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Allure of darkness - A Familiar Rush | 2
ΞΞΞ A vision captured by 
jedayskayvoker — an artist who weaves stories in every stroke ΞΞΞ
jedayskayvoker<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>ΞΞΞ A Familiar Rush ΞΞΞ
“You never forget your first dive into darkness. Or the thrill of the next.”
The van door swings open with a metallic snap, and Naetis is already moving — a blur of instinct and discipline.
There’s a rhythm to it, one his body knows by heart.
💙 Every mission begins the same: one step forward into the unknown, heart steady, pulse quickening.
Boots strike pavement, one after the other, in quick precision. Not rushed — calculated.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He’s done this more times than he can count, but each time feels like the first time, reborn in adrenaline.
The warmth of Camelol's voice crackles through the walkie-talkie, a thread of calm in the encroaching chill.
“Just be careful.”
Naetis doesn’t answer aloud. He never does. He replies with movement, his silence carrying confidence and control.
Control… a word that means less and less the closer you get to Sunny Meadows.
The building looms before him — decrepit, silent, watching.
A jagged silhouette carved into dusk, each broken window like a tooth, each doorway a gaping mouth.
💙 And still, he walks toward it — because that’s what he does. That’s who he is.
The threshold is crossed. Instantly, the world changes.
The air inside is different. Not colder — heavier. Like stepping into a memory that doesn’t belong to him.
His breathing adjusts. His posture shifts. His hand rests lightly on his flashlight, thumb over the beam.
He scans the hall.
Nothing yet.
“All clear for now,” he mutters, not to anyone in particular — perhaps to the house itself.
Dust dances in the beam of light. Naetis’ eyes catch everything:
A fallen chair, the faint trail of something dragged across the floor, a clipboard too clean to be untouched for decades.
Then — a table.
Perfect angle, good coverage of the entrance. Standard placement.
“Cool. I see a good spot for one camera,” he says, raising his voice to the comm.
A soft click answers back:
“Put it on the table in front.”
The instructions are always the same. But something’s changed.
Naetis feels it in his spine.
💙 But change doesn’t rattle him. Not anymore. He’s moved through fear. Now he lives in it — with it.
His bag unzips with a smooth flick.
One camera in hand.
His fingers move fast, precise — he was trained for this.
But beneath that training, there’s something more.
A pulse. A hunger. A thrill.
“Gotcha,” he says.
The camera locks into place.
Its little red light blinks alive.
And in that exact moment, as if it had waited for its cue…
A breath of air brushes against his bare shoulder.
Not wind.
Not natural.
Just a whisper of presence.
Faint. Subtle. Watching.
Naetis doesn’t flinch.
But for the first time tonight, he smiles.
Because it means the game has begun.
ΞΞΞ The house breathes again ΞΞΞ
Category Artwork (Digital) / Comics
Species Pony (MLP)
Size 1614 x 2283px
File Size 3.17 MB
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