He had eaten. He had drunk. He had, too, consumed the black goo, Orion having offered him all that he needed; and now he returned, shivering a little with the wretchedness of it all.

But the whispers made their promises, and he could swear that he almost understood them, now. They spoke of things beyond him, above him: beyond the world that only eyes could see.

The Black Dog brought himself again to the altar. He had not bothered to try and find his children. His mind was only on these, now: the whispers, the visions of battle that he saw, which he was convinced were truths half-veiled to be shown to him once his mind was sufficiently prepared to view them.

For now, he lay back down--bone-white in the not-light, as he always was, in this (un?)holy place, and--facing the altar--he focused on understanding the whispers.

And here he would stay, for the rest of the day: attentive, silent, and serene.

Corruption: 11

DAY 3
Corruption: ELEVEN.

He'd hunted down the bat, feasted on it while it still held meat, but now he left it in the entrance. Oh, he visited, yes, poked his head in and noticed what the others were up to. Perhaps he stayed longer than he desired. He had things to do, but- The whispers lured him into the depths, his darker pelt gleaming with white slashes across his back.

He could stay for a little while, but only so.

After moments that dragged on to minutes, he shook his head and turned back to pace to the entrance, his quarry laying dead at the entrance. It'd been left undisturbed. Good- Purity bent closer, dipping his paw in rotting black beginning to take over the beast after he'd removed the gem from its chest. Gorgeous.

Shadows screamed wordlessly at him to consume. For a brief second, he balked, taken aback by the idea. Why? 'To further the truth,' some distant part of his mind supplied. 'To leave your mark along with the ones you are about to make.'

He squinted, softly, before dipping his paw in again and taking a long lick up the sludge it'd brought back. The fur of his spine flared as the taste hit his tongue. It was something, alright, but he wasn't sure if it was good.

But, when was power ever good? He shook his head, a soft smile at his own wit teasing at the corners of his mouth as he began to work on leaving an outline of black around the wall where he could reach, decorating the home they'd imposed on themselves.

If he was going to live here, he'd make it look as pleasing as he could, even if it would look rather ominous when an outside perspective glanced at it.

+3 [total: 11]

He hardly noticed the cat come and go. He left himself, once a day, to hunt in Orion but he barely ate enough to sustain himself, and the toxins were taking their toll: he was growing thinner.

When he was here, though, he lay silent and still, watching the stone raptly, as if it might any moment move or speak. It didn't, of course; but those ever-present whispers almost seemed to be making sense, now. At times, they seemed almost to coincide, in meaning, to collide, with those visions that flashed like dreams or half-forgotten memories through his mind.

They hissed of war, of chaos, of combat, of battle, or so Black imagined. They murmured of power, and killing, and death. Of the survival of the strong, and the death of the weak. Of the rule of power, and of freedom.

And Black--silent and attentive in the white darkness--listened.

Corruption: 16

And again he returned, quiet, his jaws wet with the black--now white oil, glimmering with reversed rainbow hues.

He took his accustomed place by the altar, and he watched, and listened.

Whispers brushed past his ears, and he twitched them: one whole, one torn and ragged. One blind eye watched the altar and it seemed to see more; it seemed to grasp more of the monstrous creatures that occasionally fought at the corners of his vision, saw more fangs, more spines, more death.

A gift, the Black Dog decided, and chose to focus on that, for now: the wars that he could see, dancing across his periphery, rather than the taunting, tempting murmurs still brushing past his ears.

As a note, Black is coming back and forth daily from this thread, where he daily gains an additional 2 corruption. Today's total:

Corruption: 21

He returned, now, to the little cave, slipping down into its depths with eager attention. And yet... with trepidation, now, too. As his body slipped from pure black into pale, lifeless white, he wondered at it; why did the foul taste in his mouth, the incomprehensible whispers, drive him toward destruction..? He felt fierce; he felt impatient. Rage threatened him, bubbling up beneath his calm.

He could not let that control him, no. He lay stoic before the altar, and he thought, brow wrinkled, as he stared at it. There are truths, then, in the darkness. But why do they come with violence? What is it that drives me toward anger? Why does the knowledge bring with it ferocity?

It must be intrinsic to understanding, he decided; something about this wisdom, this power, held within it--part of its very existence--combat and fury. But he could not let it control him.

He lay still, and quiet, forcing his mind into calm. Forcing his thoughts into peace. It was not easy. The promised chaos danced at the edge of his mind but he told himself, again and again: No. I am Guardian.

And he told, too, the Darkness.

Corruption: 26

Venus

so many ways to see the sunrise

Purity had led them here now and Venus entered the hole on their own accord, descending into the darkness at first hesitantly, but then growing more and more curious and interested as they descended deeper and deeper. They could hear voices - whispering - and it compelled them to move swiftly, going deeper and deeper until the colors of the world shifted.

They paused. Blinked. Was this right or was something happening to their vision? They could see someone - a dog? - laying before the slab of marble that whispered so enticingly. They approached slowly, slow...and then they, too, began to listen.

Not because they wished, per say, to divine its secrets for the world to know, but because this was something they were sure Amazon had not seen before. Or Livius, though they never met their stone giver. Or maybe even Pride didn't know about it! That was a riveting thought that had them listening closely to the whispers that began to consume their mind.

They sat themselves in front of the shrine and tried to listen, as closely as possible, for the promise of a new discovery.

Corruption: 3

Black slipped forward to lay before the Dark Altar again.

This time, when he had left, he had not eaten, nor drank; he'd consumed the black remains of a rat that had turned to oil, and come straight back here, eager to return.

Now he listened, attentive, near-unblinking in the dark.

He was unlikely to leave his post agian.

He was too... close. Too close, to whatever it was the Altar promised him. Its whispers, its visions-... He could almost understand.

Corruption: 31
Black is now Corrupted.

Venus

so many ways to see the sunrise

Venus returned to the altar and sat down once again, laying themselves out before it, listening, again to the whispers.

There was more here. There was so much more here and they wanted to know all of it. They wanted to understand, break that code. Not for the sake of the knowledge, but so they could bring it back. I need to know it, please...I need to be the first one of the Seven to have this knowledge. That would make them important. That would make them worthy. They would do this...for them.

There was power here, incredible power, and if they harnessed it, they could do what their mother could not and defend the Seven - really, truly defend them! They could rise, no, surprass Pride's master of magic, if only they got a grasp on this incredible power here! So they listened, allowed the chaos to begin filling the back of their mind.

Corruption: 8

He hadn't left the cave to eat--or drink--in three days.

And the food before had been... sparing. Perhaps a well-fed canine could easily go a week without food, but Black had not been feeding himself "well," by any means. Each day had been a brief sojourn out, the bare minimum bite or two of meat, and lap of water. And now, he had stopped leaving altogether. He was near emaciation, now, all bones and drooping skin. Several times, he'd fallen asleep in his ever-attentive watching of the Altar. His constant listening to its promises, its whispers.

His body, bone-white in the void-light, looked thin. But it was the dehydration that caught up to him, in the end.

For the fifth time that day, he briefly passed out--the dizzying visions and murmurs seeming to swell up and overtake him. But the screaming demands of his body were nothing compared to his urge to stay here and to learn, to join with the void-light in its dark existence.

And this time, the Black Dog's head did not rise again. Instead, his stone swept out from within him, encasing him in an onyx he'd never known he possessed: shining pale white in the not-light, consuming and protecting him as he entered his chrysalis to rest... in the presence of the Altar.

Corruption: 34. Black exits, entering his Chrysalis to rest.

Venus

so many ways to see the sunrise

Venus did not noticed the dog. They did not pay him any heed as they sat in front of the altar, listening, straining to hear because those voices were saying something and they were growing desperate to know what, exactly, they were saying. They needed to know. They needed to hear those words. It was whispering of chaos and they were beginning...to see things. Shadows, shapes, strange creatures fighting and speaking atop the altar but whenever they tried to look closer, it was gone.

It was maddening, but still, they listened. They would not stop listening.

Corruption: 11