takes shape eventually. Little crescent shape. It's no bigger than a silver dollar.
She has to turn her head to pull a longer strand from her shoulder to thread through it. "Like a necklace" she's been silent until now. holds her head high so it doesn't drag as she shows him. Can he even see?
Her tail wags. She's proud of herself and her little felted moon. She likes making things.
"oh thank you" she takes the stone easily. It would have been hard to place a hole in it herself.
The thread she uses is very short. Too much so for a necklace.
It's fine. She's not so solid as she looks. And it isn't meant to be looped around her neck.
There's a hole in her ear now. It's small.
In a few aggravating moments it hangs firmly from her ear.
She settles down then, moving to drape herself over him. A fuzzy lavender blanket.
Her eyes are closed, mirrors unseen.
She seems asleep. Though a soft humming continues to slip from her.
((Hope if it’s okay to start an interaction here? Herla was quite frightened by this creature yesterday.))
Herla felt…strange, all day. She was normally a quite fearful doe anyways but all day it seemed that…something was watching her. When she’d look around, she’d see nothing. But the uncomfortable feeling would remain…and she would move to a new spot, or try to find a group of deer she could lay with. Several times she’d look up and for just a moment, it seemed something was there but would quickly disappear before she could fully focus on it. Sometimes she’d see it from the corner of her eye, a strangely tall deer, the details of its face unclear, and its antlers waving like branches above its head. But when she’d turn to look, again, nothing would be there.
She noticed it more when there were fawns about. Other deer would go about their business seemingly unaware. But as she looked for it, it became more solid until one time she saw it quite clearly. She’d kept her face averted, viewing it from askance, her feather mantle shielding her own face. But as she saw it, she sucked in a breath in fear and tried to remain motionless, not letting it know that she SAW. So she began observing it. Always trying to be careful to make sure it didn’t know. She would talk to the other deer, feign interest in their conversations. All the while, watching the thing in the periphery of her vision. She saw a fawn go up to it. And the thing took the fawn. After that she began keeping an eye on the fawns. Gently herding them away from the thing when they would wander too close. Engage them in a game. Frolic and cajole them away. Always certain never to look directly at it. So it wouldn’t know she knew.
But one fawn, smallest fawn she had ever seen, it seemed especially fragile…and it was injured. She watched over it, the thing seemed to hover more than normal over this fawn. She would shield the little baby, even nuzzle and sleep with it, curling herself around it to keep it from the eyes of that…thing. Then for just one moment, her attention was distracted and she lost track of the child. She looked up to see the tiny little fawn was walking right toward the Thing. And the thing was coming toward the fawn, gliding towards it, lowering those waving antlers down to touch it…and she bolted straight at the creature. She was not a fighting deer, she was much too frail and small a doe to ever fight anything, but this fawn, it was the only thing she’d met that was more frail then her…and she was going to protect it. She reared at the Thing, her tiny hooves slashing at the air. And it turned its smooth featureless face, and it LOOKED at HER. It knew she could see it. Fear shot through her heart.
When the creature, suddenly disappeared, she looked around frantically. Behind her. It was right there behind her now! She let out a squeak of fear, cringing before it, it’s blank face staring down at her and those antlers waving around in a way that antlers should not be able to move, like snakes they appeared. Herla stumbled back, too terrified to move.
And then it reached out with those antlers that moved like tentacles…and plucked up the fawn. Just picked it up. And the fawn was gone. She shrieked in panic and fear. No, no, no! Not the baby!
And then it just stared at her.
“Please…please, no.” was all she could say, tears running down her face. She was too weak to protect the fawn. Too weak to fight it. It was her worst fear come alive. She shivered against a tree, unable to move.
The thing crept forward, and trapped her, its antlers surrounding her. They waved on all sides of her, the tree at her back. A blackness oozed all around her. Her eyes darted looking for an escape route, but there wasn’t any. Her heart beat so fast in her chest, she thought it might burst, she took in great gulps of air, sheer panic taking over. Trapped. TRAPPED! And there was its face. That face that had no eyes, no features, bare inches from her. She tried to shriek but she couldn’t catch her breathe…blackness was creeping in through her vision now. Sound became distant. She couldn’t breathe and it was all around her…her consciousness was fleeing now and she was falling into the darkness. Falling.
It is a forest, nonetheless. But is it the Forest?
Somewhere deeper into the darkness, surely? Is it night? Is it inside of a ruined building? There is no light. No clouds, either--but then...what is this black fog?
"It is us. We are it. It is us."
Shadows. Shadows: not human, not deer. Something else entirely. Shadows...they are shadows and nothing more. Shadows dance in shadows; shadows sing their shady songs; this time it is something between an elegy and a eulogy, a somber, mourning tribute to no one.
No one.
Nameless, all of them, every last one.
Someone is near. But who? Run!
The only grayscale shadow, a perfect tone between black and white, abruptly breaks away from the others, pushed and shoved until it has been forced to break into a hard run.
No! Not there! What are you--...?
In through the door, which not only slams open, but also breaks off of its hinges and falls to the ground with a crash, flipping up old floorboards. Splinters in the hands, falling off on their own. How does something attach long to a half-shadow?
Up the stairs; a vase falls, shattering. Sharp glass in the skin. Red droplets, more crimson than scarlet, drip down the shadow, then disappear into the darkness.
Heading down the hall, running fast, trying multiple doors. Click, click; all locked. Except for that one--this one at the end. Hurry through it. Jump over a bed and to a window. No good--sealed with boards.
Maybe this is a nightmare.
It turns around, pressing itself into the wall. Cold darkness all around. Silence. Eyeless face searching, mouth without lips parting to speak, but nothing comes out. Nothing but mindless thoughts.
This is darkness...cold darkness here. I remember it well.
The shadow presses itself close to the wall, melting into its wood, smelling of rot and fragile with decay. They break apart before its forceful touch, having it fall to the floor for a split second before, suddenly, it is gone.
No--not gone--just on the ceiling.
A head and three limbs hang from the pitched roof, half of its body a part of the wood itself, the other half hanging in plain sight. It clings desperately to the ceiling, as though this position in itself might save it. A bolt of bright redness, like branching veins, streaks across its body, bringing a flicker of light that soon disappears in a slow flash of deep blue.
Herla awoke slowly. There was a fogginess that she had to swim through. Up and up, but still the light was just out of reach. Her eyes opened, her vision still hazy. Confusion fogged her mind as well. Something was not right. And she was alone. In the graveyard? Herla never slept alone, there were too many frightening things around to ever be sleeping alone in the woods. She pulled herself to her feet, exhaustion making it a struggle. Vision swimming, she saw an object in front of her. A doll. She peered at it closer, it was a deer with long thin legs and antlers like snakes. Alarmed she kicked it away from her, then stumbled into a gravestone, sliding down to lay at it’s base. She was covered in something. Blood. It was all over her. She could taste it in her mouth. Her own? Panic alarmed in her. No. Not hers. She laid her head back against the gravestone, breathing hard. What had happened to her? Why was she so exhausted? Shakily she got back up to her feet and started walking. Not knowing how she got there, the trip full of stumbles where she had to drag herself back up again, she found herself at the pond. Good, she could wash the blood off. She sank down into the water, wiping her face along her leg. She didn’t go too deep, she was too weak to swim. Lying in the water she rested her head on a log and watched the blood soaked water wash away from her. Whose blood was it? This concerned her; shouldn’t it be something she remembered? Her eyes were too heavy though and she fell asleep in the pond's cool waters.
It pulls back, sinking a little further into the wall, reaching to hold onto the wood with all of its limbs, shrinking away into the corner by the window. It does not want to be touched by this other.
Why are you...?
It squinches, seemingly trying to phase out of existence, but not having very much success...not in the presence of him. Why will you not help me? This last thing may not have been spoken at all to the long-limbed one...it is almost as if it is sometimes speaking to someone else. But who else is there? Other shadows, perhaps...? Watching...but not listening.
An arm falls, a leg falls, and, although it wants to, it does not shut its gaze from the world. It knows this will not help it in any way...no...not when dealing with something like this...someone who appears so much like a shadow in and of himself...because...how do you leave the shadows behind?
No way to escape the inescapable.
No way to prevent the inevitable?
Unexpectedly, the shadow lets itself go, and drops to the ground with an audible thud; an airy, almost moist thud, that brings up a slight breeze which stirs only the window's tattered curtains. The shadow lies there, burning and freezing, ice and fire shooting across its body for seconds before darkness once again engulfs them in a streak of black lightning, to which it winces, curling up but never taking its unseen eyes off the other.
If only it could turn full-shadow...if only it could truly melt into the darkness and become one with it...but, then again, maybe not even that would help.
With his presence, everything else seems to be vanishing...every practiced skill, every basic instinct; all except for the emotions, and the very basic fight-or-flight reaction...which is failing at the moment, almost paralyzing it, trapping it in this way. Things like that do sometimes tend to happen, do they not?
Roe sat by the pond, watching the fawns play. She was content, comfortable. The warm sun was making her sleepy. Her eyes felt heavy. Her head nodded forward as they closed, on the verge of slumber. no
Her head shot up, eyes wide. Roe flicked her ears around trying to pick up a noise that wasn't there. Something wasn't quite right but Roe didn't know what it was.
The tiny creature pressed itself through the bushes, silent as a mouse, practised as a cat. The brambles and thorns did nothing to hurt his tough, hairless skin.
The camera around his neck shone in the dark.
His one eye widened.
"So I have finally found you!"
She is small. Flossy, fleecy
Flossy, fleecy and lavender scented. The epitome of an insomniac's deepest sleep. The bags under her eyes of mirror shard betray her own lack of rest. And yet she seems so steady in her movements. No, rest will not claim this one. She isn't stupid though. She knows what she's looking for. She knows what she wants. Greedy spoiled little prince-lamb.
slanke en~ slanke en~
she doesn't say it but she thinks it as she moves about the trees. Amongst the thickest trunks. With the widest sprawling branches. Perfect hiding spots. Dangerous horrible places where little lavender lambs should not play.
She is little red riding hood.
And she's looking for the wolf.
It has been following her,
It's 'antlers' pulsate, points outward.
For the most part, its pelt blends in perfectly with the surrounding foliage of shadows. Following her side, it almost glides to and from the brambles, its hooves silent against padded moss.
Save for the slight bridge of what should be a nose, its face is smooth, completely unfeeling.
Needless to say, this little deer catches its curiosity. Why does she run so? She cannot see it. It knows that she can't.
It's almost a trick of the light, but it makes itself known to her. Letting her see its face peeking from behind a tree, almost childishly, before vanishing once more to observe from the tip-tops of trees.
It observes her for the sake of observing.
The small sheep sees. When he
She moves closer, then bounds away again. A little scented cloud in the shadows. A little star, snared in the shadowy brambles of trees. She doesn't belong here.
Then again she would look too dark for the sunlight fields of the rest of this never ending wood too. She simply does not belong anywhere. And so she chooses to force herself where she wants to be. Like water forces itself where it wants to be.
The sky has no limits
and she, she is the sky incarnate.
Or so someone once said.
She isn't sure she believes them all the time. But sometimes she lets herself hope that maybe she is.
"Slanke en?" her voice, it's like starlight. ColdHotBrightBurningChilling all at the same time.
"Faceless man amongst the brambles. Don't you want to play?" she asks.
Asks. Doesn't shout. Her voice is hardly even speaking in tone. Hardly louder than a whisper. And yet in this way it forces one to truly listen if they want to hear.
It has no ears, yet it can
Her question prods it forward, and it gracefully shows itself once more from a faraway tree several feet off.
It stares at her for a long time.
And it's long tail, coated with whitishgray fur, begins to wag ever so slightly.
This doe is much like a few of the little children it used to follow... always curious... always thinking of it as an imaginary friend...
It does not move. Rather, it's antlers swerve about, beckoning her closer... urging her to continue to speak more.
Such an interesting voice...
"spinkle mannen gjemmer seg i
Grener skrape på himmelen. skrotter og mark fluer. Jeg kan se døden på deg.
Kom la oss spille" she sings. And it is a grim grim song indeed. But she does not bother changing the words to something more understandable.
Does he even care for the words?
In the end she recites again. A more-and-less familiar tongue.
"slender man hiding in the trees won't you come and play with me?
Branches scratching at the skies. carcasses and maggot flies. I can see the death on you.
come on let's play"
She prances nearer. Entranced, if not by this being than by herself. Herself and her own curiosity and horrible want-need to have what she could not. Should not. Ever have
Her tail wriggles behind her as she approaches. and he is reflected in her eyes. those perfect mirrors they are.
The scent of lavender is cloying.
(I hate to break the post
It's tail swished from side
She had such a pretty, happy voice. It liked it when children sang to it very much.
Her scent was odd too. Very nice. Very powerful.
It must have her.
It watches as she approaches, and it reaches out an antler, it's own length distorting and growing as it swoops down to brush against her ear.
It notices her scarf, and the trendril glides down to curiously wrap around it's fabric.
As it does this. It does not move. Very much like statue, it is. Staring down at her as it's antlers tug at her scarf, pulling it towards him.
---
Ryff; If you wish. I don't mind.
[ I'm tracking this for the
Laying in the pit of the
An ear rises, a head follows. She can feel eyes on her. She doesn't know from where. A rising of hackles and a birdy hiss as she scans around for whatever may be after her, but can see nothing.
This hiding place has been found. It is a trap.
It listens to her, growling,
Helpless as well.
With a small flourish, the faceless deer silently walks to the edge of the pit and looks down, tilting its head ever so slightly to the side.
A nearby deer that been visiting a grave dove into a hideously loud coughing fit.
It didn't pay mind, merely choosing to stare down into that little pit of despair.
It's antlers moved and sways from the top of its head.
---
Moonlitstar; Careful. Curiosity kills the cat.
Just before she settled, a
Those antlers. She couldn't help but watch them briefly, watch them sway and pulsate. She clicked her beak, curious despite her illness and general grumpiness.
In a moment, she began to experience a headache, as she had all day, but it was worse now. Ringing in her ears. Her temples were throbbing, and she did not know that this creature could have been the cause of it.
A wince, but she does not take her eyes off of it. A staring contest that drained her strength more and more by the moment.
It felt her sickness wafting
One of it's swaying antlers suddenly dipped downward, reaching towards her, but not touching her.
It felt her head pounding, liking the feel of it, encouraging it's pain to increase.
It's bushy tail swished to an fro, as if it was amused with this strange thing's behavior.
Other than that, it continued to watch and observe.
If she let it, it could do so for hours.
Too weak to fight now. She
Eyes become wild and rolling as an antler reaches toward her. She pulled her head back and hissed faintly.
Then the headache became worse. Her ears lay back, she shut her eyes, and shook her head to try and shake it away. That only made it worse, and she growled.
"Who yew...?" She asked, her voice hoarse and little above a mumble. Still weak.
She would not shoo it away, yet. It didn't seem too dangerous.
Yet.
As she hissed at it, it
It pulled it back as she reacted it's sending pain, watching intently. It wondered if it should make it worse. What would she do then?
At her question, it curled an antler towards itself, pointing the end of it's tendril to where it's mouth should have been.
It could not answer her even if it wanted to.
Continuing to watch, it layed down, small, tiny hooves draping over the pit's edge.
It would not leave anytime soon.
Silence. Staring at it with
She watched it point at where its mouth should be amd harrumphed indignantly. Duh, she thought.
It became a staring contest again, watching the faceless one's head and snuffling quietly. Stupid cold.
The Peryton watched its feet, looked up its neck and then returned to staring at its face, her concentration wavering with her decreasing strength.
She would not be leaving either.
She follows. And she sings
She moves. Silent soft little steps over the dark mossy earth. And her hooves bring up the rich scent of fertile soil, dark and deep under her feet. And it is a pleasant addition to the lavender. it smells grounded. It smells right
She looks up, turns the mirror-eyes on him. And smiles ever so slightly.
Ryff; What a determined
What a determined little thing! It certainly found her to be quite the entertainment.
It increased the pain in her head even more, and it reached down. Both antlers this time.
Quickly, much like a striking cobra, it coiled it's tendrils about the doe's torso, constricting her as it slowly lifted her up.
If she listened carefully
she might have heard a faint, low chuckle.
---
Tassle;
It cannot smile back, but it enjoys her songs, his waving antlers practically moving to her rhythm.
It practically glided towards her, circling her and observing her from all sides.
It's tail still wagged, the only sign that it was pleased.
It doesn’t want that voice to stop singing.
It wants her for her voice.
Now she knew she was in
With the headache distracting her and making her look away from him, turning her head downwards and clenching her eyes shut, she didn't see the false antlers coming. Her heart skipped when they coiled around her.
Immediately her eyes snapped open and she stared at it angrily, trying to mask the utter horror she had welling up in the pit of her stomach.
Now it was going to kill her. Fabulous.
She couldn't hear it chuckling over the whining in her ears and the cat-like growl she was producing. But she could almost tell it was smiling, because she hadn't done anything to provoke this, really, so it must've been a sadistic creature looking to cause some more suffering to an already weakened creature.
Even as she felt it becoming more and more difficult to breathe, she stared at it, trying to take a deep breath and relax the grip of the tentacle-antlers.
It would not kill her. It
Rather, it lifted her up so that she was eye-level with it's face, staring back at her.
It was an odd creature. Not many deer had beaks or could growl!
Without a second's notice, it dropped her, its own limb-antlers retracting back into its head.
For several minutes, it stared down at her.
Unmoving.
The ewe is not much of a
But it is empty here. So very empty. He could be gone if he pleased, is he even there?
"My name is Un" she doesn't expect a reply, rightfully so, merely stands while he moves. Some well trained show dog.
"Storebror Slender man, ja?" she keeps her voice light and airy. A song within the speech.
"Big brother slender man ja?" she repeats. Taking a few small bouncing steps away, humming.
It is her turn to see if he will follow.
Its seen people like this
This doe seemed different, though. Unlike the others, she knew what it was capable of doing to her. Knew that it could strangle and paralyze and infect and kill and torture her.
And yet she didn't seem to care.
It watched as she walked away, unmoving. She wanted it to follow her.
And so it does.
It vanished in thin air, then reappeared at her side.
It's 'face' tilted downwards to face her, unspeaking.
She blinks. Does not jump.
"Now now" she chides. And she is chiding the devil. Swatting a bear. And yet she doesn't seem to care.
Oh she knows, she knows all right. One wrong move and she could be dead.
She does not see herself above him.
But she does not see herself below him.
She sees them on even ground.
"if you go poofing around like that how can I watch you move?" and she adores how she moves. how unnatural it is. too smooth. or too twitchy.
"I wish I could move like that." but her legs were short like this. An awkward babyish thing.
"Big brother's legs are so much longer than mine" she continues, walking slowly. Speaking for the sake of speaking. Because he won't speak and usually she would not either but she feels it's o-kay to talk to him.
At her scolding, it lowers
Tail swishing, it walked ahead of her, trotting along on far-too-small hooves. It's long stride overtook her's over and over again as they strolled together.
Almost as if annoyed, it reached out with it's antlers and wrapped them around her. Gently. There was no intention for it to harm her.
It lifted her up, neatly placing her on its back.
It craned it's neck to look at her, unnaturally rotating around to see its face reflect in her eyes.
It walked on, keeping its curious blank gaze on her.
She seemed comfortable here,
She looks like a little prince.
If the throne were writhing and 'alive' that is. Maybe that's more suiting.
"Patience is a virtue" but she smiles. Clearly she's merely playing.
"Careful or I'll expect to be allowed up here every time we meet" her voice is laughing, but smooth. It's hard to tell if she's kidding.
It stopped at her quip,
It didn't mind. It had often let children ride on top of its shoulders, much to their delight.
It quickened it's pace, not even bothering to 'look' forward.
It knew where it was going.
But at her laugh, it pauses for a moment.
If the doe listened carefully,
she might have been able to hear the faintest of chuckles.
her ears rotated upwards. In
Her lip curls a bit at the sound. It's not entirely a fun-happy-friendly expression. But it isn't aggressive either.
She hardly has to adjust herself to stay on. The movements are much smoother than a horse's or even a car's. Much more comfortable.
The world moves by quickly. She wonders if she could smear the colour if she reached out with a hoof.
How silly.
She neither knows nor cares where they are going. Or what he is planning. The thought doesn't even cross her mind.
She sings under her breath in a mix of French and Lithuanian. She likes how they sound together.
Faster and faster, limbs
It's alright, though.
No one can see them.
Ht made sure of that.
As his pace continued to quicken, he reached out an antler to wrap around her torso once more, acting as a makeshift seatbelt.
He took her to the Playground, what had become a favorite place of his.
His emblem dot several of the rock walls, white chalk circles and 'X's littering the grounds.
He lifted his passenger from his back and lightly set her on the ground, craning it's neck downwards to see that she was unharmed.
She recognizes these marks of
She's unharmed of course, moves daintily over the rocks now.
She wants something from him. And if she wants something, she'll find it, and have it.
She finds it eventually. Flatter stones. small ones. Picks one up in her mouth and drops it before his hooves like a dog that's just fetched a stick. It's no bigger than a marble. Thin and circular.
"If you mark this one. I'll tie a thread of wool around it and wear it" She taps a hoof down.
It's not really an offer, and it shows in her voice. She likes taking little pieces of people around with her. The heart necklace. The scarf. The jay's feather. The skull which is hidden in her den.
He watched her, unmoving as
His left antler glides downward, wrapping about the tiny pebble to lift it at eyelevel, curiously rotating about as if he had no idea what to do with it.
He looked back down at her, neck lengthening to face her, the stone still held high in the air.
He wanted something in return, it seemed. By no means was he threatening her. Rather, he was simply offering a trade negotiation.
The Slender Man never really did anything for free for the benefit of others.
He would not let this doe get too cocky and sure of herself.
But what to give, the scarf
She flops down on her haunches, looks like she's grooming herself. She's not though, not really.
She's gathering together fine long strands of wool. A trade is a trade.
It weaves itself together. Clings to itself. it's not unlike felt. Softer maybe. It smells like lavender still.
It takes a little while, but it takes shape eventually. Little crescent shape. It's no bigger than a silver dollar.
She has to turn her head to pull a longer strand from her shoulder to thread through it.
"Like a necklace" she's been silent until now. holds her head high so it doesn't drag as she shows him. Can he even see?
Her tail wags. She's proud of herself and her little felted moon. She likes making things.
"Ja?"
He watches her work,
Above his head, his antlers play with the offered stone, fumbling about with it as if he's bored.
When she is finished, he looks down at it, craning his neck down press his face to it, feeling the fabric.
His long tail thumped against the ground in approval.
Still, he couldn't wear it himself. It was too nice. Surely it'd get dirty and messed up.
He looked to his side, a plain white doll materializing before the doe's eyes.
It's a simple, plush thing. Quite crude in it's making. Nothing more than a representation of a very tall man.
Faceless, of course.
Taking the necklace in his antlers, he ties it about the doll's own neck, letting it comically sit up to stare at the doe.
Satisfied, he focused onto the tiny pebble, easily carving his emblem into the smooth rock's surface, leaving canyons a few centimeters deep.
To finish, he added a small hole at the top for her to thread some wool through.
She seems pleased in her own
"oh thank you" she takes the stone easily. It would have been hard to place a hole in it herself.
The thread she uses is very short. Too much so for a necklace.
It's fine. She's not so solid as she looks. And it isn't meant to be looped around her neck.
There's a hole in her ear now. It's small.
In a few aggravating moments it hangs firmly from her ear.
She settles down then, moving to drape herself over him. A fuzzy lavender blanket.
Her eyes are closed, mirrors unseen.
She seems asleep. Though a soft humming continues to slip from her.
He watches her move to lay
All in all, though, he dosen't seem to mind.
Yes, he's sadistic. Horrible. Murderous. Terrifying.
But that dosen't stop him from taking the little doll in his antler and tucking it next to her.
To him, she is a child. A child that knows who he is and what he's capable of.
He didn't think he would kill her, no...
Not for a long, long time anyway.
((Hope if it’s okay to start
Herla felt…strange, all day. She was normally a quite fearful doe anyways but all day it seemed that…something was watching her. When she’d look around, she’d see nothing. But the uncomfortable feeling would remain…and she would move to a new spot, or try to find a group of deer she could lay with. Several times she’d look up and for just a moment, it seemed something was there but would quickly disappear before she could fully focus on it. Sometimes she’d see it from the corner of her eye, a strangely tall deer, the details of its face unclear, and its antlers waving like branches above its head. But when she’d turn to look, again, nothing would be there.
She noticed it more when there were fawns about. Other deer would go about their business seemingly unaware. But as she looked for it, it became more solid until one time she saw it quite clearly. She’d kept her face averted, viewing it from askance, her feather mantle shielding her own face. But as she saw it, she sucked in a breath in fear and tried to remain motionless, not letting it know that she SAW. So she began observing it. Always trying to be careful to make sure it didn’t know. She would talk to the other deer, feign interest in their conversations. All the while, watching the thing in the periphery of her vision. She saw a fawn go up to it. And the thing took the fawn. After that she began keeping an eye on the fawns. Gently herding them away from the thing when they would wander too close. Engage them in a game. Frolic and cajole them away. Always certain never to look directly at it. So it wouldn’t know she knew.
But one fawn, smallest fawn she had ever seen, it seemed especially fragile…and it was injured. She watched over it, the thing seemed to hover more than normal over this fawn. She would shield the little baby, even nuzzle and sleep with it, curling herself around it to keep it from the eyes of that…thing. Then for just one moment, her attention was distracted and she lost track of the child. She looked up to see the tiny little fawn was walking right toward the Thing. And the thing was coming toward the fawn, gliding towards it, lowering those waving antlers down to touch it…and she bolted straight at the creature. She was not a fighting deer, she was much too frail and small a doe to ever fight anything, but this fawn, it was the only thing she’d met that was more frail then her…and she was going to protect it. She reared at the Thing, her tiny hooves slashing at the air. And it turned its smooth featureless face, and it LOOKED at HER. It knew she could see it. Fear shot through her heart.
Foolish little doe. Of course
She had been targeted. He knew everything about her.
He knew where she slept. Where she ate. Whom her friends were. Her habits. Her history.
He knew everything.
She could not see, but an emblem of a circle and an 'X' had been painted upon her flank.
He would watch her constantly. Even if she did not sense it.
He was coaxing the fawn over, his antlers stretching to meet the fawn's body, patting it's head in salutations.
He knew the doe was coming, sharp little hooves lashing. Teeth biting and gnashing.
He stared at her, unmoving save for the waving, deadly antlers upon his head.
A year ago, a college film student attempted to shoot a bullet through his sleek coat.
Pure violence would not so much as scratch him.
Staring at her, he vanished. Dissappeared to reappear behind her, antlers waving.
Did she want a fight?
That would be suicide... No... for now he would simply play with her.
If he had to, he would show her what he was truly capable of.
Looking at the small fawn, he reached over, wrapping a collecting antler about it's torso.
Like a small magic trick, the fawn dissappeared without a trace, transported to another location to await him.
He looked back at the doe. His face as smooth as polished marble tilted down to meet her's.
Just staring
;No problem
When the creature, suddenly
And then it reached out with those antlers that moved like tentacles…and plucked up the fawn. Just picked it up. And the fawn was gone. She shrieked in panic and fear. No, no, no! Not the baby!
And then it just stared at her.
“Please…please, no.” was all she could say, tears running down her face. She was too weak to protect the fawn. Too weak to fight it. It was her worst fear come alive. She shivered against a tree, unable to move.
He sensed her despair amd
The fawn wasn't going to be killed. Not yet, anyway. There was no reason for her to cry.
The fawn was not her child. To feel sympathy for it would be meaningless.
Regardless, tears alone would not stop him.
He walked forward, tiny hooves silently padding up to her, enveloping her in his natural darkness.
His neck lengthened, craning downwards to stare diresctly into the doe's face. Mere centimeters away.
His antlers blocked her path from all-around, daring her to attempt to break free from them.
Oh yes... He would show her.
With a sickening sound of cracking bones, his spine trembled, four bumps forming on his back from both sides.
Thick, deadly black limbs sprouted from them, reaching out to grab the tree's trunk, coating them both in blind-like shadows.
No, he would not kill her.
Or injure her.
But he will teach her a lesson to not interfere.
The thing crept forward, and
He continued to stare,
Good.
As quick as they had come, the appendages upon his back retracted back.
His tail swished in approval at her unconsciousness, the only sign of 'happiness' that he could give.
Carefully, he placed an antler upon her side.
Blood naturally oozed from its tip.
With the flair of a talented artist, he sketched his symbol.
Over and over again.
All over her colorful pelt.
Satisfied, he pulled back after coating her muzzle in it.
The blood was infinite.
The blood of the thousands of victims.
Reaching out a tendril, he wrapped it around her, easily lifting her vandalized being.
Almost casually, he walked to the graveyard, rendering them both invisible to everyone that passed.
He placed her at the foot of a grave.
Then touched his antlers to her forehead, wiping her memory of what had just occurred.
Oh, she would know who was responsible.
It was his warning to her.
To make sure that she would piece together the evidence, he made a small doll appear before him. A crude, tiny plush representation of him.
There was an odd wool necklace about its neck.
He removed this, transporting it to a location that only he would know of.
Then, stepping back to overlook his handiwork
he vanished
but he still watched
[[ I will try...if it is
The Endless Forest...or...the Earth?
It is a forest, nonetheless. But is it the Forest?
Somewhere deeper into the darkness, surely? Is it night? Is it inside of a ruined building? There is no light. No clouds, either--but then...what is this black fog?
"It is us. We are it. It is us."
Shadows. Shadows: not human, not deer. Something else entirely. Shadows...they are shadows and nothing more. Shadows dance in shadows; shadows sing their shady songs; this time it is something between an elegy and a eulogy, a somber, mourning tribute to no one.
No one.
Nameless, all of them, every last one.
Someone is near.
But who?
Run!
The only grayscale shadow, a perfect tone between black and white, abruptly breaks away from the others, pushed and shoved until it has been forced to break into a hard run.
No!
Not there!
What are you--...?
In through the door, which not only slams open, but also breaks off of its hinges and falls to the ground with a crash, flipping up old floorboards. Splinters in the hands, falling off on their own. How does something attach long to a half-shadow?
Up the stairs; a vase falls, shattering. Sharp glass in the skin. Red droplets, more crimson than scarlet, drip down the shadow, then disappear into the darkness.
Heading down the hall, running fast, trying multiple doors. Click, click; all locked. Except for that one--this one at the end. Hurry through it. Jump over a bed and to a window. No good--sealed with boards.
Maybe this is a nightmare.
It turns around, pressing itself into the wall. Cold darkness all around. Silence. Eyeless face searching, mouth without lips parting to speak, but nothing comes out. Nothing but mindless thoughts.
"..."
Oh no, not a
There is no such thing as nightmares.
There is only reality.
He watches it. Watches it flee and run from the shadows.
Shadows that he calls his home.
He follows it, silently gliding through the vessals of darkness and decay.
And for what?
He hardly knows.
This was what he was meant to do.
He watches it turn to the blocked room, and it follows. Follows silently.
As it corners itself, he stands in the doorway.
A horrid thing, standing tall in his dashing black suit with purple tie.
He is faceless himself, long, dangling limbs hanging at his sides.
He does nothing.
He stares with eyes that do not exist.
Stares at his curious new victim.
The shadows seem to reflect upon his greyish-white face, shadowing nonexistant features.
;Quite alright
This is darkness...cold
This is darkness...cold darkness here.
I remember it well.
The shadow presses itself close to the wall, melting into its wood, smelling of rot and fragile with decay. They break apart before its forceful touch, having it fall to the floor for a split second before, suddenly, it is gone.
No--not gone--just on the ceiling.
A head and three limbs hang from the pitched roof, half of its body a part of the wood itself, the other half hanging in plain sight. It clings desperately to the ceiling, as though this position in itself might save it. A bolt of bright redness, like branching veins, streaks across its body, bringing a flicker of light that soon disappears in a slow flash of deep blue.
Thoughtful.
I do not know you...do I?
Herla awoke slowly. There
010; Such a strange likeness
He takes a few steps forward.
His legs move sparatically, gliding along the ground in such a boneless, unnatural fashion until he's staring up at it curiously.
He cannot answer it. Even if it thinks the thought to him.
Perhaps he himself cannot think.
Such is the way of The Slender Man.
Tall, animalistic thing he is.
He watches.
Then reaches an arm, reaching up to touch it.
---
S.H.L;
He watched.
And if he could smile
he would have.
The could could have been washed.
But the mark was still there.
You are mine
I do not understand. It
I do not understand.
It pulls back, sinking a little further into the wall, reaching to hold onto the wood with all of its limbs, shrinking away into the corner by the window. It does not want to be touched by this other.
Why are you...?
It squinches, seemingly trying to phase out of existence, but not having very much success...not in the presence of him.
Why will you not help me? This last thing may not have been spoken at all to the long-limbed one...it is almost as if it is sometimes speaking to someone else. But who else is there? Other shadows, perhaps...? Watching...but not listening.
An arm falls, a leg falls, and, although it wants to, it does not shut its gaze from the world. It knows this will not help it in any way...no...not when dealing with something like this...someone who appears so much like a shadow in and of himself...because...how do you leave the shadows behind?
No way to escape the inescapable.
No way to prevent the inevitable?
Unexpectedly, the shadow lets itself go, and drops to the ground with an audible thud; an airy, almost moist thud, that brings up a slight breeze which stirs only the window's tattered curtains. The shadow lies there, burning and freezing, ice and fire shooting across its body for seconds before darkness once again engulfs them in a streak of black lightning, to which it winces, curling up but never taking its unseen eyes off the other.
If only it could turn full-shadow...if only it could truly melt into the darkness and become one with it...but, then again, maybe not even that would help.
With his presence, everything else seems to be vanishing...every practiced skill, every basic instinct; all except for the emotions, and the very basic fight-or-flight reaction...which is failing at the moment, almost paralyzing it, trapping it in this way. Things like that do sometimes tend to happen, do they not?
Mind if I join in? Roe sat
Roe sat by the pond, watching the fawns play. She was content, comfortable. The warm sun was making her sleepy. Her eyes felt heavy. Her head nodded forward as they closed, on the verge of slumber.
no
Her head shot up, eyes wide. Roe flicked her ears around trying to pick up a noise that wasn't there. Something wasn't quite right but Roe didn't know what it was.
The tiny creature pressed
The camera around his neck shone in the dark.
His one eye widened.
"So I have finally found you!"