[P] Timber 'n turbulence - 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: [P] Timber 'n turbulence (/showthread.php?tid=19415) |
Timber 'n turbulence - Zahra - 05-14-2015 Zahra, It was pride that turned angels into devils
She was as constant as the season’s weather, as steady as the leaf litter driven to flight all around her – harried into frenzy by the late Orangemoon gale. Zahra stood amid it all, and the thin cloak of black and white canvased across her slight frame trembled as the chill of looming winter gnawed viciously. The wispy mottled hedge of mane rising along her crest flapped and whipped wildly to and fro, and the stiff downy tail to her rear was clenched down tightly between her pasty, scrawny buttocks. She was no fan of the cold to begin with, a fathomless, unexplainable loathing for snow and biting wind stirred deep within her, but there was little she could do to defend herself against the impending barrage – it was to be her first Frostfall on this earth, and perhaps the cruellest she would know. Neither she nor Sikeax could have realised the storm which had been brewing, just beyond the horizon barely a week before, and the sandy coloured mare and her hobbaglobbin had been farewelled in good faith, confidence – because Zahra had after all, been wandering the planes of Helovia efficiently enough for months already… She could think of no sour experience in all of that time, no reason to doubt her security. In fact, the lone filly could barely remember anything about… well anything at all! Bird was huddled stiffly between each of the foal’s long bony black forelegs, ears turned away from the howl of the wind, sharing with her sister what small insulation her white, fleecy coat could offer. Before the puppy lay the vast collection of possessions they had somewhat unintentionally acquired over the past week or so – the old leather bag belonging to the dead mare, into which had been crammed a strikingly colourful mass of feathers and charms (some of which belonged to her father and his dearly missed companions); a collar and a spear, a shining clutter of trinkets that she knew not at all the value of. Two were precious heirloom amulets, and four others (including one rather pretty green one) had been given by default in the bag. So many bits and pieces to lug around… That was the chief reason she had not wandered from beneath the thick awning of tangled, gnarled branches; bronze leaves that grew heavy and dull, and many still green who feared not the wrath of the Frostfall to come. As it was, their new cumbersome style of travel had kept them rather well, because any venture without cover in the weather upon them might have easily brought certain death. Zahra was grateful for that mercy and understood well enough as her teeth rattled together and bones ached with no formed fat upon their structure. She did wonder if there was any merit in finding someplace still more sheltered in the forest, like a cave or even a shrub, but as her eyes drifted between the collection below, she sighed deeply. It was worth a try. “We gunna move, Bird…” she revealed quietly, insecurely, not certain yet if her sudden wave of resolve was for the better. Tiny knees buckled as her sister slipped to one side and together they worked the hefty collar (perhaps lighter for a grown-up to sport), until it was slung awkwardly around her shoulders – an ill-fit, naturally. The little kitsune moved to transfer the amulets into the bag, but Zahra stopped her tenderly with an intervening nose and smiled. “Can’t break Da’s feathers,” she crooned gently. One by one, she lifted each trinket to rest beneath her own prickly, firmly clenched wing, and again, but to the other side went the compacted spear. Bird secured the bag and its contents between her sharp milk teeth, and they began the arduous task of finding greater cover – deeper still, in the dark, old labyrinth of trees. Note: this is set about a week after Zahra finds the hole containing her father’s items with Sikeax... @[Camon] RE: Timber 'n turbulence - Camon - 05-19-2015 camon. Those storm clouds gather in her eyes I left that volcanic church with every intention of returning to my peaceful, (normal) ocean paradise. After what these eyes had just witnessed moments ago -- they could use a little predicability, mundane...the boring splendor of nature. I need time to gather my wit; this brain has already concocted a brilliant idea to retire on the warm sand for a week, a month -- or until spring comes. Though as fate would have it; Miss Mother Nature has goals of her own, and none of which involve my caramel bottom cushioned on her sandy shoreline.
@[Zahra] - he's still wearing his armor that won't turn off. RE: Timber 'n turbulence - Zahra - 05-21-2015 Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna It was pride that turned angels into devils
Unbeknownst to her entirely, this apparent tendency to roam (though she couldn’t remember ever being truly settled), had resulted in the acquisition of a small silvery orb – tinier still, than even a single white hair amongst those dressing her face. It was caught among the wiry tuft-mane lining her upper neck, nestled deep within where the radiating warmth of her body could nurture the life evolving within; presumably it had been there for some time, because as the oblivious filly stumbled and struggled through the murky depths of the forest, a spiderling emerged and dared into the open. She was tiny, insignificant in a world of giants, and the delicate creature’s presence was only felt as a warm, strange shiver crawled down the length of her host’s bony spine. Zahra had felt the sensation once before – when she had touched her young sister as they huddled through the night together under these very trees. It prompted the filly to glance up firstly and examine the wild ripple of the leaves as the violent wind raked through them; many could not hold their grip upon the branches bearing them and they whirled about madly between the undergrowth below, let not to rest and wither like they ought. Their struggle reminded the paused foal, a little of the one she shared with Bird – unable to rest, driven ever on by the harry of their grumbling bellies (the fluffy white kistune mind you, had become quite the forager and was not so noticeably starving as her sister). Golden eyes fell then towards the puppy, and a weary smile curled her lips. Neither doubted tomorrow’s dependability, and with any luck, a new sun would bring an end to the awful wind… Brooding thought was interrupted by another ghastly howl, and wind leaked in to drive her on, whipping radically around her with force enough to prevent any opposition. The collar about her shoulders rocked uncomfortably across the sharp peak of her withers; it fitted her powerful father brilliantly, but not so much the frail foal of his blood, though a yearning in her heart fed her resolve and she thought never to return it to the cold, damp earth. In fact, the notion of surrender could not have been further from her mind. Always there was a voice resonating within, and she heeded it without question; it seemed to be as much a part of her as little Bird. Neither sister heard the crunch of a swifter beast drawing near. Green and golden eyes alike were trained to the roving shadow world ahead, searching for any cover that might see them safely from the wrath of the late season weather. Perhaps they were a foolish pair, unaware of the dangerous life they led – but Zahra certainly knew no different, and they had survived the game thus far. Inevitably, it was the muffled sequence of his stride just as the wind lulled briefly, that drew their notice backwards. While the filly let innocent warmth spread through her expression, her nervous company began to growl softly, hackles lifting as her body hunched nearer to the littler. Bird was the stronger of the duo easily, and her instincts were far better refined. The stallion wore upon his head, a strange array of branches, fine chain strewn between and their sharp quality did not pass the kitsune by unnoticed; regardless of the tenor in the young voice he aired. “Outta the wind,” the taller babe answered brightly despite their predicament. It could have been raining as well… Zahra’s gaze travelled freely about the stranger’s body, noting that he seemed not as full-figured out as other stallions recently met (the golden one in the snow, and the speckled pink on who had retrieved the stick nest). The smile lingered regardless, and she found herself admiring the same rack of antler that her sister found so unnerving. The foal’s curiosity narrowed in on the jewellery. “What’s that up there?” she pried, stepping from the crouched pup to closer examine the lovely adornment. As she did so, the tiny spiderling she carried burrowed again into the safety of her bonded’s stunted mane. RE: Timber 'n turbulence - Camon - 05-21-2015 camon. Those storm clouds gather in her eyes The answer is simple enough and perfectly vague -- as was the naïve grin that's plastered across the thin angles of her expression. Was it a comfort that at least this kid is old enough to be mindful of uncontrollable elements, or a curse for prolonging her painful existence? Perhaps the wisdom would keep this cherub alive for another couple of nights or maybe a week. Eventually, (as this mature mind is so keenly beginning to fantasize) the sparse reserves of the flesh would thin, before disappearing entirely. Those immature muscles would get consumed for fuel as a last resort; their remaining balance uselessly spent on keeping her heart beating.
@[Zahra] RE: Timber 'n turbulence - Zahra - 05-22-2015 Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna It was pride that turned angels into devils
Her father had shown her on many occasions (more often for the sake of entertainment than necessity), how the collar stiff around her neck unfolded into the most intricate suit of armour. Zahra had always admired it upon him, glimmering silver and coloured, carved gemstones - all apparently bending to his whim - though not once had she ever imagined it might fall into her personal possession the way it had. Still more astounding was the fact that his memory, or that surrounding the cause and whereabouts of his death, had no true foundation in her mind. She both knew and often thought about he and her mother embraced on the stone in the tomb, but even when she set herself apart from the world to meditate, she drew only vagueness and blank – more often than not, it was her dreams which concocted grim vision of charred or beaten bodies. But that was really all irrelevant, and it was view of those strangely angled horns beside his face that provoked her impromptu contemplation of all things fond. Her quizzical eyes examined each fine, pale point carefully as finally he revealed the answer she had been waiting for – though scattered and quite vague, Zahra didn’t mind in the slightest, she had trinkets too. Fleetingly the filly’s golden eyes sauntered from his headdress to find the vivid emerald eyes set into his face, but they hastened back promptly as the expression gripping his face entirely captured her interest. Her gaze narrowed as suspiciously as a child could impress and the weird stallion began to stumble again, through another tangle of words. At the mention of impending weather, the foal severed the strange bind of their eyes, took a breath and cast a lengthy look upwards; but alas view fell not as easily through the midst of the leaves as did the wind. Small shoulders shrugged beneath their ill-fitted garb and she pursed her lips to one side. “Ah… nup, I don’t see it,” she announced gently, smiling still – she made silly mistakes too. “But there’s wind, see?” Tiny skull turned as though to point beyond her withers , and barely above the curve of her wasted white rump jiggled the flaccid tuft of her pasty tail – wind-tossed, obviously. An invitation brewed across her tongue quickly after, but her thought was interrupted by the sudden arrival of rain, the lightest kind and possibly the coldest she could remember. It seemed to slip through the green awning above like it was no barrier at all, and Zahra snorted sharply her discontent as shimmering beads formed along the ridge of her nose. Bird sneezed softly as she inhaled the light, descending mist, and settled her verbal assault to nestle in nearer to her sister. Eyes as striking as the stranger’s before her, rose to inspect him thoroughly – though the filly had no memory of the recent horrors unfolded, the little puppy remembered the morbidity of death too well. Her heart rattled quietly against the cage of ribs surrounding, nervously, apprehensively; she was quite unwilling to place her trust so easily in any wanderer they happened upon such as this. Her sister’s unsettledness drew Zahra’s notice and she caressed the soft fur gently between her large triangle ears. “Zahra…” she announced forwardly, as her face lifted into the wind. Squinting, she added, “That’s me, and Bird is her. Can we come?” They really had nowhere else to go, and the starving foal trembled as the plunging temperature gnawed at the skin barely hidden beneath her thin, foal’s coat. He was a grown-up too, and she knew very well that living grown-ups knew best – that they had all of the answers, and kept the young safe. “Please?” She whined imploringly, stepping one hoof nearer while white lashes fluttered innocently. @[Camon] RE: Timber 'n turbulence - Camon - 05-22-2015 camon. Those storm clouds gather in her eyes I'm certain a chunk of brackish bile is still lodged in the back of my throat; sadly, no amount of swallowing seems to quell it. Despite all outward appearance, this babe is unbelievably light hearted, naïve -- she doesn't even mention or else isn't bothered by the awkwardness of my stumbling replies. Was abandonment easier if the child is a brat? Even still, I throb with a passionate desire to rewind these past few minutes, return us to a junction that would alter my path -- make it where these eyes would never lay on this pitiful creature. I wouldn't be wrestling with morality. There wouldn't be uncountable guilt drowning my soul in sorrow for that walking, talking skeleton.
@[Zahra] RE: Timber 'n turbulence - Zahra - 05-25-2015 Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna It was pride that turned angels into devils
There had been a time once, very long ago, when Zahra had not faced such a lonely, uncertain future. Beneath the obscure blanket of fog in her mind, moving memories of a tender mother’s caress and similarly a father’s sheltering embrace, warmed her soul – fed her confidence enough to continue without true respect for her situation. The fact that she had not been altogether abandoned in this wild land, that the circumstances surrounding were both beautifully poetic, was indeed a comfort she clung tightly too. The claws of isolation were indeed sharp, penetrating, and their grip upon the filly’s soul was worryingly steadfast, but so too seemed to drape around her shoulders the protective arms of an unseen guardian. By this grace thus far, it seemed she had avoided much of the world’s strife. The foal’s golden eyes glittered with childish hope, anticipation; both entirely undistracted by the uncomfortable expression engulfing the older horse’s fine, bronze-framed features. It never occurred to her that he might be on route for private business of his own, Zahra saw only the need of her own – and that of small Bird, who’s warmth radiated on against her leg. As the freezing wetness set in around them, the stench of the rotting forest began to grow; the murk crept ever nearer, and shadows seemed to dance beyond reach of her gaze. It was a wilderness, wild and wonderful, but all the same it was terrifyingly unpredictable. The tiny Pegasus trembled and shook as the chill of the cooling season enveloped her uninsulated form, and as she dared that step nearer to the stranger, she could feel the aura of heat surrounding him, like a halo of glorious sunlight. Too quickly was her thin black and white pelt soaked through; frozen fractals melted instantly, the moment they found her meagre span. But the stallion needed little time to meditate it seemed, and quickly he revealed his name to her. Camon… she repeated in thought, perhaps for the sake of the puppy who whined softly as the whistling wind harried their voices. Zahra recognised nothing of the other’s evident strain, stress or disquiet as his instruction followed the first of his few noises quickly, and the girl stumbled forward across rickety, weak knees. With hunched shoulders and a sway neck she trudged along near his thigh, careful to match his long-legged (super-slow) stride all in spite of her growing fatigue. Inwardly she contemplated their destination; fantasized about a den with an uncanny semblance to the golden one often dreamt of – that which harboured the bones of her parents. She was sure their refuge-to-be would be as warm, secluded and dry; first impression told her that Camon was wise (older), and determined (quick upon his toes)… Perhaps he might even know of something tasty they could eat! It only fed that childlike faith when his wing unfurled to shelter her from the descending torrent, and she slipped eagerly beneath, mimicking the gesture for Bird who skipped along below – Zahra’s wing was only part feathered of course, and the stallion’s vast extension served to cover both flanking sisters as it were. The credulous filly liked him already. He guided them along a well-worked trail, slick and waterlogged, and though tiny round hooves slipped and skidded often, her resolve was improving. Soon enough fallen litter began to build like a plush mattress beneath each step, and Bird slipped suddenly from the cover of the creature’s enormous white feathers towards the welcome appearance of skewed old timber; a naked waterfall of branches beneath which they could hide. With energy renewed by a surge of bright excitement, Zahra barrelled after the limber white kitsune. “In here Camon!” she cried out expertly, as though the shelter might have been overlooked altogether. The willowy tree brushed about her soggy back as she paused easily within – there was plenty of room, at least for her and Bird. Flashing an eager smile, the filly waited for her newest friend to arrive. RE: Timber 'n turbulence - Camon - 05-28-2015 camon. Those storm clouds gather in her eyes As Zahra and her puppy frolic excitably into the crude lean-to with more energy than a sake of bones should reasonably have; I find myself doubtful and hesitate on the path. Her warm innocence, those honeyed gems turn to beckon mine -- they are hungry and consume the belief of security. I bristle inwardly, a vain attempt to harden this heart from her misery; even as Zahra's fragile smile tugs painfully on this soul. A second chance to walk away from this entire situation is once more refused for the sake of... What the hell are you doing Camon? I know diddley squat about the needs of children.
@[Zahra] RE: Timber 'n turbulence - Zahra - 06-11-2015 Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna It was pride that turned angels into devils
To her gullible delight, the barely known stallion followed along after a slight pause (insignificant amid the chaos of whining wind and snapping, lashing vegetation all around), and Zahra murmured aloud contentedly, “Oh yay…” Scrawny, bony, black and white limbs shuffled gracelessly to accommodate him, the warmth and security he offered, and beneath the white pup slithered artfully to avoid her sister’s innocent fumbling. The filly’s jaws spread suddenly with a small jerk and within, the soft pinkish tongue lolled lazily beside clean white pegs. “I’m sleepy,” she mumbled pointlessly, aware of a new nagging conviction within – the pleas in her watching bonded’s mind, desperate to remain vigilant in the company of the stranger. Neither realised the connection, the reoccurring coincidence and Zahra merely brushed the unusual, uncomfortably feeling aside. It was true that there was amble room – according to her – and feathery, bristling wings stretched boldly, stiffly, through the cold space remaining; little did she know the stallion was pressed hard against the old, rough timber. To the puny foal, the world around her was immeasurable, so vast that she imagined there to be no actual end. Everything she noticed was magnified grossly, ridiculously, and a situation that might have seemed utterly claustrophobic to one, was thrillingly spacious from her narrow-minded perspective. Bird on the other hand, was quite repulsed by their meagre quarters. Though sheltered and without the wrath of the wild weather beyond, she was not the least bit comfortable with the continuing company – not after the encounter with one adorned similarly in the snow. Her faith had been quite eroded and she would have preferred the isolation of before. She sighed at the sound of the older horse’s instruction (there was no mistaking the note of his voice), and large snowy ears drifted into a backwards recline. Across her shoulders, rested awkwardly beneath the point of her withers against the slope of her pale back, the collar was growing too much of a burden for the tired filly to bear alone. Camon spoke again, and lithe inky ears flicked towards the pensive hum of his tone; obediently – and curiously – she slid sideways. His flesh followed, sort of, folding towards the earth with an audible thump, and the foal watched with ever expanding interest; he beckoned her near with one wing raised towards the makeshift ceiling. As Zahra slumped down heavily across buckling knees (the golden scab still dressing one pulled quietly as her skin stretched across flexing sinew), the cool, damp earth rose quickly like a steadying pillar to hold the gleaming silver heirloom. It was indeed a relief, and she turned thereafter to assess their bronze-dotted friend whose heat she was nestled against at last, so trustingly. “How come the wind followed ya still?” she queried, confusion ripe through expression and tone, while her keen eyes struggled to follow the queer breath just visible and swirling around him (and almost her) like an ever busy flurry. Though visible also before, Zahra had merely passed the wind off as hounding weather – more of the descending moisture and wrath which had been so desperate to freeze them solid. RE: Timber 'n turbulence - Camon - 06-23-2015 camon. Those storm clouds gather in her eyes Let's take a minute...to run over the hash which is racing doubtfully through my brain.
@[Zahra] |