Onyx Storm Quotes

Lorcan's onyx eyes were unreadable as he scanned her face. And then he said quietly, "I wanted to go to Perranth with you." Lorcan dropped the shield.

Death, cruel and cunning, waited in that gold-flecked onyx stare.

The woman turns away; one wing blackens like an onyx gem while the other glows white like a bright spotlight. She flies into the sky, leaving the crowd staring in astonishment. Angels fly away in two directions. Half make a black storm of moving, twisting shapes. The other half forms a white-as-snow moving cloud. The ranks are divided.

It was an unusual sunset. Having sat behind opaque drapery all day, I had not realized that a storm was pushing in and that much of the sky was the precise shade of old suits of armor one finds in museums. At the same time, patches of brilliance engaged in a territorial dispute with the oncoming onyx of the storm. Light and darkness mingled in strange ways both above and below. Shadows and sunshine washed together, streaking the landscape with an unearthly study of glare and gloom. Bright clouds and black folded into each other in a no-man's land of the sky. The autumn trees took on the appearance of sculptures formed in a dream, their leaden-colored trunks and branches and iron-red leaves all locked in an infinite and unliving moment, unnaturally timeless. The gray lake slowly tossed and tumbled in a dead sleep, nudging unconsciously against its breakwall of numb stone. A scene of contradiction and ambivalence, a tragicomedic haze over all. A land of perfect twilight.

It seems like everyone’s life has been or will be connected to darkness of some kind. Sometimes it’s a deep shade of pure onyx — a complete and total absence of light. Other times it has more grey undertones, with sunshine begging to come out from behind storm clouds. Sometimes there are people who go through the worst of the worst and come out the other side determined to make themselves better because of their traumas. Some come out the other side broken, beaten down, bloody, and can barely manage to pick themselves back up again. Sometimes just pulling yourself off the dirty ground is enough of a win. It’s enough to tell those storm clouds to suck your fucking dick, that they won’t get the best of you. Other times, it’s okay to lie there in a pool of blood and let the icy rain wash it all away, to take the beating that the storm gives you until you can manage to get up and limp through the next thunderstorm. Yet, there are days when your best just isn’t enough to make it through the storm. — Bo Reid, A Reaper Christmas

It seems like everyone’s life has been or will be connected to darkness of some kind. Sometimes it’s a deep shade of pure onyx — a complete and total absence of light. Other times it has more grey undertones, with sunshine begging to come out from behind storm clouds. Sometimes there are people who go through the worst of the worst and come out the other side determined to make themselves better because of their traumas. Some come out the other side broken, beaten down, bloody, and can barely manage to pick themselves back up again. Sometimes just pulling yourself off the dirty ground is enough of a win. It’s enough to tell those storm clouds to suck your fucking dick, that they won’t get the best of you. Other times, it’s okay to lie there in a pool of blood and let the icy rain wash it all away, to take the beating that the storm gives you until you can manage to get up and limp through the next thunderstorm. Yet, there are days when your best just isn’t enough to make it through the storm.

Lorcan'x onyx eyes were unreadable as he scanned her face. And then he said quietly. 'I wanted to go to Perranth with you.

Lorcan’s onyx eyes were unreadable as he scanned her face. And then he said quietly, “I wanted to go to Perranth with you.” Lorcan dropped the shield.

Around a curved corner came the glimmer of an eerie green light. Talis stopped, his legs refusing to take another step. His blood thumped hard through his temples. Two ghostly-green, glowing orbs hovered in the darkness. In between stood a statue of the terrifying Zagros—in a battle-stance—wielding an executioner’s blade in one hand and in the other he held hundreds of tiny, severed heads tied together by a string. The onyx statue of the Lord of the Underworld. His mouth was open wide, tongue stretched out. Talis felt the hairs stand up along the back of his neck. The statue was revolting. A cloaked figure in black knelt before the statue, mumbling prayers. Golden orbs floated in the air all around the chamber. Candles were lit around the kneeling figure, giving off a freakish, flickering light. Mara grabbed Talis' arm and they hid behind a boulder and bent down, straining to listen. “I vow,” the figure said, “that my father… his soul find shall find respite. The endless war of Nyx—spare him, oh great Zagros, I beg you will spare him such a fate.” She leaned close to Talis, and whispered, “It’s Rikar.” What was he doing here? He was a foul-tempered student of the Order of the Dawn and Nikulo’s sparring partner. After she spoke, Rikar whirled around and glared at them. His eyes glowed green for a moment and then dimmed to black. “You dare violate the sanctity of this temple?” Mara and Talis stepped out from the shadows, bathed in the violent green light glowing around the statue. Rikar raised a hand and Talis felt a sickening energy creep up his legs and into his stomach, squeezing hard until massive bursts of pain shot through his body. Talis winced. What kind of strange magic was Rikar using on him? “Stop it!” Mara hissed, glowering at Rikar. “Leave it for the Blood Dagger competition.” Talis gasped and coughed as the pain diminished. He balled up a fist and started to charge at Rikar but Mara held him back. “I won’t even need to use a drop of magic against you pathetic runts.” Rikar stood and strode past them, shoving Talis aside. “Nice to see you’re all better, Your Royal Highness. I look forward to using my sword to make you wounded again.” He chuckled, pulling his cloak over his head as he stormed out. “What was that all about?” Mara shook her head. “Why was he in here, anyway?” “I really don’t want to know… Rikar has acted incredibly strange since his father died.” Mara shuddered, as if a cold chill had fallen over her. “Didn’t you used to be friends? What happened to him?” Talis wished he knew, but Rikar had always refused to talk about what had happened. Turning aside, she took a deep breath and faced the onyx statue, as if filled with a new resolve. “We have to complete the rites of initiation and do it quickly.” She motioned toward the shrine and they knelt together on the outer ley line. After their knees touched the ley line, a faint green light rose and strengthened into a blistering blaze that Talis could feel in his legs.

Around a curved corner came the glimmer of an eerie green light. Talis stopped, his legs refusing to take another step. His blood thumped hard through his temples. Two ghostly-green, glowing orbs hovered in the darkness. In between stood a statue of the terrifying Zagros—in a battle-stance—wielding an executioner’s blade in one hand and in the other he held hundreds of tiny, severed heads tied together by a string. The onyx statue of the Lord of the Underworld. His mouth was open wide, tongue stretched out. Talis felt the hairs stand up along the back of his neck. The statue was revolting. A cloaked figure in black knelt before the statue, mumbling prayers. Golden orbs floated in the air all around the chamber. Candles were lit around the kneeling figure, giving off a freakish, flickering light. Mara grabbed Talis' arm and they hid behind a boulder and bent down, straining to listen. “I vow,” the figure said, “that my father… his soul find shall find respite. The endless war of Nyx—spare him, oh great Zagros, I beg you will spare him such a fate.” She leaned close to Talis, and whispered, “It’s Rikar.” What was he doing here? He was a foul-tempered student of the Order of the Dawn and Nikulo’s sparring partner. After she spoke, Rikar whirled around and glared at them. His eyes glowed green for a moment and then dimmed to black. “You dare violate the sanctity of this temple?” Mara and Talis stepped out from the shadows, bathed in the violent green light glowing around the statue. Rikar raised a hand and Talis felt a sickening energy creep up his legs and into his stomach, squeezing hard until massive bursts of pain shot through his body. Talis winced. What kind of strange magic was Rikar using on him? “Stop it!” Mara hissed, glowering at Rikar. “Leave it for the Blood Dagger competition.” Talis gasped and coughed as the pain diminished. He balled up a fist and started to charge at Rikar but Mara held him back. “I won’t even need to use a drop of magic against you pathetic runts.” Rikar stood and strode past them, shoving Talis aside. “Nice to see you’re all better, Your Royal Highness. I look forward to using my sword to make you wounded again.” He chuckled, pulling his cloak over his head as he stormed out.