[O] Across the bridge - 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] Across the bridge (/showthread.php?tid=18452) |
|||
Across the bridge - Gaucho - 03-06-2015
RE: Across the bridge - Mauja - 03-17-2015
i am the vanguard of your destruction
He was, probably, the only living soul who had seen the Throat in more than two phases—more than what it had been during this lifetime, and more than what it was now. I'm talking about that goddamned ocean. Because he had seen it in a third phase—as it had been many, many years ago. How many, he did not know, but many, and his guesses were as wild as his imagination. Hundreds of years? Probably. This world was old, wars and warlords having risen and fallen and gone back to forgotten dust, bones bleached by the sun and finally torn apart by wind and rain. He had seen the Throat when it had been a forest, hardy, dry trees clinging to sandy soil, and when the peninsula had been much smaller, the ocean lapping at a shore that was not a shore anymore, but desert. In those ghost-days, the Dragon's Blood tree had seemed younger, more carefree, as if it hadn't seen as much death as it had since, in whatever calamities had re-formed the terrain, driven back the sea, and killed the forest, leaving it a lone survivor. He had walked there, phased between that world and the current world, talking to an Onni who had thought he had died, and was merely a lingering spirit come to haunt her for a moment. The point was, Mauja had seen that old, old land, and he had seen the land of Helovia present, and now he got to see the land in what he could only call the present, still, but a more recent present. Because where the isthmus had been there was just this huge fucking ocean. So the Throat sat like an arrogant, vain, haughty, proud, fucking impregnable little island out at sea. Fucking flying ponies. It made his mind dark and his heart angry. It was the kind of casual arrogance he had once lived and breathed—the knowledge that he could spear anyone just because he had a convenient weapon on his head. Their knowledge that they could fly over those crested waves and reach their home, safe and sound, and gods— —he spat into the sea, his owls circling restlessly. Was there some way he could go on a quest to alter gravity here? To make it so hard to fly, that they would just plummet into the sea? A lopsided grin curved his lips. Now that would be a funny thing to see... Those arrogant little shit-heads flying along all happy and unassuming and then wham, struggling for their miserable, pathetic little lives until brought low into the ocean. If he felt kind, he'd let them live. If not.. he'd let them sink. "Irma," he said after a moment, something thoughtful and reserved in his voice, "why am I so angry about this?" Because come to think of it—what reason did he have to become this angry and vindictive over this? It was a shitty thing to waste energy on, and.. he had no enemies in the Throat, right? No plans to take it over with his nonexistent army? Right? Right. So why did it bother him so much? The owl just shrugged as owls do, and as a shadow came passing by he figured it probably had something to do with Kri. Old bones and injuries ache in winter, you know, all that shit, and oh look, that shadow was Gaucho, Helovia's master-mind and puppeteered mass murderer. Latest celebrity on the block. So there's one thing to be said about the combination of curiosity and impulsive restlessness; it makes for a dangerous mixture. Add some frustrated anger, and you get something pretty explosive. And that is, probably, the reason that Mauja took off after the fiery, flying shape, a fleet-footed ghost chasing his shadow and only knowing where to go because his owls were faster. The Wildfire had disappeared underground next to the roaring heart, and without hesitation Mauja plunged into the darkness after him, not wanting to slow his mind enough to stop and think. There was something he had to do here—he didn't know what—something at the tip of his tongue, and he felt reckless and careless and the only thing he cared about was getting home again because he felt like he had something to lose these days. It mattered less if he got home in pieces, as long as he was alive, so that's why he threw caution to the wind and followed sir Snake-Antlers the Dumbdumb until he could see his shiny ass. "Hey," he called, roughly, but not rude—well, okay, just about the level of rude anyone is when calling "hey" behind your back. But as with all things, Mauja's expression was open, more curious than anything, even if he knew that the anger and barbed little comments were close at hand. There was a decidedly reckless feeling rolling through his soul. Potentially dangerous, that too; and it wasn't like he and Gaucho were friends in any way. More like the goddamned opposite so what the hell am I doing here. "What are you going to do now?" I'm not cornering you I'm just genuinely curious. And for being a 17.2 hands snow-ghost in a dark tunnel, Mauja managed quite well to appear unassuming—probably something about the way he hung to a wall, and how his head was tilted to the side. Nothing but idle curiosity there. Yep. Nope. lolwhatever. He wasn't there to kill Gaucho, or anything like that; he was there to satisfy an itch. [ I couldn't resist, mate. Sorry that he's a bit of an ass ><; @[Gaucho] ] RE: Across the bridge - Gaucho - 03-28-2015
RE: Across the bridge - Mauja - 04-07-2015
i am the vanguard of your destruction
There was a short moment, a pause no longer than a heart beat, during which he regretted everything—following this half-wit's shadow into the belly of the earth. This was not Mauja's domain. He was a creature of the open air and the tangled shadows of night, a wolf moving over snow on silent paws; he hated being confined by these narrow, earthy tunnels, and he feared fire. So his pale eyes traced the flickering motion of Gaucho's flames, and the glare of their light bit his sensitive retinas. If it wasn't for that, for the fact that his eyes were slits against the too-bright glow in these dark tunnels, he would've looked fearful, whites showing and all. And then Gaucho turned. Mauja braced for impact. But nothing happened. Nothing happened. The Pegasus remained in his place, sides rising and falling with a gentle breath, hooves firmly grounded and those flames not rising into a storm coming for him. And in return, Mauja remained where he was, casually leaning against the tunnel wall, soft voice spilling out into the fire-bright space between them. As long as it was like this.. it was almost kind of cozy. The flames definitely took the edge off his restlessness. He had many intricate, intimate memories of fire, and how it touched him, and ran along his skin, and crawled into his eyes, his ears, his throat... The scent of burnt hairs and charred meat, the sight of dried and cracked skin, fur burnt off—he was wary, but with the couple of yards between them, he was not worried. But it did sober him up a lot from his previous state of mind. "You disappeared into the ocean." One of Mauja's 'brows rose. It wasn't a question, nor did it sound like an accusation, more like a.. disappointed statement. (Nor did it answer his question, but whatever. He had him talking.) He shifted his weight off the wall, and took a single step forward—head still somewhat tilted, eyes gentle but still narrowed against the intrusive light. Fire fire fire... All that fire. Fire everywhere. Fire in me, too. Why fire, though? Why did everything revolve around that element? Why did everyone and their cousin have some kind of fire ability? Fire love? Fire fear? Fire craving? "I did," he agreed quietly. The ghosts of memories lingered in the tunnel with them, the events of many years ago playing out in the back of his mind—everything had gone wrong that night. He had actually failed his task. He had let Psyche (his heart stumbled in his chest) down. And he had been made aware that Mirage was hunting for him. Nothing had ever been the same since. [ @[Gaucho] ] RE: Across the bridge - Gaucho - 04-18-2015
RE: Across the bridge - Mauja - 05-01-2015
i am the vanguard of your destruction
[ sorry for the wait :x life ate me completely ] There was a stillness—a savage, sacred stillness—in the belly of the earth. There was no wind to blow through the tunnels and play with fire and hair.. There was just the walls, cold and rough-edged... This place had been the Sanctuary for all of Helovia, but now, it felt more like a tomb. And who will we bury here? You, or me? Standing there, dwarfed by the shadows cast by fire, Mauja felt.. mortal. Like, here was one who was a match for him—someone who, if he came into a fight with.. he would have to give his everything in order to win. He could half-ass his way through most fights he'd found here, fueling his moves on analysis and dark, cold rage. He could beat others into the ground on sheer strength and determination. But Gaucho was just as tall. Gaucho had wings of fire and antlers stuck on his goddamned head. Gaucho was someone you did not want to mess with. As if Mauja cared about that, though. But still, he wasn't here to fight. He wasn't here to attempt murder. He was here.. he was here to figure out who the hell this dumb-ass dude was. And as if the brute was in his head, he asked about just that. Mauja regarded him in silence for a second longer, pale eyes level, narrow. "I followed you," he answered, simple and honest. Curiosity was a dangerous thing, especially so when it made you play with fire. One black-rimmed ear flicked forward. "Why are you down here?" And as always, there was no accusation in his mellow voice, simply an open kind of curiosity—even if Mauja judged before he had heard the statements of another, he kept it off his face. It was the only way to find the truth, to hear interesting things.. the only way to understand them, was to keep your mind open. [ @[Gaucho] ] |