11FallenAngel97

Throughout this exploration of not just the Stygian's appearance, but also his realm and his own potential for the future, he has lacked a name. He finds it, in the quiet intensity of the darkest of nights, the solemn solidarity of the trees which stand as guardians amongst his realm, ethereal and untouched by the life around them. Whispered amongst the trees, he finds himself, his identity. Rath. The name gives form and purpose to his being; he sees new opportunities form about him, one of the first of which being his introduction to another Stygian. Nobody is his opposite in many ways, the most notable of which, naturally, is his appearance. He is the pale ghost of light, the beams of moonlight filtering through the dense forest canopy, a quiet strength of wisdom and guidance, a light in the dark. His advice is dependable, if riddled, and Rath finds himself made to think, to do things he had never done before. He is a nightmare made real, the corporeal manifestation of the darkest

The Stygian was made for this realm, or perhaps the realm was made for him. Though upon initial examination the realm may seem dark and damp, cold and lonely, in truth there is life even amongst the darkened landscape. Dimly lit at times, like that of a dark alleyway, the land is interspersed with caves of all different sizes and compositions. Some are cold, dark, and echoing, others are bright and crystalline. The earth above and around these caves is lush with life, predominantly trees of all kinds, though a majority are pines, firs, some oak and birch. Those that lose their leaves with the natural progression of seasons do so at a faster pace than one might expect. Rather than measuring the time of day through the sun (which is oft hidden by thick, moisture-dense clouds, one can measure the time by the color and presence, or lack thereof, of the leaves. Dawn brings limited light, touching upon the fresh green of newly budding leaves, unfurling sleepily to soak up what sun they

Rather than a mirror this time, there is a change of scenery, and of appearance. For every Stygian there is another form, or even more than one form, which they may take. In the case of this enigmatic male, he had come upon his additional shape through no particular means, other than he had encountered its likeness as a matter of happenstance, and had taken a liking to it. The Bat-Eared Fox was innately curious, cautious, smart and playful. They were keen and nurturing, with a capacity for family caring which perhaps drew him in. Large ears captured every sound nearby, whilst a furred body and relatively short legs kept him closer to the ground. He was well built for warmer climes as well as for wetter weather, which worked in regards to his own realm. His realm is on that is often touched by rains and storms, To be able to take on this form, one in which he was free to emulate the behaviors of the Bat-Eared Fox, was a sort of escape from the world. He enjoyed getting to experience

Mirrors were familiar to the creature who stood before them. Multiple mirrors lined the path he stood in the middle of. The Stygian was once again gazing at the blurry mirror. Where he had previously seen what he might develop as time went on, now he saw something different. He saw himself, but...not quite. While before he had seen new features on his own familiar appearance, this time he bore the same colors but looked different entirely. His form was bulkier, not just with fur but muscles too. Built thicker, made to withstand cold temperatures. The Snowy subspecies boasts an incredibly thick coat and is well-muscled to handle life in cold climes. His tail was longer too, thickly furred not unlike a snow leopard's tail. His legs were thicker, and bore thicker fur too. He also sported a full collar of fur around his neck, and single pointed ear tips. He saw himself as he could maybe be one day, or perhaps might have been were the circumstances different. He could envision a life

A mirror is a marvelous thing. Shiny and metallic, a reflection of one's outer self. How they look to others. Yet with slight alterations, different mirrors, one's appearance can change entirely. To look larger, smaller, blurrier. To view oneself in a blurry mirror is to gain insight into what perhaps they had appeared as when they first formed. Not quite finished, not quite unknown. A sign of potential, of growth to come. As the majestic creature gazes upon himself through this blurry mirror, he envisions powerful front paws where once had been hooves. A full mane encompasses both his head and along his chest, like the most impressive of lions. A set of rams' horns curve menacingly on either side of his head, whilst framing eyes which glow eerily. The markings along his body glow with a strange inner light, not unlike the glow of his eyes, and his tail sways leisurely, in appearances resembling that of a wolf. He blinks once, twice, and looks away, towards the first mirror, and sees

The world of nightmares is complex and expansive; no two nightmare realms are the same. The realm this nightmare created is one of jarring experiences, clashes of colors both muted and bright. A low thrumming pulse wreaths throughout the realm, a steady and yet at the same time unexpected to any who hear it. A mysterious creature presides over the realm, keeping a watchful set of eyes on all the goings on. Hooves, encased in feathering, lead up to slender legs, topped by a lithe yet muscular body. His form is well-encased in fur, tall, fluffy ears swivel, picking up on any sounds. Keen eyes surveil his surroundings, unimpeded by hair of any length. Grays of varying shades color his body, broken up by brighter accents, threads of silver, blue, and white. Their personality is a competitive one, quick to rise to the defensive, or the offensive if the situation calls for it. He is wary; each new situation warrants a thorough investigation and contemplation before he makes any subsequent