[O] You have one Too! - Printable Version +- HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun (http://helovia.com) +-- Forum: Out of Character (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +--- Thread: [O] You have one Too! (/showthread.php?tid=16856) |
|||
You have one Too! - Spice - 12-22-2014 <style type="text/css"> .garnetimage { width: 350px; height: 220px; background:url(http://i61.tinypic.com/166hl1.png); padding-top: 20px; } .garnetcon { width: 290px; padding: 30px; background: #f5f5f5; color: black; line-height: 110%; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; } .garnetcon b { color: #7E1C13; font-weight: bold; } .garnetlyric { text-align: center; font-size: 20px; color: #1E2528; font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive; padding-bottom: 10px; } .garnetlyric2 { text-align: center; font-size: 18px; color: #1E2528; font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive; padding-top: 5px; } .garnetborder { background: #1E2528; width: 350px; height: 28px; color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans Condensed', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; padding-top: 12px; } .garnetcredit { width: 350px; color: black; text-align: right; font-family: calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: 2px; } </style> When your young, you just run...
She liked flying; now it was not just straining her muscles to keep her wings up, and not by her sides. Unlike before, she now could fly higher, through the air currents and back. Her wings strongly cutting through the air, thin but wonderful. She loved being young, she felt she would be young forever. And ever. The girl had been flying for a while, her legs getting tired of flailing through the air. The girl had tried pulling them up, but to no use. They where...asleep in a way. She didn't like the feeling they gave her. Deciding to land, she angled the plumage to the ground, in a tilting way that made her stomach yearn for something like adventure and daring tricks. She didn't really understand this urge, maybe it was that butterfly feeling her mom said she had whenever she flew. Spice wouldn't know. She couldn't understand feelings that other people felt inside themselves. She would probably never feel it exactly the same to what the other had felt. That was why she couldn't say "I understand" during a conversation, because frankly, she didn't. But that is not the point. The point, is that she could never really and truly know what the butterfly feeling was. Even if her mom, or anyone really explained it to her. She knew she would never know how it felt. There where so many ways. Maybe she could ask someone? Hm. Who knew, she would think that was a random question if someone had asked her. But she would answer it all the same. As she glided to the ground, she asked herself a few questions. Do you know where you are? Do you want to be here? She actually, in all honesty did want to be there. One hundred percent. But she did not know where she was. As she landed, she kind of stumbled, but she wouldn't know. Her feet where asleep, resulting in her hurting herself, as bad as she had when she escaped her prison. Bending her back hoof back as she landed, twisting and shuffling as she attempted a more graceful-type landing...and she failed. Stumbling and tucking her wings in at the last moment before rolling all over in somewhat spiky purple flowers. Pushing herself up, muscles tensing under dappled pelt, she finally felt the pain in her back ankle, it was an on and off kind of pulse of hurt. She did not like it. Holding it up above the ground, she attempted to look at it, twisting her crown around to see it's problem. Ugh. Bent and twisted, it seemed to hang from her leg, she had obviously hurt it badly. And in the obliviousness of it all, she was scared. She hadn't even noticed something like that!? It was scary to think she could avoid a pain like it. Although glad, feared she had some weird ability, she realized that she was covered in purple fluff. She felt weird and disoriented then, her mane blowing in a wind she did not see coming (Which she should have). It was what was all over the ground when she fell! The faintly prickly stuff...it was all over her! She looked in pure horror at the violet plant that hugged most of her body. Ugh. Well, this is just peachy. (As her mother would say). In a brake down, Spice huffed, her brow creasing as a faint pink rose to her still foal-like cheeks. She stood, one foot propped up a bit higher than the others, in fear she might hurt it even more if she let it down, covered in purple fluff...And a storm was coming on! Great. Juussstt...greeaatt..? A loud crackle was sent from the heavens. Heat Lightning. They had had it all the time back at her old home, her and her mother. She knew all too well about what this stuff was capable of. The girl, feeling terribly disoriented started to lower herself to the ground. In no regal gesture, she plopped down, a sickening pulse -no, jab- was sent through her body, starting from the new wound on her ankle. It pained her to be covered in purple fluffs, and in a whole lot of freaking pain...and alone in a storm. She had never been alone in a storm before. She suddenly felt oh so small. but you come back to what you need.
tag - @[Mauja] - notes - halo.
© Jazmine Pic Credit RE: You have one Too! - Ayelet - 12-25-2014
RE: You have one Too! - Mauja - 01-07-2015
i am the vanguard of your destruction
[ Finally!! <33 ] He'd lost her again—a delicate, fragile angel swept up and away by the clouds and starlight, spiraled away from him, and he, the beast, was left to linger in the realm of mortals. She was a porcelain queen, something of such ethereal beauty she could not be real, and surely, surely he was filthy and clumsy next to her. It didn't matter that her blood—such red, red blood—had dried upon and since been washed away from his horn, that he had struck her flesh and she had been tangible.. no. If he asked his heart and its frenetic thundering, if he asked his soul and its shameful agony.. she was not real. She could not be real. But she was. And he'd lost her again. She'd taken his blood and she'd run away with it, leaving him to limp haltingly across the barren face of the earth, slashes of red upon his left shoulder. It jarred his gait. It jarred his mind. It wasn't as bad as it had been, but it was a painful reminder of how close he had come to her. She had said nothing. Not a word. He had only said her name to the wind, and asked her to dance. Then, the world had ended in bloodshed. Red fractures. Shattered composures. It wasn't that he'd lost her again that hurt—he could live with that. He could find her again. It had taken him years but he could do it again. She had every right in the world to leave him behind in the dust. She had every right to not want to be around him. It was the way she'd looked when she saw him again. It was the soulless gaze, the dulled curiosity. It was the way she'd charged, horn pointed at his chest. The way she'd finally staggered away from him. The icy, shocking blast of Tinek, the extension of her soul. If that was what he brought with him.. did he want to find her again? But if he didn't, how could it ever change? Seeing her again had lain no ghosts to rest. Thunder roared overhead, a distant echo of the frustrated beast stalking the ruined mess of its castle, his heart. His whiskers quivered. That meant rain, somewhere. It meant lightning. Odd, with such a storm so early in the spring, with the cold winds of winter barely forgotten. But it pulled him from his thoughts, dragged him out of its miserable obsessing, and he realized that the choked lighting reflected on one thing—a familiar, pure refraction of dull light, a beating heart suspended in a fragile chest of glass. The nameless who had fallen beside him, when another storm had wrecked the world. The nameless whose body sung a tinkling song when the rain struck it. Slowly he drew nearer, the uneven hesitation of his stride courtesy of his injury; the dark edges tugged at their constricting crusts, a few tendrils of drying blood testament to it having broken at times. Who are you? What are you doing? He wanted to ask, but he had no voice to speak with, because it had drowned in the storm of his emotions. So in silence the wounded beast padded closer, and closer, until he saw what held her attention as the first rains fell with such a harmless, soft touch a storm seemed almost impossible. A child lay by her feet, all wings and legs and early thistle fluff. It gave him pause. He stopped. He stared. It made him want to walk away. He had ruined too many kids already. Surely he'd ruin this one, too. But for some reason he was rooted at the spot, watching the odd pair with a look of thoughtful pity, exhaustion clinging to the corners of his body. [ @[Spice], @[Ayelet] ] RE: You have one Too! - Spice - 01-15-2015 <style type="text/css"> .garnetimage { width: 350px; height: 220px; background:url(http://i61.tinypic.com/166hl1.png); padding-top: 20px; } .garnetcon { width: 290px; padding: 30px; background: #f5f5f5; color: black; line-height: 110%; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; } .garnetcon b { color: #7E1C13; font-weight: bold; } .garnetlyric { text-align: center; font-size: 20px; color: #1E2528; font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive; padding-bottom: 10px; } .garnetlyric2 { text-align: center; font-size: 18px; color: #1E2528; font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive; padding-top: 5px; } .garnetborder { background: #1E2528; width: 350px; height: 28px; color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans Condensed', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; padding-top: 12px; } .garnetcredit { width: 350px; color: black; text-align: right; font-family: calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase; margin-top: 2px; } </style> when your young, you just run...
All around her, it is a blur of motion. A clear form, a bird. Wind smacked the thistles around; don't underestimate a birdsong storm. Though, it was an odd storm. Coming upon them just to add a burden to them. It was not a happy though that the gods wanted them to feel this as something worse than what it already was. Taking a deep breath, the foal closes her eyes and tries to only feel the beat of the drops on the ground. On her laying body. Blood rushing in her ears, she stops. A new ache settles in her stomach. Would she ever be able to move from this potion on the dull ground? A feeling of resentment covers her brain, wrapping it in a soft blanket of regret. Why did she try flying like that? What and idiot she was. Couldn't she see it was about to rain hell on the earth? Ugh, why today? Today, of all days. Why? but you come back to what you need...
tag - @[Mauja] @[Ayelet]- notes
© Jazmine pc RE: You have one Too! - Ayelet - 01-17-2015
RE: You have one Too! - Mauja - 02-02-2015
i am the vanguard of your destruction
[ Sorry for the wait ;~; ] What were the Gods hiding? What did they try to purge, and wash away, with this rain? It sluiced down from the heavens, pecked at dried blood with insistent claws until it gave way, and his shoulder became draped in rivulets of foul red. Were they trying to wash away the evidence of this mutual pain? Did the same rains fall on Ophelia, somewhere else in Helovia, washing her stains clean too? Were the Gods saying, forget about it? Did they try to scrub the memories from his mind, to convince him she was nothing but a dream, something beautiful and distant—and, ultimately, not for him? That his awkward, clumsy hands would only harm her if he caught her, a butterfly trapped between rough palms? He didn't think he was the kind to chain someone else. He wanted someone to soar with, someone who ran in the same direction, someone who was strong both with and without him. Those thoughts were dangerous. He hated them. Crushed them mercilessly underneath one, frosted hoof, and ground it into the earth. Left it there to rot. Those thoughts, they hurt, an intimate ache in his fractured heart. He didn't want them. Not here, not now, not ever, and the rains kept falling, singing a soft song against the glass mare's transparent skin. The snowbeast drew nearer and nearer, blue eyes glistening with rain and tears, until he finally loomed over them both. The child had disappeared into her own mind, into dreams or pain? He knew not which, and found that he didn't particularly care either. He couldn't grieve for the entire world. He.. there was not a lot that he could do. "Mauja," the glass angel was saying, or was it just the wind whispering his name? A sigh from the earth and heaven, a whisper in the rain, a name known but not given. They had not spoken at all that night, pushed down by storm winds and trapped by the threat of the sea. He remembered it like one remembers dreams; distant, with an edge of pain and longing, like something glorious that was unreachable, and half-forgotten. The waves had threatened to drag him out, and under, and maybe, with all that he knew now, it would've been better. Maybe, with all that was to come, it would've been a mercy. Their bodies blocked much of the rain, his back darkening as the water slowly saturated his white coat. It always felt unfair when they knew his name and he did not know theirs; when they knew it though he had never spoken it to them. Had she heard some lingering rumor of him? But those days were long past—Mauja the Ice King was a forgotten mystery, something that belonged in a darker past. So how, then, did she know? Did it matter? He was walking in a dream, feet and legs and heart restless, urging him away, to keep chasing that white walker, the princess who was both warrior and queen and, at the same time, a child. The confusion kept him grounded, the pain kept him conscious, and he remained standing where he was, ever so silent as he peered down on the laying child. [ @[Spice], @[Ayelet] ] RE: You have one Too! - Spice - 03-15-2015
|